Andrea felt the blood rush to her cheeks. How could her mother have discerned so much and how could she possibly answer?
Libby winked. “I feel like some hot chocolate. How about you? Come on, we’ll drink to Ashley coming home safe with your Mr. Falcon.”
***
It had been a long time since John had had to fire a gun. But he would tonight. If anyone were to stop him, in fact, he would do whatever he had to. Tracing Andrea’s twin as far as the Curilio Auction House, the notorious underground headquarters for most of the North American white slave trade had been nothing short of a miracle. In a way the clues had dropped into his lap, a fresh one every time he turned around, just as the trail seemed to turn cold.
Being led now into an opulent waiting room at the pleading request of the manager who had promised him answers to all his questions, therefore, seemed like just another bit of serendipity, too good to be true.
“Would you like a drink?” the man offered, his unctuous smile beginning to grate on his nerves.
“No, just the girl.”
“One minute, I promise,” he nodded solemnly.
Too good to be true. Plain and simple. Kind of like Andrea—the stereotypically beautiful girl in trouble seeking the detective’s services. It had been his own fault for bedding the girl, getting attached. Hadn’t he learned anything working all those years with Rice? Don’t get attached to women. They’re business, nothing more. Really, it was to her credit she’d given him the cold shoulder after he’d crossed the line. It was a mistake he wouldn’t make again. As soon as he’d found the girl’s double, he would be out of both their lives forever.
“John. How nice to see you.”
Falcon turned. It was Rice himself in the doorway. “Long time no see, Simon.”
“You’re looking good,” he smiled. “Care for a drink?”
John pulled the revolver. “I’m afraid not, Simon. What you can do is tell me what you’ve done with Ashley Van Voorst.”
Simon pursed his lips. “A gin, John? Has our friendship soured so much?”
“Friendship? That’s good, considering you made me take the fall for your criminal activities.”
He laughed dryly, the shoulders of his tuxedo jacket moving enough to remind Falcon of the considerable power concealed under his clothes. “Criminal activities? Really, John, how droll, even for you. Trident provides services, we match customers with clients. Business plain and simple.”
He pulled back the arming mechanism. “I don’t have time for your word games, Simon. Where is she?”
Simon poured himself a scotch, neat. “Has it occurred to you, dear boy, how you managed to get this far? Under my very nose, so to speak?”
“Because I’m good at what I do,” he said, rather unconvincingly.
Simon raised a solo toast. “To we professionals. A dying breed.”
John watched him swallow the scotch, wishing he could afford a shot himself. It had been a long night and getting longer. He’d made the mistake of seeing the auction. There’d been an auburn haired girl, fresh faced, dressed in a short nightie. She’d reminded him of Andrea. When they took her scant covering away and made her lick the handle of the whip they were about to beat her with, he ended up with a massive hard on, thinking of the games he’d like to play with her, if he could ever win her back.
How weak he sounded! Seeing Rice reminded him what he’d have done in the old days if he’d seen some little tart he’d wanted. Under those circumstances, Andrea wouldn’t have had the option to take off, leaving him hard and needy, denying him as much as a telephone explanation of why.
“I’m waiting, Simon.”
He poured a fresh shot, pushed it in John’s direction. “Miss Van Voorst is under my protective custody and has been since she arrived at The Edge three weeks ago. In a very short while, she will be ready to go home.”
“Protective custody? Well there’s a new term for it,” John laughed humorlessly. “And exactly how have you been getting her ready?”
“By allowing her the opportunity to face her inner demons, to stretch her own personality. John, you of all people know my, shall we say limitations, but I think you will agree I am a man of my word. You have my word, here and now, the girl’s virginity is intact. As for anything else she’s done, it was all of her own volition.”
John decided to take the scotch. Simon Rice was a complicated man, always had been. In many ways, he’d been the best friend he’d ever known. “Simon, the girl’s family is worried sick. She ran off, scared, confused, frightening them to death.”
