DU: Endgame A-6
The wall is beautiful.
It’s so fascinating that I can make out every little ripple in the paint, every tiny crack near the ceiling, every shadow and every point of light cast by the objects in the room. From my chair, I can take in the entire thing at once. Then my eyelids finally close—I’ve been keeping them open for as long as possible, because I am to look at the wall, and I must obey—and when I reopen them, it’s like there’s an entirely new wall in front of me. New paint, new cracks, new shadows. I dutifully take them all in again, the last wall already forgotten and erased. I must look at the wall, and that is what I will do. Until... my eyes are so heavy... I have to let them close...
“Is she going to be okay?”
“She’ll live.” Of course she was fine. Dead to the world, maybe, but only for the time being. “And so will you, as long as you play nicely.”
Marta glanced down at my pistol. Those amazing eyes of hers narrowed, and she took a deep breath, as if trying to gather her courage. “You won’t shoot me, Paul.” Her face turned defiant. “There is no silencer on your gun. You will make way too much noise. And you will wake her up.”
All of those things were true, and I knew it. I made a big show of putting my gun back into its holster. Of course I wasn’t going to shoot her. Not only would I have every cop in Santa Monica on my ass in minutes, but I’d also waste a perfectly good asset. The fact that this perfectly good asset had some rather, um, spectacular assets of her own was also part of it. “You make a good point,” I told her, nodding my head. “But I’m not the one you have to worry about, is it? It’s Avery Berman and his goon squad that should scare the shit out of you.”
That brought a frown. Oh boy, did that bring a frown. Madame Franz wasn’t the only one who knew how to point out the painfully obvious. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have never met this Avery Berman.”
“Your phone records suggest otherwise.”
Her lips curled into the cutest snarl. I bet she’s incredible in bed. But I was here to be the tough guy, so I put on my tough guy face and pretended to be amused.
“I’m not going to arrest you, Madame... Marta. I doubt that you’d last long in jail, anyway. How long before Avery sends one of his hypnotized minions in to finish you off? Stick with me and you’ll walk away from this. But I need something from you.”
“You’re here to steal Cassie from Avery, is that what you want? Then I can help you, Paul.” She pointed to my partner, who was still thoroughly studying the wall behind us. “She’s completely under my control. They’re all conditioned to go into a very deep trance for me. For the right price, they’ll do the same for you.”
Jesus, lady, you don’t know the half of it! “This isn’t about Cassie. It’s about a woman you don’t even know. A woman you don’t even remember.“
You know how people look when what they think is reality explodes in their face? That was Marta’s look at that moment. The hypnotist discovering that she’s just another mindless cog in a very big wheel. I paused for dramatic effect, then let Tough Guy Paul continue. “You’ve got her direct number, Marta. You’re got direct access to her. And I want it.”
“Is she going to help us?”
“She has to, Cassie. Avery will kill her now, unless we get him first.”
Cassie leaned against me. She smelled like lavender. Her head burrowed into my shoulder. “So I guess I’m going back in now, huh?” She placed her hand on my leg and kept it there, lightly pressing against my pants.
Something else pressed against my pants, too, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat to hide it. “Um, Cass, what are you doing?”
“What Tara would do. What Tara should do, anyway.” She looked up at me. Those eyes. Those gorgeous, soulful eyes. “If I ever get to meet her, I’m going to tell her all about you and all about how you two should be together. She’s not just a partner to you, Paul, and I get that. A girl doesn’t need to be hypnotized to see how great you are.“
I didn’t know what to say, so I said something stupid. “Avery’s probably going to turn you back into Tara. I’m not going to see you for a while. Maybe not until this is over.”
“I know.” She leaned over and planted a kiss on my cheek, then another one on my lips. My hands reached for her face and pulled it closer, holding her lips to mine for an eternity. To my surprise, she let me have my fill. Finally, she leaned back and blew me another kiss. “That’s for Tara. Now do your thing. You said it yourself, Paul. Everything’s in place. We just need a little luck.”
There was nothing else to say. Well, there was one more thing to say. “Cassie, one two three for five, five four three two one.”
Her eyes slid closed.
“Avvverrrryyyyy!!!”
There’s no escaping me when I’m closing in for a bear hug. Many men and women have tried, but unless they have the protection of a burly security guard or three, they’re not getting away from me. Avery Berman actually has a burly security guard, but Frank is down at the front entrance and I’ve already sweet-talked my way past him. I swish forward, arms wide, the better to collect the extremely handsome man under the pergola.
He knows that he’s caught, and he graciously lets me crash into him. It’s like the Titanic meeting the iceberg. “Avery! Eeeee!” I give him an extra squeeze for good measure. “How are you, sexy man? I missed you today.”
He’s checking me out from head to toe in that slow, analytical way that Avery approaches everything. He lingers on my legs and my ass, which makes me feel vindicated—all of that time in the gym was for something, after all. I give my hips a little wiggle as his eyes gradually make their way up to my face. Avery’s got wonderful eyes. I could stare into them all day. He places his hands on my bare shoulders. “Did you go to the spa today, Cassie?”
