tagNonConsent/ReluctanceChanges Ch. 04

Changes Ch. 04

byAmeaner©

"'I mean Rrrolex time.'" I mocked under my breath, rolling my 'R' with a sneer.

I was watching the face of the idiotic adornment, the knocker on Dagmar's door in my hand and raised. I brought it down on its striker precisely when the sweeping hand notched over the '12' at nine o'clock sharp, repeating a few times before standing back, my hands clasped behind me as I looked aimlessly down the hall with a smirk at my little personal stunt.

She opened the door, wearing the business version of the 'little black dress'. My smirk was wiped off my face entirely as I took in how it looked so good while being decent and properly business like at the same time.

She walked into the hall, closing her door and looking at me with a smirk of her own, hair down and beautiful, gold earrings and necklace matching the double row of gold buttons running down to the hem from under those great tits.

"I thought you'd like this outfit."

She took my arm and we walked down the hall to the elevator.

"I want you obedient tonight, boy. You do what I tell you when I tell you, got that?"

"Yes.", I answered, remembering my earlier misgivings about this evening and glad for the leftover buzz from the whiskey.

"Just follow my lead and don't speak unless I ask you a question. Do well, and you'll be nicely rewarded for all of the little things you've done right here and there."

"Right.", I acknowledged nervously.

She didn't speak again until we were on the elevator car and going down.

"Also, I expect you to be attentive in case things get hairy. Nothing you can't handle, boy, don't fret."

"O-kaaay.", I said, fretting.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I- Yes, Mistress, I'll be on the ball."

"That's what I like to hear. Go on ahead and bring the car to the curb while I wait in the lobby. You will then come in and get me and take me to the car."

These things done, I was pulling out into the evening sun, headed North as instructed from my back seated passenger.

"Uhhh,...", I stammered, "should I grab the tire iron or something?"

"God, no. I told you it won't be anything you can't handle. Anyway, I'll be there, so just do what a good dog would do if our host can't contain himself, but I really doubt it will come to that, so again, don't worry.", she explained tersely.

Having to be happy with that, I drove for blocks in the mindless, 'stop-and-go-nowhere' traffic of uptown Toronto for a while. I would glance at her in the rearview mirror, seeing a very officious, but beautiful female passenger. It was like being the driver for the female dictator of some little banana republic as she looked straight ahead, as though she could already see our destination and was in the process of drawing up a mental list of grievances. Finally, she directed me to the highway.

"Going a bit fast, aren't we?"

" ... Better?" I asked, dropping some speed and looking woefully at the Caddy up ahead that I was stalking.

"Yes."

" ... I uhh, I googled the term 'vanilla'."

"Oh, you did, did you? And pray tell, what did you find?"

I glanced in the mirror to find her looking at me now.

"A lot of stuff. A whole lotta stuff. Including a couple of videos I'd rather not even describe."

"I wish you hadn't done that. I should have modified your internet settings. In any case, what videos do you mean? Describe them."

(dammit, I just told her I'd rather not describe them!)

"Well,... This guy with his bag,... tied to the floor and trying to stand up like this woman was telling him."

"And?"

"And, uhhh,... this woman,... She had a strap-on and she was,... You know."

"What?"

" ... "Fucking him with it.", I said exasperatedly.

"His mouth?"

"No!"

"What?"

"She was fucking his ass, there I said it! Look,... you're not gonna do any of that Dominatrix stuff to me, are you?"

"See, that's why I wish you hadn't done that. Listen up, boy: First of all, I am not a Dominatrix. Never call me that. A Dominatrix is some stupid tramp who collects ten dollars per hour to smack some broken moron's ass with a flogger. I am a Domina, if you must use some term. I am what those silly tarts can't even properly pretend to be. And no, I have no intentions of abusing you in those ways."

"That's a relief", I noted.

"As your proper Dominant, I am your owner and therefore responsible for you. Abusing my belongings, or those I'm responsible for, is not a wise application of my resources and women who do that as a matter of course to their male submissives are weak. They fear and resent men and must completely emasculate them in order to feel some false sense of power, to feel like a woman. They are not true Dominants and what good is a broken man to anyone, anyhow? What was your opinion of the male subs you saw going through these things?"

"I kept wondering how they'd see a man in the mirror the next morning." I answered.

