Buying the Virgin Box Set Four - The Virgin and the Masters: BDSM, Punishment, and Ménage between a Young Woman, her Master and her Lover

by Simone Leigh

  Her face drops. Quickly she gathers her clothes, much torn, pulling them on as best she can.

  Uniformed police, firearms at the ready, burst into the room, but the scene is already played out. Hand-cuffing both the conscious and unconscious, the traffickers are either marched or carried out.

  _______________________

  Beth

  Police work their way around the room, searching the building. White coveralled men appear…. Forensics?

  “Charlotte!” James calls her, fury in his voice. “Here. Right now!”

  Her eyes roll towards him, then to Michael, who shrugs, folds his arms, looking at her with a ‘Well, you’ve got it coming.’ expression. Certainly, there’s little sympathy there.

  “He’s really mad with me, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, he damn well is, and he’s not the only one.”

  Glumly, she turns and slowly, makes her way to James, standing at the end of the room.

  He is livid. “What the Hell do think you were playing at there, Charlotte? What does it take to get you to behave in reasonable fashion?” he hisses at her.

  Michael is listening in. Pacing the room, arms folded, he stares at the floor. Richard, holding me in his arms, is, just as clearly, paying close attention.

  James’ raised voice echoes through, furious. Charlotte is subdued, quiet.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Are you? What exactly are you sorry for?”

  “For what happened outside. I knew you wouldn’t like it, but there was no time…”

  “You say you’re sorry, but would you do it again? Running off like that?”

  She hesitates. “Yes, I would do that again. I couldn’t leave Beth in here by herself. And I had to stop them realising that you were here.”

  His face softens. “Beth is not your responsibility….”

  “But she is. She’s my friend. It matters what happens to her. If you’re going to punish me, then get on with it. I’d rather not wait, and I’m sorry for upsetting you, but I’m not sorry for what I did.”

  “I haven’t decided yet if I’m going to punish you. Astonishingly, I’d like to hear what you have to say.”

  Her voice is all but a whisper.

  “I didn’t want Beth to get hurt.”

  “And what about you? What about you getting hurt? Michael was beside himself when he saw what you were doing…”

  “They were going to gang-rape her.”

  “And what about you? Your solution is to goad them into gang-raping you instead?”

  “I’m tougher than Beth. And it doesn’t matter for me the same way.” Michael’s head jerks up. Richard, turns, disbelief writ large over his features.

  “Doesn’t matter?” James voice is incredulous. “Doesn’t matter? Charlotte, we’re not talking about fun and frolics at the clubs, with Michael and I close by, watching to make sure things don’t get out of hand. It would have been violent assault, and there’s a fighting chance you wouldn’t have survived it. Have you no idea…?”

  She cuts him off. “No idea? Of course, I’ve an idea... You know how I grew up. I know exactly what could have happened.”

  James is quiet for a moment, then in a calmer voice. “Yes, of course you do.…. But, I can’t believe you could be so unthinking.”

  “I wasn’t unthinking…”

  Michael interrupts, “James, let me…. Charlotte, tell me exactly what was in your mind when you did…. what you just did. And what do you mean? It doesn’t matter the same way for you?”

  She is quiet for a moment, then, “I was thinking that I didn’t want them to touch Beth. For me, it would be just.… just, one more thing that’s happened. You two, it wouldn’t upset you that there’s been other men…. But it’s not like that for Beth. You’ve seen her friends. They’re all polished nails, expensive hair styles and gossip. If it got out that something like that had happened to her, she’d be humiliated. And there’s Richard too….”

  Michael’s voice is cold now. “Richard? Charlotte, I know you felt you had a debt to him….”

  My husband drops his head, nestling his face in my hair. “Oh, God…”

  Michael is still speaking. “…. but that debt is paid. And more than paid. Do you understand me?”

  Still staring at the floor, she says, “He had to have her back unhurt…. Caesar’s wife.…”

  “…. must be above reproach?” Michael expression is bitter as he finishes her sentence. “But you count for something too, Charlotte.”

