Tai Anne Roper

by Nicole Sutter

This assured the hotel's well-heeled guests peace and quiet... and total confidentiality.
It was a favorite stop of businessmen the world over who could close a secret multi-million dollar deal and then bed down a five thousand dollar a night call girl with equal discretion.

Just off the hotel lobby on the 38th floor was The Silks restaurant. A quiet and elegant place with a simple Asian motif and terribly expensive food. At ten o'clock on a Sunday night, it was deserted except for Dr. Fiendly and Fannikins Wenche.

Fiendly was wearing a hand-tailored, charcoal gray three-piece suit from Saville Row. The Wenche wore a black leather minidress from Donatella Versace that had been on the cover of last month's Euro Vogue. They were sharing a large platter of assorted fresh sushi and washing it down with small cups of warm and potent sake.

The view from their table was spectacular, from where The Wenche sat she could see the lights of the Golden Gate Bridge, the skyscrapers that surrounded them and even the long arc of the Bay Bridge leading to Oakland.

And then she spotted Crowe T. Grackel entering through the lobby. Dressed in a leather jacket over a black NASCAR tee shirt and blue jeans and sneakers. He nodded at them and started towards their table.

"Oh, look what just creeped in!" The Wenche said. "It's Mr. Inconspicuous! I think he's about due for an oil change on that hair."

"Down, Wenche!" Fiendly growled, even as he chuckled. "Remember to smile."

"Don't I always?"

"Good evening, Mr. Grackel!" Fiendly stood up and shook his hand as he arrived. "You remember my associate, The Wenche."

"C-charmed." Grackel nervously shook her hand as well. It reminded her of a cold, damp fish.

He sat down, his teakwood chair squeaking on the marble floor.

"Would you care to join us in a late night repast?" Fiendly asked. "Some sushi? A cup of sake? Or perhaps you would prefer the waiter bring you a cheeseburger, fries and a malted?"

"Fuck you," Grackel hissed. He took a small plate and a pair of chopsticks and expertly used them to gather three pieces of sushi, a few slivers of pickled ginger and a small cube of green wasabi.

The Wenche poured him a cup of sake. "I see the good doctor underestimated you, Mr. Grackel."

Grackel winked at her. "That's okay, babe. I'm used to it."

"Indeed," Fiendly said. "That seems to happen all the time over at The Brickyard."

He shrugged as he ate. "Like I said, I'm used to it."

"You don't have to be," Fiendly said. "The respect you want... and deserve, is yours for the asking."

"What are you two after now?" Grackel asked. "You got what you wanted. Our deal is done. Finito."

"True," Fiendly said. "We asked for the location of the fair Jessica, and you provided it to us... for a price. Then we 'screwed the pooch' as you Americans say, and lost the fair Jessica."

"Tuff toenails, bub."

"She's at The Brickyard, isn't she?" The Wenche asked coyly. "Safe and under wraps, courtesy of Paige Torne?"

"I can't say," Grackel said. "I only helped you two before cuz the McClintock bitch means shit to me. But I ain't givin' up nothing on The Brickyard."

"My employer can be quite generous," Fiendly said.

"I'm not interested in money."

The Wenche smiled. "There's an old Sicilian saying, Mr. Grackel. 'When a person doesn't want money, it's cuz he wants something else.' What do you want, Mr. Grackel?"

"You're a key member of Ms. Torne's organization," Fiendly said. "You handle the computers, the websites and internet traffic that brings in hundreds of thousands of dollars. And yet, where is the respect?"

"You tie women up... but only for a camera," The Wenche continued. "Have you ever in your life really restrained a woman... to make her truly helpless before you?"

"You want to be a 'Master'," Fiendly said. "Yet the women you bind for the camera only laugh at you..."

"Shut the fuck up, asshole," Grackel whispered. He downed another cup of sake.

"Only if you can also call me a liar, Mr. Grackel," Fiendly replied. "Call me a liar and then go on your way. Or... stay here, and allow me to show you how you can achieve your greatest desire."

Grackel said nothing. He also stayed.

"What do you really want, Mr. Grackel?" Fiendly asked. "A woman? A slave? A submissive girl that you own and control for as long as you wish? Would you like that?"

