by B. B. Roman
"Roland!" I screamed, my words simultaneously begging for mercy and for him to ravage me. Time became a blur as my senses were overwhelmed. My whole cheek was moist from saliva now. I kept screaming out repeatedly as he had his way with me.
His cock began twitching inside of me and then I felt him tense up like he'd suddenly been filled with electricity. "Yes!" he shouted. There was nothing I could have done about it anyway. Cum shot into me in huge bursts, his back arching every time he released it. It kept the fire burning inside of me until he was spent. His climaxes were something I'd learned to love very much. They were so visceral, so unrefined and raw.
Roland collapsed onto my clothed back after he was finished, his orgasm seeming to outlast mine by mere seconds. He kept me there at that angle, still embedded deeply inside of me, like he was still holding the reins. "You know, I didn't trust you one bit when you came here," he said. "I thought you were undercover for somebody. I thought you came here to end all of this...extravagance."
Sickness swelled inside of me, a blackness that I swore was oozing right out of my pores. If he could have seen my face in that moment, he would have seen a look of terror that would have given me away in an instant. What the hell?
"Roland, what are you talking about?"
"I thought someone sent you in here. I tested you. I broke your will," he said.
Thankfully, I had a reason for my heartbeat to be so high. I had no idea where he was going with this. Did he know about my meeting with Ramón? Was this just random? "I'm not—"
"Pet, I know far more than you think I do." His voice had taken on a far more sinister tone. I was more frightened than I'd ever been in my life, his erection still inside me, his weight keeping me against the couch like I was a prisoner. I fought not to reveal myself, to blurt out some lie that would confuse him—and me—even more.
"Roland, I—" I really believed that I was about to wind up dead somehow, right here in this room.
"I'm ready to bring you inside, pet. You're the only one that's made it this far. However, that requires a test of loyalty. If you succeed, you'll truly be by my side."
I let out a massive sigh that would have been a dead giveaway in any other situation. "Wow, Roland, that's such an honor," I said softly. He pulled out and sat down next to me on the couch. Suddenly, I could see the light at the end of the tunnel—I would get the information Ramón needed. It felt like it was set in stone now. He was lessening my fears.
"Soon," he said. He kissed my cheek and then stood up. "An Irish coffee?" he asked. "Like old times?"
"Absolutely," I said. Despite his sudden intensity, Roland was being sweet again.
He smiled and walked into the kitchen. I let out another enormous sigh and pulled up my panties.
I sat there and suddenly recalled an event from my past that seemed painfully relevant, even more so because I had happened to say the lie about my family dog dying earlier.
Growing up, my dad had done his best with gifts for my mom, sometimes enlisting the help of his mother to decide on what to get. I didn't remember it well—I was maybe 5-years-old at the time—but our dog died and it really affected my mom. So, for my mother's birthday the following year, my dad decided to go out of his way to do something really special for her—he would surprise her with a puppy, and her cute little daughter would present it to her.
My dad and I picked one out for my mom and waited until it was old enough to leave the litter. We put the puppy in a box with a blanket and my dad did a really haphazard wrapping job, mostly because we didn't want to leave it in there more than a couple of minutes. Anyhow, the plan was to, you know, surprise her with the puppy. She'd open the box and it would jump out and lick her face. It would be like the typical feel-good family movie and she'd be so thankful.
Everything was in place—I didn't remember this perfectly, but I've relived it through my parents' words on more than one occasion—and I took the puppy in the box and carried it toward my mom, clad in the cutest pink dress I had. She was sitting in our living room, totally oblivious to what was going on.
At that age, I tried pretty hard to keep secrets, but I really wasn't very good at it. When warm yellow liquid started streaming from one of the corners of the box, I started screaming, unable to contain myself. No, I wouldn't be able to keep this secret.
My mother had jumped up and run toward me, terrified of what was going on. Honestly, she didn't know that we had been arranging any of this. To her, I looked like a victim of chemical warfare, her daughter dosed with anthrax and about to die and—
"Hon, what's the matter?" she had shouted, yanking the box out of my hands and tossing it onto the floor. Her expression of fear was the thing that I remembered most about the event.
"The puppy peed on me!" I had screamed. And that folks, was the death of the surprise.
My mom just about had a second heart attack after realizing she had thrown a box with a puppy in it onto the floor immediately following what she thought was a terrorist attack on her daughter. It was a similar experience for my dad. He later told me about how everything went into slow motion, how he just froze up, unable to make a decision. He could spoil the surprise and protect his daughter, or just try to keep quiet. Inaction had won in the end.
Thankfully, the puppy was just fine. We had padded the box so much that the puppy barely had any space to move. The fall was fully cushioned. When my mom opened the box, the puppy did jump out, but we had to give it a bath after its accident. Things could have turned out a hell of a lot worse.
That dog survived until I graduated college, a beagle that had been everything my family could have wanted. It was strange that I had re-invoked the memory of the dog right before I had to keep a secret again. Only this time, the secret was a million times greater and the repercussions a million times more serious.
