by Sansa Rayne
I lean back in the chair, my head spinning. Would Ingram let me work for Anton? Do I even want to? I thought I was pretty clear about not wanting to be a part of all this. Being a Master or working for one, there’s no real difference — other than the power I might have. I’d still be helping evil men get their way. That’s still unacceptable.
“Innovative AF’s going to play a pivotal role in the Masters’ expansion in the coming years,” Anton continues. “My tech will further our agenda at a rate they’ve never experienced. It won’t be long before I’m indispensable — to this organization, and to the world. The person who can coordinate an effective message to the people, while also maintaining our secrecy… it will be a position with perks. What if I told you you wouldn’t necessarily be a prisoner forever?”
“I’d say you’re trying to give me false hope,” I say. “Telling me what I want to hear so you can get what you want.”
Anton shrinks back, and for a second I almost believe I’ve hurt his feelings.
“I’m sure that sounds like a fantasy, but if it’s in the organization’s interests, is it so hard to believe I could make it happen? I’m going to be a highly influential member of this collective.”
That could well be, but it doesn’t change anything.
“Why are you even asking me then? Why not just ask Ingram and Hardt, have them make me do it? Then I won’t have a choice.”
Sighing, Anton gets up. Crossing his arms together behind his waist, he paces around the room.
“You’re right, I could do that. But I want you to take the job willingly. Someone of your intelligence works better when it’s by choice. Sure, you might be motivated by punishment and discipline, but the best employees have a passion for the work and a belief in its purpose. That could be you, but it has to be your decision.”
“I see. The problem is, I’d rather not help you take over the world.”
He pauses in place, staring straight ahead.
“Kate, whether you like it or not, Innovative does plenty of good around the world. We fight poverty. We improve education. We connect people. Our philanthropic pursuits are lauded by governments and agencies everywhere we go. Don’t pretend you don’t know that.”
“I suppose,” I mutter.
It’s true. But does it matter? It’s all just a smokescreen to distract people.
“What a lot of my colleagues forget is that when the world thrives, so do we,” says Ford. “Economies grow for everyone or die for everyone. By making the world a better place, the Masters will reap the benefits. And a happy world is much easier to rule than one consumed by chaos — regardless of whether you rule from a podium or the shadows.”
“You make a convincing argument,” I lie, looking down at the floor. It would be a lot easier to believe his talk of benevolence if he wasn’t raking in billions and vying to join a cabal that dominates the planet.
But if someone else is just going to do the job anyway…
And it would royally piss off Ingram…
Except, I’d have to live with being a willing participant in something terrible.
“I’ll have to ask Ingram.”
“Of course,” he replies, heading to the door, likely ready to show me out. “I totally understand that. But I wouldn’t have offered you this job if I didn’t think you could convince him.”
“And I’d want to know you a little better,” I say, planted in my seat.
“Oh?” He grins, pouring himself another bourbon. “You’ve read plenty about me in world news. What else would you like to know?”
“Well, if I’m going to be directing communications for the purpose of keeping the right secrets, it would help if I knew the parts of your life story that I’ll be hiding.”
He puts down his glass, not drinking. His smile evaporates.
“I can see where this is going, Kate.”
“Your life story is a big thing to keep secret, Anton. Where are you from? Who are you, outside of your business? Why don’t you ever talk about your life?”
He laughs, though his brows slant angrily long enough for me to see.
“Every reporter I’ve ever spoken to has asked that. I knew you would too. I like to keep my life private. When you’re a public figure, everyone wants a piece of you. They want to consume every part of you. I don’t have to explain that to you, do I?”
“No, for sure not.”
He nods.
“And don’t you wish the public didn’t know all of the embarrassing details about your past?”
“Sometimes,” I admit. “But I’d rather they know the truth than think I’m perfect. And regardless, I’m not asking you this as a journalist. LPN is never going to get this story. But I need to know what I’m getting myself into.”