“All the more reason to keep her with me, John. I may be a shark, but I’m the biggest one, so if you have me on your side, that’s the safest place to be, no?”
The liquor was burning the lining of his throat. “It depends, Simon. Can the shark restrain its own nature?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m told she has a sister. A twin. Is she as lovely?”
“I’ve only seen the one.”
“As have I.” He closed the bottle, put it back under the bar. “If you would be willing to wait a few moments more, I will bring Ashley to you so you can take her home. If you will excuse me.”
***
Ashley had been blindfolded. She was wearing the dress again, and due to her soaring spirits, she was scarcely aware of the lingering tension in her nether regions. A smile was across her face, and it was something neither the Keeper’s brutalities nor the indignities of public auction had been able to remove from her spirit. She was not sure why she expected good news, she simply did. Perhaps it was Tia’s influence, and the irrepressible feeling on her alter ego’s part that all would be well.
The auction was finished and soon they would meet their masters. It was irregular for a girl to be led back to the dressing room, reclothed and then to meet her master personally. Ordinarily it was a night in chains, preparation for shipment. Tia, too was waiting, under the torches of the auctioneer’s men, her lead chains in their hands. Her buyer was coming for her, and he was in a hurry. Barefooted, nude in the sand, she awaited him.
“Ashley, you may remove the blindfold.”
She’d been standing, her hand resting on the table, exactly where she’d been left. “Simon,” she declared, with awe in her voice, but not overly much in the way of surprise.
“You were expecting me?” he mused.
Ashley sank to her knees before him, thrusting the side of her head to his crotch. “You are my master,” she said simply. “We knew you would come.”
He put an arm about her shoulder tentatively. “We?”
“Tia and I,” she said, her soft breath inflaming him. “At this very moment she is with her Pirate Lord, he who purchased her at his own auction, because he could not dare to part with her.”
“And you think I feel the same for you?”
“You spent ten million dollars for me,” she observed. “What else am I to think?”
He smiled. “That I am a sentimental fool?”
She shook her head. “No. You are wonderful.” Looking up at his face, she added. “Will you take me now, My Lord?”
He lifted her to her feet. “No, Ashley. It is time for you to go home. Have you learned nothing from all of this, girl? This was supposed to make you appreciate your freedom.”
“I love you,” she said solemnly. “That is the only thing I can appreciate.”
“But you hardly know me!”
Ashley pressed her moistened half opened lips to his. Reluctantly at first, but with a growing needfulness, he possessed her mouth, sucking and caressing, plundering with his tongue till she was like putty in his hands. By the small of her back, he held her up. How beautiful she was! Her eyes gently closed, her chest slowly rising and falling, her very soul laid bare. Never had he wanted a woman so much. Never had he desired so much, never had he—
Loved. He was about to say loved a woman so much.
Simon took her in his arms and carried her to the couch. He could restrain himself no
longer. Ashley cried in delight as he tore the velvet dress, baring her vibrant white flesh. Her mounds were like succulent oysters in his mouth, her slickened inner thighs like a warm bath. She took the full of him, yielding herself up for her first taking. No fanfare, no ceremony, and yet the bond, the occasion is profound beyond measure. She cried out her taking and as he exploded, through the hastily employed opening in his trousers, she found peace, bliss and meaning.
At the exact moment, Tia lay with her Lord as well, secure aboard the pirate ship, which had already set sail. He had not left her behind, nor had Simon left his Ashley. After, when both had regained their senses, he asked her to marry him. She said yes, without hesitation, sealing the bargain with a deep throat kiss to his expended, though not sleeping organ.
“This is a turn of events,” he admitted, in a state of unprecedented shock, both at his own proposal and her acceptance. “One I think we shall have to explain to a certain former colleague of mine, who if you don’t mind is waiting for us rather anxiously next door.”
“Yes, My Lord,” she whispered softly, her voice filled with unspeakable happiness. “I obey.”
