In His Custody

by Morganna Williams

  I put it in my pants pocket for safekeeping. “All I need is a breadcrumb. With that, we’ll catch him.”

  With that last exchange, the meeting was over. Wheeler and Alexander politely excused us from the room and Alexander closed the door the moment we left. I was in my own little world walking back to the elevator.

  “Hey, dumbass, I’m talking to you.”

  I felt a sharp poke in my back and instinct took over. I grabbed my attacker’s hand and twisted it in such a way to negate any further attacks. Then I realized whose hand I had and I let it go. “Perez!” I said, a bit unprepared. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to do that.”

  Perez was half pissed, half astonished at what just took place. “Just who the hell do you think you are?”

  “I’m your partner in this. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I’d like for us to be able to work together, seamlessly,” I responded.

  She shoved by me and went past the elevator to the steps. This was going to take some work on my part. Not letting her storm off alone, I followed her down the stairs, too. At the bottom, she just huffed as I gave her a forced smile and exited the building.

  * * *

  A few hours had passed and I was a bit less annoyed with the senior agent they paired me with. It also helped that I didn’t see Perez again until I arrived at the airport. No longer dressed in our ‘flattering’ FBI black and white, she was sitting down reading a book with her headphones in. Damnit, she looked good in a pair of blue jeans and a nice blue top that really showed off her toned arms.

  On the other hand, much to my own chagrin, I played up to the mid-twenties stereotype for computer geeks. I had a light blue hoodie on with a pair of gym shorts. On my back was my laptop bag and beside me were all of my gadgets and gizmos in a duffle bag. I didn’t care if the field office in Orlando had most of the stuff in my bag, I only used my stuff.

  I knew my clothes didn’t reveal my true physique, but when you’re married to your job, you don’t care too much, unfortunately. Some of the female analysts had commented on my appearance. I’d been blessed with height from my dad’s side of the family and due to all my hours in the gym, underneath the hoodie was a firm body. It was a miracle I kept a six-pack on both my abs and in my fridge, if I was being honest.

  Sitting down beside her, I put my headphones in and turned my internet radio to a classic rock station. I didn’t expect Perez had much to say to me and I wasn’t going to force the issue, yet. I’d try to remain cool and calm; she’d reach out to me when the time was right.

  My eyes were closed when again I felt a hand hit me. This time it wasn’t a poke or any aggressive move, but a gentle brushing of my upper arm. I looked over to see Perez trying to get my attention. I slipped my left side earphone off. “Yeah?”

  “I wanted to apologize for back at Quantico. I was a bitch to you.”

  I don’t think anyone would be upset with me if I was rude to her, but that just wasn’t me. “Water under the bridge.”

  Having my attention, she turned her body to face me. “I’m a woman in this field and they’re always sticking men with me. When I found out I was running point on this, I felt all my work finally was paying off.” Her lips twisted a bit. “Then Wheeler told me you’d be running the op from the field office and I was pissed.”

  “Ahh, now I see.” It all made sense. She thought I was trying to take over her case. “Listen, I want no part of actual field work. I’ll do my part from the office and I’ll let you run point all day long.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Leo. You disarmed me in two seconds flat. There’s more to you than just some computer forensics expert.”

  I brushed that off, not wanting to talk about it. “You can think that all you want, but I’m still not going out in the field.”

  Seeing as how I didn’t want to elaborate, we changed subjects a few times while we waited for the plane to start boarding. Neither of us had been to Orlando before, we both loved the Washington Nationals baseball team, and we disagreed which beer was better—Red Stripe or Beck’s.

  Things were downright pleasant all the way through the flight and I was beginning to feel good about this partnership. When we landed, we laughed at all the tourists going to the different theme parks on their way to luggage pickup. “I haven’t seen this many fanny packs in years.”

  Perez took a friendly dig. “Oh, I bet when you were a kid, you rocked one, didn’t you?”

  I grabbed my bag as she did the same. “Don’t you wish you knew?”

