The Fixer Pt. 03

"Morning slut." Grace chirped. Badiha groaned in acknowledgement and went back to nursing her coffee. "So I've narrowed it down to two different jobs. I've got an army woman who wants to be dominated by a frat, good contact even if she clearly isn't familiar with universities, no uni in Britain has a frat."

"Don't think it's a good road to go down, you start judging our clients." Badiha gurgled

"Good point. I also got someone claiming to be Ariana Venti, big if true."

"Alright, which one do you want?" Badiha asked into her mug.

"That's the thing, I can't choose, they're both good prospects." Grace pled. Badiha didn't have it in her to be thinking through options right now. She certainly wasn't a fan of her phone's ringtone springing to life, practically piercing her brain.

"What person is this?" Badiha stammered as she answered the phone.

"It's Bella, are you Ok? I can call back another time..."

"No, no. It's fine. How can I help? Looking for another thrill?" Badiha asked, certain a repeat customer would probably be best for Grace's career growth.

"No thank you. My mother gave me resources to organise further entertainment without your intervention." Bella replied, keeping things vague. "The reason I'm calling is that I know you work with my mother, and I haven't seen her in a couple of days. Usually I wouldn't worry, she often gets sucked into her work, but I need her input on a work problem and she isn't in any of the places I would usually find her. You know where she is?"

"Sorry Bella. Information only flows one way in my working relationship with your mum. I don't know anything about what she's up to. But if I find anything out, I'll let you know." Badiha explained. Bella immediately hung up, not one for pleasantries even when her mother wasn't missing.

"Who was that?" Grace asked.

"Former client."

"Come on, you don't need to be tight lipped with me now I'm an employee."

"Fine, Bella Maximus." Badiha admitted.

"Holy shit Bella's a deviant? But she's the scariest person I know."

"You should meet her mother." Badiha quipped before leaving to go have a shower.

Badiha wrapped a towel around her hair and decided to wander her apartment naked to demonstrate that last night was not a one off. Grace appreciated the gesture but was still insistent on the point that Badiha needed to help her choose a client.

"Fine, how about we take one each. I'll help you with yours and you can help with mine but when the chips are down you have sole responsibility for one and I for the other." Badiha proposed.

"Good idea, nice chance to compare. I bet I'll do better at mine."

"We don't exactly hand out customer satisfaction surveys. How would you know you've done better?" Badiha sighed.

"You're missing the point, if we each take a client, we can strike a wager, have a little fun while we're at it." Grace joshed. Badiha thought this through and decided it was a good idea.

"Alright then. I think you need to learn restraint and I need to stick to my boundaries. So how about the wager be the first one to get involved with the adventure they set up for their client loses." Badiha suggested to Grace's approval.

"Deal, what's the punishment for the loser?"

"Difficult. It has to be something kinky, otherwise what's the point, but something so out there that we would want to avoid it." As Badiha was thinking aloud she was subconsciously grabbing her breasts, when she noticed it gave her an idea. "Implants! First to break has to go up to an E-cup.

"Holy shit... alright you're on." Grace enthusiastically agreed. "So who takes which client?"

"Flip a coin?" Badiha suggested.

...

Badiha had never prepared such an elaborate set of bluffs and misdirections just to meet with a client before. Her client was certainly wealthy enough to afford the incredible lengths of subterfuge she had planned.

On a flight from Monaco to Reykjavik, the private Jet of international music star Ariana Venti noticed some troubling warning lights appearing on their craft, forcing them to perform an emergency landing at an out of the way airport in the Midlands of the UK to receive emergency repairs. This meant there were no paparazzi prepared for when Ariana stepped off her plane and straight into a car, loaned to Badiha by a tight lipped friend who owed her a favour, and driven to a small cottage whose American owners gave Badiha a set of keys so long ago there's no way they would remember.

"You really go all out just to have a conversation." Ariana acknowledged as she sat down in the rustic dining room and helped herself to a bottle of sparkling water. She cut a different figure wearing some casual jogging trousers and sweatshirt for comfortable traveling, very different to the tight, cheeky, and deeply impractical outfits she was known for.

