Chapter 1

 

No one ever knew why Abby agreed to join The Order.

It could have been her Bohemian upbringing, or her thirst for adventure, or her strange fascination with pain; maybe it was her curiosity about submission and dominance. No one knows for sure, but many are convinced that her wacky obsession with "him," with Preston was the reason.

For anyone who has ever been young and desperately in love, no other explanation is necessary. For anyone who has not, all other explanations are more likely.

 

***

 

Abby and Preston were the quintessential Manhattan power couple.

He was a handsome, 27-year-old wunderkind-in the top-ten percent of his Harvard law school class and the youngest-ever partner of a prestigious Wall Street law firm. She was a stunning, 22-year-old beauty, with a brain-a part-time fashion model for a top agency and a full-time medical student at NYU.

They lived together in a small, $8,500-a-month, one-bedroom apartment in the Dakota, the famous West Side apartment building where John Lennon was killed, and where A-list celebrities roamed the halls. Each morning, they would shower together, dress, fetch their Starbuck's coffee, and take the firm's limo downtown. She would jump out at NYU, after a playful goodbye-squeeze of his often-sore balls, and he would continue to his office at 20 Exchange Place.

Surprisingly, his well-heeled, ultra-conservative East Hampton family and her comfortable, fully a-woke-en Manhattan parents were both thrilled by the match, each thinking that the partner their person had selected was a good catch. Both were happy that the young couple was living together, confirming their compatibility before making a life-long commitment. It was the modern way-essentially a neoclassical form of engagement with marriage vows simply a formality. The real ceremony would be the upscale reception at the St. Francis...where else?

The pair even enjoyed a bit of "kinky" sex...at her urging. They didn't think of it as kinky, or aberrant, or even unusual; rather, it was the accepted post-liberation means of keeping their sex life fresh and exciting. After all, he was already playing the role of a Dom as a take-no-prisoners attorney, and she was repeatedly cast as a submissive ingenue in her modeling gigs. She also had a weird interest in pain-which was why she was specializing in anesthesiology-and a tendency towards exhibitionism-deservedly so with her looks, which was why she continued to model despite the exhausting demands of medical school.

They kept it all light and playful, including the kinky sex, rarely venturing beyond Velcro manacles and soft-lash floggers. They were in love and their life together was, in a word, perfect.

 

***

 

Lord Ian fitz Graham, the laird of Loch Kay and Banff, stared down at the girl. He was a in his middle age, just turned 42, but he looked older. Most attributed it to his position and his presence; when Lord Graham entered a room, he had everyone's attention. Some said it was in his genes-he came from a long line of Graham lords...clan leaders who led by having the respect of their clansmen. Whatever the reason, he stood out.

He looked up at the ceiling as another pleasure wave washed over then down again at her magnificent mane of curly, jet-black hair covered his lap, hiding the extraordinary job she was doing sucking his rock-hard Scottish cock. She was good at it, using everything she had-lips, tongue, mouth, throat, even the muscles in her exquisitely long neck-to make it happen. At this moment his orgasm was all that mattered. It was as if she were urgently trying to suck out his organs through his urethra.

The world knew her as Isabella; that's it, "Isabella"-the one-name Italian phenomena, who bore an uncanny resemblance to Sophia Loren in her prime, and who played in the current sexual fantasies of 100 million men worldwide. Romani Pictures had created her out of the former bit-part actress, Maria Lombardi, at the request of Lorg Graham. Romani was funded by Graham Global Capital Ventures-a global financing firm headed by Lord Graham. She reciprocated by joining the Ancient Order of Ishtar, more commonly known as The Order...also headed by Lord Graham.

She raised her head and looked up, smiled, then slowly, with their eyes locked, she lifted his cock out of the way and sucked his balls into her mouth. In fact, acting wasn't her forte; her real talent lay in making love "the Italian way," with feeling. It wasn't that she was a bad actress, she was quite good in fact, it was just that she was an extraordinary fuck, which Lord Graham had seen immediately. Creating a star these days, even in Italy, wasn't about acting, it was about having "the magic"-that fantastic and unique look that instantly turned men on and made women jealous. It was about having a huge amount of money and having the balls to invest it in one of the riskiest ventures on the planet. Graham Global Capital Ventures, under the leadership of Lord Graham, had enormous balls, and it was one of the few organizations that could make such a risky investment. The price they charged for fame like Isabella's, though, was high.