A test of loyalty. What could that possibly mean? I know I had only been a child during the puppy incident, but it still seemed so fresh in my mind. If faced with a ton of stress and discomfort, could I possibly keep myself together? What would I do if he made me do something questionable or illegal? Could I really keep my lips sealed under duress?
I wiped my face clean of any expression just before Roland returned to the kitchen. Neutral. "Here you are, pet," he said. I took a big sip and smiled. Nostalgia washed over me as the warmth and sweetness of the drink danced along my taste buds.
"This is so good," I said. I could barely contain myself. Oh yes, I was excited for the alcohol to kick in.
"I always loved that look of enjoyment on your face when you took the first sip," Roland said. "The virgin sip." He smiled, revealing the slight wrinkles in his face. Still no noticeable grey in his hair. Honestly, since I arrived, he looked like he had aged at least a tiny amount. I guess this sort of business did that to you. I wonder if I looked any different...
I sipped quietly while Roland chatted aimlessly, his thoughts wandering from art, to music, to business, to old family vacations. I added what I could, but sometimes it was tough to relate to such luxury and privilege. Roland's tale about wrecking his sports car during high school was no different than if he said he'd spent his childhood on the moon—I just had no basis to compare my own life to that at all.
Sure, I'd gotten in a car accident shortly after getting my license. It had been traumatic and something that had made me car-less for most of high school. I think most kids dealt with something like that growing up. The only difference was, I—and the majority of the planet's kids—didn't get an even better car after crashing the first one. Most folks got a verbal spanking that stuck with them for a long time—and hopefully served as a valuable lesson about responsibility. The only slap Roland got was a high-five from his father. The story told volumes to me about him.
All of that aside, he still had smidge of childish innocence to him, one that hadn't been forcibly extracted by the pressures of the real world. Money had solved all of Roland's problems—well, and power. Stress was certainly something he d
ealt with on a daily basis, but his stress was also very different than what most people dealt with. He was apparently deciding where/how to ship drugs and people to different places. Who to silence, and who to promote. When I first started my career, it was questions like how do I pay my rent this month, and how am I going to eat?
Roland suddenly being nicer and wanting to trust me with more inevitably triggered feelings of happiness and satisfaction, even though I was working to bring his empire down. I had to fight the urge to really like him, to keep things as artificial and manipulative as possible. I needed to proudly wear my false face.
The rest of that night was pretty positive, and despite the fact that I was certain that we'd get interrupted—I was hoping for it actually, hoping someone would walk in and say "Here's the evidence you need! Go home and enjoy yourself!" loud and clear—nothing actually happened. We had a good meal and got a little tipsy on wine I'd never be able to afford again in my life.
After Roland had left me for the evening, I went upstairs and scribbled in my journal. I wanted to capture my feelings about his past in the pages, to try and remember all of this in the future. Yes, and I was thankful that he hadn't busted me immediately after I had come from meeting with an FBI agent. I wrote about that in the vaguest detail possible, just in case my journal was discovered.
Ramón had told me that this whole process could take weeks, months even. I had no idea how deep I'd have to go, how far into my character's mind I'd have to dig. It was obvious to me that if Roland was going to allow me inside, I'd have to evolve with the scenario. He trusted me for some reason, at least as far as I could tell. I mean, he blatantly said that, so hopefully it wasn't just another manipulative move in his real-life chess game.
Working became very difficult for the few days after my meeting with Ramón. My mind was working in overtime, assuming that any inconsistency was exactly what I was looking for, the missing piece of the puzzle, the key that would unlock all of the doors. Suddenly I had become sort of a bitch, the office manager that no one could stand. I was double-checking everything and asking people for answers they couldn't possibly give. It didn't last long, however.
"Marisa," came Frederic's voice from behind me. I hadn't seen him much since the day I met with Ramón.
I spun around in my chair to face him. "Hi, Frederic," I said.
"Listen," he whispered. Before continuing he turned and closed the door, grabbing it before it slammed and gently closing it. His voice regain its volume. "People here aren't very happy with how aggressive you've been. Is everything all right?"
Frankly, I was floored at first because I had more or less lost my mind, I guess. I was in that determined state of mind, the one where I wouldn't stop for anything. It was the old Marisa rearing its ugly head and causing problems.
"I'm...sorry," I said. "I guess I got carried away.
"It's okay," he said, obviously noticing he had startled me. "This is a team that's been assembled for a long time. They have a code, a way of doing things that supersedes anything that you've been taught. Technically, you're in charge. However, the way they do things is above your authority, all right?"
"Yeah," I muttered, feeling depressed. I was just glad it was Frederic scolding me and not Roland. He didn't punish, he taught.
The more I talked to Frederic, the more I wondered if he was actually lying to me. When I had told him about the murder stuff, he had been surprised. Was that fake? Just a put-on? He apparently knew about at least some Roland's illicit activities—did he really know the full extent of his business? For some unexplainable reason, I trusted him over Roland. It was just a vibe, nothing else. I liked the way it felt.
"Things are going to change around here," he said. "I'll tell you more about it later."
"What do you mean?" I asked. "Business stuff?" I realized that I might be living one of the most significant moments of my life.
"It's an evolution of business," Frederic said. "Some loose ends will be tied, and then it's time to move on."
