by Paul Preston
I didn’t… I didn’t cut her… I’ll slit my own throat with it, before I let the Beast cut her.
Hearing his own thought, Williamson stood absolutely still. He pictured how his throat would look after he sliced cleanly through his neck, the river of blood pouring down his chest. He put the tips of his fingers on his neck, to see if he had already sliced it open.
I didn’t cut myself.
He let the knife slip out of his fingers and fall to the floor. The sound made Bella Lisa stir in her sleep.
“Phillipe, pick up the knife. Phillipe…”
Williamson carefully picked up the knife and put it safely away in a compartment under the bed.
“Phillipe, I gave you that knife. Why are you putting it away?”
Williamson walked across the room and out through the sliding glass doors to the balcony, hoping the voice would not follow him. The bright moon shimmered off the ocean’s surface and the waves crashed below him. He focused his mind on the repetitive sound of the surf and the fishy smell of the ocean.
It would be so easy right now. All I have to do is step over the railing and it will be over in a matter of seconds. It’s the right thing to do.
He pictured his body free-falling over the railing and heard the sickening crunch of his spine and skull as it hit the earth 25 floors below him.
“Phillipe, you and I both know you’re too much of a coward to do that. Besides, what a waste it would be! We have so many people who depend on us, for their jobs, their livelihoods. You would throw it all away for her… a sub? Come inside. Step away from the railing. You can mark her later in the week if you wish. Don’t be a goddamned fool! Come in from the balcony…”
Williamson came back in and shut the balcony door.
“If you will not cut Ms. Mauricio tonight, I will still need a blood sacrifice. Come with me Phillipe. The West Wing awaits.”
As Williamson walked across the room and opened the bedroom door, Bella Lisa woke up.
“Mr. Williamson, what’s wrong?” Bella Lisa said sleepily.
“Can’t sleep.”
“Where are you going, baby? Shut the door and come to bed.”
Williamson shut the door, sat down on a chair near the bed and rubbed his eyes.
“What’s wrong, honey? Are you OK?” she asked.
“I’m fine.”
Bella Lisa sat up and noticed the large erection poking out beneath his bathrobe.
“Are you hard? Again? Is that why you can’t sleep?”
“I…I just didn’t want to bother you.”
Again he heard the refrain.
“Phillipe… Phillipe… I’m very disappointed in you.”
“Go back to sleep, Ms. Mauricio. I’ll just take a short walk and be right back.”
“Phillipe… Come to me, Phillipe…”
Williamson looked at the drawer he put the knife in. At that moment he pictured grabbing it and running it down Bella Lisa’s exposed thigh, leaving behind a thin ribbon of blood. He shut his eyes and rubbed them.
“What’s wrong, Mr. Williamson?”
“Ms. Mauricio, would you do me a favor?”
“Of course.”
Williamson reached into the drawer and pulled out the two handcuffs he used to restrain her.
“Here. Take these. Cuff my wrists above my head to the bedframe. Here’s the key. Take it.”
“Are you sure you want me to—”
“Don’t give me back the key until the morning. Go ahead. Do it. Then you can do whatever you want to me, tease me, play with me, whatever. I’ll be your prisoner for the night.”
“Sounds kind of sexy, Mr. Williamson.”
“You’ll be able to ride me all night long if you want. I won’t be able to move, to touch you. Don’t give me the key back until the morning, even if I beg for it.”
“OK. You know me, I’ll try anything once…”
Bella Lisa put the handcuffs around Williamson’s wrists and attached them to the steel bed frame. As soon as he was confined to the bed, he instantly felt more relaxed.
Bella Lisa started down at his ankles and slithered up his body, licking every inch of his skin. She licked over the thin veins of his scrotum, following the largest vein up the tip of his shaft. She sucked his shaft into the back of her throat and Williamson moaned in pleasure. Bella Lisa straddled his legs and sat down on his erection. She placed her small hands upon the muscles of his chest and rocked herself against him over and over until her hips twitched and she climaxed. Seeing her breasts swaying and her head thrown back, Williamson shot his seed deep into her at the same time, thrusting his pelvis into her. Exhausted, Bella Lisa lay down on his chest with his erection still inside her and fell asleep. When his breathing calmed, Williamson too fell asleep.
