Chapter 3

The wine drunk during the meal left Karl slightly tipsy. He stretched lazily as Kathy cleared away the dishes, her tolerance for alcohol evidently a lot higher than his own. She seemed to have almost taken up residence over the past few weeks, accepting much of the domestic load and allowing him to focus on work and spend more time with the girls. He'd just received a promotion to team leader and welcomed the extra money that accompanied it.

Kathy had made a play for him the previous evening but he'd politely declined, citing it as too soon since Claire's disappearance. He knew that he was only delaying the inevitable; sooner or later he'd sleep with her. It would take great finesse as the girls would surely not approve in the slightest.

The insurance had paid out on Claire's scrapped SUV and the money was sitting in a savings account gathering interest. It would pay for a welcome holiday and help finally lay Claire's ghost to rest. The car's Datacore had confirmed what he already knew. After dropping the children off at school, she had driven around randomly before heading over to the east side. Picking up speed, the vehicle had shot off the dock and quickly become engulfed in the deep water. The police had not recovered a body but Sikorski had told him that the river currents ran strong and could easily have carried her as far as the coast and then out to sea. Claire was the love of his life but now he'd lost her forever.

Kathy returned from the kitchen and he made the appropriate gesture of gratitude whilst leaving her in no doubt that she'd be sleeping alone. She made an excuse to leave and he escorted her to the door, watching as she safely crossed the street to her own front door. She was a good woman but he still couldn't let Claire go sufficiently to commit to another relationship, even a casual one.

Grace had settled into a comfortable routine. When she wasn't with a client, she would relax in Sierra's company. Their frequent lovemaking had become an integral part of her life and she'd developed a strong attachment to the older woman. Leonard visited often and both she and Sierra regularly revelled in the comfort that his body provided. He frequently told them that they were his favourite people in the entire world and they never had cause to doubt him.

A deeply embedded desire to please provided Grace a degree of fulfilment and Mason seemed happy with how well she'd adjusted to life at the club.

She'd learned that punters fell into a number of distinct categories. The obviously unattached were easily pleased; eager just to have her warm body pressed against them whilst they panted and expended their energies inside her. The married type usually sought something not obtainable at home; she'd dutifully service them with her mouth or occasionally allow them to take her from behind. It was the third category that generally caused her the most concern. Insular and cold, they were unpredictable and potentially dangerous.

Most of Mason's men belonged in the latter group. They would use her callously and take great pleasure in inventing perverse acts for her to perform. Grace complied, even though an inner voice told her that she should protest.

The man sitting beside Mason fell decidedly into the troublesome category. With his lean physique, closely cropped hair and chiselled features, his aspect conveyed both authority and arrogance. Mason deferred respectfully to the stranger and she gathered from their conversation that he worked for the local law enforcement.

"She's new," Detective Harwood observed, scrutinizing Grace coldly. "Can she dance?"

Mason gestured and Grace made her way to the raised dais then gyrated gently in time to the music. At his signal, she slipped her gown to the floor and danced nude. Heads around the bar turned and watched her alluring form with keen interest.

"Why don't you find a friend to keep her company?" Harwood suggested.

Looking irate, Mason walked over to Sierra and spoke a few quiet words in her ear. The woman shed her robe and joined Grace. Each danced in their own space but cast one another sultry glances from time to time.

"Happy now?" Mason spat, aggrieved at having to indulge his unwelcome guest.

"For now," Harwood replied, easing out of his chair and taking up position beside the stage to observe the naked pair more closely.

"Get them to play with one another," the detective demanded.

Grace overheard his words and sneaked up on Sierra from behind. She wrapped her arms around her lover's waist then smoothed them over her flesh until she lovingly cupped the brunette's breasts. Grinding her crotch lewdly against Sierra's rump, she undulated seductively whilst trailing her tongue along the nape of the woman's neck. Sierra purred contentedly, oblivious to the gathering hoard of admirers and their cries of encouragement.

"Get the blonde down on her knees," Harwood snarled. "I want to see her tongue at work."

"We're not supposed to do that in the main room," Mason informed him indignantly.

"I don't give a flying fuck. I make the law around here."

"Do as he says," Mason reluctantly commanded, loath to provide the punters with a free floor show.

Dropping to the ground, Grace pressed her face against Sierra's sex. She licked enthusiastically whilst ensuring the detective had an unobstructed view of the action. Although slightly perturbed at exhibiting herself so publicly, Sierra's misgivings soon evaporated as Grace ignited her passion. Entwining her fingers in her friend's mane, she pulled Grace's face forcibly against her crotch.

Sierra groaned as she perceived pressure against her anus and cried out when a slim finger eased inside the tight sheath. The crowd cheered the pair on, enjoying the spectacle almost as much as Sierra who gasped ecstatically as she rapidly approached climax. Several men rubbed themselves through their clothes, unable to restrain their baser instincts when confronted with such licentiousness. Sierra's legs turned to jelly as her orgasm peaked and she collapsed prostrate across the stage. Grace looked towards Mason for further instructions, her flushed face glistening with her friend's slick juices.

Mason smiled and held out his hand to help Grace down from the stage then led her back towards the table that he currently shared with Harwood. The crowd dispersed except for two men who began haggling for Sierra's favour. Harry accepted a large wad of cash from each and the pair led the enervated woman away up the stairs.

"I can arrange a room for you if you'd like to get to know her a little better," Mason informed his guest, indicating Grace who stood nude and expectantly beside them.

"You think that I'd risk one of your disease ridden hovels?" Harwood spat maliciously. "Pardon me if I decline."

"As you wish," Mason muttered.

"She can suck me off under the table as we talk."

Mason bristled visibly but indicated for Grace to comply. The girl crawled under the table, the heavy cloth hiding her actions from casual observation. The detective felt his zipper pulled down and delicate fingers extract his manhood. He smiled as warmth enveloped his cock and reached down to control the pace.

"Perhaps you heard about my colleague?" Harwood enquired. "Sergeant Grant."

It took all Mason's resolve not to react. It was the same man that had raided the club repeatedly during the previous month. Several days ago, Harry and two of his men had caught up with the off-duty officer. They had beaten him severely and from all accounts the man lay comatose in the local hospital.

"I heard that he got mugged. How is he doing?"

"He died this morning without regaining consciousness."

"I am so sorry to hear that," Mason replied unsympathetically. "You can't be too careful these days."

"If you had a problem with him, you should come to me rather than take the law into your own hands."

"You don't honestly believe that I had anything to do with it?" Mason was indignant.

"If I could prove anything, we wouldn't be even having this conversation. We can resolve this like men; blood for blood."

He paused then pulled Grace into his crotch, forcing himself deeply down her throat. Pressing her nose firmly against his belly, he cut off her air supply and sighed as the girl struggled desperately to draw breath. Her throat muscles convulsing around his girth provided him immense delight.

"Believe me when I say that her death will bring me great pleasure," Harwood sighed as he neared climax.

Mason looked on impotently as the corrupt cop choked away the girl's life. The man gasped as he came but kept the girl pinned in place until her motions slackened.

"Bastard," Mason spat.

"Don't be such a sore loser."

"You didn't need to do that."

"I'll grant you she was a sexy little thing, but the point had to be made."

He withdrew and released Grace, who slumped lifelessly to the ground.

"Times are hard. Grant told you what the new terms were and I expect them to be honoured. I'll await your first instalment."

Harwood rearranged his fly then stood. Smiling wickedly, he walked away leaving Mason with the dilemma of what to do with Grace. Devastated and enraged, he crouched on the floor and cradled the girl's head in his lap. Harry crept closer to help but both were surprised when moments later Grace's eyes fluttered open and she coughed violently, clearing her throat of the man's viscous seed.

"Grace," Mason gasped. "I thought..."

"Water," Grace croaked.

Harry disappeared to return with a tall glass. The disconsolate girl drank, grimacing as her traumatized muscles were forced to swallow. They helped her to sit up and it soon became clear that despite her ordeal, she was otherwise unharmed.

"Where's Sierra?" she asked quietly.

"She's entertaining," Mason informed her. "Why don't you go up to your room and wait for her?"

Grace nodded and left the bar, relieved to have survived the encounter with the sadistic detective. She had struggled for breath as he raped her throat, passing out when he clogged her windpipe with his cloying deposit. When she awoke, the man had thankfully departed, leaving her with a painful legacy.

Reclining atop the thin mattress, she dozed until the door creaked open and Sierra joined her. The older woman looked pale and wan; her make-up smeared by the tears that coursed down her cheeks.

"Sierra, are you okay?" Grace exclaimed as she jumped up to comfort her friend.

"Let me lie down," she whimpered. "I'm so sore."

"What happened?"

"There were two of them. They treated me like I was nothing. One of them insisted on fucking my backside. I think I'm bleeding."

Grace eased the dejected woman onto the bed, face down. Sierra's anus was raw and inflamed, with traces of blood oozing from small cuts. Grace rushed to apply antiseptic before the wounds became infected. The woman gasped in agony as her friend treated her, hardly able to stand any contact against the tortured flesh.

"I'm getting too old for this," Sierra grumbled morosely.

The younger girl sympathized, finding it incredible that her companion had lived this life for as long as she had.

A week later, in the lounge, Grace had been serving drinks all evening to Nabu, a visiting trader from Caliban. The vast country located in the northern hemisphere still hosted a thriving slave trade, and it was renowned as a source of cheap labour. The Oceania authorities placed heavy import duties on their goods but with lax and corrupt customs controls, rampant smuggling proliferated.

Nabu had plied her with drinks but she'd taken an instant dislike to the arrogant foreigner, realizing immediately that he was one of the unpredictable minority. She feigned drunkenness and soon planned to pass out to release her from any possible obligations.

Mason appeared at her table with Sierra. He was eagerly chasing a steady supply of cheap consumer electronics to flood the domestic market through a chain of front companies. He'd already corrupted the local trade officials and just needed to negotiate a suitably low price of supply from the trader.

"I thank you for your generous offer," the trader ventured unctuously, "but first I think I will partake of your famed hospitality."

"Which of my beautiful girls would you like?" Mason offered grudgingly.

"Why the two ladies seated at this table of course."

Mason's obsequious smile froze for an instant but his greed overrode any prevalent concerns.

"Both?" he asked inquisitively.

"Is it too much to ask?"

"Of course not, please, be my guest."

Nabu rose and Grace realized that she'd missed the opportunity to employ her scam. She took solace from the fact she'd have Sierra for company once the boorish trader had finished with them. They walked upstairs arm in arm with Grace dropping the pretence of inebriation. Nabu opened the door to the suite then followed them inside, bolting the door to prevent any interruption.

"Get undressed," he ordered, all display of civility abandoned once beyond sight of his host. His eyes held a cruel, sadistic look and Grace felt a sense of foreboding about his intentions.

Nevertheless, both girls shed what little they wore and stood defenceless before him. He positioned Sierra on the bed facing downwards and Grace had a sinking feeling about how he planned to use her. Nabu stood a pace behind the prostrate girl and removed his belt before pushing his trousers to the ground.

"You know what to do baby," he told Grace.

She bristled at his words but obediently dropped to her knees and took him in her mouth. The man raised his arm and viciously slashed the belt across Sierra's buttocks. Grace heard the crack and the shrill cry of pain as the woman suffered under the shock of the blow and immediately abandoned her duties.

"Did I say stop?" Nabu growled, holding up the belt menacingly.

Despite the sobbing wail from the bed, Grace complied. When he lashed Sierra a second time however, her concerns for her friend's welfare overcame her, and she stood up to make her objections known.

"Stop that! You're hurting her!"

He pushed Grace heavily to the ground then whipped Sierra savagely across her back with the flat of the belt. Unwilling to tolerate the abuse any longer, Grace jumped to her feet and forcibly shoved the man away, but this only served to further antagonize him. He slammed his fist into her stomach causing her to double over in agony.

The sound of the belt striking Sierra's flesh once more, and the ensuing pitiful wail galvanized her into action. She straightened up and punched the trader in the face, bloodying his eye and sending him reeling backwards. Like a raging bull, Nabu charged her and they exchanged several heavy blows which left them both dazed and panting breathlessly. She felt a trickle of blood run from her nose but stood her ground defiantly.

"Leave her alone, you bastard!"

Grace momentarily took her attention off her opponent and glanced at Sierra, lying motionless on the bed. The shock of the unexpected assault had rendered her incapable of movement.

Nabu made to strike Grace again and she jumped sideways to dodge his blow. His move was a feint to cover the lateral slash of the belt that tore across her flank. White hot pain engulfed her side and she quickly retreated to avoid further punishment. She examined herself, discovering a deep welt that broke the flesh and from which blood now flowed freely.

The murderous look of intent in the trader's eyes convinced her that she must stop him before he caused even greater injury. She attacked, ducking under his guard and gathering all her strength into one forceful blow. Her fist struck home with a sickening crunch that lifted him slightly off his feet. He staggered across the room, arms flailing, to land atop a flimsy wooden dresser. The table collapsed beneath his weight and Grace quickly advanced, ready to strike again if he attempted to rise.

"Don't call me baby," Grace spat.

Several seconds later, the man still hadn't stirred and she staggered to unbolt the door and call for help. Harry and another man swept into the room and surveyed the carnage.

"Get Mason," Harry instructed his colleague, bending down to examine the fallen trader.

As her anger subsided, Grace observed for the first time the unnatural angle of the man's head. Her worst fears were confirmed when Harry confirmed that the man was dead.

"He was hurting Sierra," Grace protested vehemently. "He attacked me when I tried to stop him."

Mason assessed the situation instantly on entering the room. Grace backed against the wall to avoid his wrath but much to her surprise he went straight over to comfort Sierra. Two vivid welts decorated each buttock and blood tinged the vertical slashes across her back and thighs.

Enraged at what had transpired, Mason strode toward the trader and kicked the corpse several times with all his strength. Harry restrained him, desperately trying to convince his boss that the Caliban was already dead and further abuse counter-productive.

"Get rid of this piece of shit," Mason exclaimed. "Drop him down a deep hole where nobody will find his filthy, rotten carcass."

Mason finally turned his attention to Grace and winced at her injuries. Both her eyes were blackened and crimson rivulets dribbled down her face from her bloodied nose and split lip. The left side of her body was bleeding badly from the deep gash produced by the edge of the trader's belt.

"That looks painful," he remarked.

"It looks worse than it is," Grace replied, amazed that the pain was not overwhelming. She wondered whether once the initial shock wore off she'd really begin to suffer.

"Help me with Sierra," Mason directed.

Between him and Grace, they half walked, half carried the distraught woman along the corridor to her room and laid her face down upon the bed. Mason carefully cleaned her lacerations and applied an antiseptic salve that caused her to cry out from the intense stinging. He sedated her with strong sleeping tablets then waited by her side until she lapsed into a deep slumber. Only then did Mason examine Grace and realize the severity of her injuries.