The Dark Star - Aftermath Pt. 07

The Collective' the clandestine organisation I'd been a member of several years ago. The members were always anonymous to preserve and protect identities as the leader of the organisation Salazar Hernandez had explained to me on my first, memorable, initiation. His identity the only one known ever known to me. He sat me down on his luxurious apartment one evening and detailed what was expected of my acceptance into their organisation. I'd met him by chance at the 'Sapphire' when I'd been there with both Alison and Katy. The same night he'd left me in his apartment in the company of the exquisite olive-skinned Italian girl he'd identified only as Elana. Over months I'd provided girls for meetings in exchange for invitations to indulge with females supplied by other members of the organisation. Even letting young Ari provide members with a demonstration on one occasion; as I sit there my mind briefly passes to her initially nervous submission before three masked strangers, tied to the bed while the artificial nature of the fuck machine gained her impressive climax and their collective tributes. This was my first association in a long time, I could think of no better tribute to offer than the delectable Detective Inspector Rose Callaghan.

Rose Callaghan who while held down on her knees had provided oral stimulation for both men, alternating of free will from one to the other as the figures dressed in black near competed for her dutiful attention. Each seeming to challenge the other to take her mouth deeper. She wretched and gasped for air when momentarily free of taking them in her mouth but obediently she'd succumb and taken the next hard length back into her mouth with no coercion required.

Her jaw and breasts covered with her own saliva by time they'd lifted her from her knees, stretched her between them and laid her across the bed.

I watch as the slightly shorter male stands over her and parts her stocking clad legs. Splaying them apart beneath him, as his fingers wipe saliva from her breasts and then up between her legs. Moments later as he takes hold of the chain attached to the collar around her neck, I hear the whimper and gasp from her as he slides his dick deep into her supple body. Giving up her body for him to use without resistance. Without knowledge of what's truly happening to herself.

Her back arches as she accepts him. Her arms extend to her sides as she grips tightly the duvet beneath her. Deep in her consciousness she's aware what's happening, something within her craves this attention.

Propping himself over her he builds his slow thrusts as his left hand clutches the chain lead drawing it tight while his right-hand clamps down on her left thigh pinning it to the bed.

Each thrust pushing Roses shoulders to the edge of the bed. Her breasts slip back and forth under the momentum with which he takes her. I'm not the only one to notice the firm orbs as the second male steps closer from the opposite side of the bed. Extending a hand, he pinches his fingers over her left nipple then his free hand draws firmly over her right breast, drawing yet further gasps of pleasure from their submissive little plaything.

Her head hangs back over the bed, her face gently grimaced as she accommodates each increasingly heavy thrust. I watch transfixed as she's used for his pleasure, for their pleasure, their wanton desire.

As his pace quickens there's a brief exchange of glances between the two males.

The hands slip from her breasts up around the collar and partially around her shoulders. Pinning her to the bed her head and shoulders dropped further off the bed, her eyes still obscured by the lace blindfold, her mouth falls open on silent gasps of pleasure.

Her open mouth that's then slowly filled with the dick of the second male stood over her.

I watch transfixed as on her back she accepts the penis his right hand falling across her throat and while his other supports her head. His hips immediately thrust as she closes her mouth around him.

Both dark clad males now penetrating her body, I sit forward I can't help but be transfixed drawn into what's happening to the beautiful Detective I've lured slowly into this increasingly charged relationship. I smirk as I think of the diligent fiancé she has at home, how little he's aware of her increasing betrayal. My smirk turning to a grin on contemplating how little she's aware of her betrayal under the influence of the blue pills she'd unknowingly consumed earlier.

She handles their increased pace, the male between her legs pins her lower body while using her harder and faster now as I draw my mind back to scenario that plays out before me. Using her harder taking her faster. The chain dropped across her body he now kneels on the bed raising her hips and the angle of his penetration as he draws her legs up bent alongside him as he grips her hips. Her spiked heels sink into the bed, anchoring her, making her body rigid, but with each thrust deep into her toned body her throat is forced deeper on to the dick that penetrates her throat.

