“Those dongs are loaded?” Brenner asked, surprised that he had missed this feature.
“Just small, battery-powered, remote-controlled vibrators. They can be activated with a variable voltage switch on the remotes. That’s all it takes.”
“Does she know about this?”
“No. She gave us carte blanch.”
“Carte blanch?” Brenner asked. “You mean ‘a la carte’, don’t you?”
“No. Carte blanche. Check your French. It means, more or less, ‘do whatever you want’.”
“No shit.”
“No shit,” Calder said, looking annoyed. “But to your point, she is getting a la carte as well.”
“Now I am confused.”
“Look, Phil,” Calder said, trying to be patient with his new associate. “We offer both a fixed menu or a la carte. Do you know the difference?”
“In a restaurant, yes. I assume the same is true here.”
“Yes. It is, except that Yvette can have anything she wants. In this case, we’re taking single items from the menu and adding them as we see fit.”
“Such as?”
I wonder if I gave them too much freedom on this. They can keep me here for months if they want. The whole thing was open-ended. I pay for the “process” and they make their real money from the internet and videos. Now I’m not so sure. Forever? Forever? Is that what I signed up for? Oh Christ, I hope not. One too many glasses of good champagne and I’ll sign anything if I think it’ll be fun and bring on more orgasms. Shit. I may be in over my head.
“The nipple-piercing clamps. The vibrators. Maybe something else along the way. Depends on how this goes. She pays the price and never bitches. I suspect that right now she’d like a little action in her crotch, but we’ll let her simmer for a few hours. Just about the time she starts getting antsy and cramped, the vibes will kick in. Improves the circulation, you know.”
“What else?”
“What do you mean, ‘else’?”
“Are we going to do more to her? She must have some limits.”
“No limits that I know of. It all depends. The longer you are here, the more you will understand. We watch and listen. The monitors tell us a lot about where she’s at and where she’s going,” Calder said, nodding to the control station staffed by three of his crew. “Steffie is our on-duty EMT. She watches for anything that might require immediate medical response. Bart and Greg back her up. No one ever leaves this post unattended and they relieve each other hourly. We watch respiration, pulse, blood pressure, oral and rectal temperatures, sounds, movement and a few other esoteric medical indicators that won’t mean much to you, but tell us how she’s doing.”
“So she’s really not alone, even though it seems that way?”
“Right.”
“If it’s okay with you, I think I’ll stay the night and observe.”
“Suit yourself. I’m done for the day,” Calder said as he put on his overcoat and headed for the exit.
“Must be nice, huh?” Brenner said, dropping into a deep leather armchair from which he could watch all of the monitors.
“What? Having a pussy that liquefies on command?” Calder asked, almost sneering.
“No. Having the kind of money that lets you do anything you feel like,” Brenner said.
“Yeah. Money buys anything, even a few days bound, hooded, plugged and gagged. Pity she didn’t ask to be whipped,” Calder observed, opening the door and stepping out into the corridor.
“Patience, my friend. Patience.”
II – The Glimmer of an Idea
Toronto, Canada
Thomas Greg studied the advertisement in The Toronto Herald for the third time, wondering if it could possibly be what he’d been searching for over the past decade.
100% LEGAL & SAFE ENTERTAINMENT
FOR UP-SCALE ADULTS ONLY
“If you have to ask what it costs, or what it is all about, it’s not for you.”
Highly specialized, personal BDSM services for those who know what they want but have yet to find the provider and accessories they seek.
We are as close as your banker or as far away as your private jet will take you.
Only when price and related elements are of no concern.
Europe, Asia and
The Americas.
Phone inquiries only.
In USA, 1.800.555.1212.
“This could be a sucker bait ad like so many others,” he thought.
Yet, it could also be the very thing he’d been searching for. From the time he’d made the big jump in his career to his current position as the number two man in the giant financial organization, his most pressing personal concern was finding some way to carry out his desires for physical domination of women.
The really tormenting part was that he was surrounded by women. Old women, young women; beautiful, pretty, ugly, straight and gay, but he learned years ago that to, as his boss often said, “dip your pen into the company inkwell” would bring nothing but trouble. So, as he climbed the corporate ladder, he avoided any personal entanglements in the firm, at home and when traveling. It wasn’t easy. Almost daily some gorgeous piece of feminine artistry was dangled before his eyes and his cock always responded while his mind said, “No. Not here. Not now. Not this one.”
This kind of restrictive, almost priest-like curriculum led to a solitary life for him and resulted in his use of the internet and other anonymous methods of relieving this constant itch for sexual relief. Whores and hustlers were always only a phone call away and more than one of his closest buddies had offered tantalizing experiments in anonymous sex with females who were respected and patronized for their silence and superb services.
The ad provided a hopeful promise of a solution, the glimmer of possibility.
It was an uncommon advertisement. It seemed aimed directly at him, much like the occasional personalized letters that he got from exotic automobile dealers who knew his proclivity for unique cars. Most of those he recognized by the envelope, but he usually opened them anyway, fascinated with the degree of detail, the apparent knowledge about him that the sellers of the cars seemed to have.
