She pampered herself. Her hair was always cut and colored perfectly. Her fingers and small feet were seductively manicured and always sporting the perfect polish. Thinking about her fingers, he couldn’t help but envision them wrapped around his cock, holding him steady as she lowered her mouth over it.
He knew where she lived, where she worked, and what she did after hours. There wasn’t a week which went by she wasn’t with some guy, rarely the same one, laughing and having a good time. He smiled at the thought that soon, she was going to give him a ride, just as she had given all those other guys.
Overall, she was a perfect candidate for the market.
Walking into the bar, he stepped up to the rail and ordered a single malt scotch, straight up. An expensive scotch like this would draw the bitches to him, each eager to land a well-to-do man. He dressed the part. An expensive suit, a tie confidence power without overdoing it and expensive Italian leather shoes only a gay man or a woman would detect.
Taking a brief sip of the scotch, he turned around and scanned the upscale bar. Far enough from work, few would recognize him and those that did rarely came to this bar.
As he scanned the crowd, he noticed a few possibilities for follow-up. Like that blonde over there sitting at a table with that guy, was he a boyfriend, lover or co-worker? No matter, if she measured up, it wouldn’t matter at all who he was. In the end, she would be his.
Looking further, he noticed a brunette at the end of the bar, looking back at him. “Whore” he immediately determined. “Maybe, if he found the right client for her.” He thought. After a moment, he discounted her as a likely candidate. Most of his clients didn’t want whores. They wanted the models, the lookers, and the ‘girls-next-door’ to satisfy their tastes. They could get all the professionals they wanted themselves. They bought from him because he could supply the talent they normally couldn’t get themselves. Well, not so much as couldn’t but they wouldn’t. Snatching these bitches off the street insulated his clients from repercussions. He took all the risk and they paid him handsomely for it.
“Damn” the redhead was not here today. “Probably off banging some guy after work,” he guessed. Well, he could come back tomorrow and the next day. He would continue to watch her until a client got itchy for a new toy. Then, the bitch would be his.
Throwing the rest of the scotch into the back of his throat, he paid his bill, tipped the bartender and left to go home.
Signaling a cab from the curb, he climbed in and leaned back in his seat. After giving the driver his address, he closed his eyes and thought about his last conquest. The cute petite blonde-haired whore he had considered keeping for himself. If she hadn’t cost him so much money, she might still be his plaything to do with as he pleased. Still, though, it was great while he had her. ‘Arching the bitch up’ was something new in his annals of conquests and he was determined to try it again. He was curious to see if he improve upon his ‘arching’ technique and see how far it could go. It was so much fun he almost couldn’t wait to do it again.
Arriving at his building, he tipped the doorman and strolled to the elevators humming a lively tune. Taking the car to his penthouse, he continued reviewing the memory of the bitch in his mind. How wonderful she looked, all tied up in his hog tie, back at her place. The memory of pulling her arms behind her back and cinching them together started to give him stirrings in his pants. The clean straight line of both of her arms tracing her spine was a work of art. That image would remain with him a very long time.
Of course, she would be dead by now which was really too bad. The tastes of her buyer were well known in his circle. His appetite for damsels was voracious. He bought them regularly and often. Moreover, he never had one more than a week before they succumbed to his attentions. He would have enjoyed watching her scream for the buyer as she had done for him. In some ways, he admired his appetite and torturous techniques. He aspired to be like him.
To take the next step and do what he did, would require much more planning and resources. He would need a lot more dough and many more connections. He was working on both and perhaps if he was lucky someday, he would be able to enjoy those same tastes.
Inserting the key in the door of his apartment, he unlocked it and stepped in, closing and locking it behind him.
“Hello, Jeremy. Remember me?” he heard as something hard and unyielding crashed into the back of his head. Stars erupted in his vision. Crumpling, he never felt his body hit the floor.
***
Sometime later, after regaining conscious, his head pounding and lights flashing in his eyes, he saw her.
“What the …” he tried to yell.
Only he couldn’t. He was naked, hogtied, and gagged. He was lying on his living room floor.
He was lying on his side, his arms bound severely behind his back. The same for his legs, they were bound together and his feet folded over behind his knees.
