The sun was shining and birds were singing as Gerald parked his SUV in front of Joan's house.  The peaceful suburban neighborhood did not look, to the unlearned eye, to be a place where sexual deviants would play, but Gerald had learned long ago that such settings were actually quite typical. 

He was in a good mood, enjoying the afternoon sun, and feeling quite satisfied with himself at the moment.  He'd just made a sale, and the merchandise didn't even know it yet.

Oh, these women always said the same things over the web, that they want to be used, abused, et cetera, but when it really came down to it, they had no idea what they wanted.  

Gerald knew, though.  They wanted to kneel, beg, be pampered like a pet and maybe suck some dick.  With the possible exception of the last, most men, Gerald's clients included, weren't particularly interested in such things.  In fact, from Gerald's point of view, the entire concept of meeting someone online that would be so tame was rather silly.  If he or his clients wanted a woman to put on a pedestal, they could easily find one at the local bar or singles party.  

No, what Gerald's clients wanted was someone to use, abuse, and torture, and they certainly paid him good money to acquire these women.  Most of Gerald's job wasn't so much to find the women, as they were a dime a dozen, but to carefully engineer the situation to look as if they consented to everything that happened to them.  Recorded IM conversations, exchanged pictures, public posts on forums, and a camera in his SUV pointing at her front door were all things that could be used in court if need be, though they hadn't been needed so far.  All that he required was a lonely woman who thought she was a submissive and was brave, or stupid enough, to tell a complete stranger her home address.  

Joan had been the perfect example.  He'd found her in a BDSM chat room, acting very much the submissive, complete with capital S's for sir and lower case J's for her own name.  Typical of her type, she was very quick to enter a private conversation with Gerald whom, in the beginning, seemed very gentlemanly, almost to the point of seeming too nice to be a Dom.  

Being a master at his art, however, Gerald waited until just the right moment to begin being aggressive, and soon had Joan agreeing to do just about anything.  Of course, while she was licking his feet in the chat room, she was probably masturbating in front of her computer.  


Before everything was said and done, Joan, like all the others before her, had enthusiastically agreed to do anything, ANYTHING.  Not that she had any real idea what this would consist of, but that was part of the fun for her, part of the submission.  The reality was, of course, far from her mind.

He knocked on the door and waited, silently measuring how long it took her to answer.  Though it hardly mattered, such small things told him whether this was a real submissive he was dealing with, or just some woman that thought she wanted some kink.  If the door opened quickly, it was a real submissive, responding to her master's command.   Every once in a while he managed to find an actual, true submissive, one who took everything they did to her in stride and loved it.  Those women were special, and he generally tried to match them up as a life partner for one of his clients.  If there was a "dramatic pause," however, this would be far more fun, and less work to boot.

The submissive women usually fared better than those that weren't.  Something about a woman resisting really fired Gerald's clients up, and the more submissive ones generally ended up being "part of the gang" before everything was said and done.  Three actual submissives had, in fact, married men that they had met through Gerald.

After an unusually long pause, the door opened, and there stood Joan, dressed in a long nightgown that flattered her slender body, yet wearing make-up as if she were planning to go out on the town.  

"Gerald?" she said, with a slight smile.

"Mmhmm," he replied, looking her up and down and putting his hands in his pockets.

Late thirties, small breasts, shoulder length blond hair; just as her picture depicted her.  Having recent pictures ready at hand on her computer was another sign of vanity.  Oh, this one would be fun.  

"Come on in, hun," she said, backing up and giving him room.  

Go in he did, glancing around the home which he would inhabit for the next few days, possibly longer if there was still money to be made and Joan was still in fuckable shape.  There were some things even his clients wouldn't stick their dick in, and there was always the chance someone would buy her outright.  

Hearing the door shut behind him, Gerald turned to watch Joan lock all three of the locks on her door.  A single woman could never be too careful, after all.  Gerald shook his head, chuckling to himself.


Joan turned around, and the smile on her face turned to a look of shock and horror as she saw Gerald's hand hurtling toward her left breast, syringe extended.  She made a feeble attempt to back up and block him, as well as a tiny noise that may have been the beginning of a scream, but the speed at which he attacked took her completely off guard.  

The needle plunged into her left breast and its contents were injected.  Joan felt the thick liquid burn under her skin, and before she could do anything else, her motor functions were completely paralyzed. 

Though conscious, Joan was utterly powerless as this man whom she thought may be her next lover watched as she crumbled to the ground.

Noting the awkward position in which she landed, Gerald was satisfied that the drug had done its work.  Not that it ever failed.  

He then made himself a sandwich in Joan's kitchen.  

------------------------------------------------------------------

Sitting on Joan's couch, his feet propped on her coffee table, Gerald enjoyed a rerun of his favorite comedy on her television while eating a sandwich.  He always made it a habit to eat before he began working, and there wasn't much of a point in paying for food when you were going to invade someone's home and live in it anyway.  Besides, it was simply more interesting to eat whatever it was the victim had in their fridge.  Get a sort of taste for their personality.  Or something.