"Discretion doesn't stop when it becomes difficult. You are the most... public of my clients but I don't think it should prove a problem." Badiha calmly stated, continuing to sip from the coffee she had bought from Costa.

"So you're going to take on my fantasy?" Ariana asked, her eyes filling with hope.

"Indeed, in fact a lot of the arrangements have already been made. Everything left is just some things I need you onboard with. Firstly, I need you booked into the Royal Irwellside hotel after the final show of your UK tour, the one in Manchester."

"Done" Ariana replied, she had taken out her phone and was typing away as Badiha was talking.

"You are efficient. Alright, make sure you have the spa package booked for the next day."

"Oh, I don't let just anyone do treatments on me..." Ariana began.

"Firstly they are the most expensive spa outside of London, but more importantly you're not going to be keeping that appointment anyway. You'll cancel on the day saying you are too hungover. Basically if you book a hotel for a night and a spa package for the morning after, it becomes unthinkable that you left the hotel in the intervening time. So when I sneak you out of the hotel in a dirty laundry box."

"Ew." Ariana interrupted.

"It won't actually have dirty laundry in it." Badiha sighed.

"Oh, OK."

"Then drive you away in a hotel branded van, nobody will suspect you have left your room. We'll then change cars so I can drive you to a community theatre I have rented in Liverpool for a private event. This event has been advertised in the right circles as a late night fetish burlesque show, with 'special guest appearance' at the end. I've had a fetish events manager hire some other performers to do some acts before you head out on stage. I was thinking of introducing you as Ariana Grande..."

"Really, a Starbucks pun on my last name? That's pretty lame." Ariana once again interrupted.

"I mean the cover story is you are a fetish cover artist for Ariana Venti. It means people could suspect it's you, but that can just be dismissed as evidence that the cover artist was good. In this scenario a knock-off pun like that is the right way to go." Badiha explained.

"Fine, how about Ariana Vingt? It's what a Spanish woman started calling herself when my lawyers shut down Ariana Veinte."

"That's good, if it's already in use by other cover artists then it will diffuse suspicion." Badiha agreed. "Finally it's time to talk about what you want to do once on stage."

Ariana suddenly perked up, which made sense to Badiha, as proud as she was about the arrangements she had made to guarantee anonymity, she could imagine that those details were as important to Ariana as the wattage on her speakers or the toilet arrangement at her venues. Ariana was a performer so first and foremost in her mind was the performance.

"Like I said in my email, I want to do my set, naked and exposed." She explained.

"I'm afraid you won't be able to do the full set, it's been advertised as a night of performances so two or three songs are all you'll have time for." Badiha informed.

"Alright then, if I had to choose I'd say Passions for me to strip down to, Dangerous Senses to do my most disgraceful naked dance, then finish up masturbating to Never Gonna Stop." Ariana chose without hesitation, she had clearly had this on her mind for a while.

"And your costume, do you want me to get something specific or..."

"I have one in mind, the outfit I wear for the opening act is actually even lewder than it first appears. It's made to come off in the most revealing stages, then all at once when needed." Ariana explained.

"Can you sneak it out in your bag when you leave the show?" Badiha asked.

"Sure."

"You'll also need to provide a mask."

"I've built one into the initial costume in the upcoming tour so it won't be out of place for a cover artist to be wearing one." Ariana explained, revealing a little more of the intelligence she had cynically hidden in favour of her popstar persona.

"Smart move." Badiha acknowledged. "Anything else you want in place or are you happy with how things stand."

Ariana had been acting disinterested, then professional, at this question she let her mask slip and revealed the excitable woman who had sent the email.

"That's good, I'm so excited, this is really happening!" She squealed.

"Great, in which case I'll get you back to your plane and I'll see you next month."

...

Badiha uncomfortably squirmed in her polyester cleaning lady uniform, a cunning move on her part to keep all the unsexy parts of hotel maid while leaving nothing for a sexy fantasy to grow on. She was sat in the car park of the Royal Irwellside hotel, waiting for Ariana's motorcade to roll in and out again before springing into action.