  James stares at her, swiping his hand through his hair. His dark eyes slitted, an outstretched finger pointing at her, “This discussion isn’t finished.…”

  In my peripheral vision, there is a movement. Michael yells a warning, and runs…. and I scream.

  Like some nightmare scene from an old movie, the world goes into slow-motion….

  Framed in the doorway is a man with a gun, pointing across the room, directly at Charlotte. It’s Corby, his face, cold and impassive, as he aims.

  Michael, still running, throws himself bodily at Corby, in a desperate bid to take him down, to prevent the inevitable.

  James and Charlotte both turn, see Corby. Charlotte’s eyes widen at the gunman as the pair turn, looking for cover. But, framed against the blank wall at the end of the room, there is nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.

  James, almost calmly, seizes hold of Charlotte, swings and turns, places his body between her and Corby.

  As Michael tackles the gunman, bringing him down, the gun fires. Corby’s aim has been knocked, and he fires low, but the bullet smashes into James and, crying out, agony on his face, he falls….

  There is the hammer of bullets from all directions, and Corby drops, his body jerking and jumping, as one round after another punches into him from police weapons. Lying still, blood pools around him.

  Charlotte is on her knees by James, tears streaming, shrieking denial, screaming as, her hands covered in blood, she scrabbles at him. But unconscious, he lies there, unmoving, blood spurting.

  ‘The Virgin and the Masters’

  Part Six

  A Continuing Tale of

  (Ex-)Virgin Erotica, BDSM and Ménage

  with Two Masters and More……

  Part Twenty-Two Of

  The ‘Buying the Virgin’ Series

  Author: Simone Leigh

  The Virgin and the Masters

  Part Six

  Beth

  A scene from a nightmare….

  Corby fallen, lying in an expanding pool of blood, dead, under a hail of police bullets. Police in every quarter fired at him, bringing him down, jerking and jumping as he fell, but too late….

  Michael, blond hair plastered to his skull, chest heaving, eyes wide in shock; not having been able move fast enough to prevent Corby’s shot ….

  My husband, Richard, yelling down his phone for urgent assistance….

  James, protecting Charlotte with his body, deliberately taking the bullet meant for her, lying unconscious on the ground, brought down by the single round Corby managed to fire. And his blood; so much blood, spurting, even through the small bullet-hole in his clothes, to a pulse-beat from his thigh.

  And Charlotte…. dropped to her knees, beside James, her clothes soaked in his blood, more blood splashed over her face, weeping and shrieking denial, scrabbling at him in utter, hysterical panic.

  And now, Michael is there. “Charlotte, don’t fall apart now! This is not the time.”

  She keeps screaming, tears streaming, drawing trails through her blood-spattered cheeks.

  Michael slaps her, hard, across the face. “He’s just taken a bullet for you.” he says, his voice cold. “An artery’s been cut. If we don’t the bleeding, he’s got minutes. Through everything that’s happened, you’ve kept your head. Don’t lose it now. Keep thinking straight, for him.”

  As though a curtain draws over her face, she calms, her breathing rapid, her stare, blank.

  Face immobile, voice empty of expressio
n, “What do I have to do?”

  He takes her hand, pressing it against James’ thigh. “Press there, hard, and keep pressing.” He turns to Richard. “We need medical help fast.”

  My husband, phone still pressed to his ear, nods. “There’s an air ambulance on its way.…”

  “He’s cold.” says Charlotte, touching James’ face with her free hand. “Clammy almost.”

  Michael nods. “Shock.” he mutters, checking James’ pulse. “His heart’s racing…. and his breathing…. Jeez….” He swings back to my husband. “Richard. How long for that ambulance?”

  “Five minutes. I’m talking with the medics on board. Talk to me. They’ve got questions. I’ll relay them.”

  “Shoot…”

  “They’re asking what medical training you have?”

