by S. J. Lewis
“That was the slave pens,” Carla replied. “Well, the ones on the second floor, anyway. Some of our clients have fantasies about that.”
“And if I had picked one?” Ron asked. “Hypothetically, of course.”
Carla laughed. “Well, you could use her in her cell. That’s the standard procedure. Or, you could have her delivered to one of the little suites on the fourth floor.”
“Most of them didn’t seem too happy to be there.”
Carla laughed again. “That’s part of the fantasy for them,” she said. “In fact, we have a married couple who come here regularly. She always comes in the day before he does, and goes through training. The next day, her husband shows up, checks out the slave pens, and chooses her. She gets delivered to his suite. Sometimes, he picks a second woman as well. It’s an interesting arrangement. I suppose he gets a bit of a thrill at the thought of his wife naked to the view of other men. I think she gets a thrill out of it too. The training can be pretty intense. I do know that once she goes into his suite we don’t see either of them again for a couple of days. They have meals delivered.”
“That’s something I was wondering about,” Ron said. “Out in the woods, we usually have two or three men to one woman. It’s all small scale, and the men are always company staff. Gordburg’s different. During the season, there are a lot of women there, so the company lets men in from outside of the company to hunt them. They’re as carefully screened as company staff, but they pay very highly for the opportunity. It works out a lot better than paying for a lot of extra personnel. How do you handle all the women here, anyway?”
Much like they do in Gordburg, actually,” Carla replied. “We have a select clientele of men who also pay very highly. Some take their vacations here, I think. They often pick a different woman from the slave pens every night.” She paused. “Gordburg sounds like an interesting place. I might want to visit there one day.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “Let’s finish the tour, shall we? Then we can talk and trade stories.”
The building inside the rings was a confusing maze, but Carla navigated it without effort. She led him up to the infamous third floor. He saw veritable dungeons, dark and gloomy, complete with racks and other instruments of torture. Carla assured him that they were there only for show. The third floor slave pens looked much like the second floor ones, but there were some differences. The women were all naked and collared, but they were secured with handcuffs. Some of them bore marks on their bodies from whipping or caning. The man in charge there was big, heavy, tattooed and wearing a sleeveless shirt and overalls instead of a three-piece suit. He was also quicker on the uptake.
“Fourth floor is next,” Carla said after they had inspected the slave pens.
“Is there anything special up there?”
Carla smiled slyly. “Maybe,” she answered. “Let’s find out. The elevator is this way.”
In the elevator, she took his arm and stood close to him again. Ron turned his head and looked down at her as she looked up at him with an enigmatic little smile. Apparently the tour had had an effect on her. Well, it had certainly had an effect on him, and she was an attractive woman. It had been a while anyway.
“You said you started as a ringer,” he said. “What was it like?”
Carla’s eyes looked past him now. Her expression softened. “It was kind of scary at first,” she said. “I had to go through the training. It was strange, walking into one of the rooms with three men I’d never met before. I wasn’t even sure that I could go through with it.”
“How old were you then?”
“Just twenty-eight,” she sighed. “The orientation they gave me laid everything out in a lot of detail, but it never really prepares you for the reality.” She pressed more closely against him. “Once we were in the room, they shut the door and told me to strip. They all just stood and watched while I did that. I knew that it was all being videotaped, too. It felt like millions of eyes were on me. By the time I was done, I was shivering badly, even though the room was warm. I couldn’t look at them. It was scary, but very exciting too. My heart was pounding, my mouth was dry, and I was very, very wet. Then they tied my hands behind me with rope. They tied more rope around my neck, like a collar and leash. I felt their hands on my body, all over my body. They weren’t gentle. They were big men, rough men, and for three days they kept me naked and made me do things I’d only fantasized about before.” She shuddered delicately. “It was a long time ago, but right now it feels as if it was yesterday.”
The elevator stopped. The doors slid open on another hallway, but this one looked like it belonged in a mid-scale hotel. Carla let go of his arm and led the way out. Her walk had changed subtly. It was slower, with more rolling of her hips. Ron followed her.