***
Malcolm Daniels accepted her embrace. Libby was shivering with joy and with relief over Ashley, but also there was the erotic charge, the bubbling tension between them that was rising and surging with each occasion of their seeing one another.
“She’s all right, darling. Ashley’s okay.” Elizabeth whispered the words into the chest of the rock solid man who would steer her course the rest of her days. “She’s with the man she wants to marry and she’s okay.”
“What time is it?” he mumbled, into the chilly night air, still half asleep at the door to his motel room in t-shirt and boxer shorts.
“It’s after three,” Libby laughed, loving him all the more for his being so out of sorts. “It’s all over, and I’ve brought the man responsible for finding her.”
Malcolm looked at the longhaired, fine chiseled face, deep eyes, a rather younger version of himself. “I am Malcolm Daniels,” he said, extending a hand round the waist of his beloved, his sweet servant and slave.
“John Falcon. Pleased to meet you.”
“Malcolm, this is the young man our daughter is in love with. The one who’s captured her heart as you have mine.”
Malcolm suppressed a smile. “Is that right? I hadn’t imagined any man being able to tame the likes of my daughter.”
John shrugged. “Libby is embellishing, I think.”
“Libby is the most factual person I have ever met,” he corrected, “male or female.”
Libby raised her head to look into his eyes. “You flatter me, sir.”
“I am not a flatterer.” Grasping her by her wondrous ass cheeks, unable to restrain his mirth and longer, he said, “Go inside and get me my clothes, woman. I would walk with this John Falcon a moment.”
Libby wrinkled her nose, her eyes full of delight. “Your wish is my command.”
She returned promptly with jeans, jacket and sneakers. Seeing her easy obedience aroused him, making him want to tame her even further, disciplining her bare skin. Patience, he told himself, we have our whole lives ahead of us.
“Thank you, Libby. Will you put on coffee now? We will be back shortly.”
As he closed the door, Libby could be heard inside, complaining at his cheapness, a man of his means renting such a paltry room. Again, Malcolm was driven to near giddiness.
“Do you love my daughter?” he asked without preamble, when they walked
John shoved his hands into his pockets. Before tonight, before he’d seen Ashley, the light in her eyes, the devotion she so obviously had for Rice, he would not have known the answer. But now he did. Seeing Andrea’s twin in love, he wanted her to be, too, and with him.
“Yes, sir,” he replied. “I do.”
“And according to her mother, she loves you.”
“Apparently.”
“It will not be easy to convince her of this fact.” He shook his head. “Andrea is the more passionate, also the more stubborn of the twins. This was apparent to me even in their first days of life.”
John cleared his throat. “Any advice you could give would be appreciated, sir.”
Malcolm grabbed his arm, stopping him on the sidewalk. “I have only one thing to say,” he grinned. “Sin boldly. Shall we go back? I don’t like to leave my woman unattended for too long. It might give her the wrong idea.”
***
Andrea walked to the center of the room and began to disrobe. She’d been surprised to hear from Lucas again, after all the trouble they’d had, but he was so insistent, she could hardly refuse his invitation to another night of demented fun in the dungeons behind The Edge.
“Blindfold,” Lucas said, handing her the black eyeless mask. It was a twist for him, employing something as subtle as sensory deprivation, but she made no mention of it. It was also odd for Bosco to be so silent, and so standoffish. But again, she chalked it up to the prerogative of dominants.
“Hands over your head,” he ordered.
Andrea was lined up beneath hanging shackles. The metal was cold on her wrists as it found and imprisoned them. She was feeling that familiar rush, the thrill of submission. She needed that now, as an antidote to loneliness. Now that Ashley had resurfaced with a newer far more potent fiancée, and now that her mother and father were reunited, she was feeling oddly neglected in the romance department. But she was a loner, she knew that now, and she’d have to stay the course.
Lucas drew the chains tighter, pulling her taut. Then he was at her feet, removing her shoes. Andrea was on tiptoes now, the thin stocking material pressing the cold concrete floor. Things grew silent now, and she heard and felt nothing. Then the door opened and closed.