Dagmar chuckled softly at this. "They were probably never men to begin with. Just some over sexed reject who wants to get off in a new and kinky way, or someone who has no will, no spirit, no,... true Humanity. They're no more a proper submissive than their so-called Dominants and both are equally pathetic. No, I don't need or want to emasculate you like that, I want your spirit intact, your mind on me, and your will under my control. Not only are you more useful to me in this way, but you're also a lot more fun to toy with."

"Is that why you call me a 'wilder'?"

"Exactly. a submissive core with learned Dominant traits. What could be better for me? Sometimes I wish I could have gotten hold of you when you started grade seven."

"Uhh,... What?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, I simply meant that it would have been nice to mould you for my later use. But, then you wouldn't be the fun you are now, would you? And you're still young enough to learn, in fact I think you've been learning,... somewhat well. A credit to my direction, although I do admit that I never expected this ah, sometimes familiar rapport between us."

"People like me; what can I say?" I quipped dryly, actually getting a laugh.

"People don't even see you."

I didn't answer to this insulting fact. It never bothered me as long as people weren't pointing it out like that.

"Kelly was quite popular." she noted. "Did you see all the little stuffed animals and offerings and people standing around crying out on the sidewalk?"

"Yes."

"Do you think anybody would have done those things had it been you that got killed there?"

"I suppose not. How about yourself?"

" ... No. Does it bother you?"

"No. I think I'd have bigger fish to fry at that point. I mean, I'd be dead,... right?"

Some moments went by before I heard that soft chuckle from the back seat. I suddenly felt her hand lightly patting the side of my neck twice before sliding seductively away.

"Good boy. See, that's your value to me, that is the wisdom in keeping your spirit intact. Why have we sped up again and why are we following that silver car?"

"Oops, sorry, Mistress." I said, slowing down.

"I asked you a question, boy."

"Umm, well I was just,... well it's a Caddy.", I laughed awkwardly.

"Take the next exit. So it's a Caddy, so what?"

"Well, it's a big sport sedan like this is, you know. Um, it's a market competitor."

"So?"

I sighed and just came out with it as I worked my way over and into the collector.

"I was just haunting him. This car will pulverize any Caddy and I just wanted to intimidate him. Sorry, force of habit."

"Hm. You need a haircut, get one. A nice short one, not buzzed, but nice and neat."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Do you ever use turn signals? I'd rather not be stopped by the police."

"Sorry, Mistress."

The rest of the trip was spent listening to 'El Presidante' pontificate about the proper time to use turn signals, how soon they should be activated before a turn and deactivated afterward if necessary in every conceivable situation. Sometimes she'd interrupt herself with directions to the impressive home in an upscale Scarborough neighborhood.

I parked at the curb as directed and got out, striding around to the other side to let her out as well. We walked right up to the front door where I rang the bell as told, then stood waiting on the brick step with her in the gathering darkness until the door opened.

A soft looking, slightly portly man in a black tux who might have been in his late forties stood in the threshold. He was one of those guys that guys like me just don't like on sight, a high feeling jackass who looked like a sports caster or some ex jock. He was a bit short and almost poured into the tux he was wearing, making it fit more like a leisure suit, and his dark, beady eyes seemed all alone beneath the buzzed, rapidly receding hairline. His nose was easily the most prominent feature that belied his personality, a beak like protrusion that seemed to gather information for all five senses as his face aimed it from one of us to the other.

"Hello, Bryan." Dagmar greeted politely, yet with an aloof quality befitting her dress.

He only looked back, obviously trying to place her with a wary, almost paranoid look in his eye, slowly shaking his head and saying, "I don't think we've met,..."

"We have. Dagmar Alejandro, one of your investors. I know everything."

With that, she walked right past him and inside, even brushing him aside with the back of her hand and forearm as she went. I couldn't believe it and neither could this 'Bryan' person, but I had to follow her. She told me to follow her lead, so what else could I do?

"Hey.", I greeted on my way by, shooting an uncomfortable nod.

I found myself in a large entry, just catching Dagmar's nice round ass going around a corner to the left. I caught up in time to see her settling it into a Queen Anne loveseat in a large, quite impressive sitting room. Across from her was a matching couch, between and at the end, two matching, wing backed chairs with a small, round table between them. She looked at me, then looked pointedly to the nearby chair before she spoke.