Lord Graham stared at the whip marks covering the girl's beautiful back. Foreplay for them was a scream-filled whipping with her tied helplessly to a bespoken bench that she kept hidden in a secret room in her apartment. The whipping had built her sexual appetite and his to a feverish pitch, as her inspired cocksucking new demonstrated.

His cell phone buzzed as she slurped his balls, and he answered. He was quite adept at multitasking even with a luscious movie star at the end of his prick.

"Mr. Harding is on the line, M'lord."

"Max...? Hello. This is a pleasant surprise. It's good to speak to you again."

"M'lord, I am calling to ask about..."

"Yes, ah, quickly, I'm in a bit of a time crunch. I've read your proposal regarding Mr. Williamson, and I've had our investigators check him out. On balance, I agree with you, he's an excellent choice to run the firm when you leave. Of course, I want him to apply to The Order before we finalize anything."

Isabella, sensing his distraction, paused her cocksucking; Lord Graham reached down and whacked her ass sharply with the crop and she resumed instantly.

"Of course, M'lord. I'm happy to discuss...

"Yes, but not right now, Max. As I said, I'm pressed for time.

"What I want from Mr. Williamson is for him to convince his fiancé to join The Order as well."

"But M'lord, as I said in my report, I don't..."

"I read what you said, Max, but I don't agree. I don't want some ambitious New York call-girl, I want his girlfriend. Her background was fascinating; she's a special person. I also need solid evidence of Mr. Williamson's commitment and this will do it.

"He's a lawyer, right?" Lord Graham asked as if that explained everything. "If he's as persuasive and as committed as you say, he will find a way to do it. If not, we'll look elsewhere for a managing partner. I want his answer and hers by 9:00 A.M. tomorrow morning, your time."

"I'm not sure that I can..."

"Don't disappoint me, Max, please. Thank you."

He hung up the phone, reached down, and lifted the girl's head so he could look into her dreamy eyes. The bottom half of her incredible face was wet with her spittle and his pre-ejaculate, but the pause needed to be addressed. Lord Graham didn't let things slide. His father had taught him that he could affect peoples' behavior by taking corrective action for the "little things" they did; by the time they were making "big moves" it was too late.

"I'm not happy with your performance tonight, Isabella. Please assume the position."

Her eyes were suddenly filled with fear then with tears.

"Per favore Maestro...fermo...non piu!"

She spoke perfect English except when being fucked...or punished; at those times, she couldn't speak anything but Italian.

"Did you hear what I said?"

His voice had taken on a different timbre, full of command and a bit of menace. She stood up, shuddered involuntarily, then bent over and grabbed her ankles. Lord Graham walked slowly behind her naked body, running his hard hand over her gorgeous ass, fondling her wet pussy. She knew what was coming and prayed that he would not use his full strength. (Using an alias, Lord Graham was still a first-string member of the Edinburgh rugby squad, the team that sparred with Scotland's rugby Olympians.)

"I don't want to feel you slackening off when I get on the phone, my love. Capire? It throws me off. Perseveranza, capisce?

"Si, si Maestro. Capisco...per favore...per favore!"

Fear sometimes often had a strange effect on servas, he thought. For Isabella, it was her inability to speak English. For others it might be uncontrolled trembling or incoherent mumbling. He had had a serva once who counted backwards with her silent lips to stifle her anticipation panic.

"Just 10 strokes with the crop, my love. They will help you remember not to distract me when I'm on the phone. You count for me in English."

He delivered a devastating stroke to the sweet spot between her ass and thighs.

Aieee...

"Wa...Wa...One, Master."

Then another, an inch lower.

Aieee...

"T...Two, Maestro."

Then another.

"Tre...Maestro"

Aieee...

"Quat...Quatro...Maestro"

He smiled to himself. He would finish the ten strokes then repeat them from the beginning until she could count all ten in English. It was devastating to think a punishment was over only to be told it was restarting, but it was necessary. Obedience was essential, and he didn't believe in mercy. He considered mercy a weakness on "his" part. How else could a serva learn?

The road to failure was paved with weakness disguised as good intentions.

