Chapter 6

Heather awoke suddenly when a hand clamped over her mouth. "Don't make a sound," Willow's voice whispered in her ear. "Listen very carefully. This morning is your first chance to make a connection with your new master. Page has given me instructions to give to you. She and I are going to go find some food for all of us. Master Carl is still asleep but will wake soon. Your assignment is to wake him up gently and slowly by sucking his cock. Once he gets excited, he may want to fuck you. Whether you are sucking or fucking, make it great for him. Tell him you do not have much experience but you want to learn. He will be gentle and kind, because that is just the kind of man he is. But listen, if you make a mess of this, Page and I will see to it that you stay here at the Nimitz with Madame Carronade as a house fuck slave. This is your chance. Understand?" Heather, now terrified, nodded.

Heather had been on her side facing away from the other bed. As Willow withdrew her hand she slipped quietly off of the bed and headed towards the door. Heather followed her with her eyes and saw Page waiting by the door. She gave Heather a look that was said very clearly; 'don't screw this up!' They silently closed the hotel room door and Heather was alone with her master for the first time.

Page knew it would be a very bad idea to wander around the hotel without someone that knew who they were. She decided to see if Randy would escort them. They moved down a few doors and knocked. While they waited Page asked what she thought about Muffin's disappearance. But before Willow could answer the hotel room door swung open. Much to the shock of both, it was Muffin that stood in the doorway beckoning with her hand to come in. She was naked except for a simple cleave gag.

Randy had put his clothes back on that he had worn the day before. It reminded Page that they might need to look for some for him, and the girls, to wear depending on what the day held.

"Let's not wander around like a flock of geese," Randy said. "I will see what is going on and come back with food, information or both." There was little Page or Willow could do about it as they watch him jog to the stairs.

Heather was stalling. She had slipped into the bathroom and tried to fix her hair and washed her face. She had put on a little makeup with Page and Willow the night before in the grooming area, they had everything, but it was a wreck after sleeping on it all night. Heather decided to wash it off and do without this time. She brushed her teeth with her finger and a little toothpaste that came with the room. She could not delay any longer. It was time to face her master.

Carl was still sleeping. When Page had retrieved him in the night he had taken off his pants but did not even get as far as taking off his shirt or socks before he was asleep again. Heather stood at the foot of the bed just looking for a minute.

She had known her fate for more than a year. She had pictured in her head the violent rape that would occur the moment when she was enslaved, but it had not happened like that. Instead she had been pulled into wild intrigue and a true crime novel. It had been exciting! It had been frightening! It had put off this moment of full realization of what she was, a slave. There were tears as she thought about her path from here. But some of Willow's words, and Willow's attitude, came back to her. She had said that Carl was a good man. Willow trusted him, she even liked him. Could Page and Willow guide her through this new world? She was hopeful that this new life might include friends.

Heather lifted the sheet back to reveal Carl's boxers. She moved slowly and pulled down the elastic waistband to reveal his ... penis. She giggled a little. It was difficult to think of it as a 'cock' when it was flaccid. She had seen a few, but just boys. This was a man. This was her master. It was time to get to work.

She did not want to climb on the bed, that would wake him for sure. Instead she knelt on the floor by the side of the bed. This put her head at just the right height. Heather's small hand gently lifting the soft organ and she bent down and took it in her mouth. She slowly rolled it in her mouth and added some gentle suction to keep it there. Her limited experience with oral sex had involved lots of begging and guilt from her boyfriend and a quick ending. There had been no time to experience the effect her attention had on the cock, which this one was now growing rapidly into! Carl moaned and rolled his hips a little. Heather adjusted her position and used her hand to keep things lined up. She was gentle and slow, moving her head and hands up and down and around. Her focus was there on Carl and she kept repeating in her head 'make him happy, make him happy.'

Carl was not quite awake yet, and as he became more aroused he became more restless. His hips moving slowly up and down in rhythm with her administrations showed that he was enjoying what she was doing. Heather decided to go for broke. She made sure there was a lot of spit on the head, then stood up next to the bed and threw one leg over and straddled Carl's hips. She used her hand to guide his hard cock to her entrance and slowly lowered herself down. Willow and her strap-on fucks had paved the way for Heather to slide Carl home without physical or even emotional trauma. She knew she could do this. Lower and lower she went until her master was completely enveloped inside of her.

She stayed there for a moment to adjust. This was ok and she was going to be ok. The gang rape she had expected had been forever replaced with this moment, this moment of her giving, not someone taking. She lifted and lowered herself. It was so different than the dildos or the silly high school boys she had known. She was the one moving. She was enjoying this as well as...

