Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
User Unspecified
As per our last proposal, you will be collected by an unnamed driver and hooded in the back of the car. You will not know where you are going, as the journey will be in total silence.
On arrival you will be stripped, cuffed in shackles and led to your destination. From this point onwards, you will serve us however we see fit. Your hood will not be removed at any time, under any circumstances.
On this occasion, your proposal will begin with an interview, as there are a number of things we need to discuss with you, as per your position as an entertainer at The Agency.
As an organisation, we would like to offer our support, but note that our questioning will be very probing.
We understand this may make you uncomfortable, but it is entirely necessary.
Should the interview end positively, and you feel in a position to engage with us on a proposal, that would be excellent.
Our terms are as standard.
There will be a significant number of men who will be using you for BDSM, pain play and sex. As you know, our tastes can get extreme – so, please be certain of your limits.
You can use your safe word at any time, and if you should choose to, you will be escorted out of the premises immediately and driven back to your initial location. You will be paid up until the minute you decide to withdraw.
Still, the hood will not be removed.
We take aftercare seriously. If needed, your driver will happily escort you back inside and ensure you are safe and comfortable before departing.
Please note, you do not have permission to discuss this proposal on any of the Agency forums, it is strictly confidential.
This proposal will be vague, extreme, but safe. You have the assurances of the Agency, but please consider this carefully before accepting.
Duration: Six hours
Proposal price: ￡60,000
Istill can’t believe I get paid sixty grand for this kind of gig.
It’s utter insanity. But then again, so is some of the stuff involved in it, so it’s swings and roundabouts.
Not everyone can say they get fucked with stinging nettles in their day job, or get beaten by a roomful of anonymous sadists while screaming in pain.
Fucking hell though, I loved it last time. I took one hell of a long time to recover, but I sure did love it. The founders tore my pussy to shreds with clamps, and clips, and a single tail whip, and as for my tits… they were bruised beyond belief when they were done with me.
Still, I’d do it all over again. The sixty grand is an incredible bonus for an experience of a lifetime. I’m lucky to get another go.
But… an interview? Just the thought of being interrogated by the founders gives me a whole lot more nerves than the thought of getting stinging nettles fucked into my cunt.
“Just stay calm and be truthful, baby” Josh said when I showed him the proposal.
Rationale tells me he’s right. The tight knot of nerves in my belly tells me otherwise.
But I’ll try to stay calm, and answer truthfully.
“It’s all you can do” Josh said and he’s right about that as well.
I dress in an easy outfit to be stripped out of, but nothing tight this time.
It hurt too bad for my wounds to be wrapped up tight in PVC.
I go for something light and floaty. A loose black gown with bell sleeves, I don’t bother with underwear for this proposal, because it will mean nothing.
I’ll be naked and hooded while the founders use me, and I won’t get a single glimpse of them.
Not a peep. Which only makes the nerves in my stomach squirm and tighten some more, an odd sensation when your pussy is tingling at the same time.
Sinister spice is such a crazy aphrodisiac.
Josh gives me a thumbs up when I show him. He holds out my coat for me, ready to put on once I’ve given him a final twirl.
“Use the safe word if you need to, Ells. You’ve been out of the game long enough for this to be a mega fucking shocker.”
He’s right, it will be, but I tell myself not to give a shit. Talk about getting back on the horse after a fall. I’ll be riding an unbroken stallion, but who cares? The excitement more than makes up for the fear. At least I think it does.
I wait for the driver at the end of the street when the time comes.
I’m nervous as fuck when the black Bentley pulls up, my legs shaky as I open the rear door and slip inside.
The driver doesn’t need to give me any instructions through the mirrored glass divider.
I’ll never forget the routine after last time. It’s emblazoned into my psyche.
I buckle myself into the seat, then take the hood from beside me, slipping it over my head and securing it with the ties. My breaths are warm inside, the fabric closing me in, but I feel ok with it this time. I’m safe with the founders, even though they might push me to hell and back.
There is no indication of where I’m headed once the journey begins.
Just the rumble of the car as I experience the early throes of sensory deprivation.