She fumbled with her phone to keep an eye on Grace's progress, she had deliberately delayed her client's big night to the same night as Ariana's performance to add suspense to her bet with Badiha. The army officer was due to have a night of no-holds-barred sexual objectification at the hands of the Oxford University Sailing society, chosen because Grace still had Oxford Uni contacts and it would be the best choice for athletic men who are also good with knots. For the sake of fairness they agreed it would be who could hold out against joining in with the client the longest after the event started, so Badiha was worried to see updates from Grace that the party had started, Commander Striker was already tied to a chair naked, and Grace was being the picture of restraint while the men teased her client with minor torments and elaborate plans for the night.

All of a sudden the huge black luxury car pulled into the car park, and Badiha watched Ariana get out flanked by bodyguards. Badiha counted to one hundred then began to make her way towards Ariana's room, her laundry box on a hotel issue trolley not garnering a second look from any of the guests she passed.

As expected Ariana had given her guards the night off and was nervously waiting for Badiha as she arrived. Badiha clumsily bundled her into the laundry box along with her costume change and makeup bag, before closing the lid and calmly wheeling her to the van.

Every step after that followed the plan exactly and before she knew it Badiha and Ariana were pulling into the car park in backstage area of the community theatre.

"Alright, you have your own private dressing room... of sorts." Badiha informed, directing Ariana's attention to a campervan parked near the back entrance. "I'm going to head in and see how preparations are going, you get ready in the campervan and I'll come get you when your performance is starting."

Ariana checked the coast was clear before running to the campervan, her gear in a bag under her arm while Badiha casually walked into the dressing rooms. Badiha had plenty of concerns about how she came by the other acts for the night. Malcolm had assured her the event organiser was the best in the business, had a thorough rolodex of smutty performers, and would be as accommodating as she was discrete.

The flurry of activity as she walked backstage was a credit to the trust she had put in a stranger she had never met before, it didn't take her long to be stood face to face with her.

"Are you one of the performers?" The woman asked directly and efficiently.

"No, I'm Badiha."

"Ah the producer, as it were. I'm Janine, it's good to meet face to face." She replied shaking Badiha's hand. "It's all coming together nicely, there's already a queue outside filled with the right kind of disreputable people, the dress rehearsals went well, in total we have four acts before your anonymous star takes to the stage."

"Good to hear." Badiha affirmed as Janine gave her a whistle stop tour of the facilities.

"Forgive me for asking, but will you be performing tonight?" Janine asked.

"Oh no, I'll just stay here and make sure everything's running smoothly."

"Don't worry about that, that's my job. Except during the third act where my job is to do some rather naughty things with a woman almost twice my age." Badiha was taken aback by the cavalier way Janine partook in the event she was organising. "Still, if you change your mind you know I won't judge."

Janine showed Badiha into the changing room where the other acts were getting ready. There was a fairly impressive double-jointed woman limbering up, a man with the largest penis she had ever seen, Nicole Quinn, a woman already threading rope through her extensive range of piercings...

Badiha had to pause for a second to take in what her mind has just glossed over.

"Nicole!" Badiha suddenly yelled in realisation, turning the head of her former training partner.

"Cock Holster please." Nicole corrected.

"Oh, I didn't know you still..." Badiha began.

"You used more than five words." Nicole interrupted with a gasp.

"You're still following the rules aren't you?" Badiha noticed.

"Cock Holster is happy. Cock Holster is now a sex slave. Cunt was not happy?" Nicole asked.

"Cunt was great... I was great." Badiha replied, catching herself falling into old patterns. "But I needed to return to my old life."

"Why?" There was a heavy pause while Nicole's question hung in the air. Eventually Badiha moved on.

"So you're performing tonight?"

"Yes, first act. Cock Holster gives talk on history." She explained. "Would cunt like to join my act?"

"Oh... no." Badiha replied, straining her self-restraint. "Cunt needs to... I need to organise things."

"OK. Can Cunt help me move things onstage?" Nicole asked. Badiha figured she could at least help a friend out and agreed.

Nicole showed Badiha to the various devices she was planning to have on stage and Badiha's mind roared back to her time on the island. There were tables full of smaller devices, several variants of the pear of anguish prominent among them. Then there were a couple of larger devices, a rack, some stocks, a pillory, a wooden horse, and one Badiha couldn't even identify. One by one they moved everything to the empty stage, the murmur of the crowd a constant presence on the other side of the curtain. Nicole referring to Badiha as Cunt at every turn. Her mind dissolving with every deviant device they laid out.