  “Listen, why don’t we grab a beer before we check in to our hotel? The night is still young and…”

  Perez never finished her sentence. A gunshot echoed through the concourse and the bullet entered her right eye and exited the back of her head. She dropped dead before anyone knew what happened.

  Instinct took over and I saw the person, black jacket with a weird, almost kabuki-themed mask on his head. As I ran to get him, I pulled out my phone and dialed 911. “This is FBI Agent Leo Jackson! There’s an agent down at Terminal B at MCO!”

  Running as fast as I could, I thought I had the guy, but he disappeared over a railing. When I got to the spot where he’d jumped, there was a little china doll sitting there, staring at me.

  Chapter Four

  Excerpt from Under His Hands, by Mona Hyatt:

  His tongue rimmed her aching core, lapping lightly just at the opening and driving her insane.

  “Pleeeaase…” she cried, her hips undulating, desperately seeking relief.

  “Who controls your orgasms?” he asked firmly as he delivered a hard swat to her spread nether lips, his fingers just catching the edge of her clit.

  Her back bowed and she yelped as exquisite pain bloomed into pleasure and shot her right over the edge of the cliff.

  That was almost as hot as my scene yesterday with Gregor, I thought with a grin, trying to ignore the little pulse in my clit that had sprung to life with just the memory. I thought fleetingly about what it would be like to have a dominant of my very own, one who would discipline me as needed and provide the control I so craved in the bedroom. Would the reality be as good as the fantasy?

  I sighed a little sadly as I thought about how empty my life was except for my writing and the men I played with online. I cleared the melancholy thoughts from my mind with a shake of my head. I had a good life!

  I wondered idly if anyone was online to play with. Obviously I needed to write but I did it so much better fresh off an orgasm, plus it would take my mind off the depressing thoughts filling my head.

  With a sigh I pulled up Facebook and grinned when I saw the little green light indicating Tom was online. Tom wasn’t as heavy into D/s but he was usually good for a spanking and then an orgasm with or without assistance.

  Mona216: “Hola.”

  Tom: “Well, if it isn’t my favorite naughty girl.”

  Mona216: “Hahaha.”

  Tom: “Shouldn’t you be writing, young lady?”

  My bottom began to tingle deliciously with those words, I loved the way just a threat of a spanking made me feel… naughty but also alive in a strange way.

  Mona216: “I suppose… but I wasn’t really in the mood…”

  Tom: “Naughty and lazy today, are we?”

  Mona216: “Hmmpf.”

  Tom: “Is that an appropriate way to speak to me, young lady?”

  Mona216: “You’re being such a fuddy-duddy.”

  Tom: “That’s more than enough! Go get your big wooden hairbrush, the one with the long thick handle.”

  My girl parts wanted to do a happy dance; it wasn’t real dominance. The man was far too easy to manipulate. But, when needs must… I grinned and hurried to my bedroom to fetch the requested brush. One night I’d taken pictures of all my brushes so I knew exactly which one he was talking about.

  I hurried back to the computer, eager to see what his next instructions were.

  Mona216: “I have my brush, Sir.”

  Tom: “Now that’s mor
e like it. Good girl. I want you to pull your pants and panties down to your knees and bend over the desk, keep one hand on the keyboard.”

  The perks of being a self-employed writer, I thought as I pulled my pajama bottoms to my knees, baring my bottom to the room as I bent over the desk as instructed. I kept one hand on the keyboard and the other wrapped around the brush handle. My body quivered in anticipation; would this be a hard one? Though I feared it, a part of me deep inside craved it… needed it.

  Mona216: “Ready, Sir.”

  Tom: “I want ten hard swats in the exact same spot on your right sit spot.”

  Mona216: “Yes, Sir.” I told him just before I brought the brush down on my right sit spot with a loud splat that made me hiss. I didn’t hesitate and laid nine more down in the exact same spot, leaving the whole area stinging painfully. It hurt but I wanted more.