Now Anton takes his drink, sighing into it.
“I came from a poor family. My parents struggled to work, and died when I was young. To become what I am today, I bribed my way into Harvard and worked odd jobs for some local mobsters. I got my degrees and went legit, but the lessons and ambition of organized crime stayed with me.”
I let his confession settle for a moment, Should I be surprised about any of this? He’s right — the media would go to town if they knew the truth. It would be bad for his reputation, and who knows if he could be linked to any past crimes?
“Thank you,” I say at last. “I appreciate you telling me that.”
“You’re welcome. Keep it to yourself. And think about my offer,” he replies, getting me up to cuff me. He hits the intercom to call my escort. “Soon I’ll be in a position to make your life here much, much nicer. I’m about to become a made man in a way my old bosses could never imagine.”
How the fuck does Ingram put up with her? The fucking nerve. She’s very fucking aware of what I talk about with the press and what I don’t. I’ve walked out of interviews more than once when they’ve failed to respect my clearly delineated boundaries.
Granted, that’s probably what made her so good at her job — her willingness to push and ask the right questions at the right time. Except, I’m not the subject of a feature for LPN, I’m offering her a chance to spend her time productively, rather than wasting away on this damn island.
Growling, I reach down and brush my cock; if Kate doesn’t want to work for Innovative, there are plenty of other uses for her.
I should try to relax before the meeting later, so I head for the sauna. With everyone preparing for the event, it’s almost empty. Only Madeleine lingers in the hot tub, gazing at the hypnotic, waving bands of reflected light playing over the ceiling.
Perfect.
She hears my footsteps on the tiles. Her eyes widen when I ditch my towel, revealing a pulsating erection. She knows what’s about to happen. She doesn’t say a word, but her tongue swipes across her lips.
Wading into the water, I flip her around and enter her. She braces herself against the hard tub walls. Her arms bend and press like springs as I drive into her in a slow rhythm. I fist her hair, forcing her to crane her neck, but for once she’s not bound or gagged. With no rules put upon her, she moans freely, lost in bliss. Her hot little pussy grips me tightly, eliciting surges of pleasure with each thrust.
It’s taken years of planning, but everything is coming together. Jamison Hardt is no longer a face in a photograph at the top of my drawing board. I own him. He’ll do whatever I tell him to. He knows what I’ll do, without hesitation, if he defies me. One word is all I need to take everything. For years he’s rightly called himself the most powerful man on the planet — and he lost it all so quickly he never saw it coming. I actually feel bad for him; he’s not my enemy, Ingram is. Hardt was just the best way to get at Ingram.
Kate threw a wrench in the works, but now that she’s a part of my plan rather than a confounding factor, everything is back on track. She may be on the fence about my job offer, but she’ll give in soon enough. The prospect of having a purpose will become irresistible, though it could take months. She’s proven far
more resilient than even I anticipated, but she’ll succumb to boredom and despair eventually. She’ll turn to me for refuge, and gradually it will evolve into more than just a business partnership. I’ll be the one validating her existence, providing her a window into the world she once knew. She’ll leave Ingram for me, and if he feels for her what I think, that’ll hurt him far more than any bullet to the gut.
“Oh!” cries Madeleine. “Yes, more!”
I pause, realizing I’d been pumping her like crazy. I’d barely noticed.
She lets go of the wall, shaking out her hands. They look numb, so I pull her away and wrap my arms around her chest. Grunting, I slide up her ass and resume pounding. Free to enjoy my cock’s relentless motion, she grinds against my hips, taking me in deep.
I can’t fucking wait for Ingram to figure out who I really am. I wish I could be in the room when it happens. Maybe I will, it’s hard to say. I could accidentally utter a word that clues him in, say it the same as I used to. My voice isn’t that different, after all. But he’s heard me speak plenty by now, so I don’t think that’s likely.
