End Game Chapter 10 Pieces fall into place part 5
23:40 May 27 2010
Times Read: 937
Summers sighed, as Trevor closed the door, then looking at the swarthy fellow scowling before him, he grinned, a wide white tombstone smile.
“Navarre, the trunk of my SUV has what we need…”
*
‘Da wa, Da wa, Da wacka Wah…’
Rachel put cupped hands to her mouth, then took them away, opened them; then closed them again, as to imitate the brass section playing the score from the film ‘Shaft’…
Rachel had crossed her right leg over the left as David had left the room, to get changed, ‘to go out.’
Now he had resurfaced: a moth emerging from his chrysalis, as his own version of Joe Cool; or in this case, John Shaft.
Rachel didn’t want to laugh. Theirs was a perilous mission and it was no time to laugh. So, she stifled the laugh, with the image in her head of David, as Shaft, John Shaft. Mister submissive, turned uber cool in just ten minutes.
He had worn a long brown leather coat with wide lapels and wraparound dark shades; and, having lost his smart, sharp suit jacket, he now wore two shoulder holsters, to enable a fast cross draw.
The studded collar and, her knowledge that he probably still wore suspenders and stockings were incongruous with the image he had chosen, for the occasion.
“I’m ready,” he told Rachel, with a wide toothy smile.
“For many things, I’m sure David,” she responded, while standing.
The Asian took his arm, as he led her from his apartment and, turned left.
“Where are we going?” She queried.
“My own car is round this block, parked up,” he informed her with a sidelong glance; “and, I have a few more toys in the boot that I’ve acquired, from my erm, former clients.”
Rachel knew of some of his clients. Look up bad man in Websters and, there you’d find his client. ‘Everyone deserves a good defence he would say,” if pressed on the guilt of his clients.
“We’re here,” he told Rachel, dawning her from her reverie, as he pointed to his motor, pride and joy: it was a Morgan.
“Is that real?” She asked.
“Nah,” David replied, a little regretful: he so wanted one, but for now was content with what he had and, he told her so, as he held open the door for her.
Minutes earlier, John Summers led the small group to the underground garage where he stored his cars.
They got to his black SUV with smoked glass: Navarre and Summers sat upfront, with Ben sitting on the backseat, both arms resting on the backseat on the back of their seats.
Navarre was complaining, his face was red with anger. “My car, the darn scumsucker got my car…” The keys to said vehicle were in his clenched right fist, elbow leaning out the open window.
Summers drove, thankful he finally had something to do, instead of just sitting back in the office waiting. ‘Sure it isn’t my plan, but it’s a plan,’ he mused.
As Navarre wittered on about his motor Ben looked skyward irritated beyond belief at the incessant whining of this ‘hard man.’
Sensing the tense atmosphere growing inside the vehicle, Summers turned briefly during a break in Navarre’s tirade to say to him, “David meant well my friend. If its damaged, in any way, just bill me, alright?”
Suitably mollified by Summers generosity, Navarre gave a ‘Harumph’, then settled down in his seat quietly, haw clenched tightly.
“So, how far now Boss?” Ben enquired, well aware of the distance, but he wanted to break the silence.
“This whole situation is so frustrating!” Navarre muttered, neck muscles taut. He was used to taking charge; used to being in control, and being stuck behind a semi was not something he could control.
“Frustrating is a suitable word…” Ben muttered, watching through the gap in the two seats, as ‘The Major’ steered the large motor past the truck and further into the dense traffic.
“How far?” Summers muttered, “Well, the simple answer to that is an obvious one: too damn far…”
And, while the SUV drove in one direction toward Yumi’s, the Morgan approached it from the other, at speed.
Rachel watched David’s left-hand as it moved, quite fascinated.
“I didn’t know you could drive a stick shift,” she observed.
“Did you know that I’m a reservist?” He enquired in turn, staring straight ahead, as he gunned the engine.
“Erm… no.” She answered, mouth momentarily agape.
“Mistress Celine knew,” he responded flatly, “So she’ll be depending on me.”
Perhaps Celine had thoughts of rescue at one time, currently they were purely solely on survival; both mental and physical.
Her long black hair cascaded down to just above her hips, as she hung from a chain attached to the police-style handcuffs on her wrists, her weight pulling had on her shoulders. And, her legs were held parted by a spreader bar attached to the leather sleeves on her ankles.