“I did! She’s a magician, for real. And the traffic—oh my God, Avery, the traffic was insane today! All of that tension just melted away under her fingertips. I barely remember driving back here. It was like I floated here on a cloud.” I close the distance between us again and press against his chest. “You’re not too bad of a magician yourself, you know. Maybe we should make a little magic of our own.” I slide my hand over his crotch. “Break out the magic wand, maybe?”
He kisses me on the lips. He’s a good kisser, just the right amount of force and pressure and passion every time. I don’t know how he does it. Then again, he’s probably had lots of practice.
“Cassie, technetium.”
I’m falling. Everything is falling. Everything is sliding around in my mind. Then it all makes sense again. My Master commands me. “I await my commands, Master.”
He smiles. A perfect smile, of course. He’s got his arm out, like a gentleman, waiting to take mine. “Come with me, Tara.”
It’s an amazing moment. Master could command me to drown myself in the pool and I’d do so in a heartbeat, eagerly breathing in gallons of water to prevent any chance of the EMTs reviving me. He could command me to drop to my knees and suck his dick right there on the patio—hell, in the middle of downtown Hollywood—and I’d happily do it. Instead, he’s offering his arm to me like I’m the most wonderful woman in the world to him. My heart has already melted more times than I can count just thinking about my wonderful Master, but this time, it turns to lava and sets my entire body on fire. I’m going to fuck him like nobody’s business, as long as he lets me. God, I hope he lets me!
We enter the house arm-in-arm like an old married couple.
Avery holds up his hand as we enter the bedroom, and my legs freeze in place like I’ve just stepped into a puddle of glue. Yes, Master. I watch as he continues forward and around the corner.
“I’ve brought you a reward, my little hypnotist. I think you’ll like her.”
“Of course, Master.” I know that voice. Megan’s voice, soft and demure and meek, and totally unlike the Megan that old Tara knew and liked. This Megan is submissive and sexy, and my heart begins to race just thinking about her. About her and Master, together, making love and enjoying every second of it.
“Come in, Tara,” Master commands, and my legs work again. I follow the sound of his voice, trying and half-succeeding to maintain a slow, sexy walk instead of rushing into the bedroom like I’m dying to do.
Megan’s sitting on the bed, hands laced together and resting on the back of her head, chest pushed forward. She’s wearing a lacy blue negligee that exactly matches her dull, empty eyes. For once, I don’t need to wait for a command from Master. I’m on the bed before he can say anything—Megan, from the looks of her, isn’t about to complain—and soon I’m on my knees. I place my hands behind my head and jut my chest forward, showing off my tits. We’re a pair of perfect, mindless slavegirls.
Almost perfect, it turns out.
“Tara,” Master says. He’s scolding me. Very gently, but still. My heart positively aches. What did I do? How could I fix it?
“You’re still dressed.”
Oh, duh! “Yes, Master. I understand.” My hands reach for my top, but Master interrupts. “No. Climb down off the bed and take everything off. Slowly. Do a striptease for me. Obey.“
The word obey lands like a sledgehammer. Yes, of course. I must obey. I will obey. I scurry off the bed and jump to the floor, planting my feet in a wide stance. My hands rise to my chest, stripper music—what I imagine to be stripper music, anyway—plays in my head, and I begin. The top comes off first, slowly of course, catching briefly on my boobs before I yank it over my head. I make sure to give it a twirl, like a cowboy twirling a lasso, before I let it sail off into the corner of the room. It vanishes from my mind the moment it leaves my hands, and I get to work on my pants.
“Megan, obey.” Master is looking straight into her beautiful, worshipful eyes. She’s utterly in love with him, just like I am.
“Yes, Master. I hear and obey.”
“Help Tara to undress, would you please?”
She beams. She positively glows. Life comes back to her eyes and her voice. “Yes, Master! Of course!” She’s off the bed even faster than I was, and suddenly a pair of hands are caressing my body. She’s got cold hands. A part of me wants to squirm away from them, but I’ve got my orders, and so does she. We must always obey our Master.
She pulls down my pants and gently plants soft kisses on my stomach as my hips sway from side to side. I look down, caught by her mesmerizing cleavage. Down, down, down... Master is speaking to me, something about obedience and going deeper, but I can’t hear him. There’s only Megan, beautiful Megan, and my body. Deeper and deeper. Deeper and deeper. Megan’s hands are all over me, squeezing, playing, rubbing, caressing. We dance in time to the music in my head, our bodies glistening with sweat as we do a little bump and grind for Master. She sinks to her knees, and I give him the sexiest stare I can come up with. I shake my head and lick my lips. Down below, Megan slides my panties down my legs. I’m already wet, and so is she. God, I’ve never felt more alive than I do right now!
He admires us. “That’s very good, Tara. You’re a natural. I may have to hire you out to some of my associates for parties. Would you like that?”
Dancing naked for a bunch of creepy, leering old mobsters? “Of course, Master. That would be wonderful.”
He grins. “Good girl. Now ladies, come to me.”
We tackle him like sexy linebackers and pin him to the bed. Megan works on his shirt; I’ve already got his belt off. It’s a race I intend to win.