This was one of his father's favorite sayings. He wasn't sure that it made sense...logically, but he treasured all the old man's advice even this delivered with his frequent malapropisms.

When Isabella's cocksucking resumed, it was with an acceptable level of fervor and intensity.

 

***

 

Maxwell Harding, the founding and managing partner of Harding & Associates, thought about his unsettling call to Lord Graham.

It was typical of the way Lord Graham ran Graham Global Capital Ventures-always hands on, always soliciting information, always sure of what he wanted, rarely swayed by someone else's opinion. He knew Abby Madison. It was unlikely that Preston would be able to convince her to spend 30 days at Elysia. Where would that leave him...? His plan for the firm depended on Lord Graham's endorsement of Preston to lead the firm.

Lord Graham...! As he had explained it to him one day, this was the way he did things. This was the way his father had taught him and his grandfather had taught his father and so on back for more than a hundred generations of Grahams, lords of Loch Kay and whatever. Their leadership philosophy was that each man ran his own company, but the head of the Graham family, ran them. And right now, the head of the Graham family, the heir to the lordship, the leader of Graham Global Capital Ventures, GGCV, was Lord Ian fitz Graham.

In his head, he unconsciously rolled the "r" in Lord Graham's name and was annoyed at himself...he's got me doing it now, he thought.

The $12.75 billion merger of Angus Steel and Tennessee Metals they had just completed had earned the firm $183 million in legal fees and commissions, 51% of which belonged to GGCV, but more importantly, it signaled that Max had been right about Preston, that the young lawyer, who had managed the merger for Harding & Associates, was qualified to ascend to the position of managing partner. Still, none of this changed the fact that no one assumed control of a GGCV company without Lord Graham's endorsement, which included his approval to apply for membership in The Order...the Ancient Order of Ishtar.

Preston was the right choice, he knew it!

The young man led a charmed life. His work at Harding and Associates had been outstanding. The success of the Angus-Tennessee merger, which earned him a personal, first-bonus of $17 million was just the latest. The entire amount would go to reduce the $20 million loan they had given him to buy-in as the firm's youngest-ever junior partner. Max knew there would be more, many more mergers, and many more bonuses in his future. This mega-bonus was just another credential, the ticket he needed to enter the M&A big leagues.

 

***

 

Preston was still basking in the glory of Angus-Tennessee when he went to dinner with Max.

He and Abby had celebrated the night before with dinner at Le Bernardin, followed by the all-time best bondage sex they had ever had. He had tied her to their vintage Cassina love seat and used a cane on her flanks to push her to suck his cock with "more energy." It was the most extreme, the most surreal sexual experience they had ever had. Her neck was still sore from reaching for his balls. He had started to apologize in the morning and she stopped him with a look that conveyed was clear message-she was his woman and he deserved a wild night.

"We...we...," she whispered into her coffee cup, "...need more experience with the rattan whipping we found in Thailand."

What wasn't clear was if by "more experience" she meant they needed to use it more often, or they needed more experience before we use it again. He hoped it was the former; the pleasant ache in his balls was testament to it effectiveness.

The partners at Harding & Associates also felt good about him. His leadership of the Angus-Tennessee merger had earned them a cool $90 million in legal and consulting fees. In truth, the payday wasn't unusual for an M&A deal, it was about average. What was unusual was that a junior partner had been put in charge-Max's decision-and that he had come through. It was an enormous victory by any measure and one that he and Max were justifiably celebrating tonight. Even more exciting was that Max had spoken to Lord Graham about him; he just knew that tonight's dinner was to give him the good news.

"You've got it made now, boyo," Max said, raising his glass in a toast. "To the start of your career and your fortune. Clients are going to ask for you by name now, and every time you succeed, your reputation will grow...along with your fees. As far as I can see, this win gives you everything you asked for when you joined the firm."

"I never asked for anything, Max. I said I would earn it if you gave me the chance, and I did," Preston replied.

"Ah yes, as always, modest and magnanimous in victory," Max added sarcastically.

He didn't like Preston much, personally. He thought he was too conceited and entitled even for a Harvard man, but they had become close professionally over the last two years. His natural charm, intelligence, good looks, and powers of persuasion were extraordinary even in a business brimming with super-salesmen. They also complemented each other's skills-Max was a brilliant strategist and planner, and Preston was great at execution and a magical "closer."