Proud Celine, whose head was normally held high, had her chin to her collar-bone her big brown eyes closed against the onslaught of pain coursing of pain coursing through her naked body, covered in bruises; and a couple of open cuts, with blood trickling down her flesh.
Yet, no matter what she had endured, there was no way she would cry out, nor beg for mercy, not from Yumi. She wouldn’t give her that pleasure.
Her resistance to the abuse frustrated Yumi, who scowled as she walked back and forth, the handle of a vicious looking cat-o-nine tails in her clenched right hand.
From where she sat, across from Celine on a small black leather sofa, the too slim, elfin-faced brunette, with short hair now a bleach blonde, Sandrine Laurent watched her Yumi frowning.
She had become more and more concerned recently for the sanity of the Asian dominatrix, who she believed was so near the edge, the edge was crumbling beneath her weight.
Staring at the welts covering Celine’s buttocks and thighs, Sandrine voiced her thoughts to Yumi, her Mistress and lover: “Summers must have stewed by now?”
John Summers had stewed and was boiling, “If David’s left anything Navarre, I want to rip out her friggin eyes!”
The mention of David had Navarre scowling once more, “For taking my motor, that fellow should…” He was going to say ‘go too Hell’, but never got that far.
Ben had listened to enough: ‘David wanted to help.’
He withdrew his pistol, turning it in his grip, then brought the butt end to the base of speed and precision.
Navarre slumped forward with a groan, restrained from hitting his head on the dashboard by his safety-belt.
“Maybe now you’ll shut up!” Ben opined, sitting back.
An, when Summers realised what happened, he turned to Ben on auto-pilot, to admonish him.
But as it was, taking his eyes off the road for a split-second was all it took: he drove steered the car to the right, hit the kerb and then a fire-hydrant, sending water cascading upward; and the SUV hit a tree in someone’s front yard.
As the airbags deployed, both Summers and Ben exclaimed the same expletive in the same moment, borne of annoyance and frustration.
Finally both men looked to each other: “You know we’re well screwed don’t you Ben?” Summers queried, scowling.
“I’m sorry Boss,” Ben rejoined, “but he deserved it.”
John Summers closed his eyes and he sighed: the young-un was right, but now their rescue bid was over and he knew it.
Meanwhile, less than a half a mile away David parked the Morgan up, half a block from where Yumi lived.
“We’re here,” he told his companion, quite unnecessarily, as he killed the engine.
“Now what?” Rachel queried, genuinely interested to know what he planned next.
Unclipping his seat belt, David smiled mirthlessly, “Here…”
He opened the glove compartment and removed a small automatic, which he handed to her.
“What do you expect me to do, with this?” She asked.
“Back me up Rachel. That’s all I ask,” he answered opening the side door and easing himself out of the low car.
David made his way round the vehicle, opened the passenger door and held out his hand, to offer assistance.
Taking the proffered hand, she stood and she leaned in toward David and stood on her tip-toes and she kissed his cheek lightly, “Whatever happens hun, much as I disagree with your methods, I love you for this, for trying.”
“Uh huh,” he murmured, acknowledging her, as he turned to look down the ordinary looking suburban street.
“I’ll go in through the house to the left and get in through the back…” he told Rachel thoughtfully, “you wait out front and make sure you have the safety off your weapon, alright?”
She stared at the weapon, which she held in both hands.
“I’m not happy with this she told him,” following as he led the way toward Yumi’s home, where their mistress was being held.
“It’s all we have,” he told her, staring ahead, as they continued to walk.
“We could have waited…” she retorted.
Standing still, he turned to face Rachel, with a face of thunder.
“No Rachel, I couldn’t wait. Mistress needs help, now!”
She touched his face gently with right fingertips and smiled, “I know.”
And abruptly his mask slid back into place and with the coattails of his long brown leather flapping, David strode with purpose, content that he would do all that were possible, to rescue his Mistress, Celine.
The look of grim determination on his face worried Rachel, who watched as he took a left onto the pathway leading to the front door of the property to the left of Yumi’s home.
“What if someone saw us?” She quizzed, in hushed tones as he pressed the doorbell, “What then?”