The specialty rooms each had a theme: Upscale hotel suite, cheap motel, a dark and dirty dungeon cell. The one done up as an abandoned boiler room even had a convincing layer of dust in all the right places. The only thing that seemed out of place at first was an old, torn mattress lying in a corner. Then Ron remembered the room’s purpose, and the mattress fit into the scene as well as all the exposed pipes did.
“What’s behind that door?” he asked as Carla walked past it.
She turned to face him. “That room’s being used,” she said in a hushed voice. “It’s a replica of a suburban basement, partly finished and partly unfinished. There are five men in there having their weekly Friday-night poker game. They have two women from the third-floor slave pens in there with them.” She made a “come on” gesture with her head. “We won’t disturb them. I want to show you the next room anyway.”
Ron followed her to the door. She opened it and stepped through ahead of him. He followed.
This room looked like the inside of a hunting lodge. The walls were chinked logs. The windows looked real, even though they were of frosted glass. Stuffed animal heads hung on the walls. The floor was polished pine planking. There was even a stone fireplace, with cordwood stacked next to it. He looked up to see exposed beams and rafters. He looked down. Carla was standing in the middle of the room, just looking at him. Her expression would have fit right in with the poker game going on next door. He heard the door click shut behind him. It was very quiet in the room.
“Carla,” he said.
“Yes, Mr. Smith?”
“Strip.”
Chapter Four
Carla stirred on the quilt he’d laid in front of the fireplace. It was still very quiet in here, except for the crackling of the fire. He’d been pleasantly surprised to find that the chimney was real, tinder had been stocked in a covered box near the fireplace, and wooden matches were on the mantel. He leaned back in one of the wooden chairs, pulled the robe he’d found in a closet a little closer around him, and just watched her for a moment. He had no idea what time it was. His watch lay somewhere in the pile of his clothes on the floor, but it seemed too much trouble at the moment to go and look for it.
Carla stirred again. She was waking up. He took a sip of the coffee he’d made a little earlier. The authenticity of the room didn’t extend to a wood stove or an old tin coffeepot. The stove was small, but electric, and he’d found a coffeemaker concealed inside a wooden cabinet. The small kitchen counter was made of some kind of hard plastic disguised as wood. There was a small refrigerator hidden under that counter, stocked with beer, wine, summer sausage and cheese. If he looked in the other cabinets, he was sure he’d find bread, but that seemed like too much trouble at the moment as well. There was a hand pump on the sink, but it was only for show. The sink worked just like any other city sink did.
She looked very pretty in the firelight, very calm and peaceful in repose. It was hard to remember that the polished, professional office manager, the sleeping naked woman, and the fevered, hungry female he’d grappled and coupled with earlier were all the same person. He could vividly remember her surprising strength as she wrapped her legs around him while he plowed deeply into her over and over again. She was
an active, noisy lover, even with her hands tied behind her. The rope he’d used had been hidden inside a footstool. She’d known where it was. If there hadn’t been any rope, he would have improvised, but there had been enough to both bind her wrists and use the rest as a makeshift collar and leash for her.
Carla rolled half onto her back and yawned. Then she looked around for him. When she saw him sitting in the chair by the wooden table, she smiled warmly.
“What time is it?” she asked before yawning again. She got up onto her knees, facing him, with only a little effort. She shook a stray lock of hair out of her face, making her breasts jiggle. They were very nice breasts, bigger than teats, smaller than boobs, dark- nippled with only a hint of sag beginning to show. Her skin was clear and firm all over. His own eyes and hands had told him that already.
“I don’t know,” Ron shrugged. “I fell asleep too.”
“Well,” Carla yawned again, “They know where I am, and I’m off the clock anyway.”
“How do they know where you are?”
“All those surveillance cameras,” she answered. “But I had the ones in here disabled.”
“That was thoughtful of you.”
