S & M III -Vol I

by Vera Roberts

  Scott & Mariana III

  Vol. I

  By Vera Roberts

  © 2012 Vera Roberts, All Rights Reserved

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  For my loves, EK and MK.

  For my girls, TE and SG.

  Book I – Caprina

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Book II – Sanora

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Book III –Mariana

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Author Information

  Ah, women. They make the highs higher and the lows more frequent.

  -Friedrich Nietzsche

  She was a mystery. Just the way She liked it.

  When She walked into a room, Her presence alone commanded respect. When She graced the arm of another, however, She was met with adoration and a kiss of envy. She was never sure if the jealousy was towards Her or Her partner… or partners.

  She was known in the highest and most secret circles from all over the world. She had influenced royalty, politicians, athletes, and celebrities. She had also destroyed royalty, politicians, athletes, and celebrities. She was the secret force behind every major scandal within the past several years. The latter only took so much as a smile.

  That smile of Hers. It was the same no matter the occasion. One could never read Her eyes, so therefore, the smile She had when She was happy was the same one She had when She was very upset. Her eyes never told any different. She was a pro at only showing what she wanted to.

  Her eyes were currently fixated on the T.V. screen before Her. She had watched the coverage and drank up the media frenzy. Reporters were camped outside one of the subject’s home. Other reporters followed and reported what the main subject did. The story being told was fascinating and juicy. It was also a bunch of bullshit. She knew the real story of what had transpired; few people close to the situation did. That story was deliberately not being told. She anonymously paid the supporting players a fee she nicknamed STFU.

  Shut the Fuck Up.

  She knew from the very beginning it was going to get ugly. She knew it was going to be this ugly and She prepared accordingly. She bought designer suits, plenty of them, with matching shoes. She hired contractors and vendors and told them to be ready at a moment’s notice. The round-trip tickets had long been purchased. All She needed was a phone call and the plan would be put into action.

  She waited. And waited. And waited. The call didn’t come. She decided to have fun with Her submissives while she waited. She flogged one submissive while another ate Her out. A third submissive sat in a nearby corner and watched. After She had multiple orgasms, She participated in foot worship with another submissive. Her feet were long overdue for some tender, loving care.

  It was when She was in the middle of another scene when the call finally did come. And all She did, was smile.

  Book I –

  Caprina

  Chapter One

  Year 2004

  His life was boring and predictable. He didn’t mind that at all. Boring meant he didn’t cause any drama nor did it come to him. Predictable meant he would never be accused of doing anything out of the ordinary. He woke up the same time every morning and followed the same routine: shower, shave, dress, newspaper. He grabbed coffee at the local Starbucks and tipped generously to the baristas.

  He made the daily ten-minute drive to work and always avoided traffic. He showed up on time every day, 8 AM, not a minute less.

  Scott Reed stepped out into the wonderful sun shining down on his Ray-Bans. He was still getting used to the wonderful conundrum that was known as Southern California winter: 80 degrees in the morning, blistering cold at 40 degrees the same night. In his native Decatur, there wasn’t that nonsense. If it was cold, it was cold. If it was hot, it was hot.

  Scott never questioned or second-guessed his decision to move to L.A. despite protests from his mother and sister. It was a decision he made during a college tour while he was still in high school. He knew he was going to go somewhere, anywhere but stay at home in Georgia. He loved the sun, the beach, and the palm trees. He particularly enjoyed the beautiful women in skimpy and tight clothing parading around L.A.

  If he was back in Decatur, he would’ve been successful, no doubt. His uncle mentioned the ‘door would always be open’ for him to join the police force. If Scott cared, he would’ve made a great cop; a captain, if he was truly passionate about it. The only handcuffs Scott was interested in were the fuzzy kind and what kinky minx would use them on him.

  He finally arrived at McCormick and Sheppard, a marketing/PR firm specializing in advertising. He began as an intern and worked his way up to creative director, overseeing the branding division. Scott shook his head. He really should’ve been CEO. It was an open secret he was the mastermind behind the high-profile accounts. But Scott knew his role in the company. He would do the work and his boss, Owen Kenney, would take the credit. It wasn’t an arrangement that was agreed upon. Owen was going to take the credit regardless if Scott wanted him to or not.