Chapter Four
Day Three - Monday
A few hours later Williamson awoke. He whispered in Bella Lisa’s ear to unlock the handcuffs with the key she still clenched tightly in her fist. Half asleep, she unlocked the right wrist. Williamson took the key, freed his other wrist and got out of bed.
“Where are you going?” Bella Lisa mumbled.
“I’ve got to get to work, baby.”
“Very kinky sex last night, Mr. Williamson.”
“It was great. The best ever. Go back to sleep, Beauty…”
Bella Lisa turned over in bed and fell back asleep. She awoke several hours later after sleeping for twelve hours. She sat up in bed, slightly sore from the performance on stage and all the sex. She found a handwritten note next to her on the bed.
“Good morning, Sleepyhead. Last night was so awesome. Maria is off on Mondays and I know you must be starving so I cooked you breakfast; it is warming on the stove. I have a long and crazy day ahead of me, I might be a little late tonight, but I will come back home to be with you as soon as I can. I hope you have a pleasant relaxing day. W”
A whole day, alone, stuck in this castle in the sky. I guess this is what it would be like to be Mrs. Williamson.
She walked over to the kitchen and found the pan of scrambled eggs he had made her on the stove, a fresh baguette and butter, sliced melon, fresh squeezed orange juice and a large freshly brewed pot of Starbucks Coffee. She poured a cup and took a sip.
Medium Roast. How did he know which roast of Starbucks Coffee I liked? This guy is amazing. He cooks too!
She tasted the eggs right out of the pan. They were light and fluffy, with the perfect combination of butter and salt.
Maybe he is husband material after all.
The only thing her last boyfriend did for her as far as food went was open a can of chili, so this was a large step forward. He was definitely winning points for her with this breakfast. It was thoughtful. She hadn’t eaten anything substantial in a day and a half and was suddenly very ravenous. She ate everything Williamson had made for her and drank two cups of coffee.
Bella Lisa noticed an LA Times with the Sport’s section removed, sitting on the kitchen table. She lazily flipped through it as she ate. She saw Page One of the Metro Section had been rabbit-eared and she looked down and saw the article. The text began right below a large and exceedingly sexy photograph of the infamous Mr. Williamson, smiling and wearing a tuxedo, the handsome devil, at some kind of societal function. She went over every word with intense interest, as if trying to find the first two pieces in an intricate 1000 piece puzzle she had just started trying to put together.
SEASIDE CITY PHILANTHROPIST PHILLIPE WILLIAMSON DONATES TEN MILLION
In one of the largest donations ever made by a private citizen in the history of Seaside City, successful entrepreneur Phillipe Williamson gave 10 Million dollars yesterday, split equally between a variety of 20 different nonprofit organizations, from the American Cancer Society to the Super-Pac fund for the reelection of President Obama, United We Stand.
With a real estate and stock broker’s license in hand, Williamson opened up a modest one room office on Pacific Coast Highway in Seaside City 22 years ago. The bus
iness grew to become one of the largest and most profitable companies in the coastal community, Williamson Investments and Real Estate Services. Williamson’s estimated personal net worth is reported to be over three quarters of a billion dollars.
“His ability to predict trends in the market is legendary,” Dwayne Richards, stock market analyst for Merrill Lynch said. “He’s one of the only portfolio managers who foresaw the stock market collapse of the late nineties, as well as the housing bubble in early 2000. He’s built up a tremendous reputation by saving his high end clients an enormous amount of their assets. He also seems to work 24 hours a day, micro-managing two very busy growing companies.”
A shy and somewhat secretive man, he has never granted the LA Times an interview, despite repeated requests, and also refused to be interviewed for this article. Public records show his upbringing mirrored his humble beginnings as a business man. At three years of age he entered the foster care system and lived at a variety of foster homes throughout Southern California. While still a minor, an incident occurred that caused him to be sent to a reform school for three years. Williamson ended up living in a foster home in Carson for a year or two, but then ran off and apparently lived on the streets for a time. He did not graduate from high school. He got his first job as a telemarketer at Merrill Lynch, received his broker license, and within four years became the company’s star stock-picker and top producer on the West Coast. At age twenty two he opened up his own office and now is one of the richest citizens in Seaside City.
