Jane took a step closer, the gun leveled. That brought her close enough. Moving quickly, I reached out and slapped Jane's gun hand with all my strength. Before she could recover, I seized the weapon from her grip, opened the cylinder, and emptied the bullets on my carpet. I tossed the empty weapon into a trashcan under my antique mahogany secretary. I would dispose of it properly later, but for now the gesture communicated the message I'd intended.
Jane stood utterly still, starring at me with face pale and eyes wide. She was trembling.
And then, suddenly, a thought occurred to me.
Jane used a network of go-betweens. She'd never actually met our client. More to the point, he'd never met her.
He wanted a woman who was lovely, and aristocratic, and with some spirit in her.
A woman he could dress in costumes.
He'd wanted a slave he could break and train himself.
And then I remembered something else. I remembered how Jane's eyes had turned suddenly bright when I spoke sharply to her.
I remembered how she'd looked at Sarah, bound naked to the whipping post in the training room, with a look that I'd thought might almost be jealousy.
Jane had claimed to know what a woman's bottom could take, but she'd clearly had no experience wielding a whip.
I regarded Jane with eyes of cold steel. I weighed my options and decided her fate.
I reached into a drawer in my secretary and found what I was seeking. I'm not sure whether or not Jane had guessed my intentions before she saw what was in my hands, but she surely knew then, in that sudden moment of utter, horrified clarity.
"Jack," said Jane, "don't be rash. Wait--"
I did not let her finish. I stepped forward, the harness gag with its red ball in my hand.
"Quiet!" I told her sharply. "In a moment, I am going to ask you to make a choice."
Before she could speak again, I grabbed her by the hair and gagged the bitch.
Oh, how she struggled! She fought like a wildcat, but I was stronger than her by far. I pressed the ball between her lips and teeth and tightened the straps.
There was a letter opener on my secretary. It wasn't the best instrument for my purposes, but it was sharp enough and a gentleman makes do. Jane fought, but in moments I'd cut away her jacket, her prim blouse, her skirt, and even her bra and stockings, leaving her naked and shivering. I unknotted her tight bun and let her raven locks spill around her shoulders. Suddenly nude, Jane seemed smaller, vulnerable. And yes, I confess, even beautiful.
Holding her by the hair, I forced her to her knees.
"Jane, you said something a moment ago," I said. "You said, I believe, that 'our client is expecting a slave girl. He is bloody well going to get one, whether she bloody consents or not.' Did you not?"
Jane mewled behind her gag, to plead or to scream, but the gag proved too efficient. Tears beaded at the corners of her eyes. Sarah watched us both with bright eyes and just a hint of a smile.
"Now that I have had time to think," I continued, "I have come to believe that perhaps you are right after all.
"But Sarah will not be that slave, Jane. Make no mistake. She is mine, and mine alone. I have chosen her, and she has chosen me." I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. "Who, then, shall I send?"
Jane attempted vainly to protest. "Mmmmm! Mmmmm!" The gag did its work.
"Ah! Here is a solution, right here before me! A lovely and naked woman, gagged and ready for slavery. What a marvelous and happy coincidence!" Pausing for a moment, I turned to Sarah, knelt, and unlocked her cuffs. "Sarah, I need you to do something for me."