Another nod and after several thrusts the male taking her mouth withdraws. Thick strands of saliva that coat his dick break across her face. She gasps for clear breaths struggling as the pace of the relentless fuck from the male griping her thighs impaling her deeply intensifies. Gasping she cranes her head up off the side of the bed her knuckles white from gripping the bed covers. His right hand grips her shoulder pulling her back towards him drawing another pained yet exhilarated sound from her.

His pace quickens as she continually gasps for breath.

His body locks rigid.

His back arches.

He cums deep in Rose Callaghan.

I let go a breath I hadn't realised I'd held onto.

Immediately he pulls out, the second taller male crosses my line of sight stopping to pick up the black length of silk. She lays there chest and stomach rising and falling with the exertion placed upon her body. She's turned over face down by the pair of them. Her hands then drawn back to the base of her spine. The black silk length swiftly and expertly ties her wrists once again. Her waist raised by the taller male as he climbs onto the bed kneeling behind her, as her head and shoulders are turned face down on to the corner of the bed closest to me. She's short of breath, her body glistens with sweat. Beyond the veil of the blindfold her eyes don't focus on anything.

The side of her face pulled back across the bed as she's entered from behind. The male who's just climaxed in her steps aside to admire just as I do.

With her hands tied behind her back she takes her second fuck with as much compliance as the first.

Momentum builds as she's used once more. Her quick shallow breaths increasing with every hard deep thrust.

His right hand reaches forward and grabs the steel collar harshly. He pulls her upper body up off the bed.

He holds her bound and blindfold in his grip before me as I watch him fuck her from behind while she kneels there.

I watch her body held in his grip.

I envy him in this moment.

His left-hand slips around her waist his right hand clutching the collar. Firm hard thrusts into her body make her rise and fall. His grip becomes tighter his hand slips around the front of the collar as his thrusts become more hurried more brutal. He fucks her. Her head hangs forward constantly bobbing as her body absorbs his brutality.

I stand, I step closer.

The hand around her waist shifts and he pulls her head back as he grabs a handful of her hair while he continues to fuck her.

She practically looks at me.

Through the blindfold I see her eyes wide as her mouth falls open on panting breaths.

He keeps fucking her.

She gasps and groans as I stare into her eyes.

While he cums deep inside of her.

"Fuck," I state quietly as he lowers her exhausted body back face down onto the bed.

Turning away I take my glass of brandy from the side table, by time I turn back he's left her, and she lies face down across the bed her face turned away from the three of us her upper body rising and falling, legs splayed out behind her with her arms held bound behind her back.

The first male backs away to the shadows of the main doorway. The second male steps up off the bed having stowed his dick away.

"Your exceptional taste has not diminished in your absence Mr Logan."

I recognise the voice of Salazar Hernandez before he removes his black hood, hair matted to his head with the sweat of his exertions, his face a little aged since the last time I'd seen him.

"Welcome back to The Collective," he says placing a firm gloved hand on my shoulder.

"Thank you," I nod my sincere appreciation.

"You're welcome to join us for a drink in the bar... unless Rose has yet to fulfil her evenings obligations."

The first male doesn't turn to face me as he removes his hood and opens the door, a glimpse of silver-grey hair before he's silhouetted by the bright light of the external corridor.

"I've yet to decide," I offer as Salazar joins his companion in the doorway.

He pauses turns and faces me, "Have you any other interesting subjects we might approve of?"

"How do you feel about Tattoos?" My instant reaction. My mind instantly swinging to the perfect subject matter.

"Interesting," is Salazar's only response.

"I may have something of interest for you then."

"Until next time Mr Logan"

"Mr. Baxter" I correct him.

"Ah yes Mr Baxter" he says shaking his head and letting out a little chuckle.

The door closes on him, latches, and locks. Turning back to the main room Rose Callaghan lays across the bed naked spare for the stockings now ridden down her thighs, the blindfold held still across her face, the black silk holding her wrists.

I unbutton my shirt and slip my suit trousers from my legs.

"It does seem a shame to waste this opportunity" I state quietly as I pull her back across the bed a little.

