Chapter 1

From a room across the patio, Harris Thwaites watches Nari succumb to the effects of the tasteless drug which he had stirred into the hot chocolate.

Now, if she turns out to be a good subject for hypnosis as well, the Exclusive dogs will have a new mistress. Harris has already waited too long. The dogs are restless.

But it’s challenging to find a pretty girl with no family or friends, no one to wonder what happened when she dropped out of sight. Of course, there had been a few. Coarse, plain women that no one wants, no one will miss, but Harris prefers to mix business with pleasure.

Perhaps the dogs don’t mind a plain/ugly mistress. Still, Harris finds the training sessions more stimulating when the bitches are attractive. He studied the still figure of the unconscious girl in the lighted window across the patio. ‘Yes, she’s lovely.’ He smiles in anticipation.

This is going to be a pleasant season, he’s sure of that. “I’ll get the girl ready,” Harris said quietly to his assistant. “You bring your camera equipment and hurry. We don’t want the effects of the drug to wear off before we have arranged our insurance.”

Without waiting for a reply, Harris hurries from the room. Trent stays by the window a moment longer, staring at the limp figure of the Korean girl. His face is passive. His hands sometimes stray to his crotch to rub the head of the sleeping beast that lies there.

Trent bumps the door open with his knees. His hands are full of light standards, cameras, and a case with lenses. Harris jerks around at the sound of the door, banging against the wall and frowns.

“For God’s sake, try to be a little quieter, Trent,” Harris growls.

“Hell, boss, she’s out like a light,” Trent said with a shrug.

“That may be, my friend, but let’s not take unnecessary chances, eh?”

There are times when Harris Thwaites would like to have taken the plaided dog whip that hangs in the exercise room and can raise bloody welts each time it lays across the skin, to Trent Cotchin, but he needs him.

He needs someone to help, and Trent’s perverted sexuality makes him perfect for the job. It takes patience sometimes, like today, when Trent’s anticipation overrides his good sense.

Harris smiles to hide his feelings. “In an hour or so, we’ll be finished and then...”

Thwaites leaves the sentence hanging, deliciously dangling before Trent’s growing desire like a carrot before a hungry donkey. Trent’s eyes glitter, and the bulge in his tight pants grows larger and more noticeable.

He begins scurrying quietly around the room, setting up the light poles around the center island bed. Harris smiles faintly. The young man has the insatiability of a sailor and the mind of a child. You can lead Trent around by the cock.

Harris shakes his head tolerantly, then begins his own preparations.

From the cedar chest at the foot of the bed, he takes a rich blue velvet spread and carefully arranged it on the bed.

Harris glances at the motionless girl, at her flawless pale-yellow skin. ‘Yes, the color will be perfect,’ he thought.

The man goes to the camera, a Canon 1D DSLR, on its sturdy tripod and sights through the viewer. He pursed his lips, peering over the camera, then through the viewfinder once more.

“Trent...”

“Yeah?” Trent asks distractedly, as he’s having trouble with the height adjustment on one of the lights.

“Move the first two lights on the other side of the bed. I can see them in the viewer.”

“OK, but you won’t get good lighting on her butt without any floods behind her,” Trent growls.

“You’re probably right,” Harris agreed reluctantly, “but we don’t want the bloody light pole showing in the pictures either.”

“How about moving that screen behind the bed,” Trent suggests, “then I can put the light poles behind it, and we’d still get the effect?”

“Good, good.” Harris sighted through the camera, nodding his head as Trent makes the suggested changes. “There ... There, that’s it. That’s fine.” He rises from the camera and grins at his assistant.

“And now the girl...”

Nari hasn’t moved since the drug took effect. She lies limply relaxed in the big overstuffed easy chair facing the courtyard window. Harris goes quietly over to her and sits on the ottoman at her feet.

He begins talking to her softly. “You are very tired. Very, very tired. You’re asleep, Nari Kim, sound asleep. You haven’t been able to sleep for days, and now you’re sound asleep.” His voice drones on, toneless, and void of all inflection.

