Quinton's Crucible

by Trent Evans

  Anna frowned. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

  “What about his cock?” Darynn touched her lower lip with a maroon-painted fingernail. “I suppose we can cross that bridge when we come to it…”

  “He’s not going to have much use for that cock.”

  Deep pink suffused Ivy’s cheeks, but her smile told the real tale. “Not unless someone’s a very good boy.”

  Anna had a job to do, one she was being paid handsomely for. Though she tried, she couldn’t say she’d taken the assignment for the money. Her association with the Dominion Trust had made her wealthy already. What Quinton had done to those women disgusted her, the man’s stupidity both frustrating and infuriating.

  But what Grayson had ordered her to do to Quinton filled her with revulsion, a deep anger. She didn’t quite know why though. Was it because such things were beyond the pale, even for her? Or was it because she felt Quinton could never be taken that far?

  Already protective. Not a good sign.

  It was… something else. A feeling. A hunch. Even as Quinton had railed against her, threatened her, the veins standing out at his neck and forehead, she’d seen enough that day, enough to tell her that she’d take the job, no matter the conditions. Perhaps she needed the challenge? Maybe she was bored. But what she saw in Quinton’s hate-filled blue eyes in that musty, dreary interview room had piqued her interest.

  She saw a scared boy.

  Despite her near loathing of the man for what he’d done, she’d taken notice of the subtle thrill she’d felt at the thought of him on his knees, in chains, that rage transformed to remorse, to pleading.

  At that moment, she’d have him.

  Once she’d brought him to that place, to that surrender, Anna knew she could work on him — and that it offered a glimmer of hope for the doomed, bitter young man.

  If she could find that scared little boy inside.

  Chapter 2

  I still couldn’t get the image of that bitch out of my mind.

  Anna was what she’d called herself — though she’d refused to give me a last name. I’d find out soon enough. I knew Grayson would try something, would plot payback for what I’d done to Genna. At first, I thought Anna might have been a cop. The Trust had more cops in its pocket than I had hairs on my head. But her manner, her dress, her cool aloof beauty said she was something else. Something more dangerous than a mere cop.

  It didn’t matter though, whoever she was. She couldn’t do shit to me.

  Of course, Genna had volunteered for a Term. Gotten herself auctioned off. As far as I was concerned, she got what she was looking for. Anna showing me pictures of what I’d done to Genna’s big, round ass didn’t mean a thing. That was the expected lot in life for a girl serving a Term.

  Genna had the sweetest tits too. Firm, heavy. I could still see the way they bounced and shuddered as I took the braided crop to them. She made too much noise though.

  I preferred silent tears in my bitches.

  She whipped well, though she was terrible on the track. Probably should have just kept her chained in my room, her talents better utilized sucking my cock and warming my bed.

  The cars on I-5 had slowed almost to a crawl. The traffic in Seattle was positively awful now. It didn’t matter what time of day it was, always traffic.

  At least it gave me some time to think. Putting Genna out of my mind for the time being, I thought of my more pressing problem.

  Breanna.

  Taking Breanna had been a complete disaster. I should have been more patient, planned it further. I hadn’t honestly thought Kurt and his dipshit friend Derek would have chased after her. Breanna was a slave, just a cunt. They were surrounded by cunts. What made hers so special to them?

  I’d planned to have Breanna and Genna pull a tandem cart. I’d even had the tack and harness made, though I didn’t have Breanna’s exact measurements. There was an underground racing circuit always hungry for new entries. She would have been perfect.

  If Kurt and Derek hadn’t fucked everything up, that is.

  That day at the auction, I’d seen Breanna up there, obviously a novice, her body trembling even as her deep pink nipples stood up tall and proud. Every man there wondered what those nipples would feel like on our tongues, how they’d look, inflamed, red, swollen, freshly pierced with rings.

  I’d wanted Breanna instantly, despite my original intention to bid on Broughton’s whore wife. I liked the older ones, the ones with experience. I could see it in their eyes, the first time I fitted the collar about their throats, tightened the leather. In their eyes, you could see it play, almost like a movie. All the moments of pain, or ecstasy, or fear. The older ones wore those experiences like a badge, no matter how much they tried to hide it.

  And I loved basking in it, resolving myself to add to those experiences, to take those slaves further than they’d ever thought they could go, to reduce them to nothing more than toys, playthings for my amusement. Ripe, pliant flesh just made for the whip, their cries almost as sweet as their tears.

  Even in the quieter moments, deep in the night, when I allowed them into my bed, I was thinking, remembering. I’d eagerly look forward to the next time they were between my shafts, the next time my cock was deep in their throats.

  The next time I’d show them what being owned really meant.

  I took the Seneca exit. It wasn’t the best one for Columbia Center, but with the fucking logjam of cars choking the freeway, getting off of it as soon as possible was the better idea. The sky was an angry gray, as if threatening rain at any moment. In other words, a normal day in Seattle.

  “Fuck, you’ve gotta be shitting me,” I said, slamming the brakes. The BMW stopped on a dime, as always. The cars ahead weren’t moving at all, the taunting glare of bright red brake lights surrounding me. The first few drops began to patter on the windshield as we sat there, the street absolutely clogged with cars. Two vehicles ahead, a massive panel truck was spewing both acrid diesel fumes, and the blue-white smoke of an oil leak.

  And there I was trapped there, inhaling all of it, as stuck as I’d felt that day in the holding cell. I didn’t really have anything to fear from Anna — or from Corddray. My father would take care of it. He knew what I’d done wasn’t really all that serious. Just a little fun with the fluff that constantly was passed back and forth between members of the Trust. Genna probably got off on it. Several of the girls who’d come through my clutches before her definitely had, their pussies dripping at the mere sight of my whip.

  The rules were only there to keep people who didn’t know what they were doing from fucking up. But I definitely knew what I was doing. This would blow over. My dad would kiss Grayson’s ass, maybe offer him a few nights with my stepmother — there’d been more than one huge business deal sealed with such a bargain — and things would go back to normal.

  That is except for Kurt and Derek.

  Pricks.

  I knew they’d be watching Breanna like a hawk now. They wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Though I hated Kurt, he knew how to handle himself. He was ex-military, and it showed with how he ran the farm. Fucking full of himself. Derek might have been ex-military too, though he was so stupid I still couldn’t quite believe he’d even have the noodle to pass basic. Probably a jarhead, if anything. The Marines liked ‘em nice and dumb, didn’t they?

  No, this time, my plan would be foolproof. I’d have that big-titted slut all to myself. And I’d have a little revenge on those two assholes who were so possessive of her.

  While I didn’t go in for most of the bullshit rules, regulations, and rituals of the Trust, there was one principle that I was always behind.

  The women were assets.

  And as such, they were something that could be bought, sold, traded, bargained over. They were the glue that held the whole edifice together, the lubrication that made the engine purr smoothly.

  I looked up at the soaring Seattle skyline all around me. How many of those buildings were buil
t because some asshole wanted to impress a piece of tail? I knew for a fact that several of them were built with Trust financial backing, Trust political connections — and more than a few secret deals.

  A lot of pussy was traded in those deals, some willing, some not so willing. To a certain type of powerful man, a nice, obedient cunt held more value than a million dollars. I knew how things really went, what really made this city — and others around the world — tick. It wasn’t always about money.

  And yet, there I was choking on noxious car exhaust, stuck in the same shitty mess along with a thousand piss poor punters.

  “Fuck this.” I picked up my phone, looking around for any cops, then dialed William. He’d been with me since I’d become a full member, but I hadn’t much use for him until the night everything went to shit.

  And the night Brayden betrayed me.

  I’d given him a promotion — and not only because he was the few remaining men on my crew whom my Dad hadn’t shit-canned that night.

  Unlike my erstwhile right hand man though, William at least was loyal — and he was thorough. I didn’t really like the way he coddled the bitches who I’d purchased — he was way too gentle for my tastes — but he always made sure the sluts were ready to race, or fuck — or both.

  A guy his size was nice to have around in a tight spot too. Though not quite the hulking monster Brayden was, William had bailed me out more than once — though I’d never let him know I was grateful. It wasn’t a good idea to let associates know that you owed them one. Much better to keep them guessing — and mindful of who worked for whom.

  The phone rang twice, and then he picked up, as always.

  “This is William.”

  “I’m back in town. I want you to find out when the next auction is. I’m buying another one, since I doubt they’re going to let me have Genna back.”

  There was silence for a moment, and I looked at my phone, wondering if the connection had dropped out. “You there, William?”

  “Yeah… I’m still here. Look, I… can’t do that.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” I wiped a hand over my mouth. This was not like him — at all. The man was always efficient, never questioning my wishes.

  “Apparently, I don’t work for you anymore.”

  What in God’s name is going on here?

  “I don’t think I heard that right. Say again? I mean, I thought you said that you don’t work for me. Is that right?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Did you fall on your goddamn head? You work for me until I say otherwise. Now, whatever the fuck is wrong with you, get it straightened out, because I’m not in the mood for bullshit.”

  “No bullshit, Quinton. I’ve been ordered to cut ties with you.” William took a deep breath. “Look, I’m not supposed to even be talking to you. My ass would be in a sling if they found out I’m telling you this… but you gotta listen to me. You need to lay low. Really fucking low.”

  “Grayson can blow me. Fuck him. He’s just an old man who—”

  Then the line went dead.

  I tried him again, my fingers stabbing at William’s name on the phone’s contact list. I listened to it ring repeatedly as I finally reached the entrance to the underground parking garage, turning my car down the ramp and into the shadows.

  Giving up and throwing my phone onto the passenger seat, I snatched the ticket from the machine, the punk kid at the attendant’s station not even looking up from his iPad as he pushed the button that raised the gate.

  Of course, everyone expected Grayson would be hot pissed. But everyone also knew that any person with the last name of Trask was all but untouchable. William was just spooked, that’s all. Still, the fact that someone had reassigned him… wasn’t good.

  Because the only two people who could have done that were Grayson Corddray, or George Trask.

  “Fuck me.”

  A little trip out of town might actually be a good idea after all. It would be a chance to relax, think things over — and figure out who I could possibly replace William with. I wasn’t about to let this change my plans though. I’d still get my hands on Kurt’s slut, eventually. It was only a matter of when, not if.

  Making the turn toward my reserved spot, right next to the elevators, a white cargo van backed out in front of me. I slammed on the brakes, the squeal from the tires on the smooth concrete like the scream of a frightened woman.

  I rolled the window down, leaning my head out as I gunned the engine. “You fucking blind? Jesus!”

  Then my head rocked forward as something collided with the back of my car.

  What the fuck?

  As I turned to look back, another white van pulled up beside me, the side door sliding open with a hollow, oddly menacing sound. A grinning blonde woman in a black, form-fitting jumpsuit stepped out.

  “Hello, Quinton.”

  “Who the fuck are—”

  The burst of pain just under my left jaw had me seeing stars, my eyes rolling back, every muscle in my body spasming in agony. A cry was torn from behind my clenched teeth as I flopped in my seat, my head lolling backward. Then the pain was gone, the memory of it still making my muscles twitch like a landed fish.

  I found myself staring up at the charcoal gray headliner of the roof of my beamer, gasping, my speech slurring, my mouth seemingly unable to form words. Cold electrodes were pressed to my neck again, the darkness already crowding upon me from all sides.

  My last memory was of the car door opening… and the clean, flowery scent of a woman’s perfume.

  Chapter 3

  Getting him into the van was a lot faster than Anna would ever have believed.