"That's all the things. Thank you Cunt." Nicole announced as they moved a large chest into place.

"Cunt was glad to help." Badiha replied, not even fighting her former talking rules.

"Show starts soon. Last chance to join the act. I can see you are aroused..."

...

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage, your first act of the evening. Cock Holster and Cunt!"

Badiha was looking at her feet as the curtain opened on her and Nicole, naked but for the metal collars around their necks.

'I'm definitely going to lose the bet.' Badiha thought to herself. 'The time between the start of the show and me joining in was precisely 0 seconds.'

Nicole turned her back to the audience and threw a ball over her head. A man caught it and looked at it with confusion until Nicole beckoned him onstage and handed him a piece of paper with a pre-written speech on it that had been hastily pluralised.

"Welcome to our show. We are here to demonstrate the brutal torture devices of history, but with more of a focus on fun than death or permanent disfigurement. As prisoners we are not allowed to speak, only obey. Please pick one torture device for each of us, explain what it does, then throw the ball into the crowd to pick a new tormentor. We will continue to do this until a loud gong indicates our time is up, then whoever is onstage will read the gold piece of paper." He read out loud. For a moment he was taken aback but soon found himself perusing the items on display. He stopped by the stocks and picked up the tag on it to read.

"These are stocks, not to be confused with a pillory. In a pillory the board securing the prisoner is secured to the head and wrists and raised off the ground. Whereas with the stocks is just the board, with holes for the head, wrists and ankles, forcing the subject to sit bent double on the floor." He announced, beckoning over Nicole to demonstrate.

Nicole removed her metal collar, then bent herself over with practiced precision, placing her head, arms, and legs into the holes so fast the man seemed slow and bumbling as he slipped the other part of the stocks in place and locked Nicole in. He then moved over to the pillory and flashed Badiha a mischievous grin.

"The description of this is pretty much the same but opposite of the one I just read so let's skip straight to putting our prisoner in." Badiha found herself drawn to obey, removing her collar, then placing her head and arms inside the pillory, her mind growing fuzzier by the moment as she felt the relentless wood lock into place. As an added humiliation the man turned the pillory around so Badiha stumbled and rotated until her bottom was facing the crowd. Badiha drank in her humiliation as the rustle and footsteps of the next member of the crowd being selected happened out of her view.

"The scold's bridle was a device often used by husbands or father's on women who were becoming too outspoken. It is designed to clip onto the head and stop the subject talking, some variety in designs has been found in history, so we have also altered it to include a cock shaped gag." The audience member announced. Badiha braced herself but then heard the telltale sounds gagging from Nicole that suggested she was going first. Afterwards the audience gasped at the choice that had been made.

"The pear of anguish." The new audience member announced and Badiha squirmed with the core erotic memories that device held for her. The blood coursing through her veins rumbled in her ears and time stood still while the audience was treated to a quick history on the device. Then Badiha felt a familiar pressure pushing at her anus, she relaxed and felt the pear slip in. In the interests of time the audience member had the forethought to throw the ball out to the next member while they dealt with the pear, so as Badiha felt her sphincter begin to stretch, she heard a stern woman reading out the next device.

"This is a pear of anguish specially adapted to go into a prisoner's vagina, pretty anachronistic but otherwise fun." She announced. Badiha couldn't see but Nicole had been turned around so her prostrated body was face down ass up for the audience's benefit. Badiha felt herself groaning in familiar painful enjoyment in unison with her sex slave partner.

Eventually the audience member torturing Badiha reached the limit Nicole had built into her device to stop it doing permanent damage, she then simply shuddered at an audience being able to see inside of her.

"Most times when we hear about breast tortures in the bad old days, we hear about St. Agatha and other unfortunate women having them torn off. But that wouldn't be fun for a light hearted sex show so instead I've got a classic vice that often got used on body parts so must have been used on tits in the past." She explained. Badiha felt two lengths of wood placed to frame her breasts, flexible enough to bend a little, but still too snug for comfort. Then she felt the screws at each end begin to tighten, her breasts heating up from their ever constricting base.