Once the sandwich was gone, Gerald went back out to his SUV, stepping over the still paralyzed and terrified Joan, to retrieve his laptop.  He'd have to remember to edit this part out of the film which was being recorded from the camera in his SUV as Joan had inconveniently crumbled within its sight.  

His new laptop was lighter than his old one, so he was also able to grab his small tool bag.  

Although he'd been able to slip out the door with her partially blocking it, he was unable to fit quite as easily while carrying two bags, forcing him to use some force, shoving Joan out of the way.  After much grunting, groaning, cursing, and badly spraining Joan's wrist, which happened to be trapped at the most interesting angle beneath her body, Gerald was able to squeeze into the house.  He'd definitely have to edit this part out.

After setting his laptop on Joan's coffee table, Gerald set about securing her home.  This wasn't something he took incredibly seriously, as Joan would spend most of her time bound, drugged, or being tortured, but it was worth the short amount of time he invested just for piece of mind.

Opening his tool bag, he retrieved a screwdriver, a deadbolt lock, and a dremmel tool.  He changed one of the deadbolts on her door to one that had a key for both sides, then removed the key to his pocket.  After locking each window, he used the dremmel tool to remove the piece of the lock that one would typically grip, being careful to leave a jagged edge.  Blood on the windows would be a good indicator that he wasn't drugging her enough.  Well, that was the theory; it had never happened.  

Annoyingly, Joan also had a back door, so Gerald simply hollowed out the inside of the tumbler on its deadbolt with his dremmel, effectively fusing it shut like her windows.  

Sure, if Joan had some vice grips, she might be able to find enough lever on a window to pry it open; or if she was some sort of awesome locksmith, she might be able to pick the lock on her front door, but for most women, she was sealed in.  Before his stay was done, Gerald sometimes added a deadbolt to the master bedroom as that's where his victims were generally kept, but there would be plenty of time for that later, if he felt it was necessary.

Whistling, his hardest work done, Gerald returned his tools to his tool bag in the living room.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Joan's hand twitch.  For a skinny chick, her body was filtering the toxin pretty quickly.  Still, Gerald figured he had at least an hour or so before she was able to do much more than twitch and maybe moan a bit.  

Light women did definitely provide other advantages.  He was able to easily pitch Joan over his shoulder and carry her to her bedroom, throwing her onto her bed, snickering as a bit of spittle flew from her lax mouth.  He simply didn't feel like trying to kick her out of the way for the even bigger things that he was about to unload.  Besides, his customers tended to prefer their women relatively undamaged to start with, which was one of the many reasons he opted to incapacitate them with drugs as opposed to, say, a baseball bat.  

After unloading the rest of his luggage into her bedroom, to include a large rolling tool chest filled with toys for his customers to use, as well as a large dog cage with locks at every corner, he poked her in the breast where he had injected her, checking for a reaction.  Still just a light twitching of the fingers.  Good.  


Humming contentedly to himself, Gerald took a marker and a stud finder and began marking the walls with X's.  This was a request one of his customers had made a while back, and it had proved enormously popular.  In the heat of the moment, when one wanted to attach something to a stable point on the wall, finding a stud or drilling through drywall was just annoying.  

Once done, he wandered back over to his computer and checked for responses to the email he had sent out before heading here.  Since only a few hours ago, twelve men had indicated interest in "meeting" Joan.  Of the first five, four were previous customers, and one was a recent referral, so Gerald recognized all of the names.  As he only allowed five at once, since he liked to watch and there were only three holes, after all, Gerald replied to all but the first five with his generic but polite email telling them to watch for his next query, but this one was all full.  

To the four known customers, he simply replied with the house address.  They knew what his SUV looked like and could find their own directions.  They knew the routine.  

For the new one, though, Gerald searched through his saved emails.  Something seemed significant about this guy, but he couldn't remember what it was.  

Then he found it.  The new guy, a career plastic surgeon, enjoyed using needles and other sharp objects in ways that his customers simply did not allow.  Although Gerald had passed this particular guy up a few times in the past, he decided that he'd invite him over for Joan for one reason, and one reason only.  

He pulled up his profile sheet for the woman laying paralyzed in her own bed.  

Joan
Age: 38
Breast size: 34A
Weight: 110 lbs
Hair: Blond, shoulder length
Marital Status: Single/Divorced
Prefers: Anal
Soft limits: Oral
Hard Limits: Needles

Oh yes, Gerald loved hard limits, and his victims simply handed them to him on a silver platter.  Not only that, but the doctor had mentioned previously that he would be very interested in buying a woman with such a hard limit outright.

To be continued...

Check out http://www.ferranartist.com for more dark BDSM fiction.