She laughed. “It was for my own self-protection, I’m afraid. I’m the head proctor, after all. It wouldn’t do for my subordinates to see you using me like…the way you did.” She shivered deliciously. “Twice,” she added.
Ron smiled faintly. “It’s been a while for me.”
“It’s been a while for me, too,” Carla purred. “Some people would think that with the job I have I can get all the kinky sex I want any time. It’s not true, you know. As a proctor, I have to maintain some distance from the people who work for me. If I had one of the men who works here…ah, service me, it would make doing my job more difficult.”
“I can understand that,” Ron nodded. “But we’ve been in here a while. Even if nobody could see anything, wouldn’t they talk anyway?”
Carla straightened up into the same “position” he’d seen the women in the slave pens take. “They will,” she admitted. “But while you’re with the company, you don’t work here, and that makes things different. And, if they didn’t see anything, all they can do is speculate about what happened between us. I can deal with that.” Her expression softened. “Thank you, Mr. Smith. Thank you very much.”
Ron smiled. “Would you like some coffee?” he asked. “Do you want me to untie you?”
Carla shook her head. “I’m savoring this, Mr. Smith. I’d almost forgotten how intense the sex could be this way. But,” she tilted her head again. “I’m kneeling here, naked and bound. I don’t have any place special to go for a while. I’m wondering if maybe there’s something more you’d like?”
“I think you’re telling me that this is our one and only time together like this.”
Her smile was wistful. “Sadly, yes,” she said. “I’m sorry. It was selfish of me, but I couldn’t resist the opportunity. I read your file. I had to find out what it was like.” She shivered again. “I’m so glad I did. After this, I hope we can be friends.”
“It’s all right,” Ron said. “I understand. I wish I’d been one of your trainers back then.”
Carla licked her lips. “I could still use a bit more of a refresher course.”
Ron placed the coffee cup down on the table and stood up. “School is in,” he said.
She almost wriggled in anticipation as he came towards her. He let the robe fall open and saw her gaze go to his cock. He’d seen a lot of women do that over the years, and he could almost tell what she was thinking, what she was expecting. He could still pitch her a curve. He knelt down next to her and took the end of the rope that hung from around her neck. He made her spread her legs. He ran the rope up between her legs to her bound hands.
“Hold that,” he ordered. Carla obeyed, gripping the rope one-handed. He reached under her and made sure that the rope ran right between her pussy lips. The handling made her squirm and gasp. “Hold it tight,” he told her.
“Yes, master.” Her voice was a whisper. She shivered again.
He stood up and stepped in front of her. He pulled the robe open and took his cock in his hand. It was long and heavy, even if he wasn’t fully erect yet. He slapped her face with it, once, twice. She flinched and whimpered. He could almost picture the twenty-eight year old former head teller of a bank just beginning her training and maybe wondering what the Hell she’d gotten herself into. When she realized he wasn’t going to slap her again, she leaned forward and groped for him with her mouth, still whimpering. She took him between her lips and began to suck, slowly.
“Ahhh,” he took a handful of her hair. “That’s good. Keep sucking. Deeper.”
She was very noisy. Tiny whimpers and moans intermingled with the little wet sounds as her lips slid up and down the shaft of his cock. He could feel her tongue working at the sensitive underside. She didn’t need much of a refresher course at all for this. He kept his grip on her hair, but didn’t use it to make her go faster or deeper. What she was doing felt great just the way it was. He was sure she knew that this was going to take a while, whatever it said in his file.
He pulled his cock out of her mouth. “Lick it,” he ordered. “Lick it all.”