  Scott parked his Lexus at the parking structure and headed into the office. He passed Owen’s white BMW on the way in. It was a 5-series with chrome 22-inch wheels, and dark as night shading on the windows. The license plate said WINNER.

  Scott concluded that one day when he had the courage, he was going to key the hell out of that shit.

  ****

  “Hi Scott!”

  “Good Morning, Scott!”

  “Hey there, Scott!”

  Scott made the daily pleasantries on his way to his office. He was loved and respected by everyone in the office and he went out of his way to get to know his colleagues. He knew their weaknesses as well as their strengths. He mainly focused on their strengths and helped them with their weak points. It was better for the company overall.

  “Good morning, Scott,” the lead secretary, Elissa Gonzalez, greeted him as he walked to his office.

  “Good morning, Elissa,” Scott smiled back, “any meetings today?”

  “Always,” Elissa stood at his doorway. She was a tall Latina with a soft face and even softer demeanor. She was old enough to be Scott’s mother.

  “Lovely,” Scott forced a smile, “where’s Owen?”

  “Out with Mike and Rich as usual.” Elissa folded her arms and leaned against the doorway, “They might be back today
or not.”

  Mike and Rich were Michael Sheppard and Richard McCormick, partners and owners of the firm. They were hardworking men who built the business from the ground up and had contacts all over the world. They spoiled their employees with annual Christmas bonuses and could remember such minute details as children’s birthdays, anniversaries, and the like.

  Mike and Rich were also known philanders and often covered their extramarital affairs by having someone else do the busy work to cover their dirty. Scott was the lucky candidate. “Which means I have to run the meetings today on my own,” Scott paused, “as usual.”

  “As usual,” Elissa nodded.

  “Alright. Print out a list of where the meetings are, who is going to be there, and any major topics that need to be addressed at the same time,” Scott took off his blazer and set it on a nearby chair.

  “And what can I get for you in the meantime?”

  Scott flopped into his leather chair and spun it to face the glorious view of the trash dumpsters and alleyway below him. He was way too nice for his own good, he couldn’t help it. “A lobotomy.”

  ****

  She’s always gotten her way. That’s just how she was. That’s how she is. That’s how she will always be.

  Caprina Waters could recall the first modeling shoot she went on. She was 12 and all legs at 5‘9. Her dark complexion made her stand out like a shadow next to the lily-white girls she was competing with. The other girls snickered and referred to her as “blacky” but Caprina didn’t mind. She wasn’t trying to impress them. She was only needed to impress one person and that was the photographer.

  From an early age, she had the hips and the booty. She was shaped like a Coca-Cola bottle and often swayed her hips just right to get her catwalk just perfect. She wasn’t very busty but it didn’t matter. There was padding and surgery to cure her lack of breasts ailment.

  A few poses and wardrobe changes later, the photographer called only Caprina back from the casting call of 20. At that moment, she was no longer an ingénue; she fully became a woman.

  She did the first casting calls of children’s and teens attire. She worked her way up to modeling adult clothing when she was 16. The names Valentino, Gucci, Prada, and Chanel were permanent guests in her closet. By 21, Caprina finally joined an elite club where everyone knew who she was by one name.

  Photographers loved her. Designers couldn’t wait for her to model their clothing. Other models were envious and resentful of her. She graced her first magazine cover at 16 and never looked back. She wasn’t the Next Big Thing; she was IT.

  She never branched out like her colleagues with clothing lines, skin care products and the like. She was a model and a damn good one at that. She occasionally did the small acting job but no one wanted to see her act. They wanted to see her strut and own the catwalk.

  Caprina leaned back in her leather seat on a chartered private jet. She was flying to do a video shoot for one of her industry friends. She normally didn’t do videos, let alone hip-hop ones. But it was a favor for a favor and well, she could use some more exposure. She wanted to go on one of the celebrity blogs and wonder at the shock value her appearance would cause. She was a wealthy attention whore, just like any other celebrity.

  One of her many wealthy benefactors sprung for the plane and all-expense paid trip. He even put her up in a luxury suite at the Ritz-Carlton. Of course, the flight and trip was not free; Caprina had to give a lot of blow jobs.

  ****

  “So how did today’s meetings go?” Rich poured drinks for the men.

