by C. T. Sloan
All right, now I know what that wand does. I look on, with trepidation, as my boss teases my body with this electric shock device. My body squirms on the metal table. Out of nowhere, Mr. Rex zaps me on the right side of my body. It’s getting hard for me to breathe. While the pain is intense, the exhilaration makes it well worth the suffering. And I don’t mind that Mr. Rex gets a sadistic joy out of shocking my body. Just as I am about to get my breathing back to normal, Mr. Rex shocks my stomach. Then he brings that big black wand right over my face. I look away. My boss pulls the wand down between my legs. Oh no. I feel a surge of electricity right between my legs. The pain is so intense, I slam the back of my head against the hard metal bed and nearly knock myself out. Mr. Rex tosses the wand to the side and unzips his pants.
“Your body is driving me crazy,” Mr. Rex says as he pulls out his hard cock. I watch him as he begins to jerk off right in front of me. Dammit. If my hands were not shackled down like this, I’d go right for that cock. Mr. Rex doesn’t deprive me for very long. He pushes that nice thick dick right up against my mouth. I am more than happy to take every inch he gives me. As I suck off my master, he rubs my pussy. Then he pushes several fingers inside of me. Now being shackled down is not such a bad thing at all. My boss pulls that big cock out of my mouth. He removes the rest of his clothes and walks back over to the metal locker. It is so cute watching him walk with that super-hard dick between his legs!
Mr. Rex pulls out this leather strap and a ball gag. There is no telling what Mr. Rex has planned next. My boss frees me from the table’s restraints. However, my freedom is decidedly short-lived. The ball gag goes right over my mouth. I am bent over the side of the table. I feel the hard leather whip right across my ass. I bite down on the rubber ball as Mr. Rex continues to get rough with my backside. My boss spread my legs apart. I feel him enter me from behind. He grabs my shoulders and starts to pump my pussy.
“I want to keep you locked down here as my personal playtoy,” Mr. Rex growls as he goes to town on my young body. My boss turns me around and continues to fuck me. I wrap my legs around his body and grab his strong back. I feel Mr. Rex go deep. He bites on my neck hard enough to cause a tear to roll down my cheek. It doesn’t matter how hard he wants to fuck me, I am his for the taking.
My boss picks me up and carries me over to a wall. He continues to fuck me while my back scrapes against the rough cement surface. Mr. Rex sucks on my tits as he fucks me faster and faster. I’m close to cumming. I can’t scream through this ball gag. All I can do is bite down, cry and dig my fingernails into my master’s back. Mr. Rex fucks me harder and faster. Oh fuck, I’m ready to cum. I rip my fingernails across Mr. Rex back, causing him to scream out. We climax and fall backward onto the table. My boss removes the ball gag. I gasp for air as little bits of saliva dribble down my chin. I look at my fingertips. Little drops of blood roll down my fingers. Oh no. I drew blood on the T. Rex. He is not going to be happy about that.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Sorry about what?” Mr. Rex asks.
I show him my fingers. Mr. Rex walks me out of the room and across the hall to a bathroom suite. He looks into the mirror and sees several red streaks across his back. I brace myself for a volcanic eruption of fury from this massive monster of a man. Mr. Rex examines his back for a good fifteen seconds. It’s as though he has never seen himself bleed before. I quickly wash my hands and dry them on a nearby towel.
“Is this your way of getting back at me for shocking your body?” Mr. Rex asks.
“No, Mr. Rex. You fucked me so hard that I had to grab onto something.”
This elicits a rare laugh from the T. Rex. Much to my surprise he seems much calmer than I had expected. We walk into a shower and begin to wash ourselves off. I spend some extra time caring for my lover’s scratches. After careful inspection, I notice that the wounds are not very deep at all. By the end of the shower, the wounds are nothing more than red scratches on Mr. Rex’s back. Deep down inside, I feel a sense of pride. I left my mark on Mr. Rex.
