addiction and the ensuing lawsuit had nearly taken everything. If she ever wanted to act again and regain her millions, she had to submit...
“It will be easier than you think,” he said, as though he read her mind. “Pain is good for the soul. For every dirty, pitiful creature, there's repentance. I'm not talking about that touchy-feely New Age crap.
I'm talking about harsh corporal punishment, the sort of thing you would find during the Middle Ages, when monks bawled their eyes out to God as they savaged their own backs.” The candle seemed to have run dry. The anonymous financier's voice was taking a dour turn, distorted by the visions of bygone torture in his mind.
The brutal things those people invented , he thought, holding the flame dangerously close to her wax caked nipples. Just enough to make her squirm. Feels good, doesn't it?
“Please...please! Why are you doing this to me? I thought you were an admirer...” Sandra's body shook as every pass of the miniature furnace toward her mammaries threatened to turn all the way into her, blistering her most sensitive parts.
She didn't think he was that crazy. Even so, the man's commanding voice and the implement he had chosen told her that he didn't shirk the extremes. If anything, he embraced horrible pleasures for control, taming his desires and introducing her firmly into his territory.
“Oh, I certainly am an admirer. There's an entire room in this house dedicated to your many antics and achievements over the years. Maybe you'll see it, if I let you. I think you'll appreciate the archives: everything from your first amateurish songs to shooting in Antarctica for that big sci-fi flick with Hollywood's finest.” He set the candle down on the night stand.
Sandra listened to the drawer next to her open, and a beeping sound alerted her to the presence of an electronic device. Her face wrinkled, horrified that he was about to capture her in a broken pose.
A grayish flash passed across her eyes, bright enough to break the shroud of the black blindfold. She rubbed her feet uncomfortably against each other, sliding out of her Italian heels to scratch one with the other.
“There's another token to add to my collection. The first of many completely unique and special imprints, I hope. Don't worry. They won't pass out of my hands until long after one of us is dead,” he said, sliding a strong hand across her hair, fondling her neck with unlikely gentleness.
“Okay,” she said, pulling together every fiber of her being to keep it together. “What's next?”
“Glad you asked. I thought we would take a little trip downstairs, where I've arranged some very pleasant surprises for you. I hope you've had dinner because this might take all night.” She hadn't, but she wasn't going to give him any insight into her. Nothing more than he absolutely needed to know.
I just want his money and his connections. It's turning out to be a little pricier than I expected...this is a lot more than the quick fuck and a kinky flash or two that Randy told me about.
Her agent had suggested the idea after a drunken argument. The young, talented, and litigious professional was well known for his unconventional thinking – exactly the kind of non-linear strategizing that caused her to hire him.
She still couldn't believe she had agreed to it. Thanks to the psychological trickery he normally used, he managed to convince her that it wasn't really whoring herself out, but rather a, “Career minded approach to networking with casual sex.”
By the time the Lexus with the two stern faced men in suits pulled up at her condo, it was too late to say no. The men hadn't said a word as they forced her to don the blindfold and get in the car. Now, she feared, the sightless road trip was just the beginning.
“Come on,” her benefactor said, grasping her hand and leading her across the room. “Careful on these stairs.”
Slowly, she followed him down the same long, rounded staircase she