  “I’m a first-aider for a fitness centre. I’m not trained for this….”

  The two keep talking, Michael tersely answering questions between instructions to Charlotte and others.

  Charlotte, normally pale, is white, her own breathing rapid and shallow. Michael strips off his shirt, ripping it apart, folding the shreds and passing a pad of fabric to Charlotte. “When I say, lift your hand. I’ll push this in there, and then press down again hard.”

  She nods. “What is it I’m doing?”

  “Blocking the flow of blood to the wound, from the side nearest his heart. One, two, three… now!”

  She lifts her hand and he pushes the pad into place. “Press again, now. As hard as you can.”

  Michael scans the room. “That chair. Yes, that one… bring it over.” I fetch the chair, and Michael lifts the unconscious James’ feet up onto the seat….

  “Two minutes.” says Richard.

  A tension-ridden silence falls, the blood-ridden Charlotte staring at Michael. Her tears have dried, but her voice is weeping. “Don’t let him die….”

  His eyes meet hers. “He’s my friend too.”

  And…. at last…. the sound of rotor blades outside.

  Richard charges out, to guide in the medics. Two immediately attend James. One tries to fuss over Charlotte, but she brushes him off irritably.

  “It’s not her blood.” explains Michael, voice curt.

  __________________________

  Charlotte

  He just lies there, eyes closed, unconscious.

  He’s normally so alive. Everything about him is alive. Even when he’s angry with me, I love it that he’s always on the move, in motion; thinking, talking, being him. To see him like this, so reduced….

  Please don’t leave me. Please….

  I miss you.

  Wake up Master. Come back to me….

  Please wake up.

  __________________________

  “Would it help to hear our voices?” I ask the doctor. “Can he hear our voices?”

  The doctor shrugs. “We don’t know. Odd things happen in these cases. People who we believe are deeply unconscious, later report hearing conversations around them.”

  Perhaps I could read to him?

  “It can’t do any harm.”

  __________________________

  I sit in the armchair by his side, reading aloud from …. I struggled to choose what book to read to him, since it occurred to me, belatedly, that I have no idea what my Master reads for pleasure.

  I try to choose something classic instead, something appropriate; but ‘Wuthering Heights’, with Cathy, Heathcliff and Edgar, and their doomed love triangle, isn’t right. Neither is ‘Gone with the Wind’, with Scarlett, Rhett and Ashley. ‘Pride and Prejudice’, ‘Jane Eyre’, ‘Anna Karenina’, all dwell on the failure of three lovers to make their situation work.

  In the end, I choose something very different, ‘Time Enough for Love’, an old 1970’s Sci fi novel, in which the characters make their polyamorous family work.

  Is it right? I don’t know, but it’s a long book and gives me something to read to my Master.

  __________________________

  Michael

  The couch is narrow; the kind that gets used in waiting areas and receptions, but she’s there; positioned to watch James’ face, pale, red-eyed, exhausted.

  She looks like a little child, sitting by him, crying, her face almost whiter than his, except where her eyes are swollen and blotchy.

  I wish I could wave a magic wand, Babe…. Make it right for you….

  …. And him.

  But this one is out of my hands.

  “Richard and Beth call by. “How is he? Any change?” she asks.

  I can only shake my head. “The surgeon says they’ve done everything they can. Replaced the lost blood. Repaired the artery. Found the bullet and removed it…. They say his chances are good, but we have to wait.”

  Beth is close to tears. Richard doesn’t look much better. He lays his hand on my shoulder. “I wish I could help. There’s so little I can do. But…. don’t worry about medical bills. That’s all taken care of. Whatever it needs….”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

  “Never under-estimate self-interest.” he says. “I need my co-director back.” He’s joking of course, trying to lighten the mood, and it shows in his eyes. “How’s Charlotte?”

  “Not good. Cries half the time, and sits staring at him the rest. I don’t think she’s slept in the last two days, and it doesn’t help that I can’t get her off that chair. If I could get her to lie down….”