“As you’re becoming deeper and deeper asleep, your breathing will become deeper too. Deep, deep from the bottom of your lungs. Breathe deep, Nari, deep, deep.”

The sound of her breath is audible in the room now, her chest expanding and contracting with each breath. Harris can hear the air rushing between her lips as she inhales. He glances up at Trent and winks. Trent nods solemnly.

“You must sleep deeply, Nari, and then you’ll feel wonderful. You’ll feel just wonderful. Deep, Nari, a deep, deep sleep.” Harris picked up one limp hand and begins stroking it lightly with his fingers.

“Imagine you’re in a cave, a deep, dark, quiet cave, Nari. There are steps in this cave, nice, wide, safe, steps carved out of stone, and they go down. Down, down, down into the cool dark cave.

It’s quiet down there, Nari, peaceful, and quiet. If you can only walk down those steps and into the quiet depths of the cave, Nari, everything will be wonderful again.”

Harris glances at the wide-eyed Trent and jerks his head toward the box on the table. Trent nods. Harris continues to stroke her hand softly, regularly.

“We’re going down those steps together, Nari, into the quiet, peaceful darkness.

You can hear our footsteps as we go deep, deep down into the darkness.” He nods to Trent, who stands waiting with a flat piece of marble in one hand and a small rubber headed mallet in the other.

At his nod, Trent begins tapping on the marble, holding it lightly by one end so as not to dull the resonant sound of the mallet. “Down, down, down into the cool darkness, Nari, deep, deep, deep into the cave of your mind. Hear the footsteps as we walk down, Nari, deep, deep, deep.”

The hand he strokes suddenly becomes even limper. It’s like a boneless mass of flesh that wants to melt and slip from his grasp.

Harris smiles. He studies the pulse at the base of her throat. It’s pulsating with heavy, even throbs.

He lifts Nari’s hand and drops it onto her lap. There’s no reaction.

He stares at her from beneath his heavy half-closed lids and smiles. ‘This one is a fine subject,’ Harris thought. ‘She’ll perform well for the cameras, and once her performance is recorded, I will give her to my dogs, my fine canine progeny, my boys.’

“Shall I get King, boss?” Trent asks impatiently. “Or do ya wanna start with me?”

Harris cocks his head and stares appraisingly at the pretty face of the Korean girl slumped in the chair.

He likes to use King first, but sometimes its shock brings a subject out from under before they really have enough insurance to prevent future trouble.

If there’s any chance of that, Harris uses Trent first.

This time, however, he holds her chin in his fingers, then lets it drop abruptly. This time there’ll be no trouble. She’s an excellent hypnotic study. All he has to do is ensure he uses the proper phrasings.

A person under hypnosis will not do anything violently against their principles.

If they have difficulties in dealing with, you never said, ‘shoot your husband.’ You said, ‘You’re frightened of snakes, there’s a snake who will bite you, kill it... ‘ Killing snakes is not against their moral fiber: Bang, the husband’s dead. Harris smiles.

He’s an experienced hand at hypnosis. Consciously this shy Korean refugee girl will rebel at what he has planned for her. Tactfully worded, though, she’ll purr like a pussycat in heat.

“Bring King,” he said softly to Trent. “There’ll be plenty left over for you, my boy, there’s plenty for both of you here.”

Harris crosses his legs, leans his chin on his hand, and stares at the girl. ‘It’s a dirty business,’ he thought, ‘but such a stimulating one.’

Already he’s feeling the first birth pains of a gigantic erection tingling in his loins. He lingers amid the feeling of a painful need for a moment, then puts it out of his mind as the sound of heavy footpads enters the door of Nari’s room. He turns to face King.

The big dog is a magnificent beast, a full three and a half feet at the shoulders, with a bull’s chest and the proud head of a champion. The dog pulls at the choke chain in Trent’s hand, leading the slim man at will, pulling him over to where his master sits on the ottoman.