This elicited a laugh from the unknown man.
A few moments of silence followed, only cut by my moans and the occasional groan from one of the two men. Boss's cock in my pussy somehow felt bigger, harder--maybe it was the effect of everyone watching?
"By the way," the man said suddenly. "I understand that Apple's going to report far slower growth than expected."
What the hell?
Boss reached out and took hold of my hair.
"That's interesting," he murmured. "But anyone could have guessed that."
The man grunted. He didn't seem pleased. Why the hell were they discussing business at a time like this?
"Maybe you'll appreciate this--McKinsey has just started advising Deutsche Bank, and they're looking to do some major restructuring."
"Oh?" Boss murmured, his voice betraying his interest.
"That's right. Layoffs. But, more importantly, selling off assets. A bunch of loans to some Russian and Ukrainian companies. That market's too dangerous for them now."
"Really?" Boss growled, working a finger into my mouth. I dutifully sucked on it as the unknown man groaned, unleashing his seed into the mouth of the pretty little redhead. She looked young enough to be his daughter, or maybe even his granddaughter, though she had to be over eighteen. She closed her eyes as if in bliss, swallowing his cum like the obedient little toy she was.
Even though I was mad at Boss, even though I was confused about the turn their conversation had taken--I wanted to impress him. I wanted to show off for him. I squeezed the muscles in my pussy as tight as I could.
"Please, harder, sir..." I moaned. "Make it hurt."
"I know what she wants," Boss growled. I gasped as he pulled out of me all the way and then slammed himself deep into me. I grunted like an animal in heat as he drove the entire length of his cock into me, over and over, over and over...
"You might be interested to know that Samsung's considering pulling out of the phone market all together," Boss growled.
"What? You can't be serious."
"I am. They've lost more and more marketshare to the iPhone. Thinking of shifting resources to some more profitable areas--business computing, tablets, some other industrial equipment."
"That's very interesting indeed..." the unknown man murmured, running his fingers through the redhead's hair as she licked the last droplets of cum off his old cock. Even though he was much older than Boss, he was approximately the same size. Something about billionaires and big cocks, I guess.
"I know it is," Boss murmured one last time before he unleashed his load inside of me. I squealed and shuddered.
"Yes, I love it when you cum in me, sir..." I moaned shamelessly. I wanted it to be loud. I wanted him to be proud of me. He swatted my ass.
"I know that," he growled through his moans, his cock spasming inside of me.
"She needs more training, clearly. A slave should be seen and not heart," the unknown man concluded. "But you've given me a lot to think about."
"Likewise. Enjoy your evening."
The unknown man plucked a glass of champagne off the tray being passed around by the corseted girl. She was trembling even worse now, and looking like she could barely stand up, with juices running down the insides of her thighs.
"I always do," he said with a laugh, draining the glass in one gulp before placing it back on the tray.
Boss pulled out of me and I stood up, stretching my back, inadvertently pressing my sore boobs around. He tore the clips off, hard and rough, and I leaned back against him, moaning at the sudden pain.
"What the hell was that?"
"You don't get to talk to me like that," Boss replied. "He's right--you do need more discipline."
"Are you doing insider trading here?" I sputtered. "And... And..."
"Among other things, yes," he said, a note of mischief in his voice. "That's the other tradition that goes along with this party. Group all the things you can't talk about in polite company together."
"And you knew about that scene I did?"
"Of course. Everyone who knows you knows about it. I imagine even your parents have seen it."
"Shut up!" I all but shrieked, ended up whispering, having lost my nerve part of the way through and found myself croaking out the words. "No, they haven't."
He drew me close and as I smelled his cologne, I all but melted in his arms all over again.
"This is the digital age, Tara. Everyone has seen everything. Everyone knows everything." He reached up and stroked my cheek, running a finger down to my lips. "Why do you think you're special? You've always thought you're special, haven't you?"
"No, I don't think I'm special, I..."
"We're going to beat the special out of you," he growled.
