Pacific Heights was definitely old San Francisco, with block after block of Victorian era mansions and houses. Some had been turned into museums or art galleries, but a fair portion were still privately owned or available for rental.
One such gabled mansion was on Washington Street opposite Lafayette Park. It featured a gated, iron fence and gardens in front.
Fiendly pulled his Lincoln Towncar up to the gate and honked the horn. An instant later the gate opened and he pulled through to the front drive, where a young girl wearing a classic, black satin french maid's uniform waited.
She was quite pretty, Fiendly thought. Tall, blonde, long legged and bosomy as teenagers are wont to be these days.
"Bone jour, Mon-sewer," she said in a perfectly awful French accent. "An-tray boo!"
"Of course," Fiendly said, making sure he had locked the car and set the alarm. He also took his black bag with him. "Been working her long, my dear?"
The girl looked at him with the eyes of a frightened deer. "Can you help me?" she whispered.
"I can try."
"Please get me outta here! This was supposed to be a part time job, but they won't let me go and nobody knows I'm here!" Her words came like a frenzied rush as they walked. "They keep me tied up at night and they... use me. Sexually. Right now I have this horrible rubber thingie jammed up me that makes me..."
As if on cue, she groaned and held onto Fiendly as she rode out a sudden orgasm. Fiendly noticed she was dripping on the marble floor. Good Lord!
"Ah, there you are Fiendly!" The Marquis appeared, wearing a white shirt and tennis shorts. "How are you doing! I was trying to get a few sets in before luncheon, nes pas?"
"Of course, Marquis," Fiendly replied. "Is Samarkand about?"
"Somewhere on the grounds I am sure!" The Marquis replied. He turned to the maid. "Now Babette! Look at the mess you have made on the floor! Clean it up at once!"
"Wee, Mon-sewer," Babette answered wearily. She got down on her hands and knees before them and started licking up the girljuice that had splattered the marble floor.
"Ah, good help is so hard to find!" The Marquis said as he steered Fiendly through the mansion. "Isn't this house magnifique? It belonged to the President of the Union Pacific Railroad at one time!"
"Yes, it something alright," Fiendly said. "Is Weskler picking up the tab for this as well?"
The Marquis chuckled. "What's the good of an expense account if you do not use it. Eh, mon ami?"
"Oh, we-we, mon-sewer!" Fiendly replied.
They found Samarkand in the redwood paneled den, which looked as manly as you could want, with big leather sofas and chairs, antique American furniture and paintings of steam locomotives chugging up mountains.
He was playing poker with another teenaged girl who was trying not to cry as she looked at her poker hand. She was dressed in a trendy spandex party dress and heels. The fact that all the poker chips except for a few were on Samarkand's side of the table explained her distress.
"Ah, there you are, Fiendly! I wish to have words with you!" Samarkand said. He was wearing a starched white shirt, dress pants and Italian loafers. Not to mention his omnipresent dark glasses and red fez. He looked at the girl. "Sorry, my dear. I have business to attend to."
B-but... you said you would give me a chance to catch up!" The girl blubbered at him. "What happens to me now?!"
"Is there a problem?" Fiendly asked.
"Not at all!" Samarkand replied. "Lisa here spent last night here, and this morning wanted to play a friendly game of poker... but she didn't have much money."
Lisa blew her nose into a tissue. "I didn't think you would really..."
"So we each started out with 100 poker chips." Samarkand started stacking his up. "The red ones were mine, and worth a thousand dollars apiece. The blue ones were hers, and worth 10 days of her life."
Fiendly saw she was down to three chips.
"But let us finish our hand, shall we?" Samarkand chuckled. "Are you in, or are you out?"
"In!" Lisa said defiantly. She threw in one chip and then her last two. "I see you and raise two!"
"Accepted. That's three to me." He threw in three blue chips onto the already large pile. If she won, Fiendly guessed she could reclaim about three months of her life.
