Taken and Broken Ch. 06

Jaren Mathewson had found at a young age that numbers intrigued him. People were annoying, cruel, and flaky. Friends, doubly so. In a chaotic world, numbers were the only thing that remained constant. With a working knowledge of math and science, you could glean patterns that no one else could. If you then worked at your craft, keeping meticulous records, pouring over them daily, and fine tuning every last detail of strategy and etiquette, you could, in theory, become a well-respected, and very rich, member of society. In Jaren's case, the stock market was his home away from home. His predictions confused even the most seasoned stockbrokers. And they always paid off. Not some of the time. Not most of the time. Not 99.999% of the time. All of the time. And because of that, he was able to retire as a multimillionaire at the age of 22. Ten years later, he was still exceedingly wealthy, but something was missing. Some key piece, an integral part of his being he couldn't quite grasp. He traveled, he absorbed the cultures of a myriad of foreign lands, he even went to college for a bit, just to try to find himself. Nothing was what he needed to feel complete. And, he honestly believed that had things gone on that way, he would have put a bullet in his own head.

Then he met Edward Adams, an entrepreneur, owner of a small electronics company that was making steady gains, its profits increasing at an impressive pace, year by year. Jaren had deigned to meet with him to discuss the incorporation of his business and potential stock options. At least that had been the plan. What had actually occurred was a wild weekend hopping from bar to bar, strip club to strip club until, at the end of it all, Jaren had found he had made a friend.

Edward had a lust for money that Jaren couldn't help but sympathize with. As they worked on various projects, from improving the efficiency of Edward's business to getting the reclusive Jaren out and about, an interesting tidbit of information came to light. Edward suffered from the same lack of purpose Jaren did. Edward felt he was in a rut, felt he had done everything he could to become what society dictated a man should be. He had a house, a beautiful wife, multiple vehicles, his own business, and a wide variety of friends. And, still, at the end of the day, something just wasn't there.

Early one particularly dreary Sunday morning, Jaren received a call from Edward. From the sounds of it, he was drunk and claimed that Jaren should come over as soon as he could. Worried that Edward had lost all hope and he'd get to his house and find he had strung himself up, Jaren hurried over.

Edward came to the door, wearing a wide smile. He was indeed drunk, but Jaren breathed a sigh of relief upon finding out his friend wasn't going to kill himself. Ushering Jaren in, Edward told him he thought he had a solution to their problems. Intrigued, Jaren was led into the basement. What greeted him there surprised him beyond belief.

Three women were currently tied up, strapped to various pieces of furniture Jaren couldn't readily identify, blindfolded and gagged, large toys, all of which were vibrating, stuffed in their wet, receptive cunts, thick plugs filling their tight assholes. They struggled and pulled at their bonds, unable to get free, the gags effectively muffling their terrified screams.

Jaren was silent as Edward explained what had happened. Apparently, months ago, he had become interested in Domination and submission, a lifestyle that seemed to resonate with him on a cellular level. While out partying the night before, he had met these glitter covered women. They wanted to know if he liked to party. As his wife, Crystal, was visiting family in Montana, he had brought them home with him. Drink and drugs had flowed freely, lowering already low inhibitions. Laughter and hugs had soon become a wet and wild foursome. As the events of the night had progressed, he found that each of the women had a kinky streak to them. An hour later, each of the giggling girls were tied and trussed like a Thanksgiving turkey. Unfortunately, the girls had begun to fear what Edward had planned for them, but he was too far gone. He wouldn't be denied. Edward hadn't ever felt as alive as he had then. He felt powerful, but, more importantly, he felt free.

Jaren couldn't think of anything to say and stood there, dumbfounded as Edward slowly made his way around the room, teasing the girls, adjusting the vibes inside them, slowly fucking them with the large toys, whispering of the pain they would be in for if they let them fall. The girls groaned, tears flowing freely from behind the blindfolds as they begged to be released. Edward ignored them and asked Jaren if he'd like to play with them.

Jaren said not a word for a while, looking from the writhing women to Edward and back again. After about three minutes, an eternity, Jaren turned around, closing the basement door and slowly began to descend down the stairway.

Victor was on the porch, talking to the police and Elmoira was busy keeping Alexa quiet, sitting behind her, shushing her, cooing in her ear. Alexa was too far gone to process what was going on, not getting more than two hours of sleep at a time, too busy enjoying the soft caresses Elmoira placed on her sore cunt. A wise investment on Eddie's part had been the false, slide out wall that could cover the door to the play room in case uninvited guests had showed up. It wouldn't stand up to too close of an inspection, but, if you had no idea it was back there, the playroom was rendered effectively invisible. It was even soundproof, a fact that Elmoira was testing now.

As she massaged her wet lips, Elmoira began sucking on her neck gently, a single finger sliding deep inside her, curling up to stroke her g-spot. Alexa sighed, her hips making little circles, making Elmoira's finger slide in and out of her dripping pussy.

"You're such a good girl, aren't you?" Elmoira whispered teasingly, her slow ministrations decadently constant. "Aren't you?"

"Mmhmmph." Alexa groaned, arching her back, gasping as Elmoira's wet tongue dragged across her neck, replaced by tiny kisses and nips.

The sound of the false wall being pulled back and the door opening interrupted Elmoira's fun. Victor strode into the room.

"Jaren's back." He said, grabbing the bag with Mikey's concoction inside it.

"Wait, what?" Elmoira asked, pulling her finger from Alexa's hungry cunt. "What about the police?"

"They're cool. I know them." He said, pulling the duffle bag over his shoulder. "Just giving me a heads up on some patrols later on. Jaren went to stash his car at my house. He doesn't want to take any chances of anyone recognizing it. My friends dropped him off."

"Oh. Ok then!" she chirped, licking her finger clean. She turned Alexa's head toward her, slid the gag down, and began to make out with her sloppily, sucking passionately on each other's tongues.

Victor shook his head and left Elmoira with Alexa and headed back to the front room.

The police cruiser had turned around as was pulling off. Jaren, Eddie, and a strange woman were talking, completely ignoring the two girls Jaren had brought in with him. One was slightly taller than the other, fuller figured, her breasts almost spilling out of her tight halter top. Her red hair was done up in a long ponytail. The other had shorter black hair, her breasts smaller than her friend's, but looked bigger on her shorter frame. She wore pigtails and catholic school girl uniform, the skirt barely able to cover her large, round ass. Both wore thick leather collars and stood with their hands behind their back, breasts prominently displayed. Victor looked them up and down appreciatively, then moved toward Jaren and Eddie.

"-should be completed by next week." The strange woman said. She was dressed professionally, her business suit neat, her hair done up in a tight bun, her six inch heels reminded Victor vaguely of his middle school librarian. But, where Mrs. Mitchell was all smiles and laughter, the woman before him had a cold, calculating look to her, her eyes sharp and full of some dark, twisted purpose.

"Very well." Jaren said, before turning to Victor. "Ah, yes, Victor! We were just discussing a bit of business. Nothing too important. Just something that has to be done."

"Cool. I grabbed the gel." Victor said, motioning to the bag he had set on the floor. He was certain something was being hid from him. He filed that away for now. If Jaren wanted to hide something, it stayed hidden. That didn't mean he couldn't keep an eye out and an ear to the ground, though.

"Perfect!" Jaren said, pulling out the container out of the duffle bag. The strange woman crossed her arms and began to tap her foot impatiently. "Yes, yes. Of course."

Jaren stood back up, gesturing to the woman beside him.

"Victor Cherevin. Meet Layla Mathewson." He said. "My wife."