My boss leads me out of the bathroom and escorts me to the elevator. I can’t help but look around this underground facility. “Mr. Rex. If you don’t mind my asking. Why do you have this place under your estate?”
My boss looks down at me. We are both wearing only a towel. I feel more vulnerable than usual. I clutch the towel, at my chest, as I wait for a response. “I get an average of three death threats a day,” Mr. Rex mentions flatly.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“From who?”
“The Los Zetas Cartel has a five million dollar bounty on my head.”
My limited background makes me more than familiar with the Zetas Cartel. In fact, while I was in Colorado, there was huge story in Denver about a car bombing linked to the deadly Mexican drug traffickers. “Why do Los Zetas want you dead?”
“Well, since you already know a lot about Rex Industries, you know that we own an oil production company in Southern Mexico. To ensure the safety of my employees in Veracruz, I send down $50 million a month to fund the state police. And that has made the police more powerful than Los Zetas inside Veracruz. The Cartel has promised to behead me in my own home. Let’s just say that I keep myself ready for anything,” the T. Rex proclaims as the elevator opens on the fourth level of his mansion.
Listening to Mr. Rex’s complicated and complex life just makes me love him more. He has no fear. His life is dangerous and he doesn’t care who or what comes after him. As my boss walks to his bedroom, I rub his scratched up back. Now, I really regret marking him. Mr. Rex lies on his stomach and removes his towel. I begin to give my boss a nice long massage. My fingers run over the muscles on his back and shoulders. I run my fingers down his strong back and head right for his perfect round ass. I rub my boss’s butt and even dare to give him a little spank. He grunts a little. I don’t know if that is a grunt of approval or aggravation. I dare not tease the temper of the T. Rex.
My boss turns over. I look at his massive chest and rest my head on that perfectly strong and sculpted mass of muscle and flesh. I listen to my boss’s calm animal heartbeat. Mr. Rex runs his hands over my hair and gently rubs my body. This could be our first real intimate moment ever. For the first time, there is no tension. We lie together like a real couple. I don’t know if I am being delusional. But I really feel that I could be Mr. Rex’s special girl.
My boss props his head up with a pillow and turns on the TV. He flips through the channels looking for something to occupy his mind. After flipping through the basic cable channels, Mr. Rex comes across the local channels. And right there, in front of us, is a shot of the Denny’s Restaurant where we just left about an hour ago. On the screen is a female reporter standing in front of the restaurant as police cruisers occupy the parking lot. I lift my head up. Mr. Rex turns up the volume.
A strange scene here as Dallas Police respond to a 911 call of shots fired at this Denny’s location at Medical District Drive. What is so strange about it? There were no witnesses. The call came from someone who heard the shot outside the restaurant. Inside the restaurant is another story. There was no shooter to be found. The waitresses on duty claim that they did not see a shooter. The only thing police have to go on is a single .38 snub-nose gun found on one of the tables inside the restaurant. Dallas Police will run prints on the gun that will, hopefully, shed some light on this very strange occurrence.
“They are going to find Harold’s prints on the gun,” I blurt out.
“Looks like I’m going to have to make a couple of phone calls,” Mr. Rex says.
“To whom?”
“The Chief of Police and the District Attorney. They both owe me a couple of favors.”
I look up at my boss and realize the true scope of this man’s power. He truly is a force of nature. My boss picks up his phone and before I know it, he has the Dallas Chief of Police on the line. Within a couple of minutes, Mr. Rex ends the call and wakes up the District Attorney. By the time the n
ewscast goes to commercial, Mr. Rex has already covered any loose ends on the recovered gun.
“Is everything going to be alright, Mr. Rex?” I ask.
“We still have one more person to deal with.”
“Harold?”
“Yeah.”
“He is going to be very difficult to talk to, Mr. Rex.”
“Everything in my life is difficult but never impossible,” Mr. Rex declares as he spanks me on the ass. “And this time, Harold is not going to have a gun with him.”