I try to focus on my breathing and keep my head from whirring through the potential outcomes, but it’s hard.
My mind is straining to jump deep into the abyss of what ifs, my skin prickling as possibilities occur.
Will it be like last time I was in this position?
Will the founders’ hot, filthy games be of the same flavour, or will they have a whole different world in store?
One thing that doesn’t leave me though, no matter how many times I pull my consciousness back to my breathing, is what they are going to ask me during the inquisition stage. Will I have to defend myself? Because I will do. I can do. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove myself innocent of any crime.
Connor can say whatever he likes to the rest of the world, and it’s up to the masses if they believe his bullshit, but when it comes to the founders and the masters of my career, it’s a whole other story.
“Just stay calm and be truthful, baby.”
It doesn’t matter how the founders choose to question me, I’ll tell them everything they need to know, with full honesty. And then I’ll take whatever they want to give me, no matter how much it hurts.
I’m seriously disoriented by time the car takes a left turn and pulls up onto the same smooth driveway as my last encounter with the founders.
I remember this part, and my heartbeat notches up another few gears.
The door to my side opens in a flash when the car stops, and the cold air hits me like a battering ram as an arm reaches in to unbuckle me.
“Welcome, Holly,” a low, deep voice says.
The man is bulky, I can feel it as he pulls me out of the car and against him. I hear the jangle of my bag as he takes it from the back seat.
I wonder if it’s the same man from last time…
He leads me along, and I rely on him for balance, Glad I opted for simple pumps, rather than precarious stilettos.
I hold back nervous whimpers as he instructs me of a step, step, step coming up, and I manage the ascent, in sync with his directions.
After clearing the steps he guides me through a doorway. I hear the door close behind us. Heavy.
“We’ll keep your bag safe,” the man says, and lets me go as I nod for him. “I’m going to strip you now,” he tells me, and I nod again.
He takes off my coat, and there is someone else alongside him now, I can hear them shuffling around.
He must hand them my coat before he lifts the dress up and over my head, being careful not to disturb my hood.
Jesus, I feel so cold and exposed without it.
It’s instinctive to want to wrap my arms around my chest to cover myself, but I remember the instructions from last time. They boom through my head.
No hiding!
There will never be any hiding in this place.
“Shoes off,” the voice says, and I rely on his arm for balance as I kick my pumps off.
I remember the jangle of heavy chains from last time, but it doesn’t stop me jumping when I hear them fresh.
“Arms out in front of you.”
I do as I’m told, shivering as the cuffs are fastened securely around my wrists.
Thick leather, with buckles. Buckles and heavy chains.
My nipples must be as hard as bullets, but whoever is preparing me has no intention of playing or warming me up.
He lowers himself to fasten my ankles into the same kind of bonds, and there we have it.
I’m trussed up like hooded, bound convict.
I feel like a criminal awaiting sentence as he takes my arm and directs me along.
We must have made it a fair way through a corridor when the man leading me drops so his face is in mine.
“Holly, I’d like to reinforce that you can use your safe word at any time, and the session will cease immediately.
Should you do so, I will collect you and return you to the main hallway.
I will then uncuff you, and get you dressed again.
The car will be waiting to take you back. Do you understand?”
I nod, remembering the same instructions as last time.
“Yes,” I say.
“Under no circumstances will you remove your hood, even after using your safe word. You must trust in us that the session is over, and you are safe. Do you accept?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. Then, in that case, your proposal starts now. Let stage one begin.”
I hear the creak of a door opening – clearly thick, heavy and wooden – and then he leads me inside and there’s carpet under my bare feet.
I figure this is going to be the same kind of hall as I was in last time around.
I prepare for my chains to be hoisted up high over my head, leaving me vulnerable on tiptoes, awaiting my fate.
But I’m wrong. The carpet continues under my feet, and I’m led along until I feel a bulk of leather at my side.
An armchair from the feel of it.
“Sit,” the man says, and lowers me into the seat.
Of course. The interrogation is coming first… that’s what the proposal told me. This is stage one.