Grackel sighed. "Christ, who wouldn't want that?"

"Indeed," Fiendly said. "It's a wonderful feeling, to be in total control of another human being. Especially if that human is also a young, beautiful and very fuckable girl."

Grackel giggled and nodded.

"I know because I own such a girl." Fiendly nodded to The Wenche. "She is more than my companion and partner in crime. The Wenche is also my total slave. Right, dear?"

"Yessir," The Wenche whispered.

"Oh, she puts on a show sometimes, but that's only because she knows I want her to be a sassy bitch on heels," Fiendly said. "Hell, if I asked her to, she'd be under this table in two seconds flat giving me --or you-- a blowjob. Right, slut?"

"Yes, Master." The Wenche licked her cherry red lips.

"Are you saying you would find me such a woman, if I helped you?" Grackel's voice was an unabashed mix of desire and hope.

"No, Mr. Grackel," Fiendly replied. "I'm saying that if you help me get Jessica McClintock, I will give The Wenche to you... as your slave for life."

"Master?" The Wenche was staring at Fiendly, openmouthed and heartbroken.

"Hush, slave." Fiendly growled.

"Yessir."

Fiendly looked back to Grackel. "Well, how about it?"

Grackel was mulling it over, playing with his last California roll. "W-When you say... 'for life', you mean..."

"I mean that she will be your property to do with as you will for as long as you want her," Fiendly said. "You can sell her, make her work for you as a street whore or keep her for yourself til the day you die. It's all up to you."

Grackel looked over at The Wenche. "Is what he says true, Fannikins?"

"Yessir," The Wenche choked the words out, a tear running down her cheek. That more than anything else made Grackel realize this was for real.

"Sweet Jesus," he whispered.

"Tell you what, boyo," Fiendly said. "Why don't you take the girl out for a test drive? We've got a suite up on 47 with a great view. This lil girl also has a well equipped toybox up there. Go ahead, take a couple of hours to see what you'll be getting." He looked at The Wenche. "Slave? For the next two hours, Mr. Grackel is your Master."

"Yessir."

"Alright, it's a deal." Grackel nodded and stood up. "C'mon, babe."

The Wenche shrugged, wiped her mouth with a linen napkin and escorted Crowe T. Grackel up to their suite.

Dr. Fiendly's face turned hard as soon as they left. He motioned to the waiter, who came scurrying up to him.

"Take this away, I've lost my appetite," Fiendly said flatly. "I'll be in the lobby. Get me a double brandy and your best cigar."

"Hai!" The waiter bowed as Fiendly picked up his black bag and headed for the lobby.

***

Fannikins Wenche used her keycard to open the door to their $1250 a night suite. It had another view to die for, looking down on the lights of Columbus Avenue with the TransAmerica Tower almost close enough to touch.

She turned and looked at Grackel, knees knocked and looking sexy as hell.

"Clothes off, bitch." He passed her and went right to her toybox.

The Wenche sighed and stripped off her leather mini. She was braless, but she also pulled off her Pollini nosebleed heels and her dark opera pantyhose.

Grackel found some rope. He started to work it as he looked her over. She was perfection. Even a supermodel's body couldn't beat her.

"Those tits for real?"

She looked down at herself. "No, Master. Dr. Fiendly augmented me himself. He also..."

"Shut up. Talk only when spoken too. And only to answer the question at hand."

"Yes, Master."

"Do you enjoy pain?"

"Sometimes, Master."

"How about scat? Golden showers?"

The Wenche made a face. "No, Master."

He smirked. "You will. Now get your ass over her. Kneel."

The Wenche complied. He twisted her arms behind her and expertly roped her wrists, elbows and shoulders into a complex tie.

"Good bitch." He stepped back, afraid he would once more shoot his wad before he could get his pants unzipped.

"Now," he rasped. "What are you?"

"A slave."

"No, dammit," Grackel growled. "Look there, to your right. Tell me what you see."

She looked and saw empty floor and blank wall. "Nothing."

"And what are you? Say it."

"I am... nothing," The Wenche whispered.

"And if you are nothing, what does that make me?"