The public relations department of Williamson Investments released the following statement, regarding his sizable gift.
“In creating The Williamson Charitable Trust, Phillipe Williamson wants to give back to the Southern California area and to the charities that are doing the most for the public good. Though the 2012 donations have been pledged in full, any nonprofit organization that wishes to apply for a donation from our 2013 fund may visit our website:
williamsoninvestmentsandrealestateservices.com or contact the coordinator of the trust fund directly, recent Stanford graduate, Bella Lisa Mauricio, at:
[email protected].
As soon as she saw her name in print, she dropped the newspaper on her empty plate in shock. She picked up the paper and wiped the crumbs off the newsprint, noticed an oil stain left behind by a pad of butter, which she quickly rubbed off before it soaked through to his picture. She looked down again at the article with her name prominently mentioned. She smiled, thinking of the extent this man will go to continue having crazy sex with her. She cut the picture out with a pair of scissors and put it in her purse.
Before checking her email, Bella decided to take a long leisurely soak in her tub.
She washed herself thoroughly, shampooing and conditioning her hair. After drying off, she found the special oil from Thailand and anointed herself in the sensitive spots, just as Maria had.
Why not?
Though she felt a little embarrassed, the oil did make her feel sexy and gave her a delicious warmth in her private areas. She put on her red silk robe. She retired to her room and turned on the computer. By 12:15PM, she already had 167 emails when she logged into the company email address Williamson had surreptitiously set up for her. She shook her head and scrolled down through the emails. It would take hours and hours of work to sort through them and respond to each one. Even if she worked nonstop through the rest of the week, she would never be able to finish before her week was up. She would have to set up some formal application process for groups to apply for the donations in 2013. She thought how clever it was for Mr. Williamson to weave her name into the article, further entwining and holding her captive in his sexy little web. She looked up again a moment later and there were 173 emails. Then 178. Mostly they were donation requests coming in from all across the country and a few responses from the organizations she had chosen yesterday. One email caught her eye. The subject line read, ‘Thanks. From Barack.’ She opened it and read the screen, her heart pumping a little faster.
Dear Ms. Mauricio and Mr. Williamson
I wanted to take a moment to personally thank you on behalf of President Obama for your extremely generous pledge of $500,000 to United We Stand and the president’s reelection campaign. Romney has significantly outraised and outspent us leading up to the Republican National Convention, but your donation is a shot in the arm to us and helps balance the scales. I have spoken directly to President Obama this morning and told him of this tremendous gift and he wanted me to personally convey to you, Phillipe, how much this means to him. If you are available, we’d love to meet you and your assistant, Bella Lisa Mauricio, in the coming weeks when President Obama makes a campaign stop in Los Angeles. Please keep in touch. Thanks Again!
Best Regards, Franklin Rogers
Southern California Regional Director
United We Stand
Bella Lisa forwarded the message to Williamson with a little note.
“Hey, Mr. Williamson. Thanks for delicious breakfast. It was very sweet and thoughtful of you. I hesitate to think what nasty things you’re going to make me do to pay you back for your kindness. Look at the attached email. You got a message from the President! You’re famous now, Mr. Williamson. And by the way, I read the article you “left” on the kitchen table. The picture and the article were very flattering. You really are a sneaky man to put my name in it. There are currently 187 messages in my inbox to attend to. I know what you’re up to, Mr. Williamson, trying to keep me captive here after the terms of our contract are over and I’m not sure I approve, Sir.”
Almost instantly, Bella Lisa got a new email in her box.
“You’re finally awake! You’re getting personal messages from the President now? They want to arrange a “meeting”? Hmmm. There’s no stopping you now, Ms. Mauricio! C U 2 nite!”
Bella Lisa was a little disappointed he had ended the flirtation so soon, but he was a busy man. She was very curious about the background information she had read about him in the article. She had so many questions for him. She thought again about the cuts on the back of his legs, as well. At the right moment, she wanted to talk to him about his past. Getting him to open up would probably be like prying open a clam’s shell, she thought.