  Tom: “Again.”

  Mona216: “In the same spot?”

  I caught my breath as I hoped he said yes, knowing that continuing to spank the same spot was the only way to even marginally get close to the way the real thing might feel.

  Tom: “Yes, and make it twenty for asking a question you knew the answer to.”

  Mona216: “Yes, Sir.”

  I grimaced and delivered twenty more swats as hard as I could to the exact same spot, making myself actually yip a little by the time I finished the last swat. My right ass cheek was on fire; I reveled in the pain, feeling something start to release from where it was tightly furled in my belly. The knot of ugly emotions my thoughts had caused just before Tom messaged.

  Tom: “Give the left side the same thirty.”

  I did as instructed and then reported back to my online disciplinarian. I was hoping the spanking part was done but my hopes were in vain. By the time my spanking was over Tom had instructed me to give about one hundred additional swats to each side, leaving my bottom feeling like I’d sat on a hot stove and perilously close to real tears, but oddly I felt strangely free… free from the thoughts and pressures weighing me down.

  I knew I’d feel this directed self-spanking every time I sat for the next three days.

  Tom: “Are you ready to be a good girl again?”

  Mona216: “Yes, Sir… please, I promise I’ll be good.”

  Tom: “Sit that hot little ass down on your chair and spread your legs.”

  I eagerly did as instructed, hissing as my sore bottom made contact with the chair but it just sent another jolt of need through my clit.

  Mona216: “Oh, Sir… my bottom hurts.”

  Tom: “As it should. Are you ready for Sir to make it better?”

  Mona216: “Yes, please.”

  Tom: “You know what to do with the handle of that brush. Do it hard and make yourself come. Send me a voice message of you coming. It better be loud or we will start your spanking over.”

  I quickly braced my feet on the desk just like I had yesterday with Gregor and sent the handle of the brush deep, moaning as it filled my emptiness. Within three thrusts I was close to exploding and I pressed the record button on messenger so my cries of pleasure could be recorded for Tom.

  He responded to my moans with a pleased tone.

  Tom: “Yes, yes, that’s the way it should be done, my pet.”

  When the exercise was complete I felt in a much better frame of mind to write and I thanked Tom for his discipline and signed out of Facebook. I felt like such a perv but really I knew I’d always craved this type of male attention. I pushed away thoughts of having it in a one-on-one loving relationship; I’d never excelled in the dating arena.

  Through the BDSM community on Facebook I had found a plethora of online dominants to play with and to enhance the stories I wrote. I’d also found I like to come a lot, so why deny myself?

  In no time at all I was lost in my WIP and surprise, surprise, my heroine was getting a hell of a spanking with a hairbrush.

  Chapter Five

  “You said she would talk to me!” he raged at the mirror. “She ignored me!”

  The mirror didn’t respond, it merely reflected back at him passively. Confusion marred his features. “You won’t talk to me either?”

  No response… the reflection just stared at him… like it didn’t recognize him. Rage twisted his features. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

  When still no response came, he flung an empty bottle at the mirror, shattering it into what seemed like thousands of little pieces.

  Horror filled him; how could he have done such a thing? “I’m sorry… I’m sorry… please don’t leave me!”

  He sank to his knees as a wail of desperation rent the air.

  “Shhhh… calm yourself. I’m here… I’m always here,” the mirror said from behind him. He spun, wiping his tears from his cheeks as he stood, relief obvious on his face.

  “Why didn’t you answer me?” he asked petulantly.

  “I wasn’t here.” The mirror looked at the broken glass with a sigh. “Another seven years of bad luck. Must be up to about six hundred and ninety-three years at this point; perhaps no more mirrors should be purchased.”

  “I don’t understand you,” he said with a frown.

  The mirror gave a long-suffering sigh. “I know, more’s the pity.” His reflection shook his head and tsked. “Clean this mess up.”

  “She didn’t talk to me like you said!” He returned to his original accusation.

