Chapter 28: In the Black

Owen stood up and pulled the dust flaps tightly down, sealing the desert out of the Jeep. He glowered at the driver, but because Owen spoke poor French and no Arabic his anger was blunted. He sat down in the back seat and pulled Roxxi’s shoulder over, kissing her on the forehead as she breastfed Owen’s oldest.

“No more sand in Regan’s breakfast,” Owen said. He wasn’t thrilled that Roxxi had chosen to name their kid after the big lesbian who had testified against him. Roxxi was right though, Janice was an ugly name. “Still favoring the left boob, huh?”

“She just doesn’t like drinking from the other,” Roxxi said, brushing her baby’s sparse blonde hair. Roxxi’s own blonde hair ended in long streaks of faded electric blue.

“This baby’ll suck down the other one so you won’t end up with wonky tits,” Zera said, scruffing up Owen’s hair. She yawned. It had been a long flight and now they still had to drive for hours to reach the compound. Owen reached his arm around Zera and grabbed some ass. She gave him a burning gaze and tiptoed her fingers up his chest. “I just fucked you on the plane. So did Katelyn.”

“That’s the benefit of LeCarre’s private plane. Katelyn was a blowjob not a fuck though,” Owen explained.

“Leave me out of this,” Katelyn said, from the front seat.

“I’m still a little horny, but with Regan here, we don’t have the room to enjoy each other,” Owen said.

“And, well, just because he doesn’t speak English, doesn’t mean I want him staring at me jacking you off,” Zera said.

“He’s watching the road,” Owen said, looking up. “No, he’s using the mirror trying to see Roxxi’s tit.”

“The baby’s hungry,” Roxxi said. “If he’s going to see nip, happy birthday to him.”

Zera and Owen laughed maniacally. Katelyn frowned and looked at the driver. Not even a look for her. She was 32 and still hot, but this man only had eyes for basically teenagers. Another reason to be pissed off.

“We’ll be there soon, Natasha sent the pictures of the baths,” Owen grinned. “I can wait.”

“Miracle of miracles,” Katelyn grumbled. She looked down at her hand and frowned at the tanline of her former wedding ring. It wasn’t only Owen’s fault. She couldn’t live like a pauper with her husband forever. She just wished her marriage and collapsed on its own terms, not because of her admitting to fucking Owen in court. She could still remember her ex’s face as he finally believed it.

“I’m looking forward to seeing everyone again,” Roxxi said.

“Not everyone everyone,” Owen said. “Brandy.”

“Turns out murderers don’t easily get passports,” Katelyn laughed, disgustedly.

“Not murder. She had a drunk driving charge from when she was a teenager,” Owen said.

“In which she killed a dude,” Katelyn growled. “It doesn’t matter, Barbara’s the good twin anyway. You lucked out, you’re not going to screw their names up. Barbara hates that.”

“I’m not putting money down on keeping Barbara’s name straight,” Owen frowned. It finally felt like the shit was over. No more courtrooms at least. He looked down at his atrophied left arm. On some days, he could flex his index finger. The rest of the time, most of the time, it was just weight hanging off his shoulder.

The baby hiccuped and Roxxi hefted the child up from her tit as Owen laid out a towel over Roxxi’s shoulder. They both patted their child’s back as she spat up. Owen smiled as he always did with Regan or Isaac. Roxxi loved that smile of Owen’s most of all.

Elizabeth strolled the compound. The gendarmes, a fifteen man team, lived and operated from two outbuildings that surrounded the old Roman villa. She’d see them from time to time. It made the place feel like prison.

She was tanner than she had ever been, Egypt in October was hotter than Halifax ever. She waved to the guard who walked by but he didn’t wave back. She frowned and hung her laughing witch on the front door.

“Shit,” she said. She waved at the sensor, but it didn’t cackle. She opened the bay in the witch’s behind. “Does anyone know where I can get some double A batteries?”

No one answered. It was a big house, though it didn’t feel that way with a dozen roommates and a baby. And fifteen armed men just outside the window.

“Hello!” She shouted again. Isaac was awake, she’d seen Darlene tickling her son in the living room. It probably had some other fancy name but it was a living room now. “Fuck, I’ll do it myself.”

She muttered, ducking her head under the strings of spiderwebs she had tacked up around the foyer. She kept her sandals on as she walked through the house. Wearing your shoes inside, it would’ve pissed off her mother. Her parents hadn’t talked to her since Brett’s funeral.

Elizabeth caught herself before she fell into misery, but it was never easy without Owen actively distracting her.

“Hey beautiful!” Janice said, she waved a pack of Duracells in her left hand while her right held tightly on her cane.

“Hey, cousin,” Elizabeth said.

“Not you too?” Janice laughed. “Please stop it by the time Owen gets here. I know Jewel and Tamara are using it to take me off the schedule, but...”

“Schedules don’t work with Owen,” Elizabeth said. “He comes for whoever he comes for.”

“He likes it when you come for him, though,” Janice said. Elizabeth growled as she bit into the cardboard to pull the back away from the plastic and catch the batteries. “So that’s my only play I guess. Anyway, I meant to say: thank you for decorating! I haven’t been in a house like this since I was twelve.”

“I used to love Halloween,” Elizabeth said.

“Then they stopped giving you candy for free?” Janice laughed.

“No, trick or treating was fun, but I really got into it in high school,” Elizabeth said. “It was the only times I drank underage.”

“Oh ... Bad girl...” Janice said.

“Hey, you two!” Barbara said, coming over. She had her hair up in pigtails and too much white makeup on her face. She had on the red and black pants but she was still wearing her bathrobe. “You’re not getting dressed up? He’s coming.”

“I need help with the boots and pants,” Janice said.

“I wanted to finish the decorations,” Elizabeth said. “Besides, I wasn’t planning anything as elaborate as yours, Barbie.”

“Well, I’ll be in Janice’s room,” Barbara said. “You want me to come up and do your hair when I’m finished with her?”

“That’s sweet of you,” Elizabeth said, not clearly answering yes or no. She walked out the front door. This gendarme waved back. Elizabeth felt more human for it. She shoved the batteries up the witch’s backside and walked back into the villa. Darlene came by the hallway, holding her son over head, flying the boy: she in her Supergirl costume, she still had to lose some of her pregnancy weight, and her son in his Superman onesie.

Isaac wasn’t dressed up for Halloween.

“Hey, Darlene,” Elizabeth said. “What do you think?”

“About what?” Darlene said, pulling her son down into a cradling hug. The boy was bubbling up.

“I finished decorating,” Elizabeth said.

“Oh yeah!” Darlene said. “Sorry, I couldn’t help.”

“Yeah,” Elizabeth said. “All the babysitters a girl could ask for. But, making them give you a breather from being a mom just so you could do some house slave work? I wouldn’t do that to you.”

The sound of the gendarmes moving their truck told Elizabeth she had to go.

“Go put on your horns,” Darlene said. “There’s still time. He’ll want to see Isaac first.”

“Do we have something for him and everyone else?” Elizabeth worried.

“The Zeus toga for Owen,” Darlene said. “Although, I think it’s supposed to be Julius Caesar to match with Nat and Hafnan.”

“Don’t let Barbara give him the Roman bowl cut to match,” Elizabeth said.

“Then I’ll send her up your way to make sure the tail’s shoved all the way in!” Darlene said, raising her voice as Elizabeth rushed out of the front room. Darlene shushed and tickled her son. She’d have to remember to stop shouting when Regan was here. The girl didn’t like loud noises like the boy.

“I’m not wearing the nose,” Val said, as she applied green makeup to her forehead. She was unhappy with the black wig over her pinned up red hair. She had been working out harder than she had in her life to make sure the slinky black dress fit. She even liked her long fingernails. She wasn’t going to ruin it with an ugly nose.

“But the wicked witch has a long nose!” Frieda growled from across the room. She was dressed up as Dorothy, blue dress, white stockings, ruby slippers. Except her skirt barely covered her pussy, her neckline was cut to show off the scientific wonders of the push-up bra, and her stockings were thigh highs.

“You’re supposed to have a dog,” Val countered.

“I’ve got a stuffed one to go with the basket.” Frieda slapped her hands on her hips as if she had won the point. The nineteen year old was trying at the best of times.

“The nose is hideous. This is going to be a sex party. I’m not going to be ugly for the sex party,” Val explained. She juggled her breasts in the front of her dress. She turned focusing on her own body in the mirror. Fuck her ass was big. Hopefully good big. She spared another look for Frieda.

The girl had grown even prettier. She had been scruffy, tomboyish, and skinny when she had first been enslaved. She was still slender, and her hair was still a bushy mess of brown, but she stood taller, she carried herself better, her body had grown up. What Owen owned had grown up.

“That’s why I wanted you in that stupid thing!” Frieda growled.

Frieda still owned her mind. The girl’s mind was sure to follow her body. Soon, right?

Frieda’s father was spending 25 years in prison. Her mother was dead set against Frieda ever talking to Owen again after the shooting, but Val had intervened. Val had smuggled the girl out of her mother’s shadow and into Owen’s bed.

“It wasn’t worth it,” Val said.

“God! You’re ruining Halloween!” Frieda said.

“Give me a hand,” Val said. She lifted up her right and left arms. Her right was still flesh-toned up to the sleeve of her leather dress. She wasn’t wearing green paint under the dress and she’d opted for green leggings under the striped socks. “Or I won’t be ready when Owen and Roxxi get here.”

Frieda’s teeth ground left and right. Mentioning Roxxi was a surefire way to set her off. Val smiled. Maybe she should finally get pregnant? She was the oldest, but not so old that it could still happen. Owen said Frieda should at least try university first and then stuck the girl in his Egyptian sex palace. Val frowned at the mirror.

Pettiness, that’s why you should be a mom? She thought to herself. Frieda was coming over to help paint Val’s right arm. No, let the others be the brood mares. Val would never want to be a mother for the same reasons as her own. Val didn’t cut it and she knew it. She was the kind of woman who had smuggled Frieda out from under a concerned and grieving mother to stay in the sex cult. That had been the decision she had come to. Was deciding not to be a mom the same kind of mistake?

“Stop looking at me like that!” Frieda snapped.

“He’s going to make us fuck, wearing matching costumes, you know?” Val said. She continued before whatever rant Frieda intended to bulldoze Val with. “If I wear the nose, it’ll probably break off in your asshole.”

“You are just the worst!” Frieda stomped her foot.

Hafnan raised her shoulders. She had always had good posture, but the fact that she was dressed like Cleopatra made her feel like she should try a bit more. She liked the costume, though it was slutty as Natasha. She fingered the golden serpent torc on her left arm. She didn’t like snakes either.

She ran her hands over her bare midriff. She rumpled her toes in her sandals. Natasha entered the room.

“I thought you were going to be my lovely slave girl?” Hafnan said, frustrated. “You said I could pick our costumes!”

Natasha put her hands out and spun in her Princess Leia slave getup. “The most famous sex slave.” She cupped the bronze plated bikini top and then reached up and tossed her braid over her shoulder and down her back. “And I do look lovely.”

“She’s a slave who killed her own master,” Hafnan said.

“Choked the slug with her own leash.” Natasha lifted the brass chain that hung from her collar and offered the lead to Hafnan.

“Do you have to ruin everything?” Hafnan asked.

“Not sex,” Natasha said. She walked up and hugged Hafnan from behind. “You look amazing. I like your hair like this.”

Natasha flicked Hafnan’s dark bangs.

“He’s going to like your costume more,” Hafnan said. “Everyone else will have properly matching costumes.”

“What about Owen?” Natasha asked, setting her chin on Hafnan’s shoulder. “He’s going to be dressed as Julius Caesar. Matches you pretty well, I’d think.”

“He does,” Hafnan said. “Is that why you did this? So I could have my time with Owen?”

“No,” Natasha said. Hafnan was saddened but Natasha not being driven by altruism didn’t surprise Hafnan. “When you told me to dress as your slave so you could be queen for a day ... I got nostalgic. And spiteful. Plus,” Natasha pushed off of Hafnan and turned around showing that the slave bottoms were a thong under the back of the loincloth, “My ass looks amazing in this.”

“Your ass always looks good,” Hafnan said. “C’est...” Hafnan blushed and swallowed her French.

“Getting better.” Natasha kissed Hafnan’s cheek. “He’s talking with security. Time to go say hello.”

“Any word from your papa?” Hafnan asked.

“Besides imaginative swear words?” Natasha laughed.

“You know what I mean,” Hafnan said.

“I do,” Natasha said. “I’m just not going to get in trouble because I didn’t tell Owen first.”

Hafnan’s eyes widened. Her smile flickered. She turned back to the mirror.

“What now?” Natasha asked from the doorway.

It took a moment, but a queen shouldn’t look like a terrified maid or a giddy schoolgirl. Hafnan stood tall once again. She made five feet two inches look like five feet two and a half inches. She glared at the mirror and turned on her heel.

“Behind your Mistress, slave!”

Natasha looked like a giddy schoolgirl when she slipped the lead back into Hafnan’s hand and fell into pace behind her former servant.

“And stop skipping! Head bowed and mouth shut until I have someone for you to suck off!” Hafnan managed to hold her queen’s visage, but it was a near thing.

Zera bolted in the front door with Roxxi trailing and Owen still talking to the guard. Wendy walked through the front room, she wore a translucent white dress and Jesus sandals up to the middle of her thighs. The wings on her back were askew and her tinsel halo bobbed awkwardly.

“Oh,” Zera said. “Cute! I’d love to despoil you, Angel.”

“Again?” Wendy said. “Shut up. You’re not dressed. Go get your foxtail shoved up your ass.”

“I thought I was doing a ninja thing to Jewel’s pirate?” Zera said.

“The tail matches the fox Kabuki mask I bought for you,” Wendy grinned.

“Your costume’s upstairs in Jewel’s room, third on the right,” Giselle said. She wore a catsuit unzipped to her navel. The zipper caught on the bumps of her nipples (or may have been taped there.) Zera hoped it was the former, nip slips would be welcome. Also, Owen was going to rip Catwoman Giselle open like he was unwrapping a present. Zera didn’t want Giselle to scream in the wrong kind of pain. Giselle had goggles over her bangs and Zera was pretty sure the black cat ears were Frieda’s everyday. The teen had taken to playing up the cute sophomoric teenager look to 11.

“Who’s your partner?” Zera asked.

“Barbara’s doing Harley Quinn.” Giselle rolled her eyes. “Owen would’ve wanted his Barbara to be Batgirl but Harley Quinn is sluttier. You know the twins.”

“Yeah, they’ve definitely spent more of their lives picking on nerds than playing to their fantasies,” Zera said. “Still, she’s got the airhead look for Harl.”

Roxxi juggled her infant and slammed open the door on her hip. Her loud moan, followed by quick shushing of Regan killed the conversation in the room. “God my tits are tired!”

“Darlene and Isaac are down the hall in the nursery, and she’s got whatever for you,” Wendy said. “I’m going to take Zera upstairs to get her ready.”

Zera let Wendy grab her hand and drag her off.

“Zera’s trained her girlfriend well,” Roxxi said, sighing.

“What do you mean?” Giselle asked.

“Do you ever see Zera push Wendy around anymore?” Roxxi asked, bouncing her baby and looking over her shoulder. “She wanted it to go the other way and now it does. Now Owen’s coming. If you’re not ready for the party, I suggest you get off the stage.”

Roxxi shushed her baby and headed down to the nursery. Giselle frowned, she turned and saw Hafnan and Natasha coming down from the second floor. Everything was handled here. She’d go and--

Her boobs shook as her phone vibrated in the breast pocket. She pulled it out and answered.

“Oui, notre esclave?” she answered, spitefully, as she hurried out of the front room.

“Tais-toi,” Maxim grumbled. “Has Master arrived?”

“His vehicle is here but he is not yet in the villa. When he is, he will be indisposed,” Giselle replied. “The girls have committed to his favorite debauchery.”

“Of course they have,” Maxim said. He sounded like he had aged a hundred years.

Owen thanked the gendarmes for taking care of his girls. Technically, Maxim’s names were still on their checks. Owen felt it was important to show his position of control over LeCarre Investiments and its president’s personal estates. The men nodded, all spoke French, but English wasn’t uncommon, though it fell behind Arabic and Mandarin. Owen walked around the Jeep, slapping its hood to send the driver on his way.

Two gendarmes walked Roxxi and Regan to the door, holding a tarp to keep the wind off the kids. She was a teen mom after all. Zera had run off ahead like she was not much older than Regan, waking up for Christmas. Katelyn stayed behind with Owen.

“We’re finally here,” Owen said. “Home sweet HQ.”

“Yeah,” Katelyn said. She was wowed to see her new home in person. She had gone from scaling down from a modest three bedroom house to an extra cozy studio apartment. Now, she was standing face to home with a sixteen bedroom walled mansion. She smiled. “I get my own room?”