She could withhold sex until he answers my questions, that would probably work with the guy.
She looked again at the messages accumulating in her inbox and turned off her computer. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to continue on after the week was over as Mr. Williamson’s employee/submissive/love slave. Replying to the messages would imply that she wanted the job. The last two days had been the most eventful and exciting in her life, but she doubted if she could keep it up much longer. She enjoyed sex, but not nearly as much as she needed to in order to keep a man with such an enormous appetite fulfilled. She secretly felt a little relieved to get a break from his sexual demands. She wondered if the other oversexed trophy housewives of the rich felt the same way.
Bella Lisa decided to do her hair and makeup and turned on the flat screen TV built into the bathroom mirror. She tuned in to the end of one of those ubiquitous rich housewives shows, she couldn’t tell which one. She watched them go from one luncheon to another dinner party, always with a half empty wine glass in their hands. The episode ended predictably with the bitchy cat-fight at the fundraiser scene. Afterwards, they pretentiously dissected each vapid word of the show as if they were in her Comparative Literature class at Stanford. Scared that she had seen a vision of her future as Mrs. Phillipe Williamson, she turned off the TV and went back to the computer to work on her resume. After adding her internship with Mr. Williamson’s company, Bella Lisa surfed around in job search websites and submitted her application to the Development Departments of a few nonprofit organizations in the LA area. After an hour of job searching, she tapped her fingers restlessly on the computer keyboard and powered it off. With nothing better to do, she wandered around the condo. She walked from the North Wi
ng to the main living area. Just to check, she pressed the down arrow on the elevator and, as expected, it did not light up.
Still doesn’t trust me. Trapped at the top of the enchanted castle, with no way out.
She took a few steps down the corridor into the South Wing, but felt embarrassed about disturbing the servants of the household, so she turned around and headed toward the East Wing to snoop around, opening each door and peeking inside. In one of the largest rooms she discovered a massive library, with thousands upon thousands of hard bound books, shelved from ceiling to floor, arranged in alphabetical order by the author’s name. It looked as if they had never been touched, opened or read. He seemed to like collecting books, many appeared to be first editions of classic texts, probably worth a fortune.
Not a bad collection for a high school dropout.
She could find no trashy paperback novels with a half dressed woman touching the muscled chest of man on the cover.
I’ve got to get my mind out of the gutter.
Then, on a side table, she found a half-opened book she recently read, “Fifty Shades of Grey”.
Of course, he would want to read that one!
Bella Lisa flipped through the pages and thought about the book. She couldn’t help but compare the fictional character of Christian Grey to her live, flesh and blood Dom, Phillipe Williamson. Grey was just a boy compared to Williamson. Bella Lisa liked it that Williamson was older, much older than herself. Both men were both filthy rich, but it seemed completely unbelievable to her that Grey would be running a big corporation at such a young age. Also Grey was constantly jealous and controlling with his sub, Anastasia Steele. He was angry with her for paying innocent attention to a male friend and always forced her to eat even when she wasn’t hungry. Bella Lisa felt those parts of the book were more annoying than sexy. It really got on Bella Lisa’s nerves as she read those passages. Williamson was not controlling, like Christian Grey. Overlooking the fact that she was kept captive in his condo, she was free to do whatever she wanted and behave however she wished around him. And Williamson didn’t seem to be the jealous type, which was refreshing. Also, rather than spending ten million on a helicopter in order to impress his submissive by flying her around, Williamson donated ten million to worthy causes. Except for the limo, Williamson lived a rather simple life for such a wealthy man. But the biggest difference between them, Bella Lisa decided, was that Christian got off on whipping his sub, he enjoyed it. Although Williamson certainly liked the whip, Bella Lisa thought that her Dom respected her tolerance for pain. She trusted that he would never lose control and go beyond the boundaries they established for her safety. Like the character he portrayed in their little play last night, Bella Lisa felt that Williamson was not a sadist. Anyway, in the end, though a million people will have read about the experiences of Anastasia Steele, and not a soul would ever know the true story of what happened to her, Bella Lisa didn’t care.