Real brave stuff

SHANICE

“Why… are you here?”, she asked me sternly.

The woman behind the desk was one intimidating bitch.

She was the kind of bitch that couldn’t look cheap even in casual clothes. Like every particle of her oozed money and class and shit.

But there was something fucked up about her. Like she was cold. Ice cold. The kinda bitch you really don’t fuck around wit. Not unless you were protecting your neck.

“Couple of reasons, actually. First of all… I managed to snatch you that first copy of the newest issue, like you asked.“

I laid the brand new issue of “Mirage” on her desk.

I didn’t really read that fashion bullshit myself. People obsessed with that stuff tended to be kinda shallow and boring. And white.

Although, this particular magazine… Definitely not what I expected.

Kinky shit. Not something I was into, but still. Fuck.

She sighed.

“Right. Forgot I asked you to do that. Really not that important. Get back to your stakeout spot. Immediately.”

“No need to worry, ma’am. I set up my camera so that we won’t miss a single person that walks out them doors.”

She tried to hide it, but I could tell she was getting a bit irritated.

Definitely the type that wanted people to jump just by snapping her fingers.

“Then what am I paying you for? Get there before I take that thought one step further.”

“Look…”, I said, pulling a chair under me.

I immediately regretted that, seeing how her eyes went as wide as saucers.

“You and me… we really gotta chat about something,” I quickly continued. “And it’s actually kinda important.”

She stayed quiet, trying to level her breathing.

“What is it?”, she finally asked.

“Something happened yesterday. Something I didn’t tell you about.”

She tapped her fingers on the desk in a contemplative rhythm.

“Was this before or after you saw Anna-Marie coming out of the building?”

“After.”

Oh yes. The one highlight of that whole boring weekend. Seeing that freaky French bitch coming walking out in that slutty red… could you even call that an outfit?

The woman she met looked stunned as well. I couldn’t really catch a word of what they talked about, but it didn’t matter. The most important thing was confirmed. One of the red-haired bitches was still inside the building.

And it was more than likely that the other one was there as well.

The only time they could have slipped out was when I was chasing Reagan. But no way I was telling this crazy bitch in front of me that I actually left my post unattended without camera for all that time.

“Tell me then,” she ordered.

“Eh, well… you know how you like hired me for this because Reagan went missing? And she had suggested me as a replacement?”

“This conversation would go a lot faster if you didn’t mention things we both know already.”

Ice cold.

“Well, you know… First of all, what’s actually your history with Reagan?”

She eyed me curiously.

“Like, just go along wit me here. There’s a point.”

She sighed, and leaned against her fingers.

“I hired her to take care of Gloria. Nearly ten years ago.”

“…Sure, but like, you wouldn’t hire someone of her caliber just to be a babysitter, right?”

She eyed me silently, forcing me to continue.

“I mean… You know about Berlin, right?”

She looked to the side, really considering her next words.

“She was never just a ‘babysitter’. I needed to know that… Gloria was protected.”

Nice way to bypass my question.

“So… What kinda other stuff have you used her for?”

Her eyes narrowed again.

“You are starting to test my patience. Get to your point and fast.”

Yea. That was too blunt. Let’s change tactics.

“Do you know if… Reagan has developed any sort of… how ya say… mental issues?”

“Mental issues?”

“Yea. I’m not talking about crazy, but um… memory stuff?”

“Her memory has always been fantastic. What on Earth is this about?”

“Okay, okay… My last question. You ever whip her?”

She stopped completely still, and began rising out of her seat. Her eyes were on fire.

“Okay okay chill! I just needed to see your reaction!”

After that, I started telling her about my night with Reagan. The bitch slowly settled down back to her seat while listening to me.

I wasn’t still super sure I could trust her, but my well-honed instincts told me she wasn’t the one who had fucked up Reagan that badly.

I told her how she had escaped out of that building wearing a schoolgirl outfit, how I chased after her, and how she fell into my hands while turning into an amnesiac or some such shit. How I had taken my sensei home, given her a brand new set of clothing and access to my shower.

It was then that I had seen the multiple bruises and whipmarks all over her back and… ass. I wasn’t an expert with that sort of stuff, so I had no idea how recent they were.

I kinda did make me wonder, thou. Was she just getting kinky with someone? I mean that, and the outfit… but then again, why the fuck would she be coming out of that particular building? And the friggin’ amnesia?

I desperately wanted to put some lotion on her, but she just shirked away from me like I was still a complete stranger.

But, slowly… she was coming around. She could see that she could trust me.

Or so I thought.

When the shower had been running for a little bit too long, I dared to look inside.

The bathroom window was wide open. The shower booth was empty.

Sensei had escaped.

Now she was somewhere out there. Alone, miserable. With nobody she could trust.

It really broke my heart.

Maria showed very little emotion during my speech.

But I could hear the gears were turning in her head.

“Okay. Good. I’m glad you shared this. Now… Return to your post.”

“Wait… what? Is that all?”

“Yes. This is information I need to properly assess. I will inform you if I need further assistance on this particular… issue.”

No doubt. This bitch robot was the coldest thing I had ever met.

“Okay… I’ll just go then, I guess?”

She nodded, clearly lost in her thoughts already.

I glanced at the magazine on her desk again.

“I do gotta say… I may have to check ya guys’s stuff more often.”

Her focus returned back to me. “What do you mean?”, she asked in unmasked irritation.

“Dat there. Real brave stuff, ma’am,” I said, nudging my head to the magazine.

And that… That was as good as moment to leave as any.

As I exited the mansion, I could swear I heard a woman screaming somewhere nearby.

Probably my nerves just acting up.

BONNIE

The newest issue of Mirage laid sprawled on the floor.

Opened to that spread.

To the spread… of me…

Rachel…

Alexa…

that photographer chick…

all kneeling in front of...

Jack.

It wasn’t like things weren’t hard enough already.

Now that damn magazine was finally here.

And, just like that, my mind was back there.

Back in that moment.

Back in that day.

When he remade me.

I couldn’t talk to anybody about it.

My life had fallen from under me.

I couldn’t take more jobs.

I didn’t have the mental energy to keep up with my friends.

Or family.

Everything was so… hard.

All I could do… was think about him.

His… cock.

And his insane offer.

He wanted to make me into his… breathing… living… sex doll.

My fingers dipped into my cunt faster and faster.

It was easy, there were no panties in the way.

Hadn’t been for days.

Even putting on clothes was getting to be a task.

All I wanted to do was think about him and… masturbate.

My fridge was starting to get empty.

Ordering food was such a fucking task.

Getting outside was an enormous fucking task.

Some droplets of juice flowed out of my pussy… and over the glossy pages of the magazine.

But I knew I could never be fully satisfied.

Unless he allowed it.

The fucking… magazine… felt like the final straw.

Was this it?

The moment I broke down?

The moment I stopped being a person?

And allowed myself to be his… fuckdoll?

Everything I was… had been… condensed to that?

The positives were starting to outweigh the negatives.

What a horrible fucking realization.

But it was true.

I stared at my door.

I knew it now.

The moment I opened it… I’d never return.

I’d go to him.

Forever.