Cruising an alley he
had not used in a year, a blonde was sashaying her wares in a manner that
suggested she had had a few drinks. Jason slowed his van and she walked up to
the passenger door. She leaned slightly in the passenger window, inhaled deeply
through her nose, and smiled. Jason’s face paled slightly when she turned to
the shadows, and called out, “It’s him.”
Jason recognized the
former redhead, and he realized she was wearing a wig. He had no idea what her
name was, or even how long ago he had abducted her. He did, however, have a
pretty good idea that the oriental man holding the gun on him was serious. In sudden
panic, he hoped he had enough cash on him to buy his way out of her pimp’s
interest.
“Get your ass back
on the street,” the man scolded the girl. He reached for the door handle and
climbed into the van. “Drive.”
Jason pulled forward
out of the alley and onto a main road. He wondered why he had not been shot in
the seclusion of the off-street. The next time he glanced at the man, he had
laid the pistol on his lap. “Turn right here.”
Jason followed his
directions, and asked, “You’re not going to shoot me?”
“Over that whore?
Hardly.”
“Then what…?”
“You’ll find out
when we get there. Take the second left and pull into the third driveway on the
right.”
Jason was led into a
large home with an expensively furnished living room, reeking of the delicate,
beautiful flavor of the orient. While sipping brandy, he waited with his
escort. Another oriental man walked in, wearing a kimono style robe. He was
closely followed by a young woman in a form-fitting embroidered silk dress,
being led by a leash attached to an ornamental collar. “I apologize for keeping
you waiting.”
The girl knelt
silently by his side when he sat down. A few seconds later, Jason’s eyes
widened when the man lashed a cane across her lower back. The girl’s eyes
watered, but she never made a sound. “Arch,” the man demanded. Her brown bob
wavered while she thrust her chest out, straining her breasts against the shiny
material.
“I am Makoto. I
trust your ride with Takeshi was not too unpleasant.”
“I’m Jason… and it
would have been a hell of a lot more unpleasant if he’d shot me,” Jason
suggested. “I take it that’s not what you have in mind.”
Makoto chuckled.
“Though she claims she never saw you, Helen remembered you as a big man, Jason.
She has a crazy talent for recognizing smells, and she said there was an
overpowering scent of different perfumes when she was held captive in your van.
Tell me about yourself. I am especially interested in your reasons for
borrowing my whore for a few days.” Makoto noticed Jason’s interest in the
slave kneeling beside him. “She is relatively new and still learning proper
presentation,” he dismissed.
Jason remained
silent, trying to get his bearings and gain a better understanding of what was
going on. The thought that the whore had recognized the overabundant scents of
different women in his van intrigued him. He detailed and cleaned it thoroughly
after the captures, and had never noticed it. Jason was deciding how much he
should reveal. “I have interests that tend to be more extreme than street
prostitutes are willing to accept payment for.”
Makoto stared into
the man’s unusual purple tinged eyes. There was a definite heat building when
he looked at the pathetic girl kneeling beside him. She was weak… too weak for
the street or a brothel. Certainly too weak for his clubs or to auction to a client,
but he sensed something special about her. Makoto had been deciding whether to
cut his losses and throw her in with the domestic servants, so for the time
being he kept her. “I don’t think you intend to pay for these services, anyway.
How many girls have you extended your unwelcome invitation to, for these
‘extreme’ interests? With Helen’s description of her time with you, I am
certain she was not your first guest. How many women have you abducted?”
The realization of
his discovery hit Jason, but the steady gaze of the man made him feel like an
amateur. It became apparent that the girl by his host’s side was not a willing
submissive partner to the man. She was his slave, and not like the partners he
had witnessed in the clubs. “I lost count,” Jason admitted. “I don’t keep them
very long. At first, I kept them in vans for a few hours. The past couple of
years I’ve brought them to my home and kept them two or three days.”
Makoto stroked the
girl’s short brown hair and Jason read the panic in her eyes. It gave Jason a
heightened sense of arousal, and he realized how much he had been missing by
keeping his captives’ faces covered. The man’s hand threaded through the girl’s
locks and he lifted her. “Refresh our brandy.”
“Yes, Master,” the
girl murmured, and she scurried across the room to the liquor cabinet.
Makoto watched his
guest’s eyes follow the girl, and in a steady voice, he said, “I keep them for
more than a few days, Jason.” Makoto let his remark sink in while the girl
delivered their drinks. She resumed kneeling by his side and remembered to arch
appropriately into position. “Helen says you kept a blindfold on her.”
Jason nodded, and
added, “I use to cover their heads with a cloth bag. It was quicker, but I
couldn’t read their faces or get an idea of what they were experiencing… except
through their gagged protests or thrashing.”
Makoto studied the
man. “Why do you release them?”