I bit my lip.
"How are you going to do that?"
Boss snapped his fingers. The girl in the corset was replaced by a spunky looking girl, dressed conservatively by comparison in a bright pink bikini. She had a huge, punk looking chest piece tattoo, a vicious wolf with its mouth open and tongue hanging out, along with sleeves on both arms and heavy make up.
"What can I do for you, sir?"
"What's the meanest, nastiest whip you have here?"
She looked me over, a big grin on her face.
"I don't know--how experienced is she? How much can she take?"
"I don't, honestly, care how much she can take," Boss growled. "But I've been lax in training her and I need to make up for lost time."
The girl nodded.
"I understand, sir. My mistake. I've got a pretty vicious rubber barbed wire flogger in the back. That's enough to flay skin if you're not careful."
"Perfect. Bring me that one."
"Right away, sir. Any cocktails, while I'm here?"
"A negroni for me. Tequila for her."
I raised an eyebrow as the girl darted off, deftly maneuvering through the writhing, tied up bodies and the half-naked men, many of them murmuring quietly to one another as they fucked and tortured their pets.
"What the hell are you going to do to me? And... Tequila? I mean, I don't dislike tequila, but just tequila?"
"You'll see," Boss growled once more. A shiver went up my spine. He led me over to a beautiful old little couch, the kind of piece you'd find on auction at Sotheby's.
"On your hands and knees here."
"How did you find out about my video?" I asked as I obeyed. I would never really get the hang of this whole slaves-don't-talk thing. "Who told you? I've barely told anyone. I don't even think Nora knows!"
"I have my ways, Tara. I don't think you appreciate how powerful I am," he murmured, running a hand up my thigh and over my ass. "Or how long I've been interested in you."
I thought I had put it together. I thought I had figured it out. Of course, once I knew the truth, I realized that I was wrong. But for the moment, everything seemed to make sense.
"You saw the video, didn't you? That's how you learned about me--you saw it and you wanted me for your own!"
He laughed. "That's a cute theory."
"That's got to be it. It makes perfect sense. Why else would you approach Nora about me? You became obsessed with me after seeing the video and..."
I trailed off as the girl came back, with drinks on a tray in one hand and... the whip... in her other hand. Dangling cruelly.
"We don't want any ambulances called," she said, handing the whip over to Boss. "I'm just reminding you of that, sir."
"I want an ambulance here even less than you do," Boss replied. He drew a one-hundred dollar bill out of his jacket and slid it into the front of the girl's bikini bottom. She giggled and drifted away. I felt myself flushing with jealousy.
"What the hell was that?" I demanded. For a second, I had even forgotten about the cruel looking whipping his hand. It did, indeed, look like barbed wire, though it hung like heavy rubber: seven or eight long strands of spiked, braided heavy rubber, hanging down from a sturdy looking handle. I had no idea what to expect...
"You just... You touched her cunt!"
"So? Did it make you jealous?"
"Um, yes. I thought I was your... Your... Toy? Pet? Thing?"
"You are," Boss cooed. "And if you don't behave yourself, I'll be searching for a new one. Now, ass up in the air like a good girl."
I grumbled as I hoisted my ass up as high as I could, pressing my face and chest down into the sofa, my flesh nervous--unsure of what was coming next... He wouldn't get rid of me, would he? I had signed a contract! But he had specified that, on my part, my continued participation was non-binding. Would that be the same for him? Would he be able to pull out if he were unsatisfied with me as a slave?
My thoughts were interrupted by the strike of the whip against my back side. God, but that hurt--worse than before. The sharp rubber barbs seemed to eat into my flesh and I screamed, attracting the attention of the other party-goers.
"Count for me, Tara," Boss ordered.
"Yes... Yes, sir," I choked out, my ass already burning from the strike. "One."
The first strike had hit my right cheek. The next cut into my left--and this time, one or two of the tails of the rubber whip cut into the crease between my legs, biting into my more sensitive flesh.
