by Aya DeAniege
“People shunned him, nailed dresses to his door. It was a terrible business. Even his children left him.
“So he invited the women over. And they made him a meal, and he drank his swill, acted the way men do around women in the slums, and they all went home.
“A few days later, the women dragged a man from the gay man's apartment. He had been attacking the man. They beat him in the street until the police arrived. The police didn't understand it, the men of the women certainly didn't when they had to go and collect their wives from the jail.
“The women took the men to the foreman's house and made them apologize. They made it be known that the next person to attack him would meet the same fate as the first man.”
“Why?” Mr. Wrightworth asked.
Shit, he's actually gay. Why would I tell that story?
“They didn't see him as a threat. They didn't see him as hiding a secret. They certainly didn't think that he was going to steal their men or their daughters, or even their sons. Because he was open and honest and simply told them the truth about himself."
“You think Nathaniel should have a munch at his estate?” Mr. Wrightworth asked.
“Is that what I said?” I asked, turning to Nathaniel.
The man seemed to consider the information. A frown creased his brow, darkening his green eyes as he studied Mr. Wrightworth across the table from him.
“I come out, you come out,” Nathaniel said.
“Why yes, society, I am a gay sadist,” Mr. Wrightworth said. “That'll go over about as well as everyone discovering about your father's murder house.”
“Except you'd very much like an effeminate young man,” Nathaniel said with a devilish smile.
“I would like a man of certain physical traits, yes,” Mr. Wrightworth countered. “Are you seriously considering holding a munch at your estate?”
“Obviously no one from the community could come," Nathaniel said. "I wouldn't want them put in the awkward position of dealing with the trouble that may follow. There is, however, that brothel up in the capital that employs both dommes and subs, I might hire out to them."
“Thought you were broke,” Mr. Wrightworth said.
“I said that my trust fund was empty, or near to, not that I was broke. Yes, this could work quite well. I suppose you'd also need to attend, as the Program head. Protect Izzy, as well as the staff I would have to contract out to wait on the event."
“You're seriously going through with this?” Mr. Wrightworth asked.
“Yes, it'll be a fabulous event," Nathaniel said, standing as he straightened his jacket. "I'll give you two a moment. Then we'll head back to the estate."
I stayed seated as Nathaniel left the room, aware that he would wait just outside the door for me. Alone with Mr. Wrightworth, I turned to the sadist and met the blank look.
“This wasn't supposed to happen,” he said.
“Obviously,” I said.
“Your visit to the slum was supposed to be longer, but given the obvious distaste shown by your father, we cannot in good faith send you back there. We are, however, willing to give in to Nathaniel's wishes of obtaining a permanent visitor's visa for your mother. She won't be able to visit often, but we will see about some arrangement."
“Thank you.”
“As to the who, it was an aide to the controllers.”
“They have aides? You never mentioned an aide before.”
“Because no one knew about the man except for me. He was supposed to learn how they do everything they do so that they can take a vacation or quit, or anything else they could want to do. Little did I know, the man had a past."
“Why do I keep stumbling on these men?” I asked.
“You don't stumble on them. His past was stalking an ex-girlfriend, which shows obsessive behaviour. I also believe it shows compulsive behaviour. The news companies paid him a great sum, a sum which I can only assume he was going to use to purchase a contract on the woman he was stalking.”
“Because she's in the Program?”
“Nicole doesn't talk about her past often. I had introduced the pair of them, and she was visibly upset by him, but wouldn't tell me why besides that he was an ex-boyfriend. Even she didn't think he'd go that far."
“Nicole can't be purchased.”
“He was good with computers, being smart outside of that isn't a requirement of the job," Mr. Wrightworth said. "I've now drawn up another list of candidates."
“Is one of the controllers dying?" I asked.
“Genetic disease, terrible thing,” Mr. Wrightworth murmured. “He's taken a turn for the worse, I'm looking to replace the controllers with what you might call 'real people' but this was a hard lesson, fast. Those who work for the Program have never been vetted. I wouldn't pass the process, neither would Nicole, or Kathy, or a dozen others you've met. But because of this, vetting must happen.”
“Are you going to lose your job?”
“That's a very real possibility. I can only hope that my service so far has proven that my past does not make the man."
“But you failed on numerous occasions with me.”
“By trying to remain separate from as much to do with your case as possible. As head of the Program, it is a requirement that I must watch all video that involves a contractee being abused. That was as far as I wanted that to go. I left the rest of the board in charge of you.
“That, at least, is my one saving grace. They know why I took no part in pressing charges against Albert Edwards. That whole pile of shit is coming to light. And yes, I could lose my job. After all, a third party will do the vetting. I passed the bribing claim you tossed out, that as well should save me.”
“What did you do, that the vetting is going to find?”
“I was not always in control of my urges.”
He hurt someone.
When the community was setting up, there were stories of boogeymen sadists kidnapping young women and raping and murdering them. By that point, I had heard several of the stories, but I was also pinning it almost entirely on Albert. After all, the descriptions in the stories matched almost exactly to what Albert had done to me.
