CHAPTER 1

 

Emily luxuriated in the warm water streaming over her naked body as she stood under the invigorating shower. She was at last beginning to relax and unwind after recent stress and was beginning to think of the weekend ahead, when she planned to indulge herself lavishly with a couple of friends. Briefly she gave herself the luxury of running her hands over her soapy curves; assuring herself that her tummy was still flat and knowing that her boobs and bottom still looked good and felt firm for someone of thirty-six. But did her husband still appreciate her? She pondered for the umpteenth time.

She and Mac had a fairly good marriage, unlike her first miserable effort, which lasted a year, but from which came the only good thing, her lovely daughter Lorna. No, she assured herself, life with Mac hadn't been bad for these last ten years. He was a successful businessman and good provider; their large and secluded country house in the Surrey stockbroker belt was everything she could want. She didn't have to work, he didn't really want her to, but she needed to feel useful. Instead she kept herself busy with voluntary work for various charities; and of late had done much organising of auditions for local charity concerts and the town festival. As a youngster she had dabbled in singing and dancing, but she had found it too stressful to stand on a stage before an audience, but she was often asked to vet the acts for local shows etc. Yes, life was good for her.

In fact, she wanted for nothing, except maybe for her husband to sometimes personally treat her more like a woman than a fragile doll and spend more time on her than on his business - and his fantasies. Finding some of his lurid porn a few weeks ago had pumped up her stress levels. What had those women in the magazines got that she hadn't? Apart perhaps from a willingness to do disgusting things to each other, she thought with a frown. But if maybe he'd let her be more of a woman rather than him putting her on some kind of pedestal he'd see that they could still maybe enjoy a better sex life?

Still, this weekend could be turning point, especially being able to chill in an expensive spar with friends Rebecca and Kate, with perhaps first a bit of shock to Mac's system; she grinned to herself. It might get her own back just for an hour or so, for his porn-type dabbling and give him something to think about whilst she was away. Briefly her soapy fingers dallied over her pubic mound, sliding the expensive soap up between her legs, hard, making her gasp. Heavens, what was she turning into? She mused, as she wondered how it would feel if Mac was in the shower now, being forceful or pushing that soap up into her; or maybe her friends Kate or Rebecca doing it. She felt herself blushing even under the torrent of water before removing the soap and turning off the shower. She was perhaps rather shy, maybe that was the problem in not liking to let herself go, but alone now she secretly admired her glistening body in the bathroom mirror whilst drying her shoulder length brown hair. Yes, she still had it, she decided, before reeling in her stray thoughts and once again becoming the prim and proper wife that she felt people expected.

 

***

 

It was a good day, Mac thought to himself an hour or so later as he poured another small whisky, topping up the wine for his wife and her friends; he just hoped it was going to get even better. As always, Emily looked good, and she was. He'd done well to marry such a beauty with her large brown eyes, pretty face and shapely figure. She looked so demure but she was also intelligent and an asset to his business at dinner parties. As she already had a daughter, Lorna, from a long failed first marriage and given that neither of them had any ambitions to enlarge their family, she would hopefully keep her lush figure for some time.

It was partly because of her big doe eyes, her doll-like face and 'butter wouldn't melt' looks that he'd planned a surprise today to satisfy one of his deepest and darkest fantasies. He was fairly sure that he still loved Emily and they had a good, if sometimes 'conventional,' sex life. Deep down he sometimes wanted more; but she was he felt almost too fragile; and he felt almost afraid, or maybe too awkward, to actually suggest that they explore more in various other directions. With him having more than enough money to arrange it, he was going to indulge some fantasies today in a safe way.