"Everything."

"Exactly."

***

Iwana Binder leaned on the second floor balcony outside Room 216 of the North Beach Motorlodge. She was still dressed in her leather and latex, with the comforting weight of her magnum revolver under her left armpit.

She had arrived here a little after 10pm and first had a visit with the manager Mr. Poon in his office. No cops or anybody else had shown up to ask questions about her room or herself. She then got him to find an open take-out restaurant still open. She was starving.

She then parked her pickup and got her bagged chinadoll up to her room, locking the door and finally letting her loose, or rather she traded the straitjacket and straps for handcuffs and ankle shackles.

Taffy Chu was behaving herself. She let Iwana give her a hot shower and feed her some Kung Pao Beef even though she complained she was a Vegan and would get sick eating any kind of meat.

Then Iwana put her to bed, hands still cuffed behind her back and her feet shackled to the footrail of the bed. She kissed her goodnight and Taffy had groaned and returned the kiss. Long and deep and full of want and dark desires.

That's when Iwana's cell phone had trilled on her belt. It had been Jeb. He wanted to talk.
Iwana agreed and stuffed Taffy's mouth with rubber.

Iwana saw Jeb's tan Mercedes pull into the nearly empty parking lot around 11:30pm. She checked the room once more and saw Taffy was sound asleep in her chains and under a blanket. Iwana locked the door and joined Jeb down by the still, blue waters of the empty swimming pool.

"Ah thought you had something you wanted to say to me... privately," Iwana said as she approached him. "Without your reporter friend."

"I trust Drew completely," Jeb said. "But there are some things we need to discuss that don't concern her."

"Okay, let's talk."

"First, there's something you need to see." He opened a portable Sony PowerBook with wireless internet access and logged into a website.

"Slave Labor Productions?" Iwana asked, looking at the small but well defined screen.

"Owned and operated by 'Bondage and Fetish Diva' Paige Torne," Jeb said. "Once I had a name she was easy to track down. She runs a half dozen 'paysites' as well as selling DVDs and videos. You might be interested in this paysite in particular..."

"Holeee MamaJama!"

Meet Slave Labor's newest hardcore bondagette! A sweet Asian beauty who knows how to please and pleasure other women...
TAI ANNE ROPER!!!

Iwana took control of the PowerBook and scrolled through the site. Looking at the still shots of Tai bound in Nawa Shibari and the streaming video of Taffy Chu shaving her cunt while she was bound and gagged.

"It's a brilliant idea on Ms. Thorne's part," Jeb said. "What better way to explain Tai's presence at The Brickyard than..."

"Excuse me." Iwana closed the PowerBook, and with a scream, suddenly flung it as hard as she could into the street. It landed somewhere on the other side of Vallejo. Jeb could hear it break apart on the sidewalk.

"Ouch," he muttered.

"Sorry about that," Iwana sighed.

"Not to worry, it's still under a 90 day warranty," Jeb replied. "You okay?"

"Oh yeah," Iwana took a deep breath. "Ah'm still taking this court-ordered anger management course... it's cool."

"Mmmm... You did recognize Ms. Chu?"

"Hard not to with her face in..." Iwana stopped and took more deep breaths.

"You really okay?" Jeb asked. "You know Tai was tied up in every shot I saw. I doubt this was voluntary."

"Ah doubt they had to put a gun to her head either," Iwana muttered. "Jeez Louise, when Tai's mamas find out about this they gonna shit a brick!" She looked at Jeb. "Anything else?"

"Yes, I neglected to mention to you tonight that two carloads of hired punks tried to kill both myself and Drew Thrasher on the way up from SFIA."

"Saw that on the news," Iwana said. "Cops think the two cars tried to take each other out in a gang turf war. You got away clean. Very smooth work, Jeb!"

"Thanks. I pulled some .380 slugs out of my ride. They were probably carrying MAC-11s. Same type of streetsweeper that Fannikins Wenche had at the Sir Francis."

"Sounds like they were after Ms. Thrasher," Iwana said. "Were they pros?"

"Strictly amateur night in Dixie," Jeb replied. "Next time we may not be so lucky."

"You think Weskler was paying the tab?"