Lisa laid down her cards. "King high straight! Read'em and weep!"
"Damn!" Samarkand said in amazement. "Makes me glad I have... a full house! Aces over treys. I win, my dear."
"Nooooooo..." Lisa wept as watched her life get swept away to Samarkand's side of the table.
"Come along, Fiendly," Samarkand said as he got up. "Oh, Charmer?"
"Yes, Guv?" The burley manservant appeared out of nowhere.
"See Lisa to her new quarters."
"My what???" Lisa got up. "Listen you sick fuck, I have a life and a job and a boyfriend and a family and you can't... Hey!!!"
Lisa was stopped in mid-tirade by Charmer, who easily twisted one slender arm behind her back as he lead her away in a choke hold. She was still gasping and crying as her high heels echoed on the floor.
"Wait til the little slut sees her new wardrobe!" Samarkand chuckled to Fiendly.
"That really wasn't very cricket, old boy," Fiendly said as they walked together to a balcony overlooking the gardens.
"She had her chance," Samarkand said. "Call it the art of the deal."
"Those cards were marked."
"Ah! So you don't object to me taking her, only that I cheated doing it?" Samarkand laughed. "You old hypocrite! You've taken many a fine beauty away to a life as a fucktoy!"
"Only those that deserved it," Fiendly said pensively.
Samarkand shook his head. "You're beginning to remind me of that idiot, whaizname who went renegade and took on the Old Boys Network back in the eighties."
"Tyler," Fiendly said.
"Yes, Tyler." Samarkand looked at Fiendly. "That would certainly explain the shit you pulled this afternoon."
"Are you talking about the little bru-ha-ha I had with your boyos, the Fist of Allah?"
"So you knew they're working for me?" Samarkand said. "And you still took Roper and Thrasher from them? Why?"
"Because I could," Fiendly replied. "And by the way, as terrorists go, they aren't very competent."
"Fiendly..."
"Seriously, Sam, you know my feelings for Drew Thrasher," Fiendly continued. "After all that's why you didn't tell me about siccing poor Henry and his Idaho nazis on her when she arrived in town the other day."
"I was merely trying to scare her off," Samarkand said. "When that didn't work..."
"You decided to call in a group of radical Islamic mercenaries from halfway around the world... oh my yes, that makes perfect sense!"
"You do still have Roper and Thrasher?" Samarkand asked.
"Fear not, they're both safe... and bound."
"Good. Bring them to me."
"No thank you, I like them where they are now just fine."
"I'll make it worth your while."
"Ummm... what part of the word 'no' do you not comprehend?"
"Dammit, you work for me, Fiendly!" Samarkand hissed, finally losing his cool.
"I used to work for you," Fiendly replied. "I just quit."
"Excuse me, mon ami!" an agitated Marquis appeared at the door. "We need to talk!"
"In a moment," Samarkand replied. he turned back to Fiendly. "You are making a big fucking mistake, old man. You walk out of here like this, and I will come for you... and your whore."
"Goodness you can be scary when you put your mind to it!" Fiendly chuckled. "But I'm sorry, that damned red fez just ruins the whole effect! Its like being threatened by a drunken shriner! Perhaps if you wore a multi coloured beanie with a spinning propeller on top..."
Fiendly was still laughing as he walked off.
"Should I get Charmer to take him out?" The Marquis asked the livid Samarkand.
"No, that would only make his bitch go into hiding, and we'd never get Roper and Thrasher back!" He sighed. "Now what was so goddamned important?"
"Very bad news from our contact in Brunei," The Marquis replied.
"Hmph!" Samarkand grumped. "Frankly I don't see how things can get any more fucked up than they are now!"
"Remember that Gulfstream V jet that left for Brunei this morning with our two mallrats aboard?" The Marquis began. "Well, on take-off it must have eaten a seagull into one of the turbines, but it didn't flameout for several hours..."
"Oh shit."