"Do I need to do something for this?" I wasn't sure if I should tell him about Roland's offer to bring me inside after a test of loyalty. I decided I wouldn't say anything just yet.
"No, Marisa. Just relax for now. I'll keep you informed of the details." Frederic looked like a man that was weighed down by something heavy, a secret the size of the world.
As much as I assumed this was all about Roland, the fact that he hadn't actually been mentioned at all raised my alerts. Was I in the middle of something and didn't realize it? I wanted to run screaming to Ramón, but it wasn't time for that yet. It had only been four days since I'd met with him and there were still a couple more to go. Honestly, there wasn't that much to say yet. My information would arrive soon, though.
That night when I arrived home, Roland informed me that I'd be taking tomorrow off—but that it wouldn't be to relax.
"We have a dear friend to meet with," he said.
"A friend?"
"Yes," he said. "I have a gift for him and you'll be the sexy little woman that delivers it."
"What?" I asked, mildly taken aback.
"This is your test of loyalty," he said. "It takes place tomorrow. It won't necessarily be easy. Hard doesn't seem like the right word either. I have a relationship with this fellow, but it's not the best. I hope that an offering will clear things up." He smiled at me. "You just need to be strong, okay?"
"Yeah, sure," I said. Confidence seemed to be escaping me, probably because he had caught me off-guard. "Do I have to do something or just drop something off?"
"He'll probably pressure you to do something, but you're just there to leave him with my gift of the financial variety." He pulled out a cigar from his robe pocket and lit it up. I always found it amusing that he had a robe with pockets—and actually used the pockets.
"Okay," I said quietly. Was this the big event Ramón had prompted me about? All I could think about was calling him somehow, even from inside the mansion.
"Will you join me for dinner?" he said with sincerity.
"Uh, I'd like to exercise first," I said.
"Sure, have at it." He smiled and kissed my cheek. "I'll be in my office."
I fought to contain my nervous excitement as I climbed the stairs. When I got into my room, I pulled my phone out and tossed my purse on the floor. In the recently called list was Ramón's number, sitting there with no name attached, just a lonely series of digits floating amongst the rest of my contacts. My finger sat on the call button like it was the trigger on a gun, my body ready to fire—
"No!" I said to myself. I had to be smarter than this. At the very least, I needed to assume that my room was bugged, that Roland could somehow listen to me. Even if it wasn't the case, I needed to be more cautious. However, I had to make this call. There was no way I could just let this all happen tomorrow without Ramón's input.
I decided that I needed to create a distraction. Dressed in my workout clothes, I went into the mini-gym area and turned on the stereo loud enough that it would create background noise, yet permit me to talk on the phone. I had to do this, yes, there was no debate about it.
The green button pressed, I held my breath and waited for Ramón to answer. I sat down in the corner furthest from the stereo.
"Yes?" I heard.
"I think it might be happening!" I said excitedly.
"Where are you?" he asked. "What's that racket?"
"I'm at the mansion. It's a diversion," I said, half whispering, half shouting.
"You shouldn't be doing this!" I had expected him to scold me and here it was. Time to give him what he's looking for.
"Tomorrow he wants me to meet some guy and give him money. I don't know what to do."
There was silence for a moment. "Do you know where it is?" he asked.
"No idea. Roland is taking me there tomorrow." Another pause.
"Just do it," he said. "This is probably part of the larger deal, but not the deal itself. Try to remember names and just keep calm. If
you can tip me off somehow, I can try to be nearby. Otherwise, we'll catch up soon." The line clicked off.
I set the phone down on the floor and just sat there for a second, trying to figure out if Roland was going to bust into the room, literal guns blazing and shoot me to death. Nothing happened. One deep breath later, I was standing up and approaching the treadmill.
You're too paranoid, Marisa.
I ran like I was fleeing, escaping from prison or something. Determination surged in me as my feet pounded against that belt. The fact that Roland hadn't suddenly appeared had eased my mind and gave me a quickly fleeting sense of accomplishment—because I still had to do whatever tomorrow. No, I wasn't off the hook yet.
It had been such a short amount of time since I first met with Ramón, and I was so ready to get this over. Why couldn't crime just happen when I wanted it to? The question was silly, but still I thought about it.
After finishing my workout, I showered and headed downstairs. We had a peaceful dinner, but it was difficult for me to relax with all of the uncertainty about tomorrow spiraling around in my brain.
"Is there a problem, pet?" he asked.
"Just nervous," I admitted. I wasn't going to keep that from him, and at the very least, it served as a distraction from my ulterior motives.
"You'll be just fine. I promise. You're just doing me a favor."
"Yeah, that's what I'm worried about," I said, nervous laughter flooding forth.
"Let's have a toast, all right? To calm my dear pet." He aggressively opened a bottle of champagne, the cork shooting toward the ceiling, the stream erupting like a fountain. It splashed his robe. "Oh dear." His laughs echoed in the large dining hall.
I couldn't help myself and laughed until my eyes were watering. A spark of madness arose inside of me. After the stream finally started to subside, he poured me a glass and spilled even more on the table. "Are we actually going to get to drink any of that?" I said snidely.