"Get me a cognac and sit down, Bryan. Let's talk about your future."

I crossed the ceramic tile floor and sat, looking at Bryan, who was standing just inside the room, staring at her. He was obviously scared, even worse, Dagmar's nerve in doing what she did really had him off guard, yet I just knew he'd say something like-

"What in hell is going on here!? Who do you think you are!?"

"I think I'm someone who has invested a tidy sum of money with you, along with many others, as it turns out."

"Yeah, I remember you now, so what!? That gives you the right to come into my home and order me around like it's yours!?"

"I'm glad you asked." she said, completely at ease. "It all started with Bernie Madoff and a few other notables in the news. Naturally, I remembered you and I got to wondering. So I hired a team of investigators, handpicked by yours truly, and after reviewing their findings,... Well, like I told you, I know everything. Now get me that drink and sit down."

This was getting interesting pretty quickly. Bryan's jaw sagged with each word she spoke after she mentioned Bernie Madoff and he now stood rooted to the spot, his mask of anger completely shattered.

"Now, Bryan. Don't make me tell you a fourth time."

He somehow ripped his eyes from her long enough to stiffly make his way to a wet bar, glancing at her with wide eyes as he went. Once he served her the drink, he sat opposite her on the couch as she sipped.

"Mmm. Oh yes, this is very good. Yes, so not to belabor a point but, in case you've forgotten my substantial investment capital, I believe it was in the neighborhoo-"

"Bryan, who was at the door!?"

Bryan went a little pale as Dagmar raised an eyebrow, asking, "I take it that would be your lovely wife, Heather. Not one of your girlfriends? Does she know about them, by the way?"

That was it. The man just sort of crumbled inwardly as I watched to the sound of someone descending some nearby stairs. It was exactly what she did to me, except apparently he was really guilty.

"Oh,... Hello." said a tall, high heeled blonde, a shapely woman in her late thirties, I guessed.

She was quite attractive in what one might call an unexpected way. Dressed in a very nice, shimmering red evening gown, hair up and bejeweled for the ball, she looked every bit the proper lady, or rich bitch if you prefer, and it seemed to fit on her too. But underneath it all, she had that look, the one that didn't have to rely on all the trimmings her lifestyle allowed.

"I didn't realize we had,... company."

Bryan only stared at his wife, not knowing what to say. Like any good opportunist/salesperson, Dagmar piped up in his failure to speak.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Chalmers, please allow me to introduce myself as dear Bryan is, I fear, a little preoccupied at the moment. My name is Dagmar Alejandro. As I was just reminding your husband, I've invested close to a half million Dollars with him. Please, do sit with us, Heather. Bryan, get your wife a drink."

(Ho-ly shit!)

I couldn't help but love her for her nerve, despite the fact she'd done much the same thing to me as I watched this situation play out.

Bryan got up and plodded to the wet bar again, not looking at anyone this time as Heather looked from Dagmar to Bryan, me, then back to Dagmar before sitting on the couch opposite her pleasantly smiling visitor. She looked uncertainly at the beautiful, dark skinned brunette with the striking green eyes, instinctively knowing that something was up. Then she looked at me again, nervously.

"This is an associate of mine." Dagmar commented. "He really has nothing to do with this on a business level, just a friend I decided to bring to work with me."

I gave her the same nod and almost apologetic, tight lipped smile I gave her husband and said, "Hi."

"I'm sorry if I've arrived at a bad time." Dagmar said sincerely. "You look like you were going out."

"Uhh, yes." Heather responded, smiling hesitantly. "The charity auction."

"Charity auction." Dagmar expressed, more as a question than a statement. "Isn't that so ironic?"

Heather opened her mouth, obviously about to ask why that should be so ironic, when she was interrupted by the return of her ashen faced husband. He handed her the drink and sat beside her with one of his own.

"Heather, I can see you're- you don't mind if I use your first name, do you? -I can see you're wondering why I'm here. Since it would be a little uncomfortable for Bryan if he were to fill you in, why don't I?"

My Mistress paused, taking a slow, thoughtful sip of her glass before putting it on the small table to her left, then beginning in a serious, yet congenial tone.