"So the pilot had to turn back and land at the nearest available airport, which happened to be Honolulu International..."
"Please tell me those assholes had enough sense to dump their cargo into the sea."
"They thought they could keep the mallrats sedated and locked away while repairs where being made," Marquis said. "Unfortunately, the DEA showed up with some drugsniffing dogs and found the two girls."
"Oy vey!" Samarkand went pale.
"The pilot and crew are keeping their mouths shut, but the girls are talking up a storm." The Marquis sighed. "As you know, they were in the limo with us for hours and not only know our faces and names, but all of our plans as well..."
"Oy gevalt," Samarkand felt his knees go wobbily.
"Needless to say," The Marquis said. "When your friends the Fist of Allah finds out about this monumental fuck up, we will all be dead men!"
Samarkand looked up. "Not if we can make this work for us... and get someone else to take the fall."
"Like who?" The Marquis asked incrediously.
Like a certain fiend... and his wench!" Samarkand then began to laugh and laugh, just like Dr. Evil in the Austin Powers movies.
"Hey, stop it, man!" The Marquis whined. "You're freaking me out!"
***
Shakira was not having a great day either.
That morning, after returning to her hotel with a car, she had found that her beloved bride, Tai Anne Roper had escaped with the help of a man who had identified himself to her followers as Jeb Stuart.
She had no choice now but to go back to The Brickyard and hope that Tai Anne would do what she had promised she would do; namely help this 'Jessica' and also try to make nice with Mistress Paige.
At a little after one pm, Shakira knocked on Paige Torne's office door and entered. Paige had gone back to casual with a very tight white tee, loose jeans and boots.
"I have brought you lunch, Mistress!" Shakira said brightly. She put a large tray of covered plates down on Paige's large office desk and began uncovering various East Indian delicacies.
Shakira was still sweaty from working lunch. She wore a crop top, blue denim cutoffs and sneakers.
"Hmmm?" Paige Torne blinked, still blitzed after the incredible morning she had spent with Iwana, Taffy and Kunta. Even after taking a cold shower, her cunt still throbbed. "Oh, yummy!"
Shakira smiled and made sure the door was locked.
"Thank you very much, Shakira!" Paige said as she began to chow down on some Tandoori chicken. "Ummmm... this is sooooo good!"
"Thank you, Mistress Paige," Shakira said, kneeling down beside her and kissing the toe of her kigh heeled boot.
Paige grinned and continued to eat. Another subbie girl, eh? Well hell, at least she can cook! And she was delicious to look at too.
"You like working here at The Brickyard, darlen'?"
"Oh my yes! I find it quite fullfilling!"
"Good girl," Paige stroked her hair. "Hey, this chicken is great! I eat a lot of East Indian cuisine, but there's a new flavor in this that I just can't place..."
"That would being the Oomori root," Shakira said. "A rare herb that grows only in the northern province of Kashmir."
"Well whatever it is, it is certainly delish!"
"And I think you have been eating enough of it now, Paige," Shakira said, getting to her feet. "Please to look at me!"
Paige put down her fork and dropped to her knees before her. "Yes, Shakira?"
Shakira breathed a sigh of relief. The Oomori root she'd had with her had been quite old, but was still potent. It instilled a subserviant feeling in a person, while inducing a trancelike state. It had long been used in India to keep the lower castes in line, and had even been used by worshippers of the Kali-Ma to fill the ranks of the infamous Thugee cults.
"You will be obeying me in all things from now on," Shakira said. "You will be doing anything I ask and desiring only to be pleasing me at all times. Because now I am being your Goddess."
"Yes, Goddess." Paige's eyes were now dilated and glassy. She knelt and kissed Shakira's scuffed Sketchers. "I desire only to serve you."
"This is as it should be," Shakira said, now taking Paige's comfy chair. "However, your desire to be serving me will manifest itself only on a subconscious level. When I snap my fingers, you will revert to your former self." She paused. "However, even when you are your former self, on a subconscious level, you will still be serving me. Are you understanding of this?"
