Message-ID: <25494asstr$964519807@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Delivered-To: fixup-ckought69@hotmail.com@fixme X-Original-Message-ID: <002301bff5fa$f70e4580$b6e2a1d8@leviticus> From: "Leviticus" <leviticus1@uswest.net> MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V5.50.4133.2400 Subject: {ASSM} To Catch Rhianna Part 6 (BDSM) Date: Tue, 25 Jul 2000 06:10:07 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2000/25494> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, dennyw To Catch Rhianna part 6 Ben Lane was not in London, England. Not yet anyway. While Rhianna Summer spent a hard hour trying to convince Laura Piper that there really wasn't anything Don could have done to save Amy Nelson, Ben Lane prepared to enter a nondescript office building on West 183rd street in New York City. Ben looked up at the building, his eyes clear, his demeanor in total control. He was not suffering the after effects of a drunk, because he never actually GOT drunk. No liquor had passed his lips in years and he hadn't given in yet. He had to admit it had been a close thing. If he had heard definite news about Amy's death, then he would have headed straight for a bar. Amy was his life, his reason for living, and to Ben it wasn't just an overused saying, it was the truth. He was happy in the knowledge that Amy was alive, but that happiness was tempered with the realization that things could still change. He might yet find himself in that bar. He felt sorry about the trick he pulled on Laura, making her think that he had gone off the deep end (it was easy to do, he just sucked on a bottle of Rum extract, horrible stuff but it smelled like the real thing). He had his reasons though...no, he had his instructions. Shortly after leaving Don after he told him that Amy was alive, Ben received a phone call. It was that phone call that instructed Ben to "Lose" the Pipers and how to do it, and it was that phone call that instructed him to be in this city at this time visiting this address. He obeyed the instructions given to him, because the callers identified themselves as Amy's kidnapper. Yet, he couldn't abandon the Pipers entirely, not with them thinking he hated them, which he no longer did. After hearing Don's story, he knew right away that his friend had done the only thing he could, which was keep himself alive. So to show them he meant to return and stay a part of their lives, he thought of the chastity belt trick. In a way, it amused him to think of the frustration Laura had to be going through, but it was nothing compared to what might have happened to them if Ben had refused to keep them out of things. They were safer thinking he was mad at them. Ben took a deep breath and entered the building. The lobby was richly appointed in a modern fashion, to each side was a sculpture depicting a stylized version of a man and a woman in amorous pursuits. Across from the entrance was a large reception desk manned by a large man in uniform. There appeared to be no way to get to the elevators beyond without being let through a gate controlled no doubt by the security guard. The guard stood up as Ben entered and looked at him critically. Ben was dressed in an expensive business suit and was miles away from his shaggy island look. THIS Ben Lane exuded money and power, and carried with him an air of total control. Ben knew that at this moment it was nothing but an air, and when the security guard smiled, he saw the guard knew that too. "Benjamin Lane," Ben said unnecessarily. The guard pushed a button on his desk, and after a moment, two more beefy guards came out of a concealed door. Ben stood still and allowed the two men to frisk him, and then one of them passed an electronic device of some sort all over his body while his partner stood back a few feet. Ben noticed the man was armed. Ben carried nothing with him except for the copy of that day's "USA Today," a newspaper he had been asked to bring, so the scan went quickly. Apparently satisfied that Ben wasn't wired with anything, the guard with the gadget handed his device to the guard at the desk. "Follow me, Sir," he said. Ben followed as they were buzzed through the gate, and was aware of the armed guard following. The threesome boarded an elevator and rode up only a few floors before disembarking. They were in another lobby, this one done up in marble and gold leaf. There was only one door. Without hesitating, Ben stepped forward and walked to the door. The guards he had come up with took stations on either side of the elevator. Ben figured they'd be there when it came time for him to leave. He pushed open the large door and stepped into a conference room. Seated at the large conference table were two men in suits almost as expensive as his, and an old woman in a dress that looked like it cost more than all three suits now in the room. Ben thought that the woman might have been quite striking earlier in her life, but her ability to draw men in with her looks was long past. Yet there was power there, Ben saw it in her eyes. While her body may have aged, her mind was certainly still young. The woman had the place of honor at the head of the table, and Ben knew instinctively that she was the one in charge. "Sit down, Mr. Lane." said the woman in a strong voice. Ben took a chair at the opposite end of the table. Immediately one of the two men