"Basically, Bryan took my money. He's a swindler. And I'm not the only one, oh no. In fact, the piddling monies I began to receive in return for my investments were actually the entire life savings of Myrtle and George Hargess, an elderly retired couple in Sault Ste Marie. You see, Bryan has been running his own little ponzi scheme for years and, hoo boy, has he been busy?"

Heather was dumbfounded. She looked at Bryan, lips slightly parted with a fearfully questioning expression.

"You didn't know?" Dagmar asked. "Honey, how do you think he got that luxury beach house in Florida? The pleasure craft? The Cessna? All the expensive cars and other toys?"

"Bryan,... is, is this true? Tell me she's lying." Heather asked in a breathless voice.

Bryan looked down between his knees and shook his head, no doubt seeing his future lying in ruins between his feet on the carpet.

"Oh my god. Bryan, look at me! Is this true?"

He looked up and to his right, but not into her eyes and croaked, "Yes, it- It's true."

"Oh my God, no."

"You really didn't know?" Dagmar pressed. "I mean, he's an investor, yes, but really, you must have suspected something, especially with the way the markets have been lately. This home all by itself should have made you think."

Heather was looking at her visitor again, shaking her head defensively, saying, "No,... I didn't,... I don't know anything about investments, or the market. I thought,... I thought,..."

"You thought you were rich. No, I'm rich, you two have only been using mine and other people's money to pretend you were."

"But,..."

"But you didn't know. You say that, and I tend to believe you. Bryan, did she know?"

"No.", he mumbled, looking at the carpet between his knees again.

"Hm. Well, if I have my doubts sitting here, imagine the doubts everyone else will have once this hits the news. Especially once they find out about the I.W.K. 'investment'. I wouldn't have thought a charity would have the money to invest, but I suppose a children's hospital is wise to take a long financial view,... Just not with you two. Oh, I know, Heather." Dagmar said, over-riding our Hostess's claimed plausible deniability before it could begin. "You didn't know, but I wouldn't expect anyone to listen to that. You see, Good ol' Bryan-boy has some considerable holdings stashed in your name, probably to get it away from his. I don't suppose you knew about that, either?"

"Bryan!" was all Heather could say.

The trophy wife stared at him, aghast. It was as though she'd had the mental wind knocked right out of her.

"I mean, the I.W.K., for God's sake." Dagmar marveled. "I just couldn't believe it. Do you two have any idea what will happen when people find out? What Madoff went through will be nothing in comparison; children will whip pieces of broken pavement at you in the streets, women will spit on you and men will want to beat the daylights out of you. Not to mention what the law will do. Oh my, what a lot of trouble Bryan has landed you both in."

Heather began to cry.

"What do you want?" Bryan asked in a quiet voice, looking at the carpet. "If it's your money, I can get it. I just-"

"No. As much as I hate to lose that amount, I can afford it. You will begin selling assets and paying money back to those who most need it, the Hargess's and the other working class people who don't know you've put them in the poorhouse as of yet. And the I.W.K.. My God, you have absolutely no scruples whatsoever, do you?"

"You're,... you're not going to blow the whistle on me?", Chalmers asked, daring to hope.

"If I were to do that, nobody would see their money, would they? Sure, you'd go to jail forever, which is what you deserve, but by then everything would be gone. Plus, you'd also be dragging your 'probably innocent' wife to jail along with you."

"How could you have done this!?" Heather wailed, covering her face with her hands.

"You're really not going to tell anyone?", Bryan asked again, ignoring her in favour of grabbing for that one twig of hope as he dangled at the precipice of his doom.

"No. I'd love to, but that would be counterproductive. Your wrongs must be righted. You are the most appropriate person to do that and you can't do it from behind bars."

"The I.W.K.! For God's sake, you fool!" Heather accused.

"What I can't get over is the blind greed." Dagmar imparted, picking up her glass again with a conversational expression. "I mean, every one of you ponzis just hang around for years doing what you do, getting richer, fatter and closer to inevitable discovery and you just stay. Any thinking person would get out while the getting was good and disappear somewhere with the money and a new name, but you idiots think you can just go on forever. Why is that? No, I'm really curious about such stupidity."

Bryan shook his head and refused to answer, or look at her.

"Did you think you were smarter than everyone else?" Dagmar laughed. "First of all, you're a man, so you should have known you're not that bright and that a woman would catch you sooner or later. Second, there's that old saying about fooling all of the people all of the time that you obviously have never heard,..."

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