“Then we have problems Rachel. Now shush, I hear someone coming…”
The door opened inward and a small, round grey-haired little old-lady stood there, with her arms crossed and flour on her cheeks.
“I haven’t got long, I’m baking. What can I do for you?” She asked, looking at the two young people before her with curiosity.
David pulled out the pistol beneath his left arm, with a cross-draw, but didn’t aim the weapon.
“Ma’am,” he began, “you go back to your baking. We’re coming in and using your back and I’ll leave…” It wasn’t a request and the old woman knew it.
“What shall I do?” Rachel asked.
Turning to look at her, David smiled briefly; “Stay out front and keep an eye out for anyone coming out. If you see someone who isn’t me or mistress, then shoot to kill. Alright?”
Rachel nodded and David stepped into the hallway, with the owner stepping aside and closing the door after him.
He passed through the main room, aware of eyes boring into his back as he pulled the cable to the phone out of its wall-socket.
“I mean you no harm, but the police would just get in my way, alright?”
The grey-haired old lady nodded wordlessly, as he opened the patio doors.
“Thank you ma’am,” he told, withdrawing his other pistol and closing the door. He crossed toward the wall, dividing the two properties and with his guns in hand, leapt over it.
He landed lightly and made his way to the back wall, edging his way to the nearest window. David peered inside cautiously and growled in the back of his throat as he took in the scene before him.
There was his Mistress, Sandrine and Yumi; and, only Celine was looking toward the window, but her eyes were closed.
Briefly David wondered whether she was alive, or not. Yet experience had taught him that in this sort of scenario, emotion clouded thought.
He took ten, breathing slowly and calmly.
Then crouching low, David crawled beneath the window and made his way on all fours to the back door, where he paused a moment.
He had to utilise his tools well; and other than his weapons his brain was his main one he had. He had to reason this through.
Once inside he had to move fast, ‘that was imperative,’ he mused all of one second, before standing and kicking the doors lock, with force.
“What’s that!” He heard Yumi scream out, as he ran through the kitchen and into the main living area, where he stopped in the doorway, both pistols in his outstretched arms.
Sandrine looked to Yumi, whose eyes opened wide.
No sound came from her as, David stepped into the room.
Her eyes darting back and forth, Sandrine looked from one to the other.
“Don’t move you,” David instructed her, with a nod of his head.
Hearing a voice that was familiar to her, Celine groaned. Noticing that David was distracted, Yumi moved.
And with a ferocity borne from years of built-up resentment, she gave a sharp flick of her wrist, and the cat swept across the room, striking David, tearing a long stripe down the right side of his face.
Yet, he had learnt his lessons well: it would take thirty seconds for the pain to hit home, thirty seconds in which to act.
He whirled round, crouching low, firing upward with both weapons, flame spouting from the muzzle end.
As spent cartridge’s were ejected, Yumi looked ashen faced, as she brought her open palms up, to stare at them, and the holes drilled through each palm.
“Get my Mistress down, now!” David directed Sandrine, who moved hurriedly, as he tracked her with the barrel of one weapon, as he directed the other to Yumi, who had fallen to her knees, her bloody hands between her thigh’s.
Less than a minutes later, Rachel entered through the backdoor herself, both hands round the butt of the small automatic, which she held level before her.
“I heard shots!” She exclaimed, looking wildly around.
Sandrine had lowered Celine to the floor slowly, and then draped a blanket over her, when ordered.
Yumi had turned pale; and lay in a foetal position, her eyes closed, a pool of blood spreading beneath her, as her shallow rapid breathing illustrated how near death she was. Shock had set in and her shooter had no intention of calling aid for her.
David was concerned for his Mistress Celine, whose head he held gently, one gun still pointed toward Sandrine, who sat on the couch, knees drawn upward, towards her chest.
Dressed only in a sweatshirt, she looked childlike and for all of a second, Rachel was tempted to feel sorry for her, but she didn’t. What she did though was to pull out her mobile and, and dial 911.
Time Passed…
A month had come and gone since her rescue and, still recovering, Mistress Celine had personally thanked all who had been of aid to her.
Trevor and Chevy took over the general running of Marley’s, with the title deed being handed over to Ben and Jared, to run as they saw fit.