My hand's part her ass cheeks as I press the tip of my rock-hard dick against her tightest little hole; not wishing to be where two men's deposits have already been left.

My left hand pressing her face down into the duvet as I grip the collar and prepare to release a tension that's built in me.

Rose groans softly at my intrusion.

**********

Pale early morning sunlight bathes the hotel room from the drawn back curtains as I sit up in bed reading through news articles on my phone.

Besides me she stirs. Groaning as she stretches out no doubt aching limbs. Her clothes and my clothes lay strewn around the room. The dusting of cocaine coats the dressing table.

"Good morning," I grin looking down into bleary bloodshot eyes, her hair dishevelled and wild.

"Morning" she croaks; instantly reaching for a dark green glass bottle of water that sits on the bed side table. She doesn't pour the contents into the glass next to the bottle she removes the bottle top and drinks heavily to quench her thirst.

The bottle almost drained. She looks sheepishly back to me "I'm sorry..."

"What for?"

"Getting so drunk ...I don't ... I barely remember a thing."

"Really" I state feigning a little worry while trying to stop my grin from forming.

"I remember getting back from the bar ...I remember you..." she sheepishly looks up at me from under dishevelled hair "Did we?"

"You're not going to have me arrested for taking advantage of you, are you?" I let my smirk play out.

"No..." she smiled weakly, "No but I'm never letting you buy me brandy cocktails again."

Glancing over the side of my bed I catch sight of the brushed silver collar sat atop a length of black silk and Hetti's black lace mask just inside my overnight bag.

Souvenirs of a memorable night.

Chapter Three: Therapy.

She gripped the desk.

Her Office door locked.

She looked back at him biting her lip.

Her breath heavy in her chest

Her black bra and black blouse strewn over the floor of her office. Skirt up around her waist to reveal the tops of stockings a black seam running from her heel, up her slender calf's, to the back of her thigh.

She stifled a cry of pleasure as she was penetrated, but the whimper that escaped her lips was exquisite.

"Jack" she shook her head lightly "Are you going to answer that question?"

Her tone was condescending, snapping Jack Hughes from the sordid visualisation of how good Jackie Grayson might look bent over the desk in the corner of the office in which they sat. He didn't even hear the question she'd asked of him.

"I'm not sure," he answers hoping his response covers all bases.

"You're not sure how you felt when your Mother passed away?"

This time the question hit him like a freight train as he sat back, near collapsed back into the dark green leather sofa on which he sat. He looked up at Jackie Grayson feeling the sting of a tear form in his eyes.

The truth is he hadn't even thought about the scenario. Not properly. He'd been in pieces at the time, understandably, everyone telling him things would get better with time. Everyone with best advice and best intentions. He had no family as such. His Auntie Carol and his cousin Katie had been there at the time, but he'd barely heard from either of them since the funeral. Spare for an invitation to the evening reception for Katie's upcoming wedding. An evening invitation. Not even mattering enough to his family to warrant an invitation to the church let alone for the main reception. Not that he'd have bothered to have gone.

Mica had been there for him at the time. Barely though, the triggers and the guilt of not even being there when his Mum had finally succumbed to the cruel disease which took her life at only 42 years of age had driven a wedge almost instantly between them. The argument that ensued tore them finally apart. He'd been cheating on Mica with Chloe the night she'd died. Mica had spent hours trying to call a phone they lay redundant, powered down while he lay in Chloe's bed for the first time.

He didn't need Jackie's professional analysis that he missed his Mum. He knew in his heart how much he missed her. That there wasn't a day that passed when he didn't think of her steady terminal decline from the bright energetic women she'd been. The woman, the person, the Mother she had before his Father had cheated, before their marriage had fallen apart. Long before the diagnosis he had been the cancer in her life she'd had to endure prior to the tumours found in her breast, his Father being the tumour that infected her life rather than her body. The tumours that spread, that tore through her body, destroying vital organs with the same level of devastation as his Fathers betrayal had destroyed her mental resolve. He'd barely shed a tear when his Father had died. He had covered his tears when his Mother had passed. Indulging in a lifestyle that covered his torment, spiralling him into sordid sexual encounters, drinking, drugs, and a lifestyle that ultimately led him to murder a man. A lifestyle quite literally leaving him with blood on his hands.