got up and walked over to him. In front of Ben were placed several photographs and Ben's heart gave a lurch. In the pictures was Amy. She was naked, and her hands were held behind her somehow, but it was definitely her. In front of her was a copy of the "USA Today," the same copy that Ben had with him. Obviously, she was still alive. Ben swallowed, loosing his calm for a second. He reached forward and picked up the pictures. Amy looked well, although Ben could see whip marks on her thighs. There was also a wide collar around her neck, and something he couldn't make out hanging from her bare pussy. She didn't look frightened though, just tired and resigned. Ben wondered what they were doing to her. "You'll get pictures like that each day," said the woman, "as long as you cooperate, that is." "I want to talk to her," Ben said, looking up at his hostess. "You get the photos, nothing more," was his reply. Ben didn't like that, but figured he hadn't much choice in the matter. "What do you want?" The woman smiled, a cold smile. She gestured to the man at Ben's side, who left the room for a moment before returning with coffee. He placed a cup at Ben's elbow. Ben ignored it. The woman took a cup herself, and began to idly stir it with a spoon the man also gave her. Now her smile was one of amusement as she stared at Ben who stared back at her. "What Mr. Lane, no threats, no accusations? No cries of 'you'll never get away with this?'!" She laughed. "Really, Mr. Lane, you disappoint me." Ben had considered yelling, he was angry enough, but instead decided on a different ploy. These people had Amy, and until he was in a position of strength, he wasn't going to give them anything more than he had to. He stayed silent. The woman stirred her coffee for a moment while she and the two men with her stared at Ben, then her amused smile fell away. "Perhaps, Charles," she said to one of them, "we made a mistake with Mr. Lane here. Taking his girl from him evidently hasn't affected him in the slightest. He makes no demands, he asks nothing about her; I doubt he cares anything for her at all. You may as well send word for her to be put down!" "I care!" Ben said loudly. "Do you now?" the old woman asked him, staring at him under heavy eyelids, "We'll see." "What do you want?" Ben asked again, wishing he had the freedom ask her more about Amy, but doubting he would get any answers. "What is she worth to you, Mr. Lane?" "Everything I have!" he replied honestly. The old woman smiled that cold smile again. "I'm sorry Mr. Lane, but that's just not enough." Ben took a deep breath, wondering what she meant by that. "Really, Benjamin, may I call you Benjamin? Do you think I'm stupid? We know that your personal wealth is actually rather small. You keep an average of a million American dollars split up in several different accounts in several countries, with everything you earn beyond that amount automatically diverted to various children's charities and hospitals throughout the world. Millions each year are thrown away by you!" "I don't consider it throwing the money away," Ben said. "No, you wouldn't, would you. You aren't even concerned about the tax values of what you do. Other men in your position would have an army of lawyers and accountants fighting for every tax break you could get for such large donations, yet you don't take more than a basic deduction for all your troubles." The woman took a sip of her coffee and then resumed her stirring. "I'm not doing it for the tax breaks," Ben said. The woman sighed. "No matter. The million you have is simply not enough, and consolidating your company and selling its assets doesn't even come close to what I have in mind, either." "What DO you have in mind?" Ben asked, thinking he knew where she was going already. "Have you ever heard the phrase, don't kill the goose that lays the golden eggs?" She laughed. "It is ironic. You, Benjamin are the golden goose, and it is indeed gold in which you deal. I'm told you have a rare talent for trading in this particular commodity, a talent that reaps millions of dollars each year in pure profits, and that it is expected that you will continue to do so for many, many years to come. Well, Benjamin, we have no desire to stop you from working at what you do so well, laying your golden eggs. But we do have a say in where those eggs go to." The old woman put her coffee down and stood up. "Mr. Lane, you have one month to stop your donations to all those useless charities. We will have a new account for you to send that money to. Since you are so intent on throwing that money away, you can throw it at us. You will be allowed to keep your own million, but no more; neither will you be allowed to divert or reinvest in any other manner than you are right now. Believe me, we will know if you change your business practices." Ben sat for a moment before replying. "And I get Amy back?" "Goodness no, Benjamin. Why would we want to do that? No, no, Benjamin, all you get from us is our promise that she will be kept alive, and a set of photos each day so you can watch her progress." "Will I get to see her, for real?" Ben asked hopefully. The woman smiled. "Maybe if you're good," she said slowly. What else could Ben do, he felt trapped. "Okay." "You'll receive wiring instructions in a few days," he was told, and then she left the room, taking her coffee with her. The