  Scott loosened his tie. The day was brutal. Between changing deadlines, increasing budgets, discarding already-set campaigns and starting afresh, and having the innate feeling that everyone was walking all over him, Scott still managed a smile. “Not too bad. A lot of change, if you want to hear about it.”

  “Not really,” Mike shook his head, “we trust you know what you’re doing.”

  Scott nodded. He had the weight of the company on his shoulders. The only thing he could do was pretend to be kosher with it. “Of course.”

  “Did you want to hear about our day?” Rich handed out the drinks to everyone.

  Scott smiled. “Sure.” He really couldn’t care less.

  “There were these hot…hey, Rich, what were those girls called? Ball girls?” Mike began. “Anyway, there were these young, hot girls who were waiting on us at the country club. Man, were they smoking! Anyway, after a few drinks and some round of flirting, we each took a turn with them. How many were there? Like four of them? It was like a pussy fest!” The old man busted in laughter. “You should’ve been there!”

  For what? To see an example of what not to do in a marriage? “I’m sure to join you next time.” Scott declined his drink. He didn’t drink too much alcohol.

  “You should! Even Owen got in on the action!” Rich laughed as he lit up a cigar. “Man, you should’ve seen him. He was like a little kid in a…”

  “Pussy store!” Mike interrupted with more laughter.

  “That’s it! Pussy store!” Rich laughed.

  Scott briefly closed his eyes. It was a good thing he had another function to get to. The last thing he needed was to hear yet another story of the co-chairs philandering. “Well, gentlemen, I would love to stay but I have another engagement to attend to. I’ll catch you on Monday.”

  “Alright, Scott! Great work today!” Mike raised his glass to him.

  Scott left Rich’s office and headed back to his own. He was in the middle of gathering his belongings when Owen stopped him. “Say, how did things go today?”

  Owen was a tall, White man who looked as smarmy as he acted. It didn’t help he had sunken eyes as a result of partying four nights a week and a smoking habit that often incorporated cocaine and marijuana along with whatever drug his dealer had on him. He had a boyish charm that made him an instant hit with even the most butch lesbian and Owen bragged he managed to bed a few.

  Scott wasn’t sure how Owen managed to get his position at McCormick and Sheppard. But Scott trusted the rumors he had many predecessors before him. He’s a thief. “Everything went fine. Just a few changes here and there but nothing major,” he shrugged.

  “Great,” Owen nodded. He looked behind him and walked into Scott’s office. He closed the door behind him. “Say, can you get me a write-up first thing Monday morning on what happened today? The fellas are going to ask and I don’t want to look stupid.”

  Because if you look stupid, I can take your job. “Sure thing, boss,” Scott nodded. He glanced at his watch. He was already running late. “I need to head on out. If you need me, you can call me.”

  “Not a problem, Scott,” Owen patted him on the back, “take it easy, man.”

  “Yeah,” Scott forced yet another grin. “You too.”

  ****

  Caprina landed at LAX to a barrage of paparazzi. She smiled and acted offended that they were bothering her. The real truth was, her team called the photo agency weeks ago and set up a chance encounter at the airport. If she wanted privacy, she could’ve gone unnoticed. But going unnoticed doesn’t sell magazines or land covers. It was a tip she picked up from that silly girl, Paris.

  Her chauffeur drove her to the Ritz-Carlton hotel, where she was staying. She dropped off her items and relaxed on the bed. “Not too shabby for a girl who grew up in the hood,” she smiled.

  Her phone rang. No one knew where she was staying at but Caprina guessed who it was. “Hello, lover,” she answered the phone.

  “How’s my princess?” Dimitri Papadakis spoke over the phone. He was a billionaire Greek shipping tycoon, 20 years older than Caprina. He was a languid man with an aura that screamed royalty everywhere he went. He had a permanent tan and stark white hair that furthered his reputation. During his youth, he was a lothario and he romanced actresses, royalty and singers. It wasn’t a surprise he had taken a fascination – sometimes an obsession – with Caprina.

  Their relationship bordered on Sugar Daddy/S
ugar Baby and illicit May/December romances. Dimitri knew the only reason Caprina was with him was because of his wealth and power. Caprina knew the only reason Dimitri was with her was because how she was in the sack. It was a mutually-beneficial relationship.

  “I’m doing fine, Dima,” she called him by his nickname, “just arrived and resting.”