"Maybe. Depends how badly McClintock wants to get his daughter back."

"Hmm. I wonder how much this Fiendly and Wenche... and Joe Weskler, know about The Brickyard and Paige Torne."

"Well, their security is for shit," Jeb said. "If Weskler and Daddy McClintock don't know about it, chances are they soon will. Which means there's a good chance that place will end up a shooting gallery."

"Yeah."

"Which is another good reason to get Tai Anne the hell out of there."

Iwana smiled. "We do think alike, Jeb."

Jeb continued to walk along the poolside. "Iwana? What are your plans for Tai Anne once you get her in your arms?"

She grinned. "Get her back to LA. For all they good that'll do me! Sheeeeiit, sistahgrrl can figure out mo' ways t'get into hot water than a tank full o' lobsters at Fisherman's Wharf!"

"Can't you watch her?"

"I gots a fulltime job on the LAPD. Can't babysit the girl all her life." She looked at Jeb. "But you know that. So whachoo got cookin'?"

I know of a place," Jeb began. "That would be perfect for your 'sistahgrrl'. A convent up in the wine country, north of here. Run by a very strict order of nuns that specialize in keeping... rambunctious, girls like Tai safe and sound. And under heavy restraints."

"Hmmm... for how long?"

"Two years usually does it. Sometimes one. they specialize in taking 18 and 19 year old girls who are a... danger, to themselves. They are trained, disciplined... and they learn control. And hopefully maturity."

"Sistahgrrl could use all of that," Iwana said. "When she turned 18, her mama Glenna Jane decided that fo' better or worse she was on her own. She thought if'n she moved in with me Ah could keep her controlled. You can see how good a job Ah'm doin'."

"Don't blame yourself!" Jeb said. "Christ, I've only known Tai for a year, and I am amazed at the situations she finds herself in. The girl is a walking abduction waiting to happen. She tumbles into rope and gags like it was fate!"

"Maybe it was how she was raised," Iwana said. "Growin' up at the New Lesbos Commune, she wuz always gettin' into rope... and trouble." Iwana smiled wistfully. "Ah was an 18 year old gang grrl, straight outta Compton when Ah first laid eyes on sistahgrrl. She was only 11. Ah stayed at New Lesbos til Ah was 21. Moved to LA and became a cop. Waited for her to turn 18 and join me."

"I wouldn't think of taking her to The Convent without your permission, Iwana," Jeb said.

"Lemme think it over," Iwana replied. "Let you know in the morning. K?"

Jeb nodded. "9am, corner of Jefferson and Powell."

"First boat to Alcatraz leaves at 9:30," Iwana said. "Be there."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Iwana turned and faced Jeb. They stared at each other for a long moment and then kissed.

The kiss lasted longer than it should've.

"I'm married," Jeb said. "With three daughters."

"I'm a lesbian," Iwana said. "Guess that makes us both lucky, huh?"

"Goodnight, Sergeant Binder," Jeb said. He got back into his Mercedes and pulled out onto Vallejo.

Iwana headed back to her room on the second floor. She locked the door behind her and braced a chair against the knob. She took off her leather jacket and slipped her Alessi shoulder rig off, placing it and her Colt Python on the bedside table.

She looked down at Taffy Chu, who was not asleep, but was staring at her with soft, dark eyes.

Iwana pulled back the blanket to admire the intricate dragon tattoo on her pale back.

"Ah know 'bout you and Tai," Iwana said. "But all Ah wanna know right now is... do you want to be with me tonight?"

Taffy looked up at her, mouth still distended by the huge, black rubber ball. She nodded yes.

She then watched as Iwana peeled off her black latex top and shimmied out of her tight leather pants. When she was finally naked and slipped under the covers beside her, Taffy had to bite hard into the gag to keep from creaming right there. Iwana was tall and fine and warm and wonderful and she was all over Taffy with an angry hunger and a sensuous touch that could not be fathomed.

The rubber ball popped out of her mouth and Taffy managed a deep breath before she found herself sucking on Iwana's tongue.

For some reason, all she could think about was the time she was 7 years old and had jumped into the deep end of the pool down at the YWCA on a dare. She remembered sinking farther and farther down, going deeper and deeper... until...