"Oh, god..." I groaned. "Two. How many will there be, sir?"
"As many as I think you need. Let's say... a hundred?"
A hundred?!
"Sir, I don't think I can do that..." I gasped, fearing gripping me.
"You'll do it if I say you're do it."
He grabbed me hard by the hair, forced me up, forced me to look into the cold, dead goggled eyes of his mask.
"Do you understand, Tara? I am in control. You are mine. You do what I say you do."
I bit my lip and nodded.
"Yes, sir."
"Say it again."
"What?"
He grabbed me hard by the cheeks, cupping a hand around my face, squeezing me painfully. God, he was so rough. I loved it, even if I were scared...
"Repeat back to me what I just said."
I took a deep breath, trying as best I could to steady myself.
"I... I am in your control. I am yours. I do what you say," I said, my voice quaking ever so slightly, but still doing my best to keep myself under control, still forcing myself to look at him.
"That's right. And what's going to happen now?"
"You're going... You're going to whip me ninety-eight more times," I whispered in dejection.
"That's exactly right."
I bent back over, my ass going back up into the air. I was trembling visibly, and I was terrified, and I was excited--all at the same time. I didn't know if I could take the abuse--but part of me, a sick, twisted, dirty part of me, was excited to find out.
The third strike hit. And then the fourth, and then the fifth, and then the sixth... The strikes continued and the count got higher and higher. I did my best to keep my voice as calm as I could, even though it felt like he was tearing my ass apart.
"You're doing well, Tara," Boss commented.
"Thank you, sir," I croaked out as another strike blasted my ass. "Twenty."
"And I think that's enough," he declared. My eyes widened. Oh, thank god.
Boss passed me another glass of champagne as I stood up uneasily, my body aching and screaming, agonized. I was trembling all over and my ass--god, my ass throbbed. It felt like my ass had a pulse of its own. I downed one glass of champagne and then another and then another.
"She's quite nice," someone said. It was a tall, well-muscled man, wearing a jester's headdress. I saw from the way Boss straightened up that he was pleased.
"She's coming along," he said simply.
The jester's voice dropped.
"Is that you, Tom? You haven't answered my emails about the acquisition..."
Tom? I saw Boss stiffen.
"I haven't had time to look it over, but the deal looks bad. I'm sorry--I've got no interest in it."
The jester scowled. "Jesus Christ, Tom--"
"Names," Boss growled. I could see his shoulders tense. He looked like a wild animal, coiling up and ready to pounce on an interloper, an intruder who had trespassed onto his territory. That tiny moment frightened me in a way Boss had never frightened me before.
"Fine. Fine. I'll call you tomorrow morning to hash this out."
"Don't bother," Boss--Tom?--said simply. He grabbed me by the hand and led me way from the couch, back to wear my dress lay in a heap on the floor.
"What was that?" I asked as soon as we were away from the jester.
"A scam artist. He doesn't realize he's a scam artist, but he is one--rather, he gets taken in by scammers and he tries to get everyone else in on the project. That's what happens when you let in people who inherit their money instead of making it themselves. They have no sense about it whatsoever. They're morons."
"Why are we leaving? Aren't I doing good for you?" I asked, suddenly, surprised by the question myself. But I realized that it was a more probing question, hunting for clues I knew I wanted and which my subconscious was determined to find: Boss didn't seem like the type to get scared off by a wealthy, idiot man child. But the names thing... What the hell was that all about?
"He broke a rule. I don't like rule-breaking." His voice was as tense as his body was. It frightened me. It was as if I had discovered a chink in the armor. A glitch in the Matrix. The secret to the magician’s trick. And there was no way I could un-know what I knew…
"So, your name is Tom?" I murmured, barely above a whisper as I slid the dress back on.
"Rule-breaking," he growled back at me.