***
I swear I could get used to commuting to work in this huge helicopter. This is my fourth time in Mr. Rex’s opulent ride and only now I’ve discovered the automatic footrest which pops out from under the cushy comforter like seats. I make myself at home. Mr. Rex is completely immersed with the market news on his tablet. I look out at the oncoming Dallas skyline. Then my eyes wander down at the snake of snarling traffic headed towards the center of the city. Oh, I remember having to deal with that on a day to day basis.
“I have a mission for you today,” Mr. Rex declares out of the blue. My boss’s words instantly make me put my seat back to its upright position.
“Yes sir.”
“I need you to find Harold and bring him to me.”
Now, I would never challenge anything that Mr. Rex asks me. However, I am half certain that my editor has probably gone completely off the grid after last night’s confrontation.
“I thought everything was okay?” I say to my boss.
“Everything is okay on the legal side of things. The police chief is going to drop any investigation into the shooting. But I want to make sure that editor doesn’t run off to the media.”
“I understand. I will find Harold and bring him to you,” I declare. In my mind, I don’t know how the hell I am going to pull that off. Of course, I will stop by the offices of Texas Monthly. But I do not expect to see him there. This is not going to be easy.
We get to the rooftop of the Rex Building. After we leave the helicopter, I take in a moment to admire the view from the highest point in the city. You really get a sense of my boss’s domination over his domain. To fly into your own building - the tallest place in Dallas - and lord over billions of dollars with of business is certainly an ego trip. It is also a heck of a lot of responsibility. And right now, I want to do my best in helping Mr. Rex. That means I need to go find Harold.
As we get into the elevator, my boss begins to probe into the personality of my editor. “What kind of guy is he? Would he run to the media?”
“I doubt it. He is more likely to write the story himself.”
“Do you think he is going to write a story about me?”
“That’s a tough one. Because writing a story about you means Harold would have to confess to pulling a weapon on you at Denny’s.”
“What else do you know about this guy. Outside of his workplace habits. What’s he like? Does he do drugs. What’s his love life situation.”
“He smokes. I know he likes cigars. He is also divorced. And you can kinda tell he doesn’t really date. The guy is out of shape and doesn’t dress all that well. I hear a rumor that he is into Asian babes,” I giggle.
“Alright. Alright. Behavior yourself,” Mr. Rex demands as the elevator doors open to the eighty-fifth floor.
“Yes sir.”
We walk into Mr. Rex’s office. My boss tells me to take a “company car.” He also directs one of his assistants to provide me with a “company card” and spare no expense in bringing Harold back.
“Should I bring him back to the office or your estate?” I ask.
“Bring him to wherever I am located. If I happen to be at the bottom of the ocean, I expect you to rent a submarine and bring him down to me.”
“Understood, Mr. Rex.”
I walk out of the office where one of the Mr. Rex’s personal assistants provides me with a Black American Express card and the keys to a Porsche.
“A Porsche?!” I blurt out.
“It’s a Porsche Cayenne.”
“I look at the assistant as though he is speaking another language.”
“You know, the Porsche SUV. It’s a black one. You’ll find on level three in space 612.“
Wow. Mr. Rex doesn’t roll cheap.
I take the elevator all the way to the third level of the underground garage. When the elevator doors open, I find an entire row of Porsche SUVs. Many in black. Some in white. There must be at least twenty of these hundred thousand dollar vehicles down here. I look down at the yellow painted numbers until I reach space 612. I look up at the black Porsche SUV and already I am in love with this vehicle. I need to start making serious money. I already despise my old Honda. I climb into the SUV and just take a moment to soak in the new car smell. When I turn on the vehicle, I see that it has less than 100 miles on it. It must have just rolled off of the lot. All right, enough with admiring the company vehicle. I’m on a mission for Mr. Rex.