Heavens, the grainy image through the web cam of the black dominatrix he had contacted on his screen, when he arranged things on line looked intimidating enough. He could imagine the large woman, Miss Stern, making his wife do previously unheard of things - for her. The Negress ran her own 'domination to order' type-company which had been around some years apparently and had lots of experience. And if there were any problems, if for instance he could see Emily was in real distress, or if he changed his mind, he'd use the agreed safeword of 'Black Saviour,' to abort the whole thing. Or if he was unsure about anything and wanted a quiet word with the people from Doms, change the emphasis maybe, the codeword phrase was 'let's talk sensibly if it's money you want.' Every eventuality had been catered for in this little surprise he'd cooked up for his wife. But he didn't anticipate anything going wrong. He'd checked the website of 'Doms Tell You' and they had good feedback and the backroom staff he'd dealt with to arrange the large payment were perfectly normal and OK; they even talked about expanding their business overseas.

Normally he'd not be that keen when Emily had her friends around because he'd often be banished to his study whilst they made girl-talk. That was OK in a way because it enabled him to carry on working and earning money for and overseeing his affluent business empire. On the other hand her friends were very attractive women, as was Emily of course, but the grass is always greener... and he enjoyed being able to craftily ogle them. He'd never actually been unfaithful, but hell, the temptations where there. Some might say that he was abusing trust or taking advantage - but he was just a man who wanted more. Now he was able to ogle for a while as he took them their drinks because one of them, Rebecca, wanted some advice on her stocks. Thus he was staying downstairs with them for the moment; and was sure that she was giving him sly smiles; knowing that he could do nothing to follow up. But today was going to be different of course.

Afterwards, his wife and her friends were due to leave for a girlie weekend, or so they thought; he had told them that he had booked them in somewhere plush. That way no one would be chasing after them for a couple of days - his couple of days of fantasy fun, during which he was assured that no harm would come to anybody. When the agreed period was up the 'intruder' - or perhaps 'intruders', because Miss Stern had said 'Doms', would probably send two operatives to this job - would leave. No one would be able to trace them, he'd 'break out,' of the bedroom where he'd ostensibly been locked in, but in reality watching what was happening to his wife and friends from his several his CCTV cameras around the house. He'd also get the initial shots of the DVD films which would be taken. And apparently he would also be able to sometimes watch in person because Miss Stern had said that would be OK during the times his wife and friends would be blindfolded.

Then when he'd 'escaped' his bonds he'd raise the alarm, do his bit of a hero act when he found the lovely women tied up or whatever. Doms would send him his proper edited copy of their film a week or two later on when any fuss had died down and any search of the house by the police, if they had been called, had taken place. But he imagined and hoped that none of the women would be willing to speak openly to anyone about the embarrassing and non-violent things which would hopefully happen to them. Miss Stern said that she and her Doms organisation had a knack of bringing out the worst in people and finding weak spots. Either the authorities would never know anything had happened or it would be reported as a simple break in. Miss Stern assured him this was a common scenario.

"Here are the drinks, Rebecca, my dear; we'll enjoy them first and then I'll have a look at your portfolio eh," Mac suggested to the lovely blonde, delighting in the way she flicked her hair from her eyes in a sort of sexy way, smiling at him.

"Thanks, Mac, you're a sweetie," the lovely woman purred. Rebecca was certainly a dish. At thirty two she was slightly younger than his wife. Her long blonde hair brushed her shoulders. He liked that. Their joint friend Kate was a couple of years younger, with dark hair, albeit with a fuller figure, but not fat. Her equally pretty face was framed by large red glasses. He was a very lucky man to have three such lush creatures in his large lounge, especially when, if things went to plan, he'd see a lot more of them.

Yes, in truth he did feel some pangs of guilt, seeing and hearing the three beautiful women nattering, carefree, unknowing of what was to come. But they wouldn't be hurt, he'd been assured of that by Miss Stern, and sex was a powerful driving force, too powerful for him to resist sometimes. He'd just have to live with his guilt - and enjoy the memories he'd have of this day. And who knows, as a result he could even grow closer again to Emily.

 

***

 

"Hi Mum, the university cancelled the bloody course at the last minute, stupid buggers, so I won't sleeping over at the campus after all," the light and cheery voice which accompanied the sound of the opening door was not a part of Mac's plan. When Lorna walked into the room he momentarily panicked; she wasn't supposed to be there. The plans were already laid and there was nothing he could do about it. He saw the look of shocked surprise on Emily's face too as her teenage daughter flounced in with a smile, but his wife soon recovered.