Outside, as if by magic, the Mercedes was waiting for us. Paul leapt out to let us in, and then we were off, going back to Manhattan. I watched the darkly glittering city, and bit my lip. How could a city so beautiful, and always so bright, contain such darkness? It all sent shivers up and down my spine. New York, to me, always felt like a book that I was only ever able to read one chapter of. Or an old friend I had met in the last days of his or her life. The capitol city of an ancient empire, a Rome or a Babylon, in its final days, bearing all the scars of its past, wearing them proudly, beautifully.
Boss was silent the entire ride. I couldn't see his face, but I could tell he was stewing in his anger. From his lips alone, I could tell: the way he bit his lip, ever so slightly, biting it and then releasing it, and turning his gaze out the window as if trying to catch sight of a long-forgotten friend on the street. But there was no friends to be seen, and so he kept up his watch. A watchman standing guard, keeping an eye out…
And me? I was turning over the name in my mind. Something had connected. Something deep and dark, something which I hadn't thought about for a long time.
Tom. Tom. Tom. Tom Story.
10
The Revelation
When we were back in the apartment, I turned on Boss.
"You're Tom Story, aren't you? I knew you in grade school."
Boss was frozen before me, a tall, menacing figure, with bird-beak and dark goggles, frozen like some horror movie monster finally hit with light, frozen like a wax statue at Madame Tussaud's.
"What makes you say that?"
"You know that I like Pokemon. No one knows that I like Pokemon. But that was it, wasn't it? We played Pokemon together as kids. How else would you know?"
And then, slowly, ever so slowly, he reached behind the mask and unclasped it. He eased it off, along with the goggles: and there, before me, slightly flushed, was the face of the man I had been serving for the past few weeks.
He was handsome, with a surprisingly rugged jaw for a man who lived in New York and spent all of his time in suits. He had the beginnings of stubble, and deep, entrancing blue eyes.
But there was no mistaking it. He had grown up, but it was still Tom Story. The pudgy, nerdy child was gone, but I recognized his face all the same. God, he had grown up well.
"Tom. I don't understa
nd."
"What don't you understand, Tara?" he asked softly. And then he smiled--God, I could have melted right then and there for that smile. Was this what love is?
"You're the only one wearing a mask right now," he added, when I didn't answer immediately. He was right. Somehow, I had forgotten that I was wearing it. I could see the attraction of the mask now. There was something comforting about the mask. I felt more confident. Bolder. I guess this was why Tom wore one with me. It occurred to me—had he been scared to be with me? Was that why he wore the mask? Because he thought I wouldn’t… Understand him? The thought broke my heart, in spite of the deception.
I slid my own mask off and there we were, Tom and Tara, once more--looking at each other like we hadn't looked at each other since we were children. But, of course, it was oh-so different now.
"Tom, why did you do all this?"
He shrugged and smiled. It was a sheepish, boyish smile, like I hadn’t seen in decades. Not since… Not since we were kids.
"Why don't I fix us some drinks?"
Even though I had several glasses of champagne in my system, and even though I had barely gotten drunk in weeks, I felt like I needed one now, more than anything--except maybe an explanation, of course.
He made two strong martinis. I watched him put shot after shot of Hendrick's gin into the shaker, and stir--I wasn't going to stop him. Martinis in hand, we retired to the terrace. I’d miss this terrace if and when my relationship with Tom ended. The thought suddenly dawned on me that this moment, this night, might be my last up here, with this incredible view, feeling like a night bird soaring over a sleeping city. Well, that’s a lie—New York never really sleeps. It dozes for a few moments, only to be awoken by a taxi cab screeching to a halt or a street brawl breaking out.
"So," I said, as we sat down overlooking the city.
"Tara, you were the first girl I ever had a crush on," he blurted out. I felt myself smile.
"Tom, we were... Eight? Nine?"
"You were eight, I was nine."
"Right. Of course, you remember."
"Of course, I do. I'm smart, Tara. I'm very, very smart. And for a long time, I didn't know how to use it, what to do with it. Classes were boring. I was failing because I was too depressed to even get up and go to school. Did you know I dropped out of high school?"
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