Sarah Fisher - The contract

Angela swallowed hard, feeling her heart skip a beat as the woman approached, with her dark eyes turned towards Angela. She held out a hand in invitation. Unsteadily Angela got to her feet.

Behind her stood one of Deuvar's clients, an anonymous man whose cold flinty eyes belied his desire. Slowly, almost without thinking, Angela slipped off her coat and the thin dress she wore beneath, they slithered to the floor unnoticed. The man smiled as he drank in the details of the harness that Peter Howard had bought for her.

She bit her lip and then stepped towards him, her heavy curves accentuated by the fire light. He stroked her breasts, weighing them in his cold palms, thumbing her already erect nipples. With practised skill his fingers moved lower, fingering her sex with almost professional disinterest. If he noticed the slick wetness within his expression did not reveal it. Now he turned her, an icy finger slipping across the tight dark bud of her anus. He grunted and tapped her on the shoulder. She stood still, trembling slightly.

"On you knees," he snapped. "Have you been taught nothing?"

Angela complied without protest. He eyed her speculatively and then turned towards Johnson's slave. "She'll do." He held out his hand.

The dark woman handed him a slim crop. The man smiled thinly and flexed it into an arc. Angela felt a tremble of expectation as the man stepped behind her. The crop cut through the night air like a knife, exploding across her buttocks. She let out a wild sob, her whole body electrified by the heat of the crop's caress. Her whole soul responded, opening herself, surrendering as the man lay on a barrage of mind numbing blows. Tears of pain and pleasure ran down her face. She flexed her body, dropping her belly so that her sex opened, inviting her unknown master to take what she was so willing to give. He ran a hand over the glowing flesh between her legs and grunted with satisfaction.

"Bring her up to my suite," he said thickly. "Half an hour. Have Leonora arrange for her to be shaved." His fingers dipped again into the wet pit between her legs.

Angela shivered; she had obviously passed whatever test he had set. She slumped forward as she heard the man's footsteps receding.

"Deuvar," she mumbled thickly. Johnson's body slave helped her to her feet. She embraced the strange woman. "I can stay?"

The woman nodded. Angela's stomach contracted; now she just had to see Peter Howard.

It hadn't occurred to Peter that they might have Emily in the office. For an instant he hesitated in the doorway, taking in the detail of the naked girl, huddled asleep against the sofa. It hit him like a body blow when he realised the tiny naked creature was Emily. The quips, the confident words he had intended using as a greeting, faded and died on his lips.

"Emily?" he whispered incredulously.

His voice was enough to wake her. She looked up, disorientated, barely conscious. Recognition blossomed on her face a split second later.

"Oh, Peter," she gasped, half sobbing, her body flushing. She scrambled unsteadily to her feet and rushed towards him.

Peter felt tears of anger and regret as he closed his arms around her.

"My God," he said in an undertone. "What have they done to you?"

Her reply was a single tear.

"Yes, yes, very touching," snapped Johnson. "You know damned well what we've done to your precious little Emily. What I need to know is what you've done with Magenta."

Peter tried to get a grip on his thoughts. Magenta was slipping through his mind as he studied Emily. They had pierced her nipples, shaved her, on her buttocks was the angry kiss of a brand mark. He shivered. They were things he would have done himself, games they would have played. He wanted to touch her, taste her, reclaim her for himself. He felt his desire rekindling.

"Magenta!" Johnson hissed coldly.

Peter fought to regain his composure and centre his thoughts. He glanced up at the office clock. Half an hour was all he had left before his plan clicked into action.

He coughed to clear his throat, aware that his legs were unsteady, longing to sit down. He leant against Emily, trying to disguise his weakness as a clumsy embrace, all the time clinging to the Magenta. He looked up at Johnson.

"Firstly, you have to agree to let us both go."

Johnson snorted. "Oh, for God sake, Peter, why begin with melodramatics? You and I both know that you can't escape the people we work for. There's nowhere in the world that will be safe. Unless of course you co-operate and give me back Magenta." He paused. "If you do, I'll see what I can arrange."

Peter stepped forward, hand outstretched and offered Johnson the box he was carrying.

Johnson stared at him disdainfully. "You must think I'm totally stupid. We know you've already copied it. I want the new key. I need to know where it is."

Peter nodded. Johnson was saying all the things he had anticipated. "You're right. There is a new Magenta, but I won't let you know where it is until I and Emily are out of here."

Johnson pulled a face. "Oh really. What if I were to keep Emily here to persuade you? She rather likes it here. You certainly have an eye for quality, Peter. We have a contract she signed, agreeing to stay with us for a year and to be honest I don't think she would take that much persuading. Look at her, she is a perfect body slave. Did you receive my little video. Magnificent, wasn't it?"

Peter bit his lip. He had to stay in control. He forced a grin, trying hard to retain an air of bluff confidence.

"That's my deal. We leave, and you get the whereabouts of the new key." He flicked his eyes over the clock again; time was ticking by. "Less than half an hour and you'll have all the information you want."

Johnson sat down at the desk. "Half an hour?"

"That's right."

Johnson rested his finger tips together thoughtfully. "And then, I'll know where you've hidden the new key?"

"Yes. Look, I've left the key in the door for you. It'll be impossible to miss."

Johnson nodded slowly. "All right. Take her," he said dismissively, indicating Emily with his eyes. "But let me remind you, Peter, if I haven't got Magenta in half an hour you are in deep deep trouble. The world is not big enough to hide you or her. Do we understand each other?"

"Absolutely."

"Go then."

Peter turned, with Emily in the crook of his arm, and closed the door behind him.

Leonora let out a long low breath. Max stared at the closed door in disbelief. "You let him go?"

Johnson nodded. "Where the hell are they going to run to in half an hour? I'll have someone from security follow them. Whatever happens they won't get very far."

On the landing Peter grabbed Emily by the arm. "We've got to get out of here," he said.

She looked up at him with large moist eyes. "I'm so sorry," she began.

He shook his head. "Not your fault. I should have come for you sooner."

Emily sobbed. "I thought you were dead. I thought…"

Peter pressed his lips to hers. "Shush. I'm here now. everything is going to be alright."

The feeling of her slim body in his arms made him shiver. She was a feast, delightful. Feelings of love and desire bubbled up from low in his gut until eventually he had to pull back from her embrace. They had to get away. Time ticked by. They need to be out of Deuvar before his plan came together.

He pulled her towards the stairs. "You're going to have to help me. I'm still very weak. We need to get out into the grounds. Do you understand? We can talk about all this later."

Still Emily hung back. "This is how you wanted me to be though, isn't it?" Her voice unsteady and emotional.

Peter stared at her. "What do you mean?"

She bit her lip. "A slave? Yours to command. My master?"