Dear Mr. Greg,
I won’t beat around the bush. I know you are a connoisseur of fine automobiles and I want to offer you a vehicle that is one of only five ever produced. Four of these superb automobiles are owned by Chinese or Mid East aficionados, but his one, production number 2, is now available to you at a surprisingly low cost.
He knew the pitch. He understood that while the offers were usually quite real, the complexities and associated costs seldom justified the transaction. Besides, his garage, unlike his bed, was full.
Certainly, there was something different here. Something that implied a certain legitimacy. Thomas saw the ad again in several on-line web sites and in a few, highly specialized magazines and newspapers, some of which he subscribed to. He was especially impressed by the openness of the ad and noted that it ran often in his favorite high end automobile and yacht mags. Any magazine that featured articles and ads for Ferrari, Bugatti, Broward Yachts and Gulfstream jets seemed likely to be on the up and up, he thought. He made the call from one of his anonymous, private cells.
It wasn’t easy. He had to be persistent. The company that ran the ad had set up several security gates and filters along the way to sort out the crazies, the unfit, the undesirable. Anyone calling the ad’s number was first routed to an automated answering service that promised an immediate call-back and traced the caller’s number.
A live FAQ program then quickly sorted out the phonies and tire kickers by asking for the caller’s private banker’s contact number and assuring him that no charges would be made until their authenticity was verified. Of course, many truly curious people were put off by the remoteness and seemingly questionable topic of the ad and answering service, but those who knew what they wanted and could afford to do their own tracking, were soon in contact with a very businesslike woman who answered all questions. Sh
That aspect quickly separated the pretenders from the real McCoy. Likewise, once their nearly instant records search revealed his multiple homes in Oslo, Palm Beach, Majorca, Bermuda and Seoul, the rest of the checking was routine. They discovered that he had automobiles registered in several provinces and states, three yachts of acceptable size for ocean transits, and, although he didn’t actually own a jet, he held shares with three different charter services that would and could take him anywhere with 30 minutes notice. He used Netjets the way most people used Netflix.
Nevertheless, several law enforcement agencies, thinking that they had discovered some sophisticated scam, a call girl network or worse, attempted to probe the firm’s program and found that in every case, their sleuthing was a waste of time. The company appeared not only to be legal and reputable, but also had impeccable references.
“For that kind of money, what do I get?” was Greg’s first question.
“What do you want?” was the woman’s polite answer.
“Candidly, I want to be able to meet someone who fits my criteria for great looks, has a reasonably intelligent and sober mind and who is interested in being bound, possibly whipped, spanked or caned and having consensual sex with me,” Greg replied.
“You want a sex slave without any encumbrances.”
“Exactly.”
“Anything else?”
“I am a dominant person. She or they must be willing and able to handle that.”
“Anything else?”
“I want my fantasy of complete control over women to be fulfilled without any repercussions. What some people would consider abuse I want to be acceptable and rewarding for all parties,” he added, knowing well that each of these requirements could be disqualifying, no matter what the price.
“This is possible, within certain boundaries,” he was told, courteously, but firmly.
“What boundaries?”
“Essentially, we permit nearly anything that is mutually agreeable to both parties. Our subs do, however, generally, have limits and you must respect them in detail. Our staff will help you, but if the rules of engagement for that day or that time are violated, the program will end, you will be escorted back to your point of origin and your deposits forfeited. I will send you a confidential link outlining the full terms of service.”
“What, for example, might be forbidden?” Greg pressed. He was most interested in knowing up front if he could bind, chain, strap, whip and fuck a beautiful woman without fear of her suing him, going to the media or calling the cops, no matter what she initially agreed to.
“Mister Greg, you are an intelligent man with a specific need. We respect those needs, but we also require that you respect those of our subs. Let me give one example: in a specific case, you may have carte blanche to tie, with rope, leather, wire or chains, one or more subs. You may have intercourse with them in all body orifices; you may whip or spank them, gag or blindfold them. You may keep them in your rooms or other enclosures. What you cannot do is harm them in any way. You cannot, for example, starve them, refuse them access to water or toilets at reasonable intervals or damage them in such a way that they would have long-term physical or mental scars. These are general guidelines and may change with each sub you engage.”
“Okay. How do I proceed?” Greg asked anxiously.
“Once again, sir, we are completely at your disposal, but we must have additional specifics. Then I can tell you more about our services. All of this may sound strange, but we must protect our reputation as well as yours, Mr. Greg.”
“Well, tell me where you are, then.”
“That really isn’t important. We could be in Antarctica or Boston, but it makes no difference, does it?”
“Well, give me some sort of location I’ll be going to so I know I am dealing with a company that is governed by our federal laws.”
“Your federal laws do not apply to us.”
“What protections do I have then?”
“If you wish to leave the country, you will be flown to a location where the only laws you need worry about are ours.”