Two large hands slid around her hips and began moving with her. She had been anxious about how it would change when Carl awoke. She startled when she realized that Carl's eyes were open! But the fear turned into something else. They moved together and she felt the connection. This was two people making love! One big hand moved across her rippling belly and stroked her nipple. Again she felt the pleasure raise a notch. The rhythm of their movements quickened. The other hand slipped down to where they were connected and began to stroke her clit. Her hips responded by grinding down on Carl's cock and on his hand. Could she... ? Could she... ? YES! Her orgasm flooded her with light and warmth. Carl's hips rose and she felt him shudder under her.

And then the dam burst. Heather began to sob. All of the tension that she had held inside; the arrest, the agreement with Madame Carronade, the year of waiting, the fear of Simon, the sight of other slaves being used in the most brutal ways, she had held it all inside. This moment, the first moment with the master she had imagined as cruel and vicious, had all resolved in a moment of pleasure! Her time with Willow showed that it would not all be like this, but there would be moments of pleasure. There would be moments of personal connection.

Carl only knew this lovely girl, the girl that had chosen to make love to him, was sobbing in his arms. He did the only thing he knew to do. He held her tight and let her cry.

Randy found Matt near the café where the discussion had taken place the night before. He seemed to be buzzing with energy or nerves. "There is a great deal that is going on. We need to get you and the girls out of the hotel. We do not know if the police or FBI or ... we just don't know who survived and what they know. But we do not want any of you anywhere they can find you."

"What are you talking about?" Randy asked.

"You don't know?" Matt asked with a wide expression.

"No, we crashed in a couple of empty rooms upstairs. The cable system is out. I just came down for food and some clothes."

"Shit! Ok, get everybody down here as quickly as you can. I will unlock that shop there and you guys can take what you want. I will have a security guy here to make sure you don't have any hassles. But be as quick as you can. We need to move everyone." With that Matt moved towards the merchandise shop.

Randy went back up the stairs and knocked on the door where Carl was staying. He then ran to his room and banged on the door. Page opened the door and let him in. "We need to get moving. Downstairs they are opening a shop. Pick out what you need but we need to be ready to move." In under a minute the three slaves that had been in his room were moving down the hall. There they met Carl and Heather coming out. Heather would not look at Page or Willow.

Down in the shopping area the men and slaves headed in different directions to the appropriate parts of the store. The boutique was typical of a clothing and accessory shop in a casino, very upscale and expensive. Carl and Randy found very nice slacks, dress shirts, a sports coat and shoes. They wanted to pass for anything from rich tourist to business casual. They were dressed and ready in fifteen minutes. As Carl and Randy walked up, they were met by two other groups. The four slaves, dressed to kill, were coming from Carl's left while Madame Carronade and Matt Yamada were coming from his right.

All four slaves were wearing ankle-length capes. That would allow them to cover up and pass unnoticed by most people. However, at the moment three of the capes were pulled back. Page, who led the group, was in black knee length high heeled boots, black lace panties, a black collar and a black leather bustier that just contained her large breast. Willow was wearing the same outfit in red and Heather's was green. Heather looked decidedly uncomfortable in the sexy boots and kept struggling to walk straight. Muffin wore her cape closed. Willow and Page had put on makeup, while Heather had not had time but her youth and freckles made up for it. All in all they looked fantastic.

When they approached the intersection of the three groups, Page and Muffin knelt with a liquid grace, while Willow was right behind them and did almost as well. Heather was awkwardly left standing for a moment by herself but quickly recovered and got to her knees in a somewhat controlled crash.

Madame Carronade, still projecting the power and authority in her world, was wearing a white business suit with a medium length skirt. This was an outfit designed for conducting interviews or news appearances. She had though ahead about what the day might hold and wanted to be prepared for the press. "We have had a great deal of luck," she said. "There are still details we do not know but the outcome looks good so far. We need to solidify our end so that we are ready when the FBI or ATF or whomever comes calling. That means clearing out of here."

"I have a couple of questions regarding that," Carl said. "There are a few loose ends I would like to resolve."

"So would I Master Carl. One of those is what we are going to do with Mr. Randy here." At his name Randy squared up with Madame Carronade, but his relaxed manner did not fool the former cop. Carl was not sure if she knew how much danger she was in at that moment. Carl was certain that between himself, Matt, and the three guards nearby that Randy would be killed. He also knew that before he or anyone else could prevent it Randy could kill Madame Carronade. But before he could intervene, Madame Carronade went on, "I would like to offer you a position with Sea Grove. We have lost our ... my most trusted trainer. You clearly have skills and experience. We have a void in our staff. Would you consider filling that void?"

Carl could read Randy actually relaxing, "I would consider such a position, yes. But there are details that need to be considered. As a part of that negotiation I would like to make an offer to buy Muffin from you."