I head straight for the Texas Monthly offices. It’s really the only place I can go to right now. I walk into the office and several people are surprised to see me.
“Where have you been?!” Ally, one of my friends from the mailroom, asks me. Of course, I had been undercover at Rex Industries and no one else has been privy to that information. I casually mention that I am on “special assignment.” I walk up to the editors’ offices. I see Jenna, one of the editorial assistants and ask if she has seen Harold.
“You know, he was up here at seven thirty in the morning. It didn’t look like he got any sleep. He was at his laptop and then he hurried off. I just figured that he is on a tight deadline or something. Why? Is there anything wrong?” Jenna asks.
“I have to get him something,” I reply. Yeah, I know it’s the lamest excuse ever. “Do you know where he may have gone?”
“I have no idea. I’m swamped with my own work so I wasn’t really paying attention. All I know is that Harold looked even more disheveled than usual.”
I walk into Harold’s office and find his laptop still sitting atop his desk. I walk around and look at the laptop. Then I scan the desk for any clues as to where Harold may have gone. I check the wastepaper basket. There is nothing in there except for a couple of used nicotine patches. Then I look up at the laptop and see a website page entitled, “How to disappear.” All right, this is interesting. Perhaps I can get a clue to Harold’s whereabouts by checking his web surfing history. I check the previous pages visited for today. I find information on border crossing locations into Mexico. Oh fuck. Harold, what are you doing? Are you actually going to flee the country? I continue to check my editor’s web history. It appears Harold searched for several Asian porn videos. Of course, he is never too preoccupied to check out Asian porn. At the end of the search list is the home page for a Motel 6 down in Austin. That’s it.
I run out of the office. “Is everything okay?” Jenna asks me as I trot down the hall.
“Yeah, everything is cool,” I yell back as I speed out of the building. I hop into the Porsche SUV and make my way south to Austin. This is going to be such a bad trip. I am more familiar with Austin than with Dallas. For a moment, I think about dropping in on some of my old college friends who have settled down in the city. Perhaps they will think I’ve hit the big time when they see the fancy SUV. No. No. No. I need to get down to business. I need to find Harold.
While I am on I-35 South, I pick up the phone and check-in with my boss.
“Mr. Rex. I have a pretty solid lead on where Harold may be located.”
“Good girl. Convince him to come back and see me. Tell him that there is nothing to worry about.”
“Will do, sir.”
Another hour of driving passes and I am officially in love with this SUV. It’s going to be hard for me to give up this ride. Perhaps I can convince Mr. Rex to let me use the Cayenne as my company car.
I arrive in Austin at around 3:00 p.m. When I punch in Motel 6 on the Navigation system, I come up with five locations in Aust
in. Fuck! I should have checked which location Harold searched for on his laptop. Now, I’m going to have to go to all four locations. Even then, Harold may have checked-in under an assumed name. After all, he was the one who supplied me with my fake ID so he knows a thing or two on changing identities. This could be a dead end for me. After slapping the steering wheel in frustration, I take a moment and try to regain my composure. I see a Starbucks coming up so I decide to pull in and take a little break. I pull into the parking lot and walk out of the SUV. As I walk into the coffee shop, I look back at that cute Porsche Cayenne. And then it hits me, all I have to do is check out the Motel 6 parking lots for Harold’s car.
I overpay for a little caffeine injection. As I down this venti mocha latte, I map out the five Motel 6 locations in Austin. Fortunately, all four locations are all right along I-35, well that makes my job a little easier. After I finish half of my drink, I hop the road and arrive at the first Motel 6 location. I cruise the parking lot looking for my editors blue Volvo c70 coupe. There is no sign of such a vehicle. I head down the interstate and check out the second Motel 6 location. Nothing here. This is not looking good. I arrive at the third location and spend a good fifteen minutes checking out the parking lot. No luck. I’m starting to have this sinking feeling that Harold is crossing the border into Mexico right now.