"Hi babe, oh well, it gives you free time to see your friends I guess," Emily shrugged.

Mac thought quickly, the secret of a good businessman was being able to adapt; he'd cope with this unexpected turn. Then another guilty thought went through him. Lorna was just as lovely as her mother, fresh and spring-like and she had turned eighteen... But no, he must try to influence things, get her out; spare her witnessing anything.

"Hiya Lorna, how would a few fifties suit you as you've been disappointed today? Mac smiled. "You can have a weekend in town with your friends; catch a show or something to make up." This was something that she had often done before - and money to indulge her wasn't a problem for him.

"Oh thanks, Mac, I'll do a bit of networking and let you know." She gave one of her cute smiles as she took the proffered notes and flounced upstairs, wiggling unconsciously, with a wave to the other two women.

That was a bit unexpected, Mac inwardly fretted. He hadn't planned on the girl being around this weekend; she was due on a university ecology conference; all fitting in with his secret plan and timings. Still, he looked at his watch, he had a couple of hours and if she was still around in half an hour with no signs of her leaving he'd encourage and coax her some more.

 

***

 

Everything happened, everything changed, just a quarter of an hour later at eleven that morning. Mac had been keeping an eye on the time because it was agreed that things would kick off at one pm sharp. But, as previously arranged, none of the doors were locked from daybreak onwards nor were the alarms or CCTV cameras activated that day; everything was to be easy and the arrival of the 'unexpected' guests quiet and anonymous.

Crash!

When the door suddenly burst opened to admit four figures dressed in black with hoods concealing much of their features, accompanied by a huge growling dog as big as a small horse, he was as shocked as everyone. The Doms people were supposed to arrive as doorstep salespeople and gradually encroach - and certainly not for a couple of hours yet!

His initial shocked reaction was that Miss Stern's organisation had been infiltrated by the authorities and that these were the police raiding clients such as him. But he hadn't done anything illegal, he justified, as he prepared to try and explain to them, hopefully out of earshot of Emily. Maybe Doms had been dabbling in other shady and illegal things and all of their clients were being investigated he pondered. Yet the people striding through his house weren't acting like police; they looked unpleasant and intimidating. A pang of fear drilled into him

"Everyone fucking freeze, no moving not a fucking sound, put your hands up high - now - where I can see them," shouted a gruff voice with an American accent. "We've got guns," protruding from his large black gloved hand held close by the pocket of his jacket was a snub metal tube. The presence of the dog, growling and hunkering down on its forepaws as it glowered at them, was sufficient to insure their compliance. The speaker was a muscled and intimidating Negro; he could see that much of his face, who looked as if he knew how to handle himself. All of the intruders wore identical thick black glasses, which he guessed was again to help their disguise.

Mac felt sick, his mouth went dry with fear. Instinctively he raised his shaking hands as did the others. Then he reasoned desperately, this must surely be part of the Doms' plan, it had just started early, a bit of a cock-up somewhere - for which he'd be demanding a refund of the expensive fee. Yet Miss Stern hadn't mentioned guns or as many as four people bursting into his house and none of them was as bulky as the rather large Miss Stern, a woman in her forties, he guessed, who had distinctive short black curly hair he remembered from the web cam. From Mac's quick furtive glance at the four newcomers he could tell that none were Miss Stern - and she had assured him that she would be here in person. No, he decided, these weren't the same people. Now they were all in trouble.

He began to feel genuinely worried. Had he somehow been set up in some way?

"Let's talk sensibly - if-if it's money you want," he blubbered out the reassurance phrase straight away so he could speak confidentially to the 'players' and redirect the plot on nicer lines. But the plot, in the unlikely event that it still existed now, had seemingly already been re-edited he soon realised to his horror.

"Yeah the fuck you do, I told you to shut up!" The Negro brutally punched him in the belly to make him fall squirming to the floor in pain, clutching himself whilst the dog barked loudly at the sudden action. Now, spurred by the unexpected agony, and trying just to breathe, he was really frightened, what had happened? Nothing like this was ever in the plot. Incongruously, with his brain obviously seeking easier and less frightening channels to address itself, he hoped that the dog wouldn't pee on the carpet. Emily was so house-proud and hated dogs.

"What the hell!"

Groaning, red faced Mac looked up to see young Lorna standing white faced at the top of the stairs in her bathrobe, having just had a shower which he'd heard her running earlier. The intruders almost seemed to falter for a moment at the sight of her but then quickly recovered.

"Stay right where you are or someone will get hurt," the Negro grabbed the bulge in his coat pocket and aimed the metal tube between the youngster, who had frozen in shock by the stairs, and the rest of them, traversing slowly to encompass them all. "Who are you, girlie?"

"I-hmm," she cleared her throat, having obvious difficulty in speaking after taking in the scene below of her frightened mother and friends standing with hands raised.

"My daughter, that's my daughter Lorna, please don't hurt her she's only here for a moment before going out, let her go, she won't say anything, just don't..."

"Shut the fuck up," the man glowered at Emily, making her fall silent. "We decide who stays and who goes... she stays now. You see that we've guns and we'll use them," he addressed the teenager again. "Come down here, your hands nice and high in the air, right now, or all of the good people here, and yourself, will pay the price," the gruff voice instructed.

"No, please no, let's be-be sensible, if it's money... aaaghhh," Emily, looking totally distraught, had echoed his own agreed plea until the Negro with the gun casually slapped her round the face.

"No, please don't hurt them," Lorna cried from above." I'm coming down, please take what you want and go," she whispered, raising her hands and slowly descending, her eyes wide with fear.

"So, the little girl's got a voice," the Negro looked amused. "OK use it to tell us who we got down here, girlie." He pointed to them all standing with their hands stupidly in the air.

In a whisper, the youngster supplied their names. This had suddenly turned into a nightmare for Mac. If they didn't even know their identities, these frightening people were, he supposed, nothing to do with Doms. But it was worth a last try, he reasoned.

"But I had-had a meeting planned this afternoon with-with an organisation headed by a Miss Stern and..." he ignored the look of almost annoyance flashed him by his wife as he blabbed out his secret. He could sort things with her and the others later, invent some excuse. Right now they were all in a jam. He continued. "They- they could be here any minute and..."

"Yeah, well we'd already heard about that organisation, hacked into it and, you might say, liquidated the opposition; you won't see them anymore, but we're grateful for their groundwork. We're running things now and this is for real, nasty real, where real people get hurt or worse."

"Black Saviour," he gasped, practically pleaded, running out of all options so trying anything in desperation as he struggled up from his knees, staring, hopefully knowingly, at the large Negro before him.

"What the fuck ... I ain't no saviour, not yours anyway," the man laughed unpleasantly. "We're here to relieve you good folks of your money. Like I say, we picked up the idea from those other people who we heard were already casing the place, leading you on maybe. We've taken real good care of them, they won't come a calling and we can take care of you all too if anyone don't do as they told," he snapped. "We all gotta try and get on real well together until our hired helicopter lands in your lovely big grounds to whisk us and your money away where no-one's gonna find us." He rubbed his large, gloved hands together.

"Whether you all around to wave us goodbye... well... that kinda depends on how obedient and nice you are to us," his smile was again unpleasant. "Now get that pretty arse down here, park it over there," the hulk snapped at a terrified Lorna until she resumed her unsteady journey down the stairs. "All of you in a line, hands high above your heads." He jerked the heavy looking bulge in his pocket. "Lock the doors and windows again," he nodded to one of his accomplices who quickly and frighteningly shut them all in.

Mac felt frightened and lost as he obeyed, feeling sick at what he may have brought down on everyone. Even the vague hope he had nurtured of Miss Stern knocking the door to keep her scheduled appointment and disturbing these bastards had evaporated. She must be out of the scene now, maybe dead, unable to render them assistance of any nature. He could only surmise that perhaps, in the kind of shady world in which Doms operated, a shark had swallowed a minnow and exploited the situation. His eyes caught those of his wife; she looked even more lost and distraught than he felt.