sup with the devil

Chapter 12A

Cresta sat in her office turning the tumbler of liquor around and around on the desk in front of her. Her eyes were fixed on a middle distance of nothing as she tried to expunge her humiliating meeting with Milton Greenbaum from her mind. As the club's overseer of the conduct of members, and the women she supervised, never had she been involved in such gross circumstances.

She tilted the glass to her lips and drained the glass, wincing as the harsh liquor burned its way down her throat. Greenbaum had made it perfectly clear what her options would be if Jared was unable to resolve the problem of the bootleg video and bury any references to drugs. As a sample of his threat, Cresta had been subjected to a forced, liberal helping of cocaine and several minutes of Greenbaum's manhandling.

The drug had overwhelmed her and she was useless in preventing any of what happened. At times she even felt herself responding and now as its effects wore off she felt another overwhelming feeling—disgust. In light of what had happened she felt sick about visiting Hatti and confronting her about the blackmail now that Jared had been let loose to find it. They wouldn't believe she had been trying to protect the club.

The session with Greenbaum flashed starkly in her mind and she let out a frightened sob. A light flashed on her desk and she closed her eyes, squeezing the empty glass; her presence was required in the Power Paddock.

William Partiger hung by his wrists in the center ring and as she entered, his dominatrix, Shawn six, slapped his bare buttocks with her crop and left silently.

"Hello, number four." Her greeting was thin and William's eyes alit on her silver mask questioningly. "You said you needed advice."

"Is something wrong, Cropmaster?" He twisted in the handcuffs suspended from the ceiling, bringing his nude body around to face her.

Cresta looked at him with disgust. Suddenly what had been simply a job involving total disregard for emotions or morals where the men who came seeking that very requirement, became a distasteful, sick view of the vile depths sex and drugs provided. She felt anger rising in her chest and the more William questioned her well being the sharper it became and she lashed out with her crop catching him across the stomach just above his genitals and he shrieked in surprise at the violence of her reaction.

"Cropmaster!"

"What advice, number four?"

The crop struck again, this time across his thighs. William yelped in partial pain and partial glee. Never had he felt so infused with desire as under this unexpected rage. He grinned and nodded as the crop rose again. Cresta stopped, holding the strike pose and staring at the effect her beating was having on William and she swore, turning away and dropping down onto the low wall around the paddock.

"Cropmaster, don't stop!"

She turned and stared at him, catching her breath. "What did you want, William?" This was too much. She decided that the sooner she left this business the better.

He balked at the unprecedented use of his name and just as suddenly as his desire had heated, it was quenched. He hung there calculating whether he should reveal what he'd intended or not and when she shrugged and stood, indicating her departure, he blurted out his concern.

If she had had the information earlier things might have been different, they might have mattered but now, William's story just compounded the hole they were all digging themselves into. Carl wasn't a member but now he had uncovered Roger Cullen's secret other existence while trying to track Rita Cornell and had been interviewed by the police. William had been involved with Roger in his other life, a fact that actually surprised Cresta since William and Carl were seemingly so close. Now William was afraid that Carl's involvement would blow up in everyone's face.

She listened half-heartedly but something didn't ring true about his concern. So what if Carl found out William and Roger were lovers? How would that affect the club? She replayed his words and stumbled as she heard Rita Cornell. Why would Carl be hunting for her? She asked William, resuming some of her authoritative demeanor.

"We- I heard she was- she had... videos..."

"How did you hear that?"

William hesitated. "Uuh... Roger mentioned it during- when we were together once."

"So how did Carl find out?"

"Cropmaster does it matter? He knows and he knows that I wanted to find Rita; he just didn't really know why. I mean, he knew why but he didn't know about- about the uh- the drugs."

The drugs. William couldn't possibly know about Greenbaum so he must just be worried about his own usage and the fact that they are available to members, probably through Roger. She tossed this around in her head and decided that William could be placated—at least for now—in the usual manner and she lifted his chin with her crop.

"Cropmaster will look into your problem number four but you must forget about it and leave it entirely to me. Understand?"

"But—" The crop struck him on the hip and he cried out in surprise.

"There will be no buts, number four." Another stroke of the lash brought William spinning on the handcuffs and his face spread wide in gleeful anticipation.

Cresta threw herself into her role with part pride and part raging anger. William wouldn't be concerned about anything except healing by the time his session was over. She needed time to disappear.