"...And don't forget, dashingly handsome as well!" Preston said, raising his glass.

"I LOVE M...M&A," he added, slurring the acronym. "It's the only business where $180 million in fees and commissions gets lost in the rounding."

This was no exaggeration. The principals at Angus Steel and Tennessee Metals were so ecstatic about the windfall profits they made in the merger that they hardly noticed their lawyers' outrageous fees. In time, the stock prices would return to the new company's actual value and 32 million shareholders would be left holding the bag, but then again, they wouldn't care as long as earnings remained high. Wall Street, especially the M&A business, was a game of musical chairs where the quickest and most ruthless always won.

"Don't drink too much though, Preston, we have important business to discuss tonight."

"That's bullshit, Max. We're celebrating tonight not working. Abby is resting after our 'private celebration' last night, so I'm free for the entire evening! For once, the fucking business can wait 'till morning."

Max ignored him and pressed on.

"I spoke to Lord Graham about you today," he said quietly.

Preston's giddy smile disappeared instantly, and he put down his drink.

Lord Graham was the chairman and CEO of Graham Global Capital Ventures, GGCV, the global holding company that owned 51% of Harding & Associates as well as a majority share of hundreds of other businesses worldwide. No one knew exactly what GGCV owned or what it was worth, but the rumor was that it held assets well north of two trillion dollars. Only a single handful of companies worldwide counted their assets using "trillions."

"He assured me that I would have his backing for...," Max lowered his voice, "for 'the plan' we've been discussing."

The plan was that Max would return to his native Australia to open another office for Harding & Associates while Preston assumed command of the firm's New York practice. It meant jumping Preston over several senior partners, but Max was convinced that Preston's ability to persuade was essential to their continued success. Although every lawyer in the firm was a superstar, no one else in the New York office had it to the same degree.

"Lord Graham has approved my proposal to open an office in Sydney and is extending me a $100 million line of credit to do it, and I owe it all to you. Closing the Angus-Tennessee merger was all he was waiting for...we're going to get filthy rich together, m'boy!"

Max was bubbling over with enthusiasm, but Preston forced himself to stay quiet. He knew there was more to come...there was always "more to come" with Max.

"This is it, Preston, the turning point in your career. Nothing can stop you now!" Max whispered.

Preston nodded and smiled. Max's enthusiasm was too much...what else did Lord Graham want?

"Why are we whispering, Max?" he asked seriously. "We're in the fucking 'Wine Celler's' darkest and most remote private room. This entire floor has been carved out of solid Manhattan bedrock. No one could possibly be listening or taping us."

Max suddenly sobered.

"You can't be too careful, boyo, especially when we're talking about GGCV. They have ears everywhere."

Preston knew that Graham Global Capital Ventures held something more than money over Max's head. He had never spoken about it, but he was sure he was right. Max's normal in-your-face personality changed when he talked about GGCV. Maybe he would find out what it was tonight...?

Max seemed to hear his thoughts.

"There's something you need to know about Graham Global Capital Ventures, Preston. When you go into business with people like them, it's not just about money, they want your soul too.

"What do you mean, Max? Tell me. I need to know if I'm going to take charge of New York."

"Exactly...!" Max shot back. "You do need to know!"

"So...shoot. I can handle it, whatever 'it' is."

Max stared at him for a moment with a look of regret on his face then plowed on.

"Just to be sure...tell me one last time. You are interested in this job, right...and in becoming a part of the GGCV, ah, family? You would need to be part of the family to take over the firm when I leave."

"'Part of the family...?' What the fuck does that mean?

"Of course I'm still interested in the job. We've been discussing it for months now, but what do you mean that I would need to become part of the GGCV family?"

It was true. They had been discussing "Max's plan" for him to run the New York office for months, but Max had never said anything about him "joining the GGCV family," which he knew was code for overcoming some other hurdle.

"You can't take over the firm, Preston, without joining the "Ancient Order of Ishtar." It's...it's a kind of men's club that Lord Graham runs as a kind of executive board for GGCV. Anyone who manages or is important to one of the GGCV businesses needs to join The Order. It's mandatory."

Preston stared at him for a moment, now fully sober.

"The Ancient Order of Ishtar...what the fuck is that, Max! Why didn't you ever mention this before?"