  “I told you not to use the doll, because it’s creepy as hell,” the mirror told him.

  “My dolls are beautiful! Beautiful, I tell you!” he cried passionately.

  “Meanwhile she ignored you and came hard for me like the little slut she is,” the mirror said matter-of-factly.

  “I hate you!” he cried.

  The mirror gave a little shake of his head as he sighed, “Hate and love are flip sides of the same coin… or should I say reflection?”

  Chapter Six

  “Two qualities are indispensable: first, an intellect that, even in the darkest hour, retains some glimmerings of the inner light which leads to truth; and second, the courage to follow this faint light wherever it may lead.”—Carl Von Clausewitz

  It was a seedy little place right off the Orange Blossom Trail. The locals called this area of OBT Hooker Heaven and it’s known for little porn shops and strip joints. I was in a bad place; that’s why I was here.

  After seeing Agent Perez gunned down, I’d been promoted to the lead agent on the Dollface case. Me. What the hell did I know? There were way more qualified agents to send to do the job, but upper brass all agreed that I was the man for the job. Of course I accepted, as I wanted revenge for the death of Agent Perez. But, it’d be stupid of me not to be concerned. This was my first time in the field. I knew Wheeler was behind this; he was the one who had the faith in me.

  The joint I was in was known as The Red Room. It wasn’t advertised anywhere or a place most even knew about. You had to get an invite here. The second night after Perez’s death, a red envelope was nestled against the door to the apartment the bureau had set up for me. Opening it, I saw the calligraphy writing, inviting Agent Leo Jackson for a night he’d never forget.

  As I entered, I made my way over to the bar area. The whole place was dark, red lights were scattered here and there to give the area a certain almost sexual feel to it. The bartender was a girl in her late twenties and her nametag read ‘Mindy.’

  I placed a ten spot on the bar top. “Whiskey sour, extra sour.”

  She smiled and took the money, sticking it into her top. “That’s a generous opening, sir. Special occasion?”

  “No, just needing a drink.”

  There was no reason to put any sort of burden on this young lady. Honestly, if I was being true to my job, I’d be arresting everyone in this place. However, a lot of them were probably just like me, needing an escape from reality for a bit. I knew I could use one, so why didn’t they deserve the same?

  None of my usual hobbies seemed good enough for this situation. Plus, I
didn’t have any family to call to talk about things to. Mom and Dad passed on a few years back and I didn’t really know anyone else. Years before I’d been born, my family had been given the black sheep label. There’d been some sort of falling out and even with all of my resources, I had no interest into looking for the rest of them. My loyalty was to my parents and would remain that way with them, even as they’d passed on.

  Mindy placed the drink on a napkin in front of me. “You have a heavy soul,” she informed me. “A man who looks as sweet as you shouldn’t be burdened with darkness.”

  I snorted as I put the drink down with one gulp. “I wish I wasn’t, believe me.”

  I felt a soft hand caress my shoulder. It was a blonde girl, barely clothed and in six-inch heels. Her fingers made their way to the tip of my nose where she lightly poked it. “Mindy,” she said with some huskiness in her voice. “I think I’d like to take this one.”

  The bartender came out from behind the counter. “Sorry, Yvette—this one is mine.”

  I had seen her black leather top, but Mindy was also wearing black leather pants and some very tall boots. She hooked a finger under my tie and pulled me away from the blonde girl, Yvette. We weaved our way past various couples in some stage of encounter, from making out to full-on sex. Was this a prostitution ring or something even more?

  Mindy opened the door to a small room toward the back of the building. Inside were a couch and a rug. She continued to pull me toward the couch. Once over there, she pushed me down. “I hope you enjoy this little show. Something to cheer up your day,” she added with a wink.

  I was mesmerized by the movement of her hips as she started dancing. Her full breasts jiggled in the leather top, begging to break free. With a simple pull of the string, the top broke open and her large orbs fell beautifully.

  She noticed my arousal early on. “You like what you see?”

  “Very much so.”