Alice returned to the home she now shared with her Master, aware that a life grew inside her; so Trevor was given more responsibilities.
David returned to his practice; awaiting Celines return, wearing his collar with pride, even in the courtroom, where a cravat covered it, while providing yet further requisite finesse, for a man in his position.
Yumi lived: though regretted doing so.
Navarre took great pleasure taking her back to the South of France with him, where Celine and John Summers took satisfaction from watching them standing naked and trembling on the auction block, waiting to be sold.
Yumi had known she would not fetch a good price: she was a damaged article now, as both hands had been injured badly. But, few would mind that, after all, she was just a piece of meat, with orifice to be filled. That was all.
And, after the sale, slowly the pair faded from the memory of the local bdsm community and once more David, Rachel and Mistress Celine, enjoyed an ordinary day…
End Game Chapter 9 Pieces fall into place pt 423:38 May 27 2010
Times Read: 938
Based on the Characters created by Angelus And Lady of Dragon Rose from the short story “An Ordinary Day” written by Angelus and continued by Lady Of Dragonrose and Angelus.
*For Adults Only
David looked across the office at Jared’s face, as he looked at the doll-like Alice, whose face had turned ashen earlier at the mention of Navarre.
As he did so, Rachel looked to him with concern, she knew how the big well-spoken man kept thing’s to himself: often to his own detriment.
She was worried, for him. His mistress was in danger: and, the individual who had been contacted for aide had Jared’s slave quaking with fear.
She had due cause; it had been Navarre and Yumi who had ‘acquired’ her from the life she had led as a runaway, then taken her to a warehouse, where she had been stripped and bound, then weeping uncontrollably, she had every orifice probed as she had been examined prior to sale; one of many who had been sold that sunny afternoon.
Navarre. Just the mention of his name had her flesh crawling.
And, Rachel frowned, watching David’s knuckles become taut, as he stood in mute obeisance, towards his Mistresses former lover.
The Major, as Summers liked to be called sat behind his desk, wearing a grey suit, allowing a smile to cross his face as the two men entered his office; and he stood, offering his hand to Navarre.
The big man behind the desk wearing a grey suit allowed a smile to cross his face as the two men entered his office; and he stood, offering his hand the Navarre.
His former lover Sandrine had manipulated Summers easily, into his decision to take early retirement.
But now, because of Yumi and her actions, he was back to doing what he did best, taking charge, of a situation, in the best way he knew how.
Yet Summers was a pragmatist, knowing that to successfully do what needed to be done now he needed assistance.
That was why Navarre was there.
Trevor had told them that Celine was being held at Yumi’s home. And, although he’d been incredulous to learn that at first, it eventually made sense, particularly when he took into account of Sandrine and, her behavior toward him.
In effect, the slim young woman had taught him a salient lesson, without her Summers could be the man that he was meant to be.
Yumi was power-struck: and, wanted what was not hers and with assistance, Summers was determined to ensure that she never acquired what she sought.
Yet, he needed assistance, to rescue Celine safely.
And, he had friends and acquaintances to help him.
That was why Navarre was there.
“Good to see you,” Navarre muttered to him, as they shook hands. He knew that his presence here was under sufferance. But, when it came to Yumi and revenge, they had a meeting of minds: she would suffer.
As the two men spoke, Ben leaned his back against the wall arms crossed, his left leg crooked, the sole of his foot against it.
He eyed his friend Jared, with Alice his loving slave clinging to him, her eyes constantly darting from him to Navarre.
Although it was rare for such a relationship between Master and Slave to develop as theirs had, it was known. And, considering the background to each of them, Ben was pleased that they had each other.
‘Particularly now,’ he mused, looking round the room and the pensive faces, that he imagined mirrored his own.
Placing down the receiver, Summers looked up at Navarre, while all around the room, faces looked to him to gauge his reaction, yet his face remained neutral.
“And?” Navarre queried, an edge to his voice, making him sound more accented that minutes earlier.
John Summers sighed; “Pretty well what I expected, she wants the club. Personally I think that’s why Sandrine was pushing me to sell. And, not only could she not wait for the sale, she..” He paused, smiled: “She doesn’t want to pay, as it seems Celine’s exchange is the payment, as far as she is concerned..”
“Quel surprise!” Navarre exclaimed, standing away from he desk.