"No," was Madame Carronade's quick response. Randy began to tense up again, but again the situation was not what he thought it was. "Muffin is ... unique. She does not have a place in my marketing plan and I do not want to risk my reputation by selling product that I cannot predict how it will behave. For your help, she is yours, a gift, my way of saying thanks. If you take a position with me or not, we can at least agree to that?"

Randy smiled, "Yes ma'am, on that we can agree."

"Good, now the second order of business. What do we do with Steve? We think at least one of the BC organization survived the night. If they know Steve he will rocket to the FBI's Ten Most Wanted. If we allow him to be taken he will tell the tale of what went on here. He could implicate all of us. He must be..."

"A murder would be harder to hide, and I will not be party to that." Carl said. He had been thinking of this problem as well. "We could send him to Mexico..."

"Master Carl, this is a man that has committed murder. He almost killed you if you recall." Madame Carronade spoke without anger but with steel in her voice. Carl was on thin ice with his demand. But he also was counting on her conviction that quarrelling masters were bad for the community.

"Too obvious," was Matt reply completely missing the byplay between the two slave owners. "If someone runs from the law around here they always head to Mexico. We need somewhere that he could stay off of the official radar, but that he would not stand out. I have a contact in Cuba. We can set him up with an identity and a life."

"Will he agree?" Carl asked.

"Sir?" came a voice from the floor. Carl turned to look as Willow raised her head. "May I try ... try to convince him?"

"It is a good place to start," Carl replied. "If he sees this as being in his interest, he will cooperate much better."

"Mr. Yamada, please read them in on the situation as it stands now. I will have a chat with Randy here and see what he thinks of my job offer." Madame motioned for Randy to walk with her. Muffin followed a few paces behind, just as Heather had seen her following her former master Simon. But at the last moment Madame Carronade turned and looked down again at Willow then up at Carl. When she spoke, she was speaking to Willow but looking at Carl, "Slave, there will be a price to pay for your brother being allowed to live. Are you willing to pay that price?"

Frostbite is graded much like burns. In fact they are quite similar in terms of their destruction of tissue and the danger it poses to the victim. First degree frostbite is sometimes called frostnip. It can be painful but it is not really dangerous to the patient. Second degree frostbite causes very painful blisters, again much like a burn. The question is what is happening under the blister. It can take weeks to know if the underlying tissue will live or die. Third degree frostbite often means gangrene and the loss of the digit or limb.

Three toes on Lord Blackmon's left foot and two toes on his right foot had blisters so large that the toes were three times their normal size. He had some frostnip on his hands as well, but it was his feet that worried the medical staff at the hospital in Sidney. They advised keeping his feet very still and elevated for another two weeks at least. His pneumonia was clearing up as well. His fever had disappeared two days before but overall he was very weak.

The physician's assistant that had come with the plane from California listened to the update and forwarded it to Madame Carronade along with the recommendation that Lord Blackmon postpone his departure. The security team was also informed.

Lord Blackmon's return would be delayed.

Steve was given shorts and an ugly Hawaiian shirt with surfboards on it. He had been told to get dressed and to be ready to move. The clothes were leftovers from some guest and untraceable. As soon as he was dressed, they had handcuffed him to a chair. Steve figured the best thing he could hope for was to be turned over to the police. He wondered if he would ever get out of prison this time. But more likely, he thought, this was the room where he was going to die. His body will be found in the surf or floating in the nearby bay.

The room where they had taken him was intended for storage of carpet runners, chairs, tables and such for use during large events in the hotel. The room smelled stale, like a damp basement. There was a stack of risers, used to create a stage, piled into a corner. One of the security men had used a pair of handcuffs to secure Steve's chair to a riser section near the bottom of the pile. The chair and Steve were not going anywhere until he was released. Then the security team that had been watching him then left the room.

He was not sure how he felt. He was ashamed he had betrayed his friends; except they had not been his friends. They had used him and his knowledge for their goals and agenda. He was not close to any of them. They had not gone out for beer together or kicked back to watch a baseball game. They were strangers that had asked him to kill. They had used his anger and his feelings of isolation to persuade him to build bombs. Then they had disregarding his feelings of remorse and regret. No one at the BC cared to listen to his concerns about killing people. And they had used, over his objections, one of his devices to kill again. No, what he was feeling was shame, the shame of a wasted life and the loss of life.

The doorknob turned and the door swung open but Steve did not look up. He really did not want to see the bullet to the neck coming. But it was not the heavy footfalls of an enforcer or the silence of an assassin. What he heard was the clicking of high heels. He looked up and was startled at the beauty before him. She had short black hair that was spiked in a very exotic style. Her makeup made her look both sexy and fierce. Dark red lipstick matched her cape as it hung down her back, as well as the red knee high boots. She was naked and beautiful with firm tits only marred by red welts across...