Thirteen Weeks Ago
Layla Meridith was highly upset. This was the type of upset that left an individual unable to speak, rational thoughts few and far between. The type of upset that demands the satisfaction of revenge. She paced back and forth in her study, the fireplace crackling, a half empty bottle of chardonnay and a completely empty crystal flute sat on her African Blackwood desk, largely ignored at this point. She was hardly able to believe the gumption, the audacity, Jaren Mathewson had to possess in order to ask her the questions he did. The fact that each question made her believe that Jaren knew far more than he let on. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing. However, if he knew of her proclivity to certain activities, something would have to be done. Her submissive groaned in wanton lust, chained and kneeling beside her desk, ignored save for a quick, yet fairly brutal, strike from her riding crop. She continued to pace, trying to decide what to do. The whole Dominant/submissive thing wasn't considered a bad thing by people as a whole, especially if kept within closed doors. Hell, everyone had a little bit of kink within them. The issue is when the mayor of a large city is a sadistic Dominatrix whose appetite for dealing out pain and drawing blood sometimes bordered on the maniacal.
Her submissive, her husband, one Francis Orthington, lay writhing on the floor, chains clinking together, dragging across the wood paneling, drool pooling around his knees, dripping from the ball gag shoved in his mouth. She didn't pay him much mind, something he got off on. He loved the pain that his mistress delivered day after day, but what really truly got his motor running was the indifference she seemed to have when looking at him. As if he weren't actually there.
With a quick backhand, Layla smacked Francis across the face with her crop, the leather strap at the end slashing through the air like a bolt. Francis cried out, falling back, his chains preventing him from getting back to his knees. It mattered not, though. Layla was still deep in thought.
Layla then sat on her desk, crossing her legs, her black latex thigh highs glinting in the light of the fire. She filled her glass with wine, trying to decide whether or not to take Jaren up on his dinner invitation. On one hand, he might try to blackmail her for whatever nefarious schemes he had planned. Of course, if he did try that particular route, it'd be especially satisfying telling him to fuck off. She had no doubt that her lifestyle could hurt her chances in the upcoming election, but she was a Domme through and through. If she couldn't be mayor and enjoy the lifestyle she had chosen in her very limited spare time, she would rather resign.
Decision made, Layla drained the glass, stood up, and sashayed over to Francis who lay whimpering on the floor where she left him. The wine left her buzzed and horny. She needed release and she was going to get it.
Present
Three weeks. That was how long Jaren and Layla had been married. Eddie was a little hurt that his friend hadn't said anything up until now, but he figured Jaren had his reasons. He sat on the arm of the couch, Jaren, Layla, and Victor in deep conversation. Eddie's conscience was bugging him a bit more than usual. The plan was the same as always, but with the introduction of a new member to their group without his knowledge left a bad taste in his mouth. As much as he would like to say he didn't care, he like being included. Especially since ignorance on any matter before the completion of The Ritual was likely to get him arrested. Turning his attention to one of the two women standing beside the door, completely silent and painted up like a whore, he knew he ought to be more worried about Victor's reaction. It wasn't all that surprising Victor didn't recognize Samantha. Her school girl outfit, pigtails, copious amounts of make-up, and the fact that she seemed to have undergone breast augmentation surgery, she hardly resembled the woman Victor had once been married to. Honestly, with the various psychological and sexual experiments Jaren had undoubtedly performed on the two women, Eddie would be surprised if they could even remember their past lives. That being said, Eddie thought that a surprise like that could end up being very unfortunate Victor and, more importantly, himself.
Still, Eddie would be back at home in about 36 hours and the monster inside him squirmed, ready to be unleashed on both of the women standing like statues by the door. If it came down to it, Eddie would simply deny knowing that it was Samantha. Moving toward the back, he motioned to them, bidding them to follow him. They obeyed without question, leaving Victor, Jaren, and Layla to their conversation.
Pushing the door open, he found Elmoira and Alexa engaged in a torrid 69, devouring each other's wet cunts hungrily, completely oblivious to the three people who had just walked in. Pulling off his shirt, he gave Elmoira a hard smack on her gyrating ass.