two men stayed behind and gestured for him to leave the way he came. Shaken, and very worried, Ben was escorted out of the building and out on to the street. He had a flight to London to catch. ---***--- Inside a comfortable lounge, the old woman settled into a chair and smiled. One of her flunkies joined her, kneeling on the floor at her side. He was a lot more comfortable on his knees; sitting in chairs was a part of his past not a part of his present. He had a devil of a time keeping still. "That went well, didn't it, Charles?" asked the woman, gazing out the window at the buildings across the street. "Yes, Ma'am," Charles answered. "Is that your honest answer?" Charles was uncomfortable with the question, but he had served his Mistress for several years now and was constantly by her side except for when she was off on her special project. At least THAT was now over. "Ma'am, he really didn't have a choice, did he?" "Of course he had a choice, Charles, men like that always have choices. The trick is to give them only the choices you want them to have!" "What were his choices, Ma'am?" "Realistically? He could have just written off the girl and walked away, I've seen it happen before. It's very easy to walk away from a slave, Charles. There are so many more to pick from." Charles recognized the friendly warning and smiled. "What if he had walked away? We would have lost!" The old woman shook her head. "Not really, we'd still have a slave to sell. A little old, but even us old ladies can be useful," she chuckled. Charles laughed too, until Edward, the other male slave came in bearing a file which he handed to the old woman before dropping to his knees. "The latest on Rhianna Summer, Ma'am," he said. Charles lost his good humor. Rhianna had very recently become a pet project of his Mistress at the request of a friend of hers. She was the reason Mistress left him alone for days on end. He didn't like being separated. The woman paged through the thin folder, taking her time as she read its contents. "She's certainly making progress, isn't she?" "It won't be long before she finds Cricket and his operation," said Edward. "Oh, I don't doubt that. Miss Summer is a very capable young woman. Still, it doesn't matter. Arrangements have already been made." The old woman handed the file back to her slave and resumed looking out the window. "Such a NICE girl, too!" ---***--- A couple of hours later, the "nice girl" was back on Townsend's island, swimming in the warm Atlantic Ocean. She was alone on the beach, and used the time to think about the Pipers and her case. It was getting more and more interesting. She was convinced that the 'Kajira' had been boarded by two different groups. The first time the boarders had only been concerned with getting back their property, and marooned the men in order to buy them some escape time. The second group had other plans though, and Rhianna wondered if Laura would have been taken as well. Rhianna wasn't as sure about the second group as she was the first, but one thing she knew was that somehow the two groups, while differing in tactics and equipment, had to be connected. Someone had to tell them where the 'Kajira' was! Rhianna had her suspicions about that too. The agent let herself float on her back, watching the darkening sky. She felt quite alone under the emerging stars, something she hadn't been in a long time. Usually surrounded by several million people it was a novel experience for her. She ran her hands down her body, and smiled at the sudden urge she had to leave her swimsuit on the beach. Earlier she swore she wouldn't undress on this island again, but the emptiness of the beach and the secret enjoyment she got from swimming naked overwhelmed her. She began to think of Matthew Anderson and the community in which he now lived. An unusual place, filled with people who had turned their backs on most of what industrial man had built, to create their own society. What impressed her most about those people though, was how they showed none of the moral awkwardness that plagued the civilized world she knew. These were people that knew who they were and what their place was in life. Not arrogant, but nonjudgmental. They weren't consumed about the trappings of life, and weren't ashamed to show themselves as themselves. Social nudity was quite accepted at the compound, for what better way was there to show how everyone was equal? Rhianna, much to her surprise, actually missed the place. More so, she missed HIM! Why hadn't he contacted her? Rhianna put Matthew out of her mind and swam to shore. She toweled off and put on her beach robe for the walk back to her room. Tomorrow, she was supposed to interview the host of the party where the Pipers met Kiri. It was one of the few leads she had and the logical next step. Hopefully, then she would have something new to work on. Entering her room, she was surprised to see a different naked male slave chained to the ring in the floor. Ignoring him, Rhianna changed into some thick pajamas in the bathroom, and then climbed into bed. She was asleep before she knew it. End of Part 6 Catch up on all my stories at http://www.dajungle.com/stories/leviticus If you're having problems contacting me, try leviticusthebard@hotmail.com -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> | | FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+