"Yes, my Goddess."
"Good! Now, when I am speaking a certain phrase, you will instantly and fully revert to your new self, that is revering me as your Goddess. Got that?"
"Yes, my Goddess."
"And that phrase is..." Shakira paused to think up a good one. "Afghanistan banana-stand!"
Paige nodded.
"Good, now let us be trying this out!" Shakira snapped her fingers.
Paige looked around. "Hey, why am I on the freakin' floor? And what are you doin' sitting in..."
"Afghanistan banana-stand!"
"My Goddess!" Paige arched forward and began kissing Shakira's thighs.
"Oh my! Enough of that please!"
Paige slipped back to a slave kneel.
"Good. Now, please be telling me what you know of where Tai Anne Roper is now."
"She escaped last night, I don't know how. And I don't know where she is now."
"Have you heard from her yet?"
"No... But I know she visited a place called Fashion X-tremez today, looking for a friend named Taffy Chu. But Taffy is still here, at the Brickyard," Paige said. "Also I am holding her best friend Iwana Binder captive here... I was hoping she would come for her. But soon, I must release Iwana to another police officer, who is a friend of Tai."
Shakira thought over this. She knew Iwana Binder. Tai Anne's roommate in Los Angeles. A former resident of the New Lesbos commune. If she was here as a captive, Tai would eventually come.
"Listen to me, Paige," Shakira said. "You will not be releasing Iwana to anybody... except Tai Anne Roper! That is now part of the deal."
"Yes, my Goddess." Paige looked up at her. "Is that all?"
"Almost." Shakira got up, unzipped her cutoffs and let them drop to her ankles. She wasn't wearing panties. She sat back down in the chair and spread her legs. "Pleasure me!"
"Oh, my Goddess!" Paige dived right into Shakira's bush, lapping and licking away with an almost religious abandon.
"Oh my!" Shakira keened as she wrapped her thighs around Paige's blonde head. "Sometimes it is good being the Avatar!"
***
Elsewhere in the bowels of The Brickyard, Iwana Binder was being unmercifully fucked.
She still wore her shiny black latex finery, including the thigh high boots, corset and arm sheaths that kept her hands locked high tight between her shoulder blades.
Iwana was still in Paige's inner sanctum, now lying on her back on a bed with her shiny legs over the shoulders of Kunta Kintare who was thrusting in and out of her with a massive strap-on dildo.
Kunta looked down on Iwana and nearly creamed on the spot. Her firm, ripe body twisted and writhed under her domination. Her collection of rings and chains combining with the tight latex to control her totally.
Iwana's head was still covered by the latex cowl that only left her eyes, nose and ears free. Her mouth was covered, holding in the rubber ball that had become her best friend.
She bit into it now as she felt herself begin to slip over the edge of another uncontrollable orgasm. Kunta sensed this and on the next thrust squeezed a rubber bulb that held a warm oil that traveled through the shaft of the dildo and was delivered deep into Iwana's body.
Her body arched as she came harder than she had ever come in her life. A gushing, rippling effect that started in the core of her soul and traveled outward like a shock wave to leave her totally spent.
Kunta sighed and pulled out of her. She had orgasmed as well, and now unstrapped the long black dildo with shaking fingers.
Men, she thought. Who needs 'em?
Kunta took a bottle of ice cold Perrier sparkling water from a small fridge by the bed and tilted it back to guzzle down half the bottle. She looked at Iwana. Kunta was naked except for her horn rimmed glasses.
"Wanna taste?" Kunta asked. Iwana nodded.
Kunta sat down next to her and placed her head in her wet lap. She peeled back the cowl to reveal Iwana's shaved head and mouth. She pried the rubber ball out of her mouth and let her guzzle down the rest of the bottle.
"That good, baby?"
"Yez Mizzz Kuntaaah..."