There were stories that went along with those stories. Stories about how Nathaniel and Mr. Wrightworth had earned the title 'sadist.'
“My slum also believes me to be dead. I tend not to take a one-on-one role with most contracts, stay out of the public eye. We have a head of public relations for more than one reason."
“What would you do, if you lost your job?” I asked.
“I have some savings set aside. And of course, I have a plan. I'm not stupid. You always need to have a way out."
“Except when you have no money, no family, and no ability to hold a contract in six months time,” I said.
“You have several ways out. I know, because I helped him plan them for you. We may be sadists, but we have a heart.”
“Just the one, though, right? That you share sometimes?”
Mr. Wrightworth went a little red in the cheeks. It was the first—and only—time I had ever seen him look surprised.
“You know what I mean,” he said finally.
“The man who did this will be charged, will he be found guilty, though?”
“The evidence is pretty substantial," Mr. Wrightworth said. "It includes footage of him speaking to several news companies, as well as phone calls made from the Program building. Again, he was good with computers. That doesn't mean he was bright. Or perhaps he thought he could wipe the files without the controllers finding out."
“And the vetting process?” I asked.
“It'll take almost a year to go through everyone at the building and find replacements for those who are refused. Myself, my interviews start tomorrow at six in the morning. They hope to be done by the time the trial starts because, otherwise, they'll have to stop and start each day for the trail. One way or another, I will keep that promise to you."
“That's good because I don't think I could do that on
my own."
“Neither could I. After all, myself and Nathaniel are both on the witness list."
“He never mentioned that to me.”
“The defense may have been the first to approach him, which would be good cause not to tell you. He wouldn't want to upset you more. With the recent events, I think it may be best if we simply came clean with you, instead of having item after item coming to light."
“Is there anything else I should know, then?”
“The prosecution has all of the videos. They do have the right to bring forward the videos as evidence. Though, given the fact that there doesn't appear to be doubt that Albert Edward did what he did to you, I can't see them using it. They need, instead, to prove the lack of consent."
“Because my word means nothing.”
“Words mean very little to justice. They simply want to prove the truth, and he has the right to a fair trial, to be judged by a group of his peers.”
“Do they plan on finding a bunch of serial rapists and murderers and placing them in the jury box?” I asked.
Mr. Wrightworth smiled.
“No, I was there for the choosing. I'm not allowed to give you advice about what to say or do. That could count as witness tampering."
“And the party that Nathaniel will be throwing, you'll be there for that as well?”
“As long as my interviews don't interfere, I would be happy to accept an invitation to a party where Nathaniel makes a complete and utter fool of himself.”
I smiled as I stood.
If I didn't get out of the room, I knew we'd end up talking for hours, just bouncing from one topic to another as we had done for so many days in the past. I knew all about the trial, about the jurors and all the rest. Mr. Wrightworth had told me all about it when I had been at the building, then over the phone on our daily calls. Hearing it again just reassured me that things hadn't changed, that nothing was going wrong.
Yet.
“I believe common rich folk would say to bring a nice wine. I do believe this invitation will say something else. Something like, bring your crop, or a collar. Something of that sort."
“Collars provided at the door, perhaps,” Mr. Wrightworth purred out. “Yes, Nathaniel does enjoy doing the full themed sort of parties. He once did a pool party. Anyone who showed up in anything besides a swimsuit was turned away. Half the guests invited couldn't even attend.”
“Does that make him popular?” I asked.
“It does. I might suggest you tell him that you are off limits for this party of his. After all, the rumour has it that he loans you out. We want to cut that off before it can be fed more."
“Oh, Nathaniel won't have to tell a rich person not to touch me,” I said sweetly.
“When you strike another person, it is called assault,” Mr. Wrightworth said.
“And if you touch me, and I say no, and you touch me again, my knee will be going between your legs hard and fast. I want there to be no more questions as to whether or not I consent.”
Mr. Wrightworth sucked in a breath as I moved around the chair and pushed it in, against the table. I watched the sadist study me, then shrugged and walked out of the room.
Nathaniel was leaning against the wall as I walked out. He pushed off of it and offered me his arm. There was no readable expression on his face. I had no idea what was going through his mind at that moment.
Linking arms with Nathaniel, I smiled sweetly once more.
“I want to be a red for the party,” I said to him.
“That is entirely fair," he said, leading me away from the room.
“I also have a few other ideas, to give the feel of a BDSM party. We might as well march out the stereotypes, the whores, the furniture, and all the rest."
“We could try that, but I think we should do it tastefully.”
“Make everyone wear collars except for you, except for me, maybe?” I said with a smaller smile.
“Oh, yes, I do like that idea. Or cuffs. I could cuff a person or two to a table. That'd be fun. I even have a few names that I'd like to beat a little. This is a fantastic idea, this will be a marvellous party, I just know it."
Chapter Nine
From the Program building, we went back to Nathaniel's estate, of course. I breathed in deeply at the doorway and looked up at the chandelier.