  “Ah.” Richard raises a finger. “On that then, I can help. Should have thought of it before. Let’s get a couple of extra beds into the room for the pair of you.” He marches down the corridor. “Nurse!”

  __________________________

  Beth

  We return a few hours later, Richard wanting to check that his instructions have been carried out, and that the threesome are comfortable.

  As we enter the room, the scene would make a statue weep: James, still unconscious. Michael and Charlotte, both asleep on a single bed beside James’.

  “We shouldn’t disturb them. They’ve had little enough rest. Let’s go and have a coffee. We can come back in a while.” says Richard.

  “Yes, and we should bring them something to eat.”

  “Good idea. I’ll call Ross. Get him to put something together for them. They’ll need better than vending-machine snacks at a time like this.”

  __________________________

  We return a couple of hours later with Ross’ meal. Miracle-wise, in the short time, he’s put together a hot casserole, salad, fruit and cheese, juice and coffee; all in picnic-style containers, for easy eating in difficult conditions.

  We hover at the room door. Michael isn’t there, but Charlotte is sitting on the edge of the bed, her back to us, holding the unconscious James’ hand, kissing his fingers.

  She’s talking to him, and even though I can’t see her face, I hear the tears in her words.

  “…. I know you always worried about being older than I am…. But I still thought we were going to have years and years together…. Now…. What am I supposed to do? With you like this? I love Michael too, but it’s supposed to be the three of us. Don’t leave me, Master. Please don’t leave me….”

  She starts sobbing. It’s a gut-rending, heart-broken sound. Richard and I exchange glances. Even his eyes are filling.

  We sit either side of her on the bed. I wrap my arms around her. Richard holds her hand.

  Where’s Michael?

  He appears at the door, towelling damp hair, sees us, with Charlotte, and visibly curses under his breath.

  “Oh, Charlotte. I thought you were asleep….” Then to me. “Gotta use the bathroom sometime….”

  “We brought food for you.”

  “That’s great, thanks. Charlotte. C’mon, eat.”

  “Ross cooked it. It’s his mother’s recipe chicken-casserole….” I say.

  Her voice is numb. “I’m not hungry.”

  “Yes, you are.” insists Michael. “You just think you’re not.�
�

  She makes no move towards the food, which even I, accustomed as I am to Ross’ good cooking, have to admit smells wonderful.

  Charlotte won’t look at it. Her face works, as though she’s suppressing the urge to vomit.

  Michael pushes the casserole at her insistently. “Charlotte, eat.” Still she doesn’t make a move. “Charlotte. James would want you to eat it.”

  That finally does it. She picks up a fork and takes a small mouthful, chewing endlessly, forcing it down.

  Richard catches Michael’s eye, gesturing him out into the corridor. Michael looks across at me. “I’ll stay here.” I say.

  He nods, following Richard.

  After a few minutes, they’ve not returned, but Charlotte is drooping. “You should sleep.” She nods, but doesn’t speak.

  “Let me get you into bed. You’re right next to him. You can watch him from there.” She nods again.

  I help her into bed, fully clothed still, tucking her in like a little girl. Almost instantly, she drops off. I wait for a minute or two, to be sure she’s asleep, then look out into the corridor. Michael and Richard are there, talking quietly.

  “You think we should get her sedated?” asks Richard. “Or perhaps away from here? It can’t be doing her any good, seeing him like that.”

  Michael shakes his head. “I don’t think sedation is the answer. Whatever happens, she’s going to have to deal with it. I think it’s better just to have the people she loves around her. As for taking her away; I don’t think you’d get her out of there with a bulldozer…. Beth! You’ve left her alone?”

  “She’s asleep.”

  He looks angry, pushing past me, back into the room.

  Charlotte is still there, sleeping, but is now in James’ bed, lying next to him, one hand resting against his face.

  A doctor arrives, white coated and efficient looking. He spots Charlotte in the bed, and for a moment, surprise, then disapproval, washes across his face.