  Darynn was even stronger than she looked, pulling the two hundred pound man out of the car with astonishing speed. With Ivy’s help, they had the unconscious Quinton in the back in less than thirty seconds. She had no real idea if they’d been seen, but she did know that Grayson Corddray — whose investment firm owned the building the garage was part of — had made sure the security cameras had a mysterious ten minute gap in the footage for that date.

  Anna had decided to drive, leaving Ivy behind to take care of the vehicles. She’d make sure Quinton’s BMW was parked right where it was expected. And nobody would dare question why the car was there for so long.

  How long is that, Anna?

  She’d left it open-ended for a reason; she really wasn’t sure if she’d succeed. At the very least, there’d be a young man with a very sore ass. If nothing else, Quinton Trask would be given a taste — a serious taste — of his own medicine.

  Still, Anna couldn’t help but hope for more. It was there, that hint, that clue to something within, something deeper inside him. She wondered if he was consciously aware of it himself.

  While it wasn’t technically part of the job she’d been hired for, she’d be damned if she didn’t see where that particular intriguing road might lead. Corddray — and George Trask — had given her a wider leave than she’d ever have hoped for.

  Anna intended to explore it, no matter where it might take them.

  Turning the van onto the on-ramp for I-90, Anna watched in the rearview mirror as Darynn worked. Along one side was a bench built into the wall, running the length of the cargo area. Opposite was a system of shelves themselves attached to the other wall. It looked like any van one might see an electrician or plumber using.

  Only this van held a much more precious cargo than cable or pipe.

  Darynn sat down on the bench near his head. Still unconscious, he’d been laid on his back once Darynn had confirmed his vital signs were all stable. She’d fitted him with the four point harness, the restraint ensuring he wouldn’t be moving his hands above waist height, the ankles chained to the broad waist belt, an additional hobble linking his feet together. Quinton Trask wouldn’t be going anywhere they didn’t want him to.

  “Did you get the sedative on board?”

  Darynn, who’d gone to school for nursing while she’d
been in the Marines, nodded. “A little. Just enough to keep him from struggling too much if he wakes up.”

  “Good,” Anna said. “He’s going to need his energy. No sense in him wasting it by fighting us.”

  “You sure you don’t want the gag?” Darynn’s hand caressed the zip of the huge black bag she’d brought with them. Her bag of tricks, as the blonde liked to say. “I’d love to see him in it.”

  “Time enough for that once we get home. I don’t want him gagged until he regains consciousness. Just to be safe.”

  Anna and Darynn both knew the dangers of Tasers. The one they’d chosen was almost guaranteed to induce unconsciousness, at least for a short time, with no lasting ill effect. But there was always a risk with any electric shock. The last thing they needed to deal with was Quinton having a seizure while he was gagged tight. The thought made Anna shudder.

  Asshole or not, even he didn’t deserve that.

  Darynn caught Anna’s gaze in the mirror, the blonde’s slender eyebrows raising in question.

  “Okay, have a look, Hauser. I know you’ve been dying to.”

  Anna had to admit she was curious too, though she typically liked to wait until she got home to evaluate what she was working with.

  Darynn grinned, leaning over and yanking his shirt out of his slacks. He’d been wearing a deep blue button down, the slacks a classy black. Darynn had dispensed with his jet blazer before she’d bound him, correctly noting that the fit of the harness wouldn’t be accurate if it was forced to accommodate the bulkier fabric of the coat.

  Anna glanced back occasionally, keeping her eyes on the road, seeing a glimpse of tanned flesh, his shirt hiked up to reveal the flat, muscled abdomen. Would it have made the job easier if he was physically repulsive? She doubted it. In Anna’s estimation, what was between a submissive man’s ears was far more important than what his body looked like.

  Being easy on the eyes never hurt though.

  “Damn, this belt is in the way,” Darynn muttered, rolling him over onto his belly. “There — there we go.”