The one that was shaped like a penis.
“I want to play,” I said, still looking up at the light fixture.
After a moment, I looked down at the floor. There, in the patterns, I swear I saw a vagina.
Yes, Nathaniel's floor had a vagina like a pattern in the marble directly below the penis shaped chandelier. He may have been a rich person and a well-founded member of the community, but at his heart, he was a bit of an immature pervert.
I turned my attention to Nathaniel finally and met his eyes.
“Oh?” he asked.
“You will go to your room and wait for me.”
“Will I?” he asked, a slight edge to his voice.
“Yes, you will,” I said, trying to match the edge of his voice with one of my own. “You will do so and make yourself ready for me.”
Nathaniel stiffened. I saw an internal struggle there before the Dom slipped away. The fight in him wasn't gone, but it was replaced with curiosity.
'Make yourself ready' is a term used by many Doms when they want to initiate play or give a command to a sub in public. I've seen Dommes working as secretaries who use just a phrase. Doms at church have used it as well, to take back control of their bratty subs.
“Very well,” he said.
I stood rooted in place as he walked up the steps and headed for his set of rooms. Once he was out of sight, I waited a moment longer, then went up to my room.
There, I flicked through all the dresses. None of them jumped out at me. I did it again, stopping on a green dress. Yes, that would do. I pulled it on and studied myself in the mirror. The neckline swept almost across my shoulders, not dipping in the least. The sleeves were virtually non-existent, which would keep my arms from being restricted. The skirt went down to my knees and was loose. Easy enough to hike it up, or whatever else was done to it.
Easy access, as Nathaniel might say.
The colour itself was a dark green. Just a tone off of being a proper emerald green. I quite liked it.
My hair couldn't be styled. I did give it a ruffle, to give it a bit of a wilder look.
I left my room and headed immediately for Nathaniel's. He was sitting on an ottoman, still fully clothed. One eyebrow quirked up over warm green eyes as I walked in.
My dress almost matched his eyes.
I looked Nathaniel over and almost went to set up myself. Then I recalled what Mr. Wrightworth said. I motioned to the nightstand by Nathaniel's bed, the one nearest to the bathroom.
“Bottom drawer, at the back.”
That made Nathaniel stiffen. He moved, but there was a hesitance to it as he did as I commanded. From the bottom drawer of his nightstand, Nathaniel withdrew a fleshlight. They're called as much because they sort of resemble flashlights, except they're masturbatory toys for males.
This particular toy had been a 'gift' from Mr. Wrightworth.
Nathaniel brought the toy to me and handed it to me gently. I accepted the toy and looked at Nathaniel's face, but his eyes were lowered.
“Strip,” I said.
“What did I do?” Nathaniel asked.
“You've been nothing but a brat since my return,” I said, then I remembered that I was supposed to have complete control. “Did I say that you could ask questions?”
Play is a little like Simon Says.
“No,” he murmured.
“Then why aren't you stripping?”
Nathaniel shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor. I tried not to show an outward reaction as he unbuttoned his shirt, his muscled chest revealing slowly. As the linen shirt slipped off his strong shoulders, I almost made a sound. The sound of his belt sliding off didn't he
lp matters.
I think he knew, by that point, that his stripped made my blood boil.
The things I want to do to this man.
His eyes may have been lowered, but there was something smug about Nathaniel as he unbuttoned his pants and hesitated. His attention did flicker upwards, to my face, before returning to the rug by my feet. Testing his boundaries, boundaries that I was all right with him pressing.
The pants were unzipped and pushed downward. Nathaniel stepped out of them, then kicked all the clothing towards the side.
Naked in all his glory, Nathaniel stood before me, hands at his sides, eyes lowered. His face was the expression of one awaiting a command. Nothing challenging about it, only waiting passively.
“I was advised to tie you,” I said. “If you make me tie you, you will regret it, do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?” I demanded.
“Yes, Isabella.”
I held out the toy. “Put it on.”
Again, I saw the hesitance. Then there was something that swept over Nathaniel's features.
He reached out and took the toy. Nathaniel looked down, then up at me.
“Oh?” I asked. “I didn't think I should need to use your trigger.”
“I've never played with a Domme before," he whispered. "Or anyone besides Him. It may be a side effect."
“What do you mean?” I said sternly.
“I want to be good. That, oh... for that I'd beg to be good, beg for whatever you want. It just seems I may have a problem.”
Mr. Wrightworth had said that Nathaniel was very well-trained. He wouldn't do anything without being told to do so.
“Well, I'm not him, I expect you to obey without being told to,” I said, except on the word 'obey,' I used the tone that Mr. Wrightworth always used for 'good.'
Nathaniel bit his bottom lip, looking down, then shaking his head.
“We'll work on it. For now, you will admit that I am in control.”
His trigger for rising wasn't a single word, so much as a saying. 'You will admit that I am in control,' somehow it had come about, and Mr. Wrightworth had never bothered trying to change it because it delighted him to no end. It was a constant reminder to Nathaniel that he was subservient.
