Chapter 17
A Dreadful Incident
We settled into a somewhat domesticated routine for the next few months. We saw him once, maybe twice a week, and we had to just settle for that. His visits were interspersed with visits from his friends. They would come by our apartment and other times there would be parties out in Queens at Bob and Angel's place. On very rare occasions, we would have a "client." Clients we discovered along the way were rich or powerful people who would trade favors, and much more seldom, straight up cash, for our services (mostly Lori's, though sometimes both).
Mr. Jenkins was much more interested in trading influence than money, but if the money was influential enough, he would agree to it. His goal was always networking, and always with the same idea of building up his little fiefdom of sexual debauchery.
The clients were almost exclusively arrogant men, and one time a woman. They saw us and Lori in particular as just receptacles for their sadistic impulses. They were often too rough with Lori, though most were more or less harmless in the end.
One of the clients (a Mr. Baker) though, was a real piece of work. Most of the clients didn't mind my being there, some of them would use me as well; they looked at me as an exotic experience. Mr. Baker made it clear he did not want to see any trace of me, while he was using Lori.
I never really saw him, but Lori eventually described to me as massive dude in his forties. He was, according to her, about 6'5" and about as wide. She said he had gigantic cock, even bigger than Mr. Jenkins, but it looked deformed; she said like an oversized squash, with a big bend. The head, she said, was enormous, but the middle somewhat thinner, and fat again at the base.
On the night he was to come over, I made myself scarce; I had dinner out and went to a movie with some friends from work, and waited for Lori's text to let me know I could come home. I was in our regular diner nursing a cup of coffee an hour after the movie, when I finally got the text from Lori. When I got home, she was in terrible shape. She was bruised all over; she had one black eye and gash over the other eye, bloody whip marks all over, and she was bleeding from both her ass and pussy. She was trembling in the bed and crying desperately. I took her gently into the bath and started cleaning her up.
He had done terrible things to her. The last of which was that he had shoved his shoes into her ass and cunt, causing the bleeding. Her beautiful titties had deep bite marks; she had obvious deep bruises where he had punched hard with his fists. She had, of course, suffered mightily at Mr. Jenkins's hand, but this seemed much much worse than anything he had done to her.
It was on thing to be taken to very edge of one's tolerance by an expert hand; it was quite another to be beaten within an inch of your life by a savage psychopath, who doesn't care. There seem to be no control in his treatment; it was all out of proportion. And she had been hurt so badly that she looked like she might need medical attention. More like she had been in car accident than the usual consequence of rough bondage or S/M.
I called Mr. Jenkins as soon as I could settle her into the tub. He was in our apartment fifteen minutes later; came right into the bath and inspected her. He was not happy about it. He went into the next room to make a call, but I could hear him on the phone shouting at someone, though I couldn't hear exactly what he was saying or who he was talking to, but I could tell from his tone that was categorically furious.
He came back in and said, "Sissy, this is unacceptable, trust me I will deal harshly with this jackass. He will be sorry for this, and I'll make sure you know about it. Put her to bed and take care of her as usual. I'll be by in couple of days to check up on her. I'll get Harry here in the morning to examine her."
"Yes, Sir! Thank you."
We never had Mr. Baker back, and I learned some weeks later that he was fired from his high finance Wall Street job because he was skimming off the top. Information Mr. Jenkins had acquired through his network from another broker at the same firm and carefully divulged to the higher ups. He didn't end up in jail because the firm kept it quiet, for fear of bad PR.
After this, Mr. Jenkins would not allow the clients to be there without me to chaperone. We also had exceedingly few clients. Again, we resettle into our routine. We would see him at least once a week, but we entertained visitors and occasionally went out to Queens.
Joe became a fairly regular visitor, which really pleased Lori because she always loved his cock. Joe and Mr. Jenkins had reached an agreement: Joe gave up his girlfriend, Diane, to him, in exchange for access to us and Mr. Jenkins's training him to be a Dom. Joe was sort of a cuckold, but not like me, he still had restricted access to Diane, even though she now belonged to Mr. Jenkins, like Lori. He would have to get permission before initiating any sexual activity with her, but as a protégé he had access to Mr. Jenkins's other sluts, with permission, of course.
Diane had inadvertently caused Dr. Harris to lose Vera permanently to Bob and Mr. Jenkins. Diane was bubbly in both shape and personality, but she didn't have the bubbly boobs to go with it, so Mr. Jenkins sent Diane to the clinic for a boob job, turning from an A cup to a D to make her fit into his ideal of her. He was kind of a perfectionist in this.
As with Lori, he was fanatical about creating the perfect kind of slut he imagined them being. Diane was a sweet young girl shaped something like a pear. With big, but nice round bottom, a hardy laugh, a high pain threshold and a round cherubic face. Her lack of large breasts to go with this Rubenesque physique made a surgical intervention a logical step for Mr. Jenkins.
At her second appointment, Dr. Harris, already sexually restricted, found the bubbly girl irresistible, and was caught with his fat dick in the cookie jar, so to speak. He lost Vera, but as consolation, they let him have occasional access to Lori and me. So, he was also an occasional visitor. All these visitors kept Lori sated as long as she could see Mr. Jenkins with some relative frequency. Whenever he went off for more than a week, it was brutal for her.
About four months after the Baker incident, we had been going along okay, but the visitors got a bit more infrequent. One day, Mr. Jenkins announced that he had to go out to California, and would be gone for three weeks. Lori was freaking out immediately; she couldn't imagine how she would make do for that long without him.
Could she go with him? No, he had to go alone. Could she stay with him until the trip? NO. But he promised he would spend the last night before he left with her and the first night back. She agreed to this (as if she had a choice). But she was not happy about it, and grew more and more anxious about it as the date for his departure approached.
He was so kind to her on the last night; he came by for dinner and stayed after, he took her into our bedroom and made love to her all night. I stayed out of the way in the guest room. In the morning I was awakened by her sobbing for him not to leave her. He hugged her and actually kissed her goodbye, then he kissed me on the forehead, pointed to her and said, "take care of her, sissy, and keep a close eye on her."
