Chapter 22
The Home Invasion and the Aftermath

Ed dropped in on Armand. "Boss, I don't think I should fuck this woman."

Armand eyed him. "Why?"

"If she gets a look at me, there will be problems, later."

"You're not squicked, are you?"

"Nah. Hell, Boss, if I was put off by a little recreational violence, I'd be long gone. It's just the complications. If you turn her loose some time and let ALL the boys dick her, I'll be in line with the rest -- but until then, I'll hold off."

"Sensible," Armand nodded. "Witherspoon provided me three people, so we're not hampered in any way. But I want you to go in with the first group, and the third to come in later, in order to confuse Sharon as to numbers, understood?"

"Sure, Boss."

"Okay. It won't hurt you to be a couple of minutes early. Do you have everything you need?"

"Yeah, it's not that much, really. Damned computer is the worst of it."

Armand chuckled. "Computer literacy won't hurt you." Ed shrugged agreement, and got out of there.

Running the laundry pointed up the lack of water fairly quickly; Sharon knew things were broken before Nora left. She was still trying to figure out whether it was worthwhile to try to get the plumber on a Sunday when a knock sounded at the door. Peering through the peep, she picked up a couple of guys in dungarees. She put the chain on and opened the door. "Yes?"

"Plumbers." There were two guys on the step in ball caps and dungarees, with name tags. Somebody else was coming up the walk with a couple of buckets, obviously from the van out front. She glanced at the black guy, but the two on the step were glaring at the third guy who was coming up the walk, head down. The white guy said, "Mr. Wilson sent us."

"Oh." Apparently, there were benefits to surveillance, after all. Sharon undid the chain and stepped back. The first guy stepped past, digging in a black felt bag -- and then all Hell broke loose! Hands grabbed her from behind, and the black felt bag went over Sharon's head. Struggling turned out to be both useless and painful; two men were MORE than enough to overpower her. One held her in place while the other quickly constrained her hands behind her; attempts to kick one of them got her a good hard slap through the bag, while an attempt to scream brought a punch in the stomach that lost her her air supply. At that point, things got quiet, for a moment...

Actually, the place was a hive of activity. Ed stood by, frowning at the casual violence, but it WAS in the scenario. The white guy held up his hand to acknowledge the criticism, while the black unlimbered a laptop and brought it out of hibernation. Ed watched this, then fished his out, and the black operative helped him get set up, too, while his colleague laid out various things that would be used to bind and abuse Sharon. The white guy, who they'd agreed to call Mike (that wasn't his name) motioned to Ed that it was time to head upstairs as the third operative, a younger, blond guy, came through the door and closed it. Ed nodded and headed upstairs with his stuff -- he'd come back down for the laptop in a second, which would give him another look in...

Sharon started getting air into her lungs again, and moved from curling in agony to struggling feebly. Wow! That punch hurt! What were these people here for? Maybe it was one of Armand's little games -- well, THIS wasn't any way to get her to move in with him! Wait until she got going on HIM next time!

At that point, more immediate concerns came to the fore; 'Mike' started tugging off her slacks! Still blinded by the bag, Sharon tried to fight back, but the men could see, and she couldn't. The black guy -- 'Lou' -- started giving 'Mike' gestured positioning directions based upon instructions coming over the laptop's IM client, as Armand started tuning everyone's positions for optimum video capture. When they were done, 'Lou' rotated the laptop so they could see it, then put his foot in Sharon's stomach -- none too gently -- to hold her in place while 'Mike' wrestled her slacks off.

The flip-flops Sharon had been wearing were long gone; 'Mike' stood up and directed 'Lou' into position for a melodramatic ripping away of her panties.

Armand, running things from his mansion via IM, chuckled. The pair were good; they were keeping their faces out of the picture, but keeping Sharon well-centered, while maintaining the action and believability.

"What do you want?" Sharon asked querulously. Despite the removal of her clothing below the waist, SURELY this couldn't be just about rape... The ripping away of her panties and the quiet chuckles that accompanied it had caused a gasp of shock, but she was still having problems believing that anyone would single her out for a purely sexual attack...

"Quiet, Slut!" 'Ted', the blond operative, rasped, while 'Mike' swatted her on her stomach, which had been exposed during the wrestling match, "Speak when you're spoken to!"

"Why don' we jus' slit her throat an' be done wit' it?" 'Lou' asked. Ed, coming back downstairs, caught 'Mike' grinning as he held up his finger to his lips. Ed knew what was up, instantly; 'Lou' and he had spoken at length, and 'Lou' was apparently English, educated at Oxford -- the gutter-black accent was pure misdirection.

'Ted' took up the 'explanation': "You like fucking dead bitches? If the Boss just wanted her dead, we could have used a rifle! This cunt belongs to Wilson, and the Boss wants a point made! Besides, when I stick my dick down her throat, I want her to gag, not just have the thing poke out the hole..."

"Awright, awright..."

Sharon went from JUST fear to stone cold terror! They planned to kill her! Oh, God! She sucked in air to scream...

... And took another punch in the stomach, while 'Ted' roared, "Shut UP, bitch!" 'Mike' pulled her curled body into a more or less vertical position, sitting up and 'Lou' opened a case and extracted an odd-looking pair of goggles. When Sharon apparently had her oxygen supply back, 'Ted' announced, "All right, Slut, this is how it's gonna go. We're gonna take off the bag and fit you with some goggles that will allow you to see a bit of this and that, in certain directions. This is for our benefit -- we want you to be able to see to fuck. If you keep your eyes where they're supposed to be, you might survive the afternoon -- but if you fuck around and get a look at one of us, we'll gut you and leave you to die, slow. Understand?"

Sharon opened her mouth to speak -- and took a slap. "A nod will do. Speak when you're told to. You can moan and groan a bit, while we're having fun, but keep it down... Oh, and we own Wilson's cameras for the afternoon, so we're capturing this for posterity. If you're lucky, and survive, maybe your old man will play the video for you -- if not, it'll make an excellent snuff flick..." Sharon didn't know what a 'snuff flick' was, and didn't want to; she nodded. Her 'home training' with Armand kept her from getting too stupid; she knew better than to disbelieve someone who had her under his physical control, or to make useless struggles. "Okay, here we go... look down, and stay that way until the goggles are on." 'Ted' lifted the hood, and 'Lou' fitted Sharon with the goggles from behind.

The goggles were odd, kind of a bifocal. If Sharon looked down, she could see pretty clearly, but there was a transition to a total blur before the mid area of the lenses was reached, so that over most of the area of the lens, nothing could be made out clearly. In addition, there was a gradual silvering that dimmed light, making the lenses virtually opaque at the tops. It was amazing how much the combination screwed up the eyes; basically, they were driven to the bottom of the lenses, as nowhere else was comfortable. "Okay," 'Ted' announced, "We're gonna take off the binders, and you're gonna shuck out of the rest of your clothes, like a good slut -- but first, an object lesson..." He took an ordinary mini-maglite and shined it at the goggles.