Struggling to free himself, he discovered a very thin cord or wire wrapped around his testicles, the other end of which was tied to his ankles. Any attempt to stretch his feet out, pulled hard on his ball sack, resulting in a sharp acute pain in his balls. Come to think of it! His balls were already aching. Did she kick him in the nuts when he was unconscious?
He also felt a fullness in his ass but before he could concentrate on it, a voice came from nearby.
“Hello, Jeremy, remember me? Welcome home. I’ve been waiting for you.” he heard someone say.
Focusing on the direction of the voice, he tried to clear his vision to get a good look at whoever it was. It was a woman’s voice. Concentrating hard, it finally came to him. It was the object of his earlier reverie. Fuck! It was Jon’s bitch. The bitch he sold to Jon.
“What the fuck? What was she doing here in his apartment?”
She stood there, alongside him. The last time he saw her, she was in her apartment, bound into a small ball and zipped up inside a duffel bag. Now, she was standing in his apartment, legs spread wide with her hands on her hips. She was dressed all in black leather, from her thigh high-heeled boots, leather skirt, and corset. The only thing that wasn’t black was her blonde hair, framing her pearl white face and cascading along her bare pearl white shoulders.
“Shit! Even her eyes are black.” He realized. She maintained the reserved look of stubborn determination on her face.
“Shall we get started?” she said as she picked up a small remote control. Smiling at him, she pressed a button.
Jeremy screamed as he felt the severe jolt of electricity pump into his rectum.
The sudden unexpected pain was excruciating. Unable to restrain himself, his legs snapped out straight, taking his testicles with them. They flew halfway across the room before being snapped back by the wire and landed on the floor somewhere behind him.
“Oh, too bad Jeremy, I see you’ve lost your balls.”
As she stared down at the writhing, bloody fleshy mass who called itself Jeremy, Jolene heard a voice in her head whispering to her. With the edges of her mouth turned up in a wicked grin, she knew who it was.
“Jol, fulfill … your destiny. Complete … your … vow. Destroy … the … monsters.”
“Yes, Jul, yes I will, one down, another about to go. Let the hunt begin. It’s going to be fun. Shall we get started?”
###
Author's Notes
Thank you for reading Jolene’s story. I hope you enjoyed reading it.
The only question that remains is whether Jolene’s story should continue hunting the monsters that prey upon the innocent as she once was? Should she be the firm fist of justice, seeking vengeance for the victims like her?
I wrote ‘Her Client Trilogy’ simply to take my mind off a different story line I was working on. I needed a distraction. However, as the story developed, it took on a dark, twisted, and sadistic slant. I didn’t intended to make it so brutal but that’s how it came out. It’s a better story for it.
I encourage you to share the ‘Her Client Trilogy’
with your friends and acquaintances.
Please consider posting a review.
Other Books by Richard Verry
The Mona Bendarova Adventures
The Taste of Honey (Book #1)
Broken Steele (Book #2)
Lucky Bitch (Book #3)
Client Trilogy
Her Client (Book #1)
Her Overseer (Book #2)
Her Essentia (Book #3)
Novellas
The Breakup
Short Stores
A Mermaid’s Irresistible Curiosity
Connect with me at
facebook.com/richardverryauthorartist
twitter.com/RichVerry
www.richardverry.com
Join my mailing list at
www.richardverry.com/#Subscribe
About the Author
Richard Verry is an Information Technologies Engineer who has coded and supported computer systems for decades.
Two decades ago, he started feeling something lacking in his life. He made radical changes and began experimenting with wider social and creative avenues.
He wrote his first short story in 2007 and along the way, created a vast gallery of artwork of oil and watercolor paintings, sketches, and drawings. Shortly thereafter, he began writing full-length novels and novellas where he is finally able to capture some of the ideas and story concepts constantly invading his mind.
Richard grew up and lives on the North East Coast of America where he lives with the love of his life, Janet. He enjoys skinny, sugar-free vanilla lattes and kamikaze cocktails with a good steak.
Richard ponders, sometimes to the point of excess, the myriad of images and scenarios, which could be used in his artwork and writings. A rare few eventually come to life.
Her Essentia: Make sure she stays dead (Her Client Trilogy Book 3) Page 5
