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When it was over, Mr. Chen suggested that they move to a room for brandy and cigars. When we entered the Townsend room, I wanted to alert Dare that the Townsend room wasn’t a safe zone. It was often used for play, but I didn’t get a chance to find a way to subtly communicate that to him before we were inside.
Dare held my hand and the other slaves followed behind their sirs, their eyes downcast. I guess it was muscle memory or something because my eyes automatically went down to the carpet and I stared at my toes as we walked.
The Townsend room was a large library-like room done in dark woods with big burgundy and brown tufted leather club chairs as well as dark side tables with crystal lamps. There was a small semi-circle leather bar in the corner of the room that was manned by a server who would serve from selections of cigars or pipe tobacco with an assortment of fancy pipes. The server would also bring brandy, cognac, espresso, or fetch you some other drink.
Each time I had been in this room had been to serve. Each time I’d been in this room I’d been on the rug.
The men sat in an area with just four chairs so the two slaves moved to their feet and knelt.
Dare stopped and looked around. There were other chairs on the far end of the room.
Like nothing fazed him, he sat and pulled me onto his lap. He was cool and collected but his eyes exuded no warmth whatsoever. I knew he would go to great lengths to avoid me sitting or kneeling on the floor like a slave and I loved him for it, but I’d have knelt on broken glass for Dario Ferrano.
They sat and talked like captains of industry for what felt like forever. Me on Dare’s lap, two slaves on the floor. He was on his third drink, maybe his fourth, when Mr. Chen brought up the topic of Cleo.
“I understand Cleo has been misbehaving,” Mr. Chen said.
A tiny dark-skinned African slave named Naomi entered the room and got to her knees at Mr. Chen’s feet. He reached for and pulled down his zipper while he gestured toward himself and kept talking, touching her mouth with his pinky finger. We all knew his gestures. He wanted her to give him head and he wasn’t going to have to
ask for it. Naomi moved in, knowing what Mr. Chen wanted.
Dare didn’t flinch visibly but I felt him tense ever so slightly under me.
“She’s acting like my wife’s still under her. She’s not taken Ruiz’s warnings, nor mine. I saw her skulking around, trying to intimidate my wife earlier, thinking I couldn’t see what she was doin’.”
“I’ve had a word and had Cleo sent to a punishment room. She’s there until you’ve made a decision about what’s to be done.”
“What are the options?” Dare asked, with interest, which surprised me but I didn’t allow it to show.
Dare stroked my hair and touched his lips to my head. I snuggled in.
Naomi now had Mr. Chen’s cock deep in her mouth and her head was bobbing.
Dare’s eyes moved briefly down and then back up to Mr. Chen’s eye level. He gestured to the server to pour him another drink.
“Whatever you want. You can punish her yourself, order her punished, give your Felicia the green light to punish her. It’s up to you. Having Felicia do it might bring about the best results.
I felt myself jolt. I hadn’t meant to do that.
“Would you like that, my baby?” Dare murmured into my ear.
“Whatever pleases you, Master.” I whispered.
“We’ll see.”
“Less teeth, Naomi,” said Mr. Chen.
“Sorry, Sir,” Naomi said, demurely, as demurely as one could expect, considering she had his cock in her hand.
Dare cupped my chin and brought my mouth to his for a brief kiss.
“As a patron and even more so, as a partner, Cleo is yours to command, as are all the Kruna assets. Make use of any of the assets any way you please, Dario,” Mr. Chen’s head rolled back and he seemed to really be getting into what Naomi was doing,
He was more than partial to getting blowjobs but that was just his primer in this room. He was a man of habit and whenever in the Townsend room, he would get a warm-up when in a play room scenario such as this. I was concerned about the fact that this was how it’d started in here. This confirmed that it was what everyone, besides Dare, was here for. Play time. Would Dare be able to get us out before it got even more sordid?
Sometimes these guys would lay bets about who’d come first, offering rewards to slaves who either held them out the longest or who got them off the fastest. I’d been on my knees in this room while they tried to carry on meetings pretending as if they weren’t getting head. They never got tired of their games.
“I don’t know about you fellas but I’m in the mood for some visual candy,” Mr. Lucas said, getting to his feet and moving to the bar to fetch a cigar from the opened wooden box, “Cigar, anyone?”