Sharon went immediately, searingly blind; the light, reflected by the silvering multiple times, was shockingly painful. "Aaaaahhhh!"

"Do as you're told, Slut! And DON'T touch the goggles, if you want to live!" 'Ted' barked.

Lou released the wrist restraints, and Sharon ALMOST reflexively reached for the goggles. 'Lou' grabbed a handful of her blouse and shook her by it. "Get outta this!"

Ed sighed. He'd like to watch this, but he had work upstairs... He waved to 'Mike' and headed up. Maybe he'd get done in time for the finish...

Sharon was in 'totally docile' mode -- nothing else would do, apparently. She got out of her blouse and bra without fanfare, 'Ted' snatching them away as soon as they were clear. Her dazzled retinas registered nothing at all. 'Lou' dragged her to a carefully placed straight chair, while 'Ted' on her other side, ordered, "Sit!" In a menacing tone, he continued, "So, you're Wilson's main slut, huh? You can answer questions, Slut, if you keep it low."

"I'm... his ex-wife..."

"Ex, huh? Rumor says there's more to it than that. Rumor says you work for him, and that he still fucks you, regularly. When's the last time you fucked him?"

"Uuuh..." 'Ted' grabbed Sharon's left breast and squeezed. "Aaaaaahh! W-wednesday!"

'Ted' nodded to 'Lou', who reached around from behind and crushed her right breast. "Liar! You were at his place yesterday!"

"Uuuuuuhhhh! W-we didn't have sex! Just lunch!"

"Pretty cozy for an ex-wife..." 'Ted' glanced up at the laptop, where the instant messenger said one word -- 'Time'. 'Mike', also watching, nodded and swiped everything off the coffee table. "Get up, Slut." 'Ted' grabbed her wrist and jerked her from the chair, but 'Lou' took charge of her at that point, guiding her to the table. At that point, there was a gestured discussion wherein 'Mike' made suggestions for table positioning and Armand replied by IM. Finally, they moved a chair and rotated the table forty-five degrees, which gave the cameras a head-on, a tail-on, and a side view, all offset a bit to keep the men themselves from obscuring the action. Sharon, still seeing spots, caught hints of movement and sounds, but couldn't figure out exactly what they were up to. 'Lou' had a wrist in each big hand, though, so she didn't attempt to go anywhere. There were three of them and one of her, blind -- all she could do was cooperate and hope to survive.

'Lou' let go of one wrist and pushed her to her knees, then forced her flat across the coffee table with a hand on her neck. 'Mike', faced with a question that couldn't be properly gestured, went to the keyboard and typed 'Where?'

'Ass' was the reply. 'Mike' shrugged and unzipped his coverall.

Meanwhile, 'Ted' kept Sharon's attention with questions. "You work for him, right? What do you know about his west-coast distribution network?"

"N-nothing."

"Don't be coy. It'll hurt you." He slid a hand between where her breasts mashed against the table. Sharon, instinctively, raised up a bit, and he slid the hand to the right, collecting a handful of left breast. Sharon's realization that she'd screwed up came only an instant before the crushing pain began. She started a scream, but 'Ted' terminated it with a slap that rocked her head. Tears poured. The pain! Oh, God, the pain! "Now, tell me what I want to know!"

"Oh, God, ogodogod -- I only do charity work!"

"Right!" 'Ted' let 'Mike' handle things; 'Lou' moved to his left (Sharon felt a shift in his grip on her neck) and 'Mike' knelt up and began pushing his cock against her cringing asshole.

"Aaaauuuuggghhhh! Noooooooo!" Sharon wailed, as what felt like a telephone pole pressed itself irresistibly against her sphincter.

"So start talking!"

"I don't draw a paycheck, or anything! I only see him every couple of weeks! I just find places where he can make charitable contributions for taxes!" Sharon wailed.

Sharon's bunghole was losing the fight. There were a couple of reasons for this, the primary one being experience. Sharon's experience with anal sex -- even dry anal sex -- was fairly lengthy; she knew instinctively what to do about it and reacted more or less without thought. 'Mike' popped through after a fairly short struggle, and began sawing back and forth, hawking and spitting at the point where his cock was being crushed by her ring to add a bit of lubrication. A fuck like this always felt like all of the hairs on your dick were being pulled out...

"So you don't know anything about his business? I doubt that..."

"Ow! Ow! Oooohhhh! N-not a lot! I get told... Aah! Business plans, so... Ouch! Charity contributions can help lubricate things..." God! Sharon was wishing for lubrication!

"Bribes," 'Ted' grunted.

"Uuhh! Maybe! But it's -- ugh! -- not direct! Nothing goes straight into someone's pocket! Aah! Armand gets the charitable contribution and the politician involved gets the benefit of a pet project moving forward... Uuhh! Usually, Armand gets something HE wants, too -- a building permit, or something..."

Nodding was a waste of time; Sharon could see "Ted's" shoes, and that was it at this point. Her vision was picking up, but her head was down and the goggles were impeding vision in every direction except toward the floor. 'Ted' grunted, "So getting you to talk is a waste of time -- might as well use your mouth for something else..." He nodded to 'Lou', who released her neck so he could shuck out of his dungarees. 'Ted' readied a foot to place on her neck, but Sharon merely rose up on her elbows, hanging her head and concentrating on the violation of her ass. Experience with Armand made this less unpleasant than it would have been to an anal virgin; Sharon was adapting rapidly, which made things easier on both of them. Moments later, the next phase began; a hand reached under her chin and pulled her head up. Suddenly, her vision was filled by the sight of a big, black cock. "Suck, bitch!" 'Lou' hissed.

Almost two decades of submissive experience betrayed her; she opened her mouth, and he began jamming it in. Sharon began to suspect that the goggles magnified where they allowed vision, since the cock certainly didn't seem to be remarkably bigger in her mouth. The truth was that her perceptions were somewhat distorted; 'Lou' wasn't a 'black superman', but was healthily-sized, coming in at about eight inches -- which wasn't appreciably different than Armand. In fact, of the three of them, 'Mike' was the largest; the cock he was sawing in and out of Sharon's rectum topped nine inches. 'Lou' went straight for a gag fuck, though, deliberately rushing Sharon, poking his cock down her throat. Sharon tried to keep up, but 'Lou' was taking no prisoners and she began to retch. 'Lou' waited until she was certain to vomit, then hooked a trash can over with his foot. "Puke, bitch!" Sharon obliged him -- she really didn't have any choice! She heaved into the can again and again before she managed to regain control. "Good," 'Lou' grunted. "Save us trouble later."

While Sharon scrubbed at her mouth weakly with one hand, 'Ted' noisily dashed up the stairs. The effort was deliberate -- he wanted Sharon to remember someone going up. "How's it going?" he asked Ed.

"Okay. Paint won't be dry by the time we pull out."

"How long, you figure?"

"I want another half-hour, but can probably do it in fifteen minutes." Ed related.

"We'll try to give you twenty-two."

"Where are you?" Ed asked.

"Been messing with her head," 'Ted' replied. "Pretty soon, we'll shift to making her enjoy it." Ed nodded and went back to painting.

When 'Ted' got back downstairs, 'Lou' was shoving a glass of water in Sharon's hand. "Drink, bitch. I might want to stick my tongue down your neck while I fuck you." Sharon took it in shaky hands, managing to just barely get it to her lips in spite of the steady pounding her ass was taking from 'Mike'. She swallowed a bit, and spat out a bit before 'Lou' took back the glass. "Now you ain't got nothin' to heave, take the cock, bitch!" 'Lou' again presented his meat, and somehow, Sharon managed to take it in, despite her upset stomach. The hand behind her head and the one under her chin were pretty persuasive -- besides, the fight was leached out of her completely; vomiting left her as weak as a kitten. "You gonna take it all, bitch. Keep it comin'." Sharon was awash; 'Mike' had been pounding her ass for several minutes, so she was beyond pain. The cock 'Lou' was pushing into her mouth was now familiar, and the demands it was making of her were not unexpected. Sharon started drifting toward something -- Oh, God! -- resembling pleasure...

Something was calling, a state of mind where pain and humiliation would cause her to yield herself, a state that begat pleasure. All she needed was a trigger...

'Ted' decided that Ed was just going to have to operate in the time allotted. "Roll her on her back." 'Lou' stepped back, and 'Mike' bent over her, reaching under her armpits to lever her up and rotate the pair of them as a system. 'Lou' caught him, bracing him until he was lying on the coffee table lengthwise, Sharon's ass still impaled on his cock.

'Lou' covered Sharon's eyes. "Goggles gonna be worthless in this position..."

"All she's gonna see is your balls, Man," 'Ted' chided.

'Lou' grunted, and dropped Sharon's head over Mike's shoulder. "Open up, slut!" Sharon found herself with a mouthful of cock -- again! This time, with her head back, 'Lou' went deeper than ever -- but it seemed to be less of a problem...

'Ted' provided the spark that set Sharon off, lifting her legs and sliding his cock into her, surprised that she wasn't dry. Sharon wasn't surprised -- after all, Armand had trained her to relish such things. This... This was pleasure. The cock in her ass wasn't moving much, and she was used to it, anyway. She was giddy from trying to breathe around the black man's cock, but it wasn't awful, or anything -- and now she had a cock where cocks belonged... 'Ted' was deliberately doing his job, making sure that he bashed her clitoris with every stroke, and now Sharon was in a fine, submissive frenzy of humiliation and acquiescence. She was a cum dumpster -- it was her new role in life... She would take the cum from each of these, and any others that happened to be there... The black drove his thick black cock into her mouth, his heavy balls slapping against the goggles and forcing his heavy scent into her nostrils. The young guy drove his cock into her pussy, bashing her clit with his pubic bone, and the older guy kept managing to get short strokes in her ass with his big cock... Sharon felt the wave coming, lifting her...

'Ted' took her hips and started moving her. 'Mike' got his hands under her so she wasn't rubbing his skin off and the pair of them drove her back and forth, getting them both a stroke. 'Lou' backed off, not driving so deep -- the whole thing just didn't synchronize adequately for him. "Suck the head, bitch -- I'll wait on these guys, and then I'll try to put a baby in you!" Sharon did as she was told; in her current frame of mind, there wasn't any choice, anyway... 'Lou' laughed, and started mauling her already rock-hard nipples. "You lovin' this shit, ain't you, slut?"

'Mike' came first. He'd been at it the longest, and when 'Ted' initiated the new stroke, he could feel the other man's cock through the membranes separating Sharon's pussy and her ass. "Gonna get it!" he grunted, and started spewing into Sharon's colon.

That did it -- Sharon went off, gurgling around 'Lou', "Hrrrgh! Hrrrgh! Hrrrgh!" Her hips jumped and her legs thrashed while her pussy and her ass milked their intruders, extending the climax 'Mike' was enjoying. 'Ted' rode through it; when 'Mike' let Sharon back down on his chest, he started really pounding, looking for his own cum, now that Sharon had hers.

Sharon beat him, however; now that the door was open, she was a wild woman! She couldn't see anything but the black guy's balls, so she closed her eyes, enhancing her other senses and bring the work 'Ted' was doing into sharper focus. She started moaning around the cock in her mouth, adding to the pleasure 'Lou' was getting. There was a roaring in her ears, and sparks before her eyes, and it looked like she was going to cum AGAIN... She actually reached up and grabbed the black's hips, forcing him deeper to get more guilty pain/pleasure as the sparks escalated to a full-fledged fireworks display!

'Ted' let her have it, pounding her three more strokes while she hunched and pulsed before burying himself in her and pouring gout after gout into her.

In a moment, all was quiet; 'Ted' climbed off and came around to Sharon's head. 'Lou' backed off obligingly and 'Ted' ordered, "Clean me off!"
Sharon started sucking, but it didn't last long; 'Mike' surged, rolling her over and climbing off, while 'Lou' circled around to the business end.

Sharon found herself back on her hands and knees, not certain how she got there. She didn't get any time to worry about it, though, as 'Ted' presented his gooey cock again and grunted, "Finish up, slut!" The goggles fixed it so that 'Ted', below the waist, was all that she could see -- but she could feel hands on her hips -- and in a moment, a cock nosing between her labia. She was going nowhere, so, it did no good to resist. This time, though, she didn't try to engulf the thing, as whoever was behind her set up a pounding pace. Instead, she licked and sucked at the shaft and pubes, vacuuming 'Ted' while steadying herself with a hand on his hip.

'Lou' was going like a house afire, and talking trash in his faked gutter accent, which provided Sharon the necessary clue to who he was, "Gonna fill your slut cunt with MY cum, too! Get your ass pregnant -- make you spend nine months wonderin' what color kid is gonna pop out! You can sit around sweatin' bullets, but I KNOW! Little bastard's gonna be black, an' he gonna be fuckin' his slut mama at twelve!" Well, if you're gonna rape a woman, you might as well indulge yourself with a little fantasy, he reflected.

Sharon took the abuse in the spirit it was given; she'd been on the Pill forever, but it was easy to get sucked into the whole impregnation fantasy. At this point, she wasn't evaluating things any too objectively, anyway. Instead, what flickered through her mind was 'Oh, Gawd, Armand's gonna KILL me!' But she was going to cum again, and with her luck, it'd be just in time for her womb to suck black spend through her cervix like a milkshake through a soda straw.

'Mike distracted her at this point, by popping 'Ted' on the shoulder. 'Ted' took a look at the problem, grinned, and backed off. Sharon hadn't exactly been prepared for anal sex, and 'Mike' had plowed deep; as a result, he was a mess! "Clean THIS!" he grunted, shoving a shit-smeared dick in her face.

Sharon took a look and her stomach churned, but 'Mike' wasn't taking 'No' for an answer. After a second's hesitation got her a slap, Sharon opened up and took the mess in, distractedly thankful that she'd already emptied her stomach. She found that she couldn't comfortably get at the base -- was this one bigger? -- but that wasn't safe, anyway, with the black man plowing away in her pussy, throwing her forward with every stroke. Sharon was backing to meet him, more to keep from being pushed off the table than anything else -- but it was good, very good... "Ease up!" 'Mike' complained, "Bitch can't work!" He was kind of angry, in that he'd been trying to minimize talk, but 'Lou' was going nuts in there...

'Lou' grinned and backed off. "Might as well make it last." He popped Sharon on the ass. "After all, this ain't rape, is it, Slut? Can't rape the willing. Bitch gonna cum again in a minute..."

Sharon worked diligently at her disgusting task, trying to close her ears to the taunts. The worst thing about them was their ring of truth! She'd already cum twice, and number three was just around the corner, held off by the awful thing she had to do with her mouth and her black tormentor's slowdown. On the other hand, the humiliation of her task, the foul comments, and the slaps that were beginning to rain on her ass were building a bubble in her that when released would be HUGE. Recognition of this fact brought another masochistic flash...

'Ted' nudged 'Mike'. "How was the ass?"

"Good." Mike contented himself with the monosyllable.

"Stick it in her ass!" 'Ted' urged 'Lou'.

"Messy in there," 'Lou' replied. " 'Sides, I promised the bitch a bastard." He slapped Sharon on the ass. "Didn't I, Slut?" Sharon nodded distractedly, and went back to cleaning 'Mike' up, suctioning glop from his pubic hairs. It was nasty, awful -- but it was hers, she knew. And if another cock invaded her ass, she'd have to do it again. Better to let the black man have his way...

"You done?" Ted asked, a minute later. 'Mike' took a look at progress, shrugged, and nodded. "I want to try her throat."

This kind of went by Sharon. She'd have agreed that she was done, if asked; the cock had started tasting like a cock -- instead of shit on a stick -- a bit back... All she knew was that the cock she'd been cleaning withdrew and an earlier one replaced it. Well, it was clean, except for the goo that drizzled from the tip. Armand's did that... Her mind drifted -- conscious thought was really beyond her. There was a cock in front of her, and one pounding her from behind -- that was her universe. Add the occasional swat on the ass...

"Hey, I don't want to have to fuck around while you get yours!" 'Lou' complained.

"Let's roll her over again, then. She'll be more stable for both of us!" 'Ted' suggested.

"Awright." 'Lou' backed off, and 'Ted' pushed her over, without warning. Sharon, who hadn't really heard what they were planning was taken totally by surprise, going flat on her back on the floor and losing her breath. The men took advantage of her inability to react to pick her up by the knees and shoulders and plop her back onto the coffee table on her back with her head hanging over the edge. By the time she could pay attention to her surroundings again, she was watching a cock go past on the way to her mouth. Below, someone was slapping at her legs -- the black guy? Get your knees up, bitch! Hold 'em!" Sharon did as she was told, and a cock plowed into her vagina.

"Suck, you stupid cunt!" 'Ted' roared, pushing his cock into her lips. Sharon did as she was told, more or less automatically. She knew how to suck a cock -- or, more correctly, to give a mouth-fuck, because that's really what it was -- from long practice with Armand; instinct took over and she tightened her lips and sucked enough to get her cheeks in to give the man more to work with while buffering her teeth. 'Ted' used her as a receptacle, sliding his pulsing meat in and out, looking for that perfect stroke.

Meanwhile, 'Lou' was going to town, pounding hard, slamming his pubic bone into Sharon's clit once a second while his shaft worked her 'G' spot. This was it -- 'Lou' realized he only had a moment, so he started taunting her again, "Here it comes, slut. I'm gonna shoot my juice in there with my buddy's, and you'll have to wonder 'til my bastard pops out which of us did ya! THEN you'll know -- and it'll be too late! You take good care of the little shit, now! Remember me when he's chewin' these!" 'Lou' dropped his head and bit the Hell out of Sharon's left nipple -- almost drawing blood. Sharon screamed and surged -- and came, hugely, the pain a trigger of the pleasurable backlash. That brought 'Lou' off -- he slammed her twice more, against the friction of her pulsing vagina and blasted semen into her.

Sharon lost control of her body; parts of it were moving frantically, and parts weren't moving at all -- nothing was under any kind of control. Her mind was awash with the pleasure that had erupted in the wake of the incredible pain. One of the places that failed to keep up was her mouth -- 'Ted' pulled his cock out and slapped her, harshly, to regain her attention. "Suck, bitch!" Sharon tried, but it was HARD -- things just weren't working that well...

'Mike' tapped 'Lou' on the shoulder jerked his head toward the stairs, and tapped his watch. Time was getting away from them. 'Lou' nodded. "Gimme that duct tape willya?" 'Mike' tossed it at him and headed for the stairs to check on Ed.

Ed was sitting on the third stair, watching things through the railing and wiping a paint brush. "Some show," he murmured.

"Yeah," 'Mike' agreed quietly. "I've been on this detail longer than I care to remember, and now I'll likely be posted elsewhere for a while. But it's quite an ending..."

"A 'climax', so to speak?" Ed grinned. He rose to go collect his buckets.

'Mike' followed. "Yeah. Watching her has been pretty dull -- outside of episodes with your boss in his office, she wouldn't even touch herself before this week. Who'd've seen THIS coming?"

Ed looked around, satisfied. Painting and plastering hadn't taken THAT long, fortunately. The holes had paint over wet stuff, but it'd hold, if it wasn't screwed with too much. He'd run a hair dryer over it momentarily, but he REALLY didn't have time to do things right. To mess with Sharon's head, Armand had had him go around three or four places and use a brad to poke a neat hole in the plaster, theoretically simulating a new installation. The whole idea was to foster paranoia, apparently... The pair picked up Ed's work buckets and descended the stairs.

Sharon was still on her back, sucking cock. 'Lou' was methodically duct taping her to the table top. Ed got a look and whispered to 'Mike', who directed, "Make sure her legs are spread." Ed ran back upstairs and into Sharon's room, where he fished in the toy box -- Armand had briefed him on its location -- coming up with the more substantial of the vibrators. When he got back downstairs, he gave it to 'Lou', who grinned, finished taping Sharon's left calf to the table leg, and then pushed the vibe into Sharon's unprotected twat.

Sharon's immediate reaction was an exhausted mental, 'Now, what?' 'Lou' didn't turn the thing on immediately, so it could have been anything... She still had her hands, but she was taped to the table at the hips and just below her breasts, her legs spread to tape off the calves to the table legs. All she could do was suffer whatever indignities they heaped upon her and suck, while somebody, presumably the guy she was sucking, mauled her breasts. More than anything else, he was fucking her throat...

Ed went out, and 'Mike' followed. "We need to get the goggles, 'Lou' observed.

"I've got an idea," 'Ted' wheezed. He was getting close, his face reddening. "Do her hands..."

'Lou' took Sharon's arms, one at a time, taping the forearms to the table legs. Sharon, her last control over the penetration of her throat gone, suffered while 'Ted' poured it on. "Dazzle her," he directed. 'Lou' flashed the maglite into the goggles, and Sharon, taken off-guard, was again blinded. 'Ted' punched her throat a few more times before the tickle in his balls became intolerable, then withdrew and, snatching the goggles off, began painting Sharon's face with cum, concentrating with the eyes. 'Lou' laughed, delighted, taking the goggles and stowing them in their case. 'Ted', deciding that coverage wasn't quite adequate on Sharon's right eye, picked up some semen from her cheek and smeared it there, then stuck his finger in her mouth . "Clean this!" Sharon did as she was told, fearfully. What was coming next? If they were going to kill her, now was the time...

'Ted' climbed into his coverall while 'Lou' cleaned up the scene. "Ready?"

"One sec." 'Lou' glanced around and found two votive candles. He jammed one between Sharon's teeth and set the other on her bare belly, and lit them both. "I'd be real careful if I was you, Bitch," he cautioned. "You set a fire, you'll be the first thing burned!" Going to the other end of the table, he turned on the vibrator, duct taped it to her pudenda using a strip he'd set aside for the purpose, and waved at the result, soliciting approval from 'Ted', who laughed and took several pictures from different angles with a digital camera. That done, the pair let themselves out, joining 'Mike' and Ed in the van, and drove away.

Sharon lay there, confused. She couldn't see, and she was immobilized. The thing in her teeth tasted like wax -- a candle? Ohhh, Lord, was it lit? And if it was, was there another on her belly? God knew when Nora was going to get home! She HAD to see! She started alternately working at her gummy eyelids... Was that glow just the spots before her eyes from the flash, or something else?

Armand called Jason. "Where are you?"

"About two blocks out, Sir."

"Well, hold up until I call you. Witherspoon's men outdid themselves, and I want Sharon to stew for a bit."

"Yessir."

"Get very close, though. There is a potential for problems..."

"Yessir. We'll stop a block down."

Armand hit Witherspoon's speed-dial. "Witherspoon? Wilson. Have that bunch done something like this before? No? Well, they did a bang-up job! I'm deeply impressed! See to it that they get a five hundred dollar bonus, apiece!"

As Armand hung up and returned his attention to the screen, the candle in Sharon's mouth announced its status; since her head was back, it was tilted, and the wax from the burning dribbled down the side of the candle and onto her upper lip. Sharon, surprised, surged against her restraints, which threatened to tip the candle on her belly. 'Oh, SHIT!' she thought frantically, raising her head a bit. Her eyes stung, but they were clearing in places -- just enough to see how the candle was oriented. Thinking frantically, she skinned back her lips and tried to blow it out -- but the candle body shielded the flame somewhat. What next? Whip her head around?

That worked, but she got wax on both cheeks. She waited a moment to make sure it was out, then spit it out, explosively. Next, it was time to look at her belly... Her neck muscles were tired from having her head dropped over the table edge, but she HAD to see... The fact that her forearms were taped to the table legs made the fight even harder, but she managed to raise her head -- and there it was, another lit candle! This one hadn't dripped yet, because it was almost level, but her belly muscles were ridged from the effort to raise her head! Soon, it was going to drip, anyway...

"Jason?"

"Sir?"

"Go!" Armand had decided that Sharon was either going to screw up, or she would be able to put out the other candle, and he wanted neither a serious incident, nor to foster a feeling of accomplishment in her. Now was the time, before she gathered herself...

Sharon was just trying to raise her head again when a series of tire shrieks and squeals occurred out front. Ten seconds later the door opened, and another Witherspoon operative cautiously stuck his head through, then entered, followed immediately by Jason and two others. "Secure the house," Jason directed, and stuck his head back out the door. "Get the forensics team and a medic!" He circled around to Sharon's head and asked, "Sharon, are you all right?"

"I-I think so..."

"Here." He maneuvered himself so that Sharon could brace her head on his thigh. Two other operatives came through the door, and he added, "Take some pictures for the investigation, so we can turn her loose." A detective came over and took several pictures of Sharon's predicament, focusing on bindings, the candle, and her smeared face. In the process, he got a couple of shots of the whole effect, including Jason's tight grin. This had to be the funniest escapade he'd ever been in on and he was having trouble acting concerned; fortunately, Sharon's eyes were still goopy... A couple of detectives donned rubber gloves and began cutting away the tape; one made a production of collecting a semen sample from Sharon's face. "Did they say who they were?" Jason asked, leaning over to snuff out the candle.

"No." Now that the immediate danger was over, Sharon was more mortified than anything else; there were a half-dozen men working at the fringes of her captive body, it seemed like. She had semen oozing out of every opening, and still couldn't move a muscle, but at least someone was wiping her eyes... "Uuuuhhh, could someone turn off the vibrator?"

Jason's eyebrows went up. He pulled on a set of rubber gloves and took a crack at the duct tape. "This is going to hurt..."

It did. The tape came off her labia fairly easily, but it seemed to have stuck to every hair on her crotch! If Jason had peeled downward, it might have improved things, too, but he pulled from the bottom up, and the effect was a makeshift bikini waxing, thinning Sharon's pubic bush by about thirty percent, right up the middle. Sharon let out a screech and Jason managed an insincere "Sorry!" before reaching down to extract the gooey vibrator. "Better get samples," he directed. Circling around to stare at Sharon's crotch he added, "The ass, too."

"It's okay, really!" Sharon was cherry red.

"Must be thorough," Jason demurred. An operative knelt down and started taking samples with swabs. Since she wasn't free, Sharon had no choice but to endure it. Jason went on, "The surveillance team on watch reported that they thought the system had been compromised about a half-hour ago, then we lost THEM, too. The backup team found that they'd been incapacitated quite professionally, but we were already alerted. What did they do?"

"Ummm, they asked me a few questions, but mostly they... raped me." Sharon related, hesitantly.

Jason nodded. "Armand makes enemies, periodically. This was probably meant as an object lesson. It's one of the big reasons we installed the surveillance system in the first place..." He mused a moment. "They apparently compromised it, putting in loops of innocuous video. How long were they here?"

"I don't know. What time is it?" Sharon was just getting into the emotional aftermath, shaking, her mind playing out a dozen ways she could have ended up dead. Obviously, the primary one would have been accidentally setting herself on fire...

"Three twenty."

"About an hour? They just left a couple of minutes before you got here..." Somebody freed up an arm, and she started trying to get it to function.

"How many were there?"

"Uhhhh, at least three. I think there were a couple more," Sharon related.

"How do you know?" Jason asked. This was supposed to appear to be an interrogation, but the REAL purpose was to embarrass Sharon -- and it was working...

"I... had to take three at once..." Sharon couldn't look at ANYBODY.

"THAT must have been new..." Jason observed neutrally.

"Um, yeah..."

Someone came down from upstairs. "That mess in her room is all fixed! Even repainted!"

"What?" Jason whirled, then turned back to Sharon. "Are you SURE it was only an hour?"

"Nora left at two... It was a few minutes after that!" Sharon became defensive.

"Did YOU paint your room?"

"No."

"Why?" Jason made a production out of thinking about it. "Go over the place for new equipment." He shook his head. "Of course, we'll probably never know unless we tear the whole place apart..."

By now, Sharon could sit bolt upright. "If you're watching all the time, what took you so long?" she ranted. Her emotional control was slipping -- the afternoon just kept getting tougher and tougher...

"We picked it up pretty quickly, but you live clear across town..." Jason muttered defensively.

"That's MY fault?"

"Well... Armand HAS offered... I imagine that's why they acted; their window of availability was closing."

"So I could get ogled here or ogled there? Where it's more convenient?"

Jason looked away. "Actually, Armand is virtually the only user of the surveillance system at the mansion... Here, there's a dedicated team..."

Sharon's hackles rose. "ALL THE TIME?"

"Well, we missed a few minutes a little bit ago..." He showed his teeth.

Sharon wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to throw things. But most of all, she wanted all that tape off! "Will you hurry up?" she spat at the detective untaping her right leg.

"I'm trying to preserve fingerprints," came the response.

"They were wearing gloves! Like yours! Now GET ME OUT OF HERE!"

Jason nodded fractionally and the operative and his opposite number who was working on the other leg picked up the pace. While they got the stuff off, it wasn't any too pleasant. In the meantime, Jason pressed, "Tell me what happened. From the beginning."

"Ow!" Sharon took a breath. "The water was off. Three guys showed up, claiming to be plumbers. They said Armand had sent them. Since you guys are watching all the time, I figured that might be reasonable."

"What did they look like?" Jason interrupted.

"One was black. One was an older white guy. The third guy was white, but I didn't see his face at all -- he had his head down. Actually, I didn't get much of a look at any of them, because the older guy was turned away. I let them in, and the next thing I knew, I had a bag over my head and my hands behind me!"

"Then what happened?"

"Well, they shucked me out of my clothes and used me for a punching bag any time I did anything or opened my mouth. Then they took the bag off and put these weird goggles on me. Ouch!"

"Goggles?" Jason frowned. He hadn't been briefed on this little wrinkle...

"Uh huh. They were, ummm, mostly out of focus. The only place things weren't hopelessly blurred was at the very bottom. And they were mirrored at the top -- they kept blinding me by flashing a light into them."

"Huh. Why bother?"

"Well, I guess the bag got in the way," Sharon replied. "They said they wanted me to see some things -- they wanted me to see their... cocks going into me, for instance. But not their faces..."

"Did it work?"

"Yes. I could only see stuff down here clearly," Sharon replied, holding a hand a few inches out from her breasts, which reminded her of her state. "Hey, could I get a wrap?"

Jason looked up at one of the operatives, "Go get her a robe or something." He turned back to Sharon, "Go on."

"They were pretty careful. I might be able to pick their... members out of a lineup, but not their faces. Any time they needed to be in sight, they blinded me with a light first. And they told me if I got caught trying to see one of them, they'd kill me..."

"Did you believe them?"

Sharon nodded. "They said this was an object lesson -- that they were getting the whole thing on video to give Armand. But that they could make it a snuff flick. What's a snuff flick?"

Jason, voice neutral, replied, "It's a video with violent sexual content. One of the participants is killed -- snuffed -- during the sex act. One variant is where the woman is strangled during the sex act so that her struggles add to the male's pleasure. But there are other, more bloody variants; the common denominator is that one of the participants ends up dead."

Sharon started to shake. "They DID try to kill me! That candle thing... I could have set myself on fire!"

Jason shook his head. "I'm pretty sure they expected us to arrive fairly quickly. That was to keep you, um, entertained, more than anything else."

"It worked," Sharon said dully. "Look, will you guys be done soon? I need to go somewhere quiet and scream, or something..." An operative showed up with a robe, and she draped it over her nakedness; they were still freeing one leg.

Armand walked through the door. He'd gotten most of this -- the audio, anyway -- in the car on the way over via a cell phone hookup. He'd review the video later. The Witherspoon operative working on Sharon's right calf looked up, recognized his employer, and stopped screwing around. Sharon screeched as the last of the tape came off. "What have we got thus far?" he asked Jason, striding to Sharon and lifting her to her feet. Sharon found herself hugging her ex-husband, an uncommon occurrence. But it felt good...

"Looks like Staffordshire, Sir. I think they've been planning for a while, but put things in gear after yesterday. There were at least four, maybe six. Three concentrated on abusing Sharon while one or more did things upstairs."

"Like what?"

"Plastering and painting recent damage to Mrs. Wilson's bedroom," a detective replied. "We can only assume that it was in aid of camouflaging the installation of other equipment -- although we haven't found any yet."

Armand nodded. "Find it." He looked at Sharon. "Apparently, I'm going to need to move you out of here, anyway. The house is apparently no longer safe."

"I'm not going to move into that pleasure palace of yours!" Sharon ranted. "It's bad enough that I get peeped on twenty-four hours a day, here!"

"Internal surveillance at the mansion isn't as... stringent," Armand replied mildly. "I can put you in a hotel, but it would mean reserving and occupying a block of up to," he thought a moment, "twenty-seven rooms. And putting men IN the suite with you, since there would be no internal sensors. Even I can't afford THAT for long... The rooms I have set aside for you in the north wing of the mansion would be a lot more private."

"I'll be all right here..."

Jason interjected, "Not so, Ma'am. If I were the perpetrator, the only way to top this incident would be to repeat it, to prove us powerless. Since we have no idea what was done in your room, we can only assume that they have additional tools to bring to bear. And now that we're alerted. they can expect to have less time, and therefore accomplish less. The threat to you under such conditions increases exponentially. Last time, a snuff video was an alternate solution; next time, it may be the primary goal..."

Sharon shivered, and Armand squeezed her a bit. She looked down, embarrassed; here she was, ranting and raving about how horrible Armand was, and she had both arms around him... What kind of message did THAT send? But she couldn't let go... "Oh, all right," she grumbled, "but..." But what? She knew that once she was under that roof, there would be no going back... She sighed. "Has anyone checked on Nora?"

"She and Mr. Adams are at the movie, as advertised. They have a surveillance team, which is itself under surveillance to preclude their being removed from the picture without warning," Armand rumbled. "This has been an interesting episode -- but one we should try to avoid repeating." He turned to Jason. "Get a team in here. Evacuate the bedrooms. They can come back for the rest, later." He stepped to the door, bringing Sharon with him effortlessly. "Wench!"

"Master?" Felicia was out of the car in her cloak in an instant.

"See to..." Armand paused, and a look of amusement flickered across his face, "your Mistress’ needs. We'll be leaving in a moment, but I need to speak to Jason and the detectives." He pushed Sharon gently toward her, muttering, "See? Already, you have a personal servant..."