Perhaps I could make my natural smile — when I look in the mirror at this other face, that’s where I see it the most. I’d hate for that to happen, though. I want Ingram to look me in the eyes and see it. Some nights I stare into them, focusing on my irises. The rest falls away. They’re the one part of me that’s never changed at all. I close them, and then I’m me again. For a brief time, I’m Simon. But then I open my eyes and see Anton.
“Fuck me!” Madeleine screams, beating my arms with her hands. “Please, master. Don’t stop!”
I open my palms, revealing a few strands of her hair. What an absolute freak, this one is. Chuckling, I wash the hairs off my hands, then pull myself up onto the tub’s side. Wet and glistening from the water, my cock rises in the warm air. I point at it, and Madeleine wades up to my spread legs. Opening wide, she takes my girth between her lips and sucks. Her tongue worships every inch, her technique as energetic as ever.
What will it be like having Kate in this position? Before I saw five days of torture leave her pussy dripping, I would have imagined her the type to resist sucking cock — a spoiled rich girl too good for such a dirty act. Turns out, she’s kinky as fuck. She probably enjoys it. In retrospect, it’s a good thing Victor didn’t kill her — what a waste that would have been. I hope I can get her on her knees quickly — on camera, so Ingram can see. I’ll come so fucking fast it’ll be embarrassing, but worth it. Ingram’s the only person who’ll ever see it, and by then he won’t be in a position to tell anyone.
To think, I used to imagine I’d be satisfied with destroying Ingram’s wealth, power and influence. I’m fortunate it took so long for my plan to develop as it did, or he wouldn’t have had the chance to meet Kate. He wouldn’t have grown fond of her, and he wouldn’t care to lose her. And it had to be her. Does Ingram care that sweet Madeleine is mine to fuck whenever I want, however I want? Of course not. But if anyone dares touch Kate, his face goes red like his head might explode. If he were smart, he wouldn’t let it show how badly he needs her. Even when he had to torment her — thanks to me — he showed less emotion.
Those were a very interesting five days. Neither of them uttered a word, and Ingram never let on how enraged he must have been. Yet, I couldn’t help thinking they were on the same page. As soon as it was over, she was in his arms, rather than begging him to stay away. That’s true devotion. She endured her suffering thanks to him, I’m sure of it. Anyone else would have destroyed her, which means once Ingram’s gone, she’ll be vulnerable.
I pull Madeleine off my cock, and prop her up against the wall again, driving my shaft back into her slick, hot pussy. I don’t waste any time, pounding her like a machine. Groaning, she holds on for dear life. Water swirls around our bodies, casting our dirty scent into the humid air.
Turning Kate into an asset will take some effort. I’ll remind her that Ingram is a ruthless killer, and that he’s planned twenty assassinations for every life he’s taken personally. She’s too moral to look past that. I may be trying to turn a profit, but at least the world will benefit from my work. Once she’s crossed the first line, a little nudge will get her across the next one, and the one after that. A little compromise on this, a small sacrifice for that — and soon she won’t recognize herself. She’ll become everything she used to hate, and she won’t even see it coming.
I’d better keep Ingram alive long enough to see it.
“Yes! Yes! Oh, fuck, yes!” Madeleine screams. “Oh, Ingram, yes!”
I stop, pulling out of her.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Anton,” she says, backing away. The color drains from her face in an instant. “I didn’t mean to, it just-”
I throw out a fist, bashing in her nose. Her head rocks backward. Jaw open in a silent scream, blood trickles down her lips, spilling into the water. She holds her face, gasping and trembling.
“Please,” she whispers, shaking her head. “I’m sorry.”
Then I’m grasping her shoulders and pushing her down under the water.
Fuck her. Fuck Ingram.
Her fingers scrape across my knees. She latches onto them and squeezes. She may as well be trying to push over a redwood.
“You say my fucking name, you stupid whore! My… fucking… name!”
She coughs, bubbles rising from her lips. Her body spasms. Then she goes still, staring at me with empty eyes. Her hands release their grip. When I let go of her shoulders, she sinks, sliding onto her back as she hits the tub’s bottom.
Fuck. I didn’t mean to do that. It was impulsive — something Simon would do. Anton Ford should’ve laughed it off. Dammit.
My cock’s still hard. I could finish, but it’s getting late. I should dry off and get dressed.
It’s still going to be a great day.
Practically every guard on the island lingers around the kitchen as we work. They’re in the way. We bump into them every time we try to move through the narrow aisles. They watch us with unwavering focus, making sure we don’t try to pocket a fork or attack one of them with a hot frying pan. By now I’ve gotten used to having meat and vegetables arrive cut apart into the necessary sizes. Even on a day where we have to cook a feast, no knives are allowed. It’s probably for the best, because I’d definitely want to use one.
I’ve been stationed in front of the stove, stirring twin cauldrons of lobster bisque. It wouldn’t be hard for me to sling a ladle into the eyes of a passing guard, likely blinding him for life, but I’d be dead. Would they make Ingram torture me to death? I bet they would, though I don’t think he’d do it. As much as I want to hate him, I know he wouldn’t hurt me. So we’d likely both be dead. Not worth it, just to injure one guard.
All around me, heavenly aromas fill the air. Roasting lamb chops, truffle oil, fresh garlic, baking bread… They had us eat before the cooking started, of course: canned peas and crackers.
I’m fortunate to be on stirring detail, I suppose. The workers cart fresh ingredients all around, sweating and huffing from the effort. The courtesans mostly have easier tasks — portioning off sauces, watching timers, adding seasoning. Later tonight they’ll work their main jobs. They can’t afford to be too tired. Classical music plays softly through a PA system, often too softly to be heard beneath the kitchen’s clatter. Notes that get through would give the production a dose of prestige if we all weren’t wearing aprons over panties and nothing else.
I wish I had a more complicated task — arranging salads, decorating cakes — something that requires a little concentration, just so I wouldn’t have time to think of Ingram and Anton. I won’t be able to avoid them — not tonight, or at any other point going forward. Where am I even going to sleep? Is Ingram going to take me back to my cage, or will I be put up at the harem?
I consider asking Colette for advice, but she’s swamped with coordinating everyone. She looks better, though she could be putting on a brave f
ace. When the party’s over I’ll find her and figure out my next move, assuming it hasn’t already been decided for me.
My thoughts turn to John and Brendan, LPN and Manhattan. Do they still buy the story that I’m on vacation, or is my disappearance a national news story? If I was considered missing, would Ingram tell me? Would Hardt use his connections to keep it under wraps, or let the world know? My friends must realize this is wrong; I’ve been gone almost a month. I’d never take that much time off work. The last time I saw Brendan or John, I couldn’t even handle a day of inactivity. Are they really going to believe some sunny beach changed me? Sooner or later people will want to know-
“Colette!” someone wails, rising over the noise. “Oh god, Colette!”
I turn to see the courtesan Paulina shaking, tears streaming down her cheeks in dark streaks. Every conversation goes quiet, and even the sounds of bubbling soup seem turned down.
Colette weaves her way over and takes Paulina in her arms and asks, “What’s wrong?”
“I went to… find Madeleine. She’s… dead.”
Some shriek. Some gasp. A few, like me, stand and stare in disbelief.
“How? Where?” asks Colette.
Someone hands Paulina a paper towel as a fresh wave of tears flow.
“I saw her in the… the hot tub. At the… bottom. Not moving. Her eyes were… open…”
More of us cry now, breaths hitching.
“I jumped in and pulled her out but…” Paulina shakes her head.
“Everyone, please mind your work,” says Colette, scanning the kitchen. The guards are watching, of course. “I’m so sorry. We’ll have a service for her tomorrow. We’ll pay our respects, and honor her-”
“Who’s going to investigate what happened?” I ask.