“How far away would you take me?” he pressed, feeling a certain tightening in his stomach.
“You could go to one of our primary care facilities. The nearest are at least three hours from where you are, according to your incoming call.”
“By car?”
“Certainly not.”
“By plane?”
“Yours or ours?”
“Yours.”
“Approximately six and a half hours door to door.”
“Do I need a passport?”
“Yes. Among other things, for identification and security. You supply that and we hold it until you return home.”
“Can I bring a friend?”
“Yes, providing they supply the same personal data as you do and they meet our specifications.”
“Even if I vouch for them?”
“They still need proper ID.”
“Can I get laid?”
“Of course.”
“More than once?”
“Of course, time providing.”
“What do you mean?”
“You can do anything you want within our parameters. How long you take at whatever enterprise you pursue will determine what you can do.”
“Can I do the whips and chains thing?”
“With some caveats, yes. We have a simple code of ‘hurt but do no harm’. Also, the sub, the recipient of your attentions, must agree and whatever you do must be consensual. Since we service both sides of the coin, so to speak, this is normally not a problem.”
“Both sides?”
“Male and female. Top and bottom. Sub and dom. Straight and gay.”
“Well, then, today is Tuesday. Can I go this weekend?”
“We’ll need time to verify your credentials, medical, and other data, but it can be expedited if you wish. If everything is in order, we can take you from a nearby airport on Friday afternoon and you can return in seven days to the same place or to another of your choice.”
“How do I verify your…ah, credentials?”
“First of all, I’ll tell you yours. You are an executive officer of Calolus National Bank and on the Board of Filletes, Ltd. If you contact the chairman or CEO of either and give him or her a password, which I’ll supply, they will verify that we are legitimate.”
“Gees. How do you know this?”
“Sir. We are discrete and highly experienced professionals. Do you wish to proceed?”
“Yes. I’m not a neophyte in this arena either, so I will leave information with a trusted associate about my contacts with you should anything untoward occur while I’m gone. Can you assure me that you will meet my needs and that it will be worthwhile?”
“We are aware of your interests. When you initiated this call, your background data were almost instantly processed. We know quite a bit about you already: your financial situation, your job, your family, your education, your military record, your residences, your on-line usage, and so forth. Fortunately, you have, either intentionally or by accident, furnished a great deal of personal data to Tracebook and other similar social networks. Those services, despite their promises to the contrary, anxiously offer us virtually every piece of personal data they have on you. If you did not meet our criteria for membership, we would have refused you already. However, just as a personal recommendation, we strongly urge our members to restrict themselves to truly confidential resources, as few as there are. The public social networks are very dangerous to people like you, Mr. Greg.”
“I have heard that. I started with them when it was new and everyone did it. I guess I just let it lapse. I had heard that they sold private, personal data, I just never believed it, despite the cases of breach of privacy they seem to be constantly entangled in. I’ll close those accounts out today. Thanks.”
“You are welcome, but I must also warn you that getting out is much harder than getting in and it is all but impossible for you to recover data they already have…even if you die.”
“Well, let me deal with that. I need your assurance of full and complete confidentiality.”
“Your CEO will confirm that,” the woman assured him. “Our service is guaranteed. If you are not totally happy, your money will be refunded…less the deposit, of course.”
“Okay. Where do we go from here?”
“You just proceed with your business today as you normally would. You will hear from us shortly. I suggest that, for your piece of mind, you have a chat with Brian Masterson, the Chairman and CEO of your firm. He knows you and your proclivities, so be open, candid and honest. He has no interest in harming you as long as you follow the program to the letter.”
“I see. Is there a choice of sites?”
“Yes. Where do you want to go?”
“I’d like to be at least eight hours from home, by air.”
“It shall be done. Anything else?”
“No. I may think of something else. How do I reach you?”
“We will remain very close. In about two hours, you will get a delivery. The package will contain more helpful information and a special mobile telephone. In three hours, at 7:30, you’ll get an encrypted call on that cell. Take the call where you can talk without being overheard or monitored. If you have additional needs, tell us then. Otherwise, you should be prepared to travel to a nearby airport not later than noon, Friday. Our vehicle will pick you up at your home. It will look exactly like the private car you usually use. Bring nothing but your passport. All of your needs will be met and you will undergo a security screening that is most easily completed if you wear light clothing with no metal.”
“Bring NOTHING?”
“Correct.”
The line went dead.
The preliminaries were not simple, but he got plenty of personal attention throughout the process. After forty-eight hours of faxes and phone calls, electronic funds transfers and miscellaneous other petty annoyances, he was finally seated in a comfortable, fully reclining leather seat in a new Gulfstream 650, a top of the line charter jet with a crew of four, heading, he thought, southwest. Once at cruising altitude, he was offered either hot or cold meals. He opted for a light snack of a small salad, sliced rare filet mignon on a fresh baguette and a single glass of wine. In the curtained off area behind his seat he found a fully equipped bathroom and a carefully made up bed with a real mattress.
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