The Wench took Sharon's hand and drew her along to the limo. "Mistress? Something has happened, but Master wasn't forthcoming..."

"I was... attacked. I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay. Are you hurt?"

Sharon thought about it. "Uh, no, not really..." Fact was, nothing much that was done to her was any worse than rough sex with Armand -- there had just been a lot of it in a short time. "I feel kind of... weird... about it. Maybe we'll talk later..."

"Okay. Do you hurt anywhere?"

"No, no. I'm fine. Not too well-dressed..." Sharon patted the Wench's hand.

"About the same as me?" The Wench flashed open her cloak; as usual, she was nude beneath.

Sharon found it in her to laugh. "Pretty much. Your outfit is a bit dressier than mine."

"Want to switch?"

"No, that's all right. I'm a bit shorter and wider than you are."

"Yeah, well, that might help a bit. I bet you can take more of a beating," the Wench observed. "You have bigger tits, and could take more action than me. In some ways, I'm just a display piece..."

Sharon watched Armand coming up the walk. "Don't tell me that you don't get any sex with YOUR job!"

"Oh, I get used pretty regularly, but I tend to wear out. When the guys doubled up on me in blowjob practice the other day, I only managed to carry the ball a couple of times..."

Hmmmm. Maybe the Wench WAS the person to compare notes with... "Let's continue this conversation, Felicia -- but out of HIS earshot." She nodded toward Armand, who was just reaching the limo.

"Okay. I'm literally at your service..." the Wench winked and grinned.

Armand had lingered just enough to fix Jason with a glance. "This escapade has exceeded expectation; as a result, we'll need to perpetuate the illusion and tighten the security around it. Get things moving, then meet me at the mansion -- and get Witherspoon on the phone. I'll debrief you and see where we need to tighten things up."

"Yes Sir." Jason went back to his arrangements and Armand strode to the car, which pulled off as soon as he got in.

Nora's cell phone rang as soon as she and Nate exited the theater -- and it wasn't an accident, by any means. "Hello?"

"Nora, have Mr. Adams bring you home to the mansion," her father's voice ordered.

"Why, Daddy? Did Mom cave already?"

Armand chuckled, "Well, yes, but that's due to the fact that her visitors this afternoon were VERY convincing -- certainly more so than anything I'D planned..."

"Daddy? What are you telling me? Or NOT telling me?"

"Apparently, a competitor saw an opportunity to make an object lesson of your mother and paid her a visit, taking a rather liberal amount of her hospitality. It made my original plans for the afternoon modest, by comparison."

"Daddy, speak English!"

"There was a home invasion. Several men did some rather strange things, including a prolonged enjoyment of your mother's charms, apparently in an effort to annoy me."

"Is Mom okay?"

"She is physically, anyway -- perhaps a bit shook up." Armand eyed his ex-wife across the passenger compartment of the limo. "Would you like to talk to her?"

"Please!"

Armand handed his cell phone to Sharon. "Nora?"

"Mom, are you okay? Daddy planned to mess with your mind this afternoon; he told me so. But from what I'm hearing, he got trumped, somehow..."

Sharon glared at Armand, who wondered if things were going to collapse after all. But what she said was, "Well, this doesn't appear to be any of his doing. Given what has occurred, I've decided to not fight the move; in fact, they're packing up our stuff as we speak, at home."

"What happened?"

"Three guys claiming to be plumbers -- or maybe four or five, it's hard to tell -- broke into the house. Three of them... raped me. One or two more did strange things in my bedroom, and maybe other places. Armand's people figure they probably compromised the surveillance cameras and cleaned up to cover whatever it was they did. As a result, the house just isn't safe..."

"Omigod!"

"It's bad enough having your father and his minions watching me pick out bras in the morning -- I don't want to star in an internet website! So... We're moving..."

"But are you okay?"

"Yeah," Sharon sighed. "Aside from the mind games, I've had worse from your father." She favored him with another glare. "There was just a lot more of it, all at the same time..."

"We'll be right there!"

"Don't kill yourself, Hon. I'm fine, and I'm with your father. If that's dangerous, well, it'll be something I have to get used to..." Armand chuckled at this. "It might be better if you went to dinner or something, first, so your stuff will arrive before you do."

"Okay. Let me talk to Daddy." Armand took the phone. "This wasn't your grand plan, was it?"

"Um, no. It exceeded my expectations for the afternoon by quite a bit." Armand wouldn't have fooled a lie detector, but there was a kernel of truth to the statement.

"All right. What are you doing?"

"I have a forensics team working. We're pretty sure we know who did it, and he might even expose himself to gloat. They'll all get what they deserve."

"All right, Daddy. We'll be along after we hit McDonald's."

"Go somewhere nicer. If you need money, just wave your arm above your head and someone from the security detail will cover the check. All right?"

"Um, okay. Sounds weird..."

"Well, in the mansion you'll have a bit more privacy, because I'm usually the only one who looks at the internal surveillance system, outside the common areas. But you're going to have coverage any time you're out, so you should expect it. After today, I'm sure the reasons are clear..."

"And Nate?"

"...Remains welcome. I'm well aware of all the visible facets of your relationship and pledged non-interference before. That continues to be the way things are. Give me a bit to arrange the monetary coverage with the security detail, but go somewhere halfway decent."

"Okay, Daddy. Bye." Nora hung up.

Nate was watching her, concerned. "What's up?

"Well, you know we're out because Daddy wanted to mess with Mom's head..."

"Yeah, sorta."

"Well something went wrong. Somebody else got there first."

"Huh?"

"A bunch of guys showed up on our porch claiming to be plumbers that Daddy sent. They weren't."

"Ho lee shit!" Nate's eyes bugged. "So what happened?"

"Um, well, I don't know much, but apparently three of them took Mom for a ride..."

"She all right?"

"She says so. I don't think it's all going to sink in for a while, but apparently they didn't actually hurt her, physically. She said something about Daddy being worse..." She grinned ruefully. "Anyway, it looks like we're moving to Daddy's house even earlier than anticipated -- like tonight! The upside is that to keep us from being under foot too much, they want us to have dinner somewhere nice -- on Daddy..."

"Huh. Okay, I guess. Any ideas?"

"Maybe that Australian place up the street?"

That Nate had never been there was a given. "Uh, you sure your Daddy wants to pop for that?"

"It'll be fine. Let's go!"

"Okay...."

Sharon stood in the sitting room of a generous suite in the north wing of the mansion, looking out over the local lake. This was certainly different from her little house, which had a view of absolutely nothing but functionally identical houses... Vaguely, she wondered what the price to her of all this opulence might be; certainly, she was going to have to TRY to obtain SOME kind of independence from Armand, although, frankly, she didn't see how on Earth she was going to accomplish it... She shivered, more from the mental aftermath of recent events than the temperature.