Even when stepping away he'd been dragged back in. The spiral recommencing within days figuratively of being dragged back in.

In his mind's eye he saw Chloe's laughing face, her wicked little chuckle echoed through his mind. Turning slowly to that gasp that blank look on her face as she slipped from the side of that Storage Container.

Then the truth, the truth of the long running deceit. Mourning his Father would have been a futile waste of time anyway. His Father never died.

"It can't have been easy" Jackie gently presses "So soon to losing your Dad ...to have lost your Mum."

"He'd been dead to me for longer than that," Jack felt as though he had answered too soon.

"Why's that Jack?" As she leant back crossing her legs Jack turned his gaze away, perhaps he'd be disappointed not to see a glimpse of the stocking tops he envisaged.

"Something ... something I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about," Jack stated shaking his head.

"Not ready or not able to?" Jackie was pressing him now. Her voice not as condescending as it was sincere, intrigued with the unspoken subject matter.

"What ... what importance are parents beyond a certain age anyway?" Jack realised the churlish nature of his response as soon as he'd metaphorically spat it in Jackie's direction.

"Our parents influence our lives all of our lives,"

Jackie offered. "In subtle subconscious ways that we don't even realise from cradle to grave."

Jack's first thought is to young Grace. Who he's not seen in months; not since Mica was discovered. Jack swallows hard on the double guilt of his possible association to Micas torment at The Mills and the fact of his abandoning the four-year-old he'd brought up as his own, even on discovering the truth. The four-year-old who worshipped him but who he'd abandoned with no explanation.

"And we don't influence there's Jackie?" His honest question to the subject

"Ok" she nodded "Ok yes, it works both ways"

Uncrossing her legs, she sat forward, "Thank you for your honesty this afternoon Jack."

He realised that his time was up, that this was Jackie's polite way of ushering him through the revolving door that her office no doubt resembled at times. She must have to be excruciatingly mentally resilient and intelligent to handle and keep on top of the various clients she handled day by day, let alone week by week and month on month.

"I think we've something to work on for next week." Jackie offered scribbling a note into her pad.

Jack stood just catching a glimpse of black lace detail bra down the front of her blouse as he glances down at her, suppressing a smirk. Intelligent and so fuckable the thought running through his mind as she stood and offered to shake his hand.

A little less than five minutes later he stood on the pavement at the bottom of the steps which led up to Jackie's Private practice. Jack buttoned his knee length camel overcoat against the chill of the crisp October evening, the sky starting to lose the colour of the day.

Reaching to his pocket he took a lighter and a pack of cigarettes, lighting up he decided to walk through the City to the Club rather than hail a taxi.

Sucking in the soothing smoke into his lungs he turned and walked towards the City Centre.

"Those things will kill ya," he heard the voice but didn't recognise it.

Looking back, he stopped and turned, "Hi."

"How's you Jack?"

Jack looked her up and down, Daisy Grayson, Jackie's daughter. She looked good dressed in a pair of skinny fit black jeans, with a yellow and black check shirt under a little black leather jacket. Long black hair poking out from under a black beanie hat.

"Hey, you" Jack stated caught slightly off guard, but finally recognising her.

"Daisy," she prompted.

"I know," he said with a grin.

"Well, just take a look at you all suited and booted," she smirked her turn to look him up and down now. "Where've you been ...or is it where you're going?"

"Business meeting" the first response that came to his mind, the truth would literally be a little too close to home.

"Ah" she contemplated for a moment "That's right you're in Sales, aren't you?"

"Not anymore" Jack immediately corrected her but was gently surprised how much she knew about him. "I run a nightclub these days."

"A nightclub ... which one?"

"The Dark Star" his once again immediate response which drew a nod suggesting she was impressed.

"I'm just meeting Mum from work," she nodded her head towards the building he'd just exited. "Her office is just there... I'm so early for once."

"I was just thinking of grabbing a Coffee," Jack offered not sure of his thinking on the response but having spotted the Starbucks a little ahead of him.