"Cum fo' me, chinadoll." Iwana growled in her ear.

Taffy Chu gasped. As once again she jumped into the deep end of the pool.

***

Dr. Fiendly was on his third brandy and his second cigar when Crowe T. Grackel appeared in the lobby with Fannikins Wenche in tow.

Grackel was smiling like a bloody Cheshire cat as he approached.

"It's a done deal," Grackel said. "I deliver the exact location and a way to get to Jessica McClintock from within The Brickyard. You give me The Wenche."

"Deal," Fiendly said. "Now beat it, sonny."

Grackel frowned, then shrugged. He grinned at The Wenche and headed for the elevators humming to himself. If he had started skipping, Fiendly would've shot him on the spot.

"Waiter!" Fiendly called as The Wenche sat down beside him. "A bottle of Jose Cuervo Gold. And a shot glass."

"How did you know?" The Wenche asked.

"Educated guess," Fiendly replied. "How bad was it?"

"He didn't get any bodily fluids on me, thank Christ." The Wenche smiled as the waiter brought her drink. She ignored the lime wedges and salt and took two straight shots.

"I take it he isn't as harmless as he looks?"

She shook her head. "He's a 'mindfucker'. Likes to get inside a girl's head and 'stir the soup' a bit. Find out your hopes and fears and then make you feel like nothing." She shook her head. "'Nothing.' That's a very important word to that sick little puppy. He's not happy til a girl he's with is 'nothing' and he is... Everything."

"Fascinating," Fiendly said. "So we have him?"

"Hook line and sinker."

"Wonderful! And so the fair Jessica will soon be ours! Hurrah!" Fiendly stood up and held out his hand for his Wenche. "Come along now, You can take a long hot shower while I have the maid fumigate the suite, and then we can retire to the bedchamber."

The Wenche stood up. "And after we get the fair Jessica? What happens then?"

"Why, we become obscenely wealthy, of course!"

"No, I mean, what happens to me, Sir," She looked down. "You promised me... to him, Sir."

"Indeed I did," Fiendly said. "And seeing how I am a man of my word, I would suggest you kill the filthy lil' bugger the moment our business with him is concluded."

The Wenche sniffled. "Thank you, Sir! I... I love you, Sir!"

"And I love you." He kissed tenderly. "You magnificent Wenche!"

Fiendly almost swept her off her feet and carried The Wenche up to the suite, fortunately he remembered his bad back and settled for a snuggle and a quickie in the elevator.

***

Tai Anne Roper had finally managed to doze off in her chains and her misery. The straw had not been an improvement.

She roused herself as the door to her dungeon squeaked open. Was it morning already?

A figure stood before her, wearing jeans and a blue madras shirt, holding a torch before her.

"Tai Anne! I have found you at last!"

Tai found herself enveloped in a warm hug and deep kisses. Funny, the tongue piercing seemed almost familiar...

"Shakira!" Tai cried. She keened with joy as Shakira held her and rocked her gently. "Omigawd.... How'd you find me?"

Shakira smiled. "The wisdom and strength of the Kali-Ma led me to this most horrendous place! Are you not injured?"

"No, I'm fine!" She brought up her chained hands. "But I'm in a helluva jackpot! Can you find the keys to these things?"

"I will not be needing keys to help you make your escape, my dear bride!" Shakira said. "Soon I will have you free of this place, and by tomorrow you will be back at my temple of the Kali-Ma... safe forevermore as my enslaved wife!"

"Whatever," Tai said. "If you can get these things offa me, then go to it."

"Certainly, but first... there are some certain things you are not meant to see... yet! So I would ask that you please lose consciousness for me like a good girl!"

A simple touch of a pressure point to Tai's neck that any Star Trek fan would've recognized had her out like a light. Her eyelids fluttered as her eyes rolled back.

Tai Anne Roper never felt the heavy iron chains that had held her for so long, finally pull part like tinfoil, nor did she hear the heavy padlocks snap and crack open to release her.

She also didn't feel the massive, corded arms that held her so lovingly, and carried her away into the dark of the night like she was Fay Wray or somebody.

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