The Wench picked this up immediately. This was a humiliation to her -- this serving of the woman who had more access to her Master than she did -- but it was survivable, since it appeared to please Him. Besides, it appeared that in some ways they were sisters... The odd thing was that Sharon didn't seem to appreciate what she had... Well, maybe that would change, and maybe it wouldn't. If it didn't, it meant more of Master's attention for HER, and there was nothing wrong with that.... "Are you cold? Why don't I run you a bath while we wait for your things to arrive? You're, well, kind of a mess -- no doubt it will help you relax and put this thing behind you... "

"Mmmm? Oh, okay. That DOES sound good. Which way is the bathroom, again?" The Wench waved and preceded her; once in the fairly opulent bathroom, Sharon went directly to the tub and began adjusting the taps. When she stood back, the Wench stuck her hand under the water. "What did you do THAT for?" Sharon asked.

"To see how you like your water." The Wench pushed back her hair and sighed, "Look, I'm not much of a servant..."

"Well, I've never had one."

"That's probably good, since it might keep me from being beaten too much while I learn. Master wants me to attend you -- for now, at least -- so we'll both have to kind of get used to the whole thing, okay?"

Sharon grinned wryly. "I'll try not to be too demanding," she chuckled.

"It might be smarter for both of us if you demanded perfection," the Wench returned. "Do you want bubbles? I think I could find some, somewhere..."

"Hmmmm, it might be nice, but it's not urgent. I can't get to the point where I feel clean in a tub, anyway -- I'm a shower girl."

"Fortunately, this place has both," the Wench replied, nodding at the tile-encased, glass-doored shower on the adjacent wall. "We'll get you all warm, relaxed and soapy here, then move over there for the rinse, all right?"

"Sounds positively decadent."

"Get used to it. You're moving into your decadent period. I think that maybe all of those years of hardship are about to pay off, and your retirement plan has kicked in," the Wench observed.

"If I could only believe THAT," Sharon replied.

"Well, I think it's all up to you, frankly. I think you can make things hard or easy on yourself -- it's really going to depend upon how flexible you are..." The Wench, digging in a cabinet, found some softening bubble bath and presented it for approval. Sharon glanced at it, shrugged, and nodded, turning and unzipping the housecoat she had worn from her little house. It never made it to the floor; the Wench hurriedly put down the bottle and lifted it from her shoulders.

Sharon stepped into the tub. "Too late for bubble bath, anyway...."

"Not really," The Wench demurred, holding her hand as she settled in. "It's a whirlpool tub..." She proceeded to demonstrate, and Sharon lay back against the jets, luxuriating as bubbles piled higher and higher around her. The Wench plopped herself on the toilet lid to be available to attend.

Armand was in his office with Jason; Witherspoon was on speaker. "All right, can we sew this up tight enough that it never gets back to the wrong ears?" Armand asked. "Witherspoon, were the two teams segregated?"

"Yes, they were, Sir. And they remain so."

"What's the plan for the assault team?"

"I figured I'd push them off-site for a while; fortunately, they're all bachelors."

"Good idea. Give them a bit of the carrot and the stick -- the bonuses I mentioned -- double them, in fact -- and an admonition that this should never be discussed, even in-house, with anyone not on the team. Will that work with this group?"

"I should think so, Sir," Witherspoon agreed.

"All right, the second team. Obviously, we told them to play up and draw things out, but is that an issue? And do they know that the first team was a group of colleagues?"

"I don't know," Witherspoon responded. "I gave them to Jason to brief. Jason?"

"Hmmm. I think we're okay -- I merely told them that we were going to pretend to do a lot more investigating than we were actually going to do -- kind of a put-up job to keep the Boss' ex-wife from thinking we weren't taking her seriously. I led them to believe that I was taking the opportunity to get even a bit, have a little fun at her expense. They did quite well, too."

"Okay, I can brief that you wouldn't take kindly to that little nugget reaching her ears, and that it might have disastrous consequences for their employment situation; that should handle it," Witherspoon replied.

"All right. I don't know whether Sharon will ever ask what we did to avenge her, but it might be smart to come up with something. Staffordshire Farms is the obvious scapegoat -- I think we have an operation going against them in K.C., anyway, so we can just re-cast it a bit if necessary. Does anyone see any further problems?"

"Just Ed," Jason muttered.

"Ed's been sensible thus far; I expect him to continue to be. But I'll handle him. Understood?" Jason nodded. "Then we're done. Witherspoon, this will mean a cutback in surveillance teams, but we can probably move more activity to other projects. We'll keep Sharon's house as a safe-house and possible interrogation center, unless someone comes up with something better. I'll welcome any other ideas on the subject; take a couple of days and see what you can come up with. Anything else?"

"No." "No, Sir."

"Then we're adjourned. Find Ed and send him to me. Don't attempt to scare him or anything -- it's the wrong tack with Ed. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir." Jason's expression didn't flicker. The Boss was on this one, controlling it tightly; there was no reason to buck him, or even get a bruised ego, since Jason didn't want to be the one to blame if the episode turned into a fiasco... He headed out, toward the carpenter's quarters in the south wing.

Fifteen minutes later, there was a rap at the door, and Ed stuck his head in. "You sent for me, Boss?"

Armand nodded. "It appears that you showed good sense today. If you'd had Sharon, I might have had to let you go. As it is, things went much better than anticipated, which could turn out to be a problem. Did she see or hear you?"

"Only coming up the walk, with my head down, maybe. The other two were certainly more likely to be memorable." He grinned. "I never said a word in her presence, either."

"All right. She's here, now, which was my ultimate purpose -- but we're ahead of schedule. You haven't talked about this to anyone?"

"Nope."

"It's best that you leave it that way. If someone asks, you were sent out with the team that went there to investigate after the break-in, but it's best that you not mention it at all. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Nope."

"The official tale is that a competitor decided to get my attention. You weren't there, but were called in to look at some suspicious carpentry work done on site, after. Understood?"

"Yeah, Boss. No problem."

"Excellent. The others that were in on this received bonuses for their fine work; you deserve one, too. But I don't think I have to warn you not to attempt to turn it into an annuity..." Armand's hard stare bore a clear threat.

"Heh, no problem, Boss. I know which side my bread's buttered on -- I'm cool. Maybe next time you import pussy, I can hit the front of the line?"

Armand tented his fingers. "That's more than fair. In fact, if you'd like, I can tell Charles to detail the Wench to you, once..."

"Nice idea, Boss -- lemme think about it. Problem with in-house pussy is you want it again..."

Armand studied his fingers. "Ever think of visiting Velma?"

"Huh? Velma's HUGE, Boss!"

"It's pussy," Armand shrugged. "I bet the door would open a second time, too..."

"Huh! Really?"

"I hear things," Armand said neutrally. "Velma is... unattended. It's... just a thought."

Ed nodded and tuned away, obviously pensive. Armand smiled at his back, grimly; he was well aware that Ed was a horndog -- a largely frustrated one. Velma might soon get her ashes hauled...