She licked. She licked as if his cock was the most wonderful thing she’d ever tasted and she couldn’t get enough of it. She swirled her tongue around the head, up and down the shaft, and then began licking and nuzzling his balls. Maybe this wasn’t going to take so long after all. She was still rooting around at the base of his cock when he pulled her head up by her hair. She stared up at him, her mouth open, her chin glistening wet, and her eyes unseeing until they focused back on the head of his cock. She took him in again, sucking quickly and desperately now. He let go of her hair and gripped her head with both hands. Now he urged her to go faster. Deeper would come later, but not much later. He could feel it building in him, slowly but surely. He moaned, to give her warning. Her response was to speed up, and now he groaned. Just before he came, he stopped the movement of her head. As he spurted into her mouth for the first time, he held her head still and thrust his cock deeper into her mouth. She made a muffled sound like a startled angry cat. He thrust again, and again, and each time she made the same noise. Finally, he was drained. He held her head for a moment longer before letting go and pulling his cock out of her talented mouth. Her head dropped forward. He heard her inhale deeply through her nose. Then she tilted her head back to look up at him. He heard her swallow. She sighed and smiled.
“Thank you, Mr. Smith,” she smiled weakly. If you could untie me now, I think I’ll hit the shower and then take you up on that offer of coffee.”
He freed her hands and took the rope from around her neck before helping her to stand. She seemed a little unsteady on her feet, as if she were mildly tipsy, so he held her for a moment. He bent to kiss her without even thinking about it. It was a very chaste kiss, considering what they’d just been doing, but it felt right. She put her arms around him for a hug before she tottered off to the bathroom. Neither one of them said a thing.
***
“So…” Carla grinned at him across the Formica table in the facility cafeteria. “What did you think of the tour?” It was later than either of them had thought, but they’d been able to scrounge fresh coffee and ham and cheese sandwiches from the kitchen. The cafeteria never closed, but they did stop serving hot food after ten. There were two other people in the cafeteria, both men, but they were sitting in a far corner and deep in a conversation of their own.
“It was very interesting,” Ron grinned back. He wolfed down a bite of his sandwich.
“This is a very impressive place. I might like to talk with some of your staff here.”
“That can be arranged. We’ll give you whatever help you’ll need.”
“Thanks. Could I see that file?”
Carla slid the manila folder across the table to him. “She’s a gorgeous woman,” she said wistfully.<
br />
“I’ve seen her,” Ron said. He took the file, but didn’t open it right away. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Carla smiled. “Really. Don’t worry about me. We both have jobs to do.” She reached out and patted his hand.
“Right,” Ron nodded and smiled back. He opened the folder. The first page inside was a headshot of Elizabeth Anne Kreuger. It looked like a professional had done it. He wanted to study her face a bit, especially those big, dark eyes, but it would have felt awkward with Carla sitting there. He turned to the next page. It read like a resume, giving the bare facts and some of the statistics. Sometimes they helped, and sometimes they didn’t. There had been nothing in Elf-Girl’s file to warn him how hard she would be to catch, how difficult she would be to break, or how thoroughly and sweetly submissive she would become.
“You’ve seen her?” Carla asked.
“Yes. Hines knew where she was going to be, and he took me there for a look. I wasn’t the only one there looking. Do you have any idea why it’s so important that we bring her in?”
“No,” Carla shrugged. “Not really. She’s not a society type. She has friends, but not so many as to serve as a network to spread the word of the services we offer. She’s not that well-known either.”
“I’m told she’s been in the city for a while.”
“Yes, that’s true. She’s staying in a first-class hotel that prides itself on keeping its guests safe and secure. We can’t get in there. We’ve tried.”
“Have you made any attempts to grab her?”
“Two,” Carla admitted. The first one had to be called off because there were too many people around. The second one,” she shrugged, “she went a different way than they were expecting and they missed her completely.”
“It sounds to me like she’s making it difficult.”
“She is,” Carla sighed. “At first, we thought it was just bad luck, all those people being there. Since then, we’ve concluded that she’s playing games with us. She doesn’t keep to any set routine. If she leaves her hotel, and she does that a lot, it’s always at different times and always to go to a different place than she went last time. The only common denominator is that there’s always lots of people around. She doesn’t use taxis, so there’s no chance of getting her into a cab driven by one of our people.”