Andrea’s heart began to pound. Whom had they invited in and for what purpose? She could hear someone breathing. very close. She shuddered as cold, sharp metal caressed her bare, upturned arms. It was thick, pointed, but blunt on the sides. Scissors. Opening and closing, clipping the air with a metallic hiss.
Against her cheeks, over her collarbone the mystery person rubbed them. When the blade slipped under the strap of her tiny dress, she gasped audibly. Snip. Snip. Her dress was falling to the floor. Now the blade moved up and down her belly. Andrea sucked in her breath, feeling real terror as it paused above her crotch, and over her nipples. Snip. Snip. No more bra. Another snip, one to each side of her pantied hips and Andrea was nude.
Now he made her wait again—she was sure it was a he because strong muscled thighs, in pants, had pressed her thighs. So too, the hands that had paused to cup her bare depending breasts, teasing the nipples to painful arousal were also clearly male. Andrea hung this way for the longest time. The door hadn’t opened again, so she hadn’t been left. Who all was there? she wondered. Lucas, Bosco and this newcomer, the one with the devilish hands and the wicked ideas.
Andrea felt the juices between her legs. She was helpless. How would she even get home when they were done with her? What would she do for clothes now that her own had been cut from her so brutally? It was torture not to see, not to know what to expect.
Oh, God. Someone was very close to her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but was silenced by lips, hot and hard. Andrea hated kissing, found it distasteful, messy, and complicated. Falcon had wanted kisses, and she yielded them up, trying to make it part of a submission game, like when Bosco had ‘forced’ her to kiss him as a sign of his power over her, but these lips weren’t playing fair.
Sweet and nibbling, demanding and hungry. Andrea couldn’t help but open to them, couldn’t help but flow copiously between her legs in response. When the kisses stopped, Andrea whimpered, whispering please for it to continue.
The answering hand on her buttocks was firm and punishing. Andrea sucked in her lower lip, as the warm heat spread through her backside. The hand lingered, intimate, possessive. It made her feel all hot and soft inside. The question, of course, was would there b
e another?
No. Not right away. Instead the hand slid across her hip and between her thighs. Andrea threw back her head giving in at once to the invading finger, probing, testing.
“Who are you?” she whispered breathless.
This time the blow was twice as hard and now Andrea understood; he was punishing her for speaking when she shouldn’t. When the finger snaked round a second time, Andrea accepted the caress in silence. As a reward for her obedience, she was treated to a feather brush of her cheek from behind with the fingers of his other hand.
As the nether stimulation continued unabated, the fingers resting on her face slid across to her mouth compelling Andrea to open her lips. He entered with just one finger, musky tasting and rough skinned. It was important for Andrea to please, and so she found herself applying a gentle yet thorough suction.
Removing himself from her cunt, he went again to her ass. This time he did not spank her, but simply rested his palm there in a most satisfying way. A moment later, he was back inside her sex, all the while working his finger between her lips with the other hand. Andrea found her body moving forward now, rhythmically, in response to his actions. He’s training me, she thought.
The idea filled her with an equal amount of arousal and revulsion. Animals were trained, animals and pitifully hopeless women like Libby and like the totally transformed Ashley who now boasted her complete obedience to a fiancée-master, who was also a slave trainer, applied a gentle suction. The implications made her blush. She could as easily be taking the man’s penis in her mouth, or else down below between her moist and sticky thighs.
She shook her head, verbalizing as much of ‘no’ as she could manage in her present state. His response was swift and decisive. Both hands were taken away, and another crisp slap across her wriggling buttocks applied. After this, he left her alone, so that she felt nothing at all.
The sudden emptiness, the neglect was surprisingly painful. She wanted to cry out, to ask for help, even to beg to be refilled, but that would be talking, punishable by a spank. How to signal her need, then? With her body, that was the only way. Thrusting out her breasts, licking her lips, gyrating as best she could on tiptoes, Andrea advertised her availability, her exploitability.
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