"You are my sweet girl," Kunta kissed her. "Let me tell you a little story, my girl."
Iwana nodded.
"Once upon a time, there was a man who was the biggest, badass warlord in all of Somalia. He had money, and he had power. And he had a daughter, that he loved so much that he sent her to England to get an education."
Kunta guided one of her erect nipples into Iwana's mouth, who began to suckle it.
"So the daughter learned many things, including how to fight, how to gather intelligence and even how to get people to talk who don't want to talk. Then she went back to her father, and helped him maintain his empire."
Kunta groaned and pulled away, she gave Iwana a finger to nibble on.
"But things just weren't working out. A few other clans got together one day and overran the warlord's empire and killed all the members of his clan. The mighty warlord ended up hanging from a post and getting hacked to death with machetes... he screamed for hours."
Iwana blinked and looked up at Kunta.
"But the daughter escaped with a good portion of her father's loot, and she made it to America, where she attempted to pass herself off as an innocent refugee. Instead of the murderous bitch she was.
"She came here to The Brickyard, for a new identity and a new life. But Mistress Paige... knew who she really was."
Kunta locked eyes with Iwana.
"The warlord's daughter was taken just as you were. She was kept bound and gagged and was forced to became a lesbian fucktoy... for many months, until I broke and accepted my new path as a true slave to Mistress Paige."
She kissed her.
"Now I am accepted as a member of Mistress Paige's crew. I can come and go as I like, and even carry a firearm. I help the people who come to her for new lives. But I am still a slave to my Mistress."
Kunta smiled. "Which brings me to you, baby."
She ran her fingers over her face. "When I first saw you back at Taffy's place, you reminded me so much of me! So full of rage and anger! You bound and tortured Taffy and me as good as I could have done in my bad days. You and I are so much alike."
She hooked a finger though a steel ring of Iwana's posture collar and hauled her up face to face. "Which is why I don't believe for one fucking moment that you have really broken. I think the real Iwana Binder is sitting right here... biding her own sweet time!"
She spat in Iwana's face. Iwana groaned and licked the spittle off her lips.
"You know," Kunta said. "Back in Somalia, there was a way to make fast, big money. You'd steal a flatbed truck and some iron cages, and you'd take off with some clan goons for the Kenyan border, which was about three hundred klicks from Mogadishu.
"You'd cross the border and set meat in the cages and try to trap some big cats. Lions, tigers and even panther. We would then try to get them back to Mogadishu, where overseas circuses and zoos would pay that big money to us." She shrugged. "Most times we would get lucky. Get two or three at a time and head back for home while trying to avoid the Kenyan miltia."
She looked wistful. "One time, we captured three cats. Two lions and a beautiful she-panther. Now the two lions raged against their cages the whole trip. But the panther quit as soon as she realized she could never get through the bars. So after awhile, she just sat in a corner of her cage... and watched us."
She giggled. "It was a long, slow trip back, Somali roads are nothing more than two parallel ruts! When we hit the desertlands we had to keep giving them alot of water. One time, a goon couldn't quite reach the panther's waterbowl, so he unlocks the cage and gets it...
"The panther shredded him. Then banged open the cage and killed two more goons before our AK-47s drove her off. She took off so fast. Probably made it back to her home."
Kunta looked at Iwana. "You remind me of that panther, baby. Sitting in her cage, waiting for someone to fuck up."
"Mizzz Kuuuntahh, no..."
"Hush baby." Kunta jammed the black rubber ball back into Iwana's mouth and slipped the rubber cowl back in place over her mouth and head. She kissed Iwana's forehead and then got up and stretched. She decided she needed a nice long shower in the Waterworks, so she left Iwana alone in the room, locking the door behind her.
Iwana pushed herself with her feet to the center of the large bed, curling up on her side. She was exhausted, and fell asleep almost right away.
She dreamed she was a panther, sitting in her cage... just waiting.
Chapter Thirty-Two