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The muttering started and got louder when I unbuttoned my jacket and the twin shoulder holsters became more obvious. But it got quiet very quickly when the final two people entered and shut the door behind them.She was a striking woman, probably in her early fifties but looking fifteen years younger thanks to money, makeup, a personal trainer and one of the finest plastic surgeons on the west coast. Senator Wilma Mortenson was an imposing figure, with her broad shoulders, long legs, small waist and the most natural looking silicone implants money could buy. Her dark hair, with its streaks of iron gray, did nothing to detract from her looks. In fact it enhanced them, but it was her penetrating green eyes that caught my attention. Hard and cold, unforgiving and hostile while giving every impression of humanity.But as impressive as she was, it was the man who came in with her that drew most of my attention.He was tall, a couple of inches shorter than myself, looked to be in excellent. . well, the less said the better.Letting through just a little of The Demon, I growled, “Tell me why, cunt.”“Let me love my Master my way, Sir. I have dreamed, I mean I HAVE REALLY dreamed of being just like we are right now. In my dream I have been used within an inch of my life, I feel pain everywhere, yet I still feel the need for something in my dream, a very strong feeling of not completing something that I wanted ... no, something I NEEDED to do for my Master. I have never been able to stay with the dream long enough to find out just what it was I felt the need to do. This is the closest we have ever been to that dream, in real life, and now I know ... I know what it is that my mind and body crave to do so badly. I need it, I want it, it is all I can think of, Sir.”She said all of this in that little voice.I could deny her nothing. I managed to get out, “Tell me.”“As I said before, Sir ... let me love my Master, my way.”I simply said, “Love me, cunt.”She let out a long contented.
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