“And, what’s more..” Summers drawled out, “she wants me to formally hand the club over, on a handover night.”
At this there were gasps around the room.
One of the demands was expected since the abduction, the other was shocking.
“No way,” David shouted, turning to hit the wall, with force.
And faces turned, to watch him steam out of the small office, as Rachel followed.
“Well, that was to be expected,” Trevor muttered, from the corner he’d chosen to occupy, drawn in on himself, in the vain hope hat no-one would notice him.
Chevy turned to the submissive, with a glare that spoke volumes. He may have made his own mistakes during this farrago, but he wasn’t tactless.
And, Trevor turned ashen.
“When he returns, I’ll have David draw up the papers of transfer..” Summers announced dully, his words clear, to all in the room.
“And, if he doesn’t return?” Jared asked him pointedly.
For long moments, there was silence. And finally Navarre spoke, aware that someone had to say something: “Then we deal with it.”
And while debate began, as to what to do next, David Stapleton eased himself into the bucket seat of the elite motor sitting at the kerbside.
He didn’t need keys, as more than one of his clients had shown him how to start a car without one. Then as Rachel approached the car door, he started up the engine.
She opened the door and slid in next to him, as he pulled away. Then slamming closed the door, she turned to him and snarled, “Just what do you think you’re doing David?”
“I’m finishing this. Mistress is coming home today,” he stated simply, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
Flooring the accelerator weaved the car David between lanes, seemingly quite oblivious quite oblivious to the speed he was going.
Yet, his face was quite impassive: and for some reason Rachel found that quite scary and, so unlike the usually mild manner, which she’d grown to expect from him.
And, for a moment, she wanted to take control, of the wheel.
Instead she implored of him, “Where are we going?”
“Going to mine,” he told her flatly, “buckle up.”
Rachel turned her head to look briefly at David and the look of grim determination on his face, then did as he had suggested, as he did the same.
The car careened through the traffic at increasing speed, with Rachel holding the edge of her seat, her pulse rate high, until finally they arrived outside his apartment.
“We’re here,” he told her.
Killing the engine he turned to Rachel, informing her, “You can come in if you want. Just remember I keep this place as an office since I met Mistress. Don’t have any expectations, alright?”
She nodded. He had been with their small family quite awhile now; yet she knew little of the world he had left, that co-existed with theirs, as Mistress often had need of David, and all that he could do.
And Rachel moved as quickly as he did, entering the building and, running up the stairwell to his floor, ignoring the lift, as he didn’t want to wait.
Back in the office, Ben opined openly, “Rachel hasn’t come back.”
Feet shuffled; and faces looked at one another expectantly, as Navarre paced the room, his hands clasped behind his back.
Finally he stopped before ‘the Majors’ desk once more, his clenched fists hard on the desk with the knuckles white, scowling.
Ben returned his gaze to the closed office door.
“They’re not coming back,” he added quite unnecessarily, to no-one particular.
And staring long and hard into Summers eyes, Navarre muttered, “The kids right.”
Ben smarted a little a little, at being called a kid in front of his friends. Yet out of respect to ‘The Major’, he said nothing.
“The time for waiting is over!” Navarre stormed, “That one..” He continued, gesturing toward the door.
“David…” Alice threw in, suddenly finding voice, “his name is David…”
The too-slim submissive looked up to her Master and she slowly declared, “David’s gone to help Mistress Celine… I like David…”
Having what she needed, Alice closed her eyes and tightened her hold on her Master, Jared, who looked down into her wide baleful eyes and caressed her hair.
Ben looked to his friend, smiling gently, “Jared, get Trevor to take her home, I think the time has come, for action…” ‘At last!’ He thought.
Looking tired, Jared returned the smile, and then he looked back down to his loving pet: “I think you’re right,” he admitted, his smile slowly fading, sadness in his voice.
He looked to Summers a moment, “I’m sorry. I…” He wanted to say more; he needed to say more; and hoping that John Summers would understand, “I hope all goes well. I’m just sorry, I can’t be with you…”
He stood and gently led Alice, his ‘sweet little butterfly’, out of the office, to Bens relief.
COMMENTS
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Angelus
00:57 May 28 2010
.. it really isnt the end of Celine & Co: