| Straight: BDSM: The Anima Tales: The Governor's Prison (1/5) |
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The dark Mercedes van bounced down Brevard Street and made a sharp turn onto Lincoln Plaza. The driver’s reckless maneuvering toppled Monica, Oleanna, and I on top of one another. “Fuck Charlie,” Oleanna said. “Take it easy, Man. Goddammit! I smeared my lips.” “Sorry, ladies,” said Charlie in his Texas drawl. “I gotta a lead foot tonight. Maybe one of you fine young things could help relieve some of the tension in my legs.” “Sure,” said Oleanna. “When you win the lottery, give us a call.” “One of these days ---” “You need to keep hangin’ with the whores on Townsend,” Oleanna interrupted. “Shit,” said Charlie, hitting the gas. “They ain’t bad. Trixa’s got red hair like you Ollie -- ain’t as pretty though and her tits ain’t as big. When I’m with her, I pretend it’s your globes I’m suckin’.” Oleanna cursed and fixed her lipstick. Monica and I looked at each other and smiled. It was the same old banter between Oleanna and Charlie. It always happened on this gig. Charlie had been Governor Hoskins’s driver for twelve years. Like clockwork, the first Saturday of each month, Charlie’s fancy polished car idled outside Anima Rising and waited for us. Hoskins himself had made the arrangements with me. It was a lucrative contract. He knew exactly what he wanted and like so many people of authority, he wasn’t the least bit bashful about stating it. Nothing much shocked me anymore. I started Anima six years ago and had delivered the goods on more fantasies and secret desires than I could count. Sometimes I considered my own position of power, having information that could easily ruin some of the most powerful people in Texas. But, that was my specialty. I had decided a long time ago to carve out a niche for myself by appealing to the darkest and most sacrosanct desires of men rich enough to pay for such fulfillment. It had been a smart business decision. Within a few years I was worth millions and my roster was always growing. Occasionally, a woman called, but it was usually men and they were often politicians. I now employed forty escorts. Over the years many girls had asked to be part of Anima Rising. Most were turned away even though I only had three requirements: extraordinary beauty, no qualms about renting their bodies for anything and everything, and above all discretion. My clients could always depend on those three things. It was a formula that worked. I was not usually part of a “run”. In fact this was the only one in which I participated. But when Governor Hoskins met with me and picked the three women he wanted he insisted that I be part of the deal. “I want the nigger,” he said, pointing to Oleanna, “the Asian, and you.” At first I balked, but he threatened to walk out. “If you’re not part of it Lisa,” he said, “you can forget the whole Goddamn shebang.” So, I relented. “Good,” he said. “I wanted one of each, a white, a dark, and a slant-eye.” Monica practically cringed, even though my girls were trained never to reveal disgust. I didn’t like him either, but five grand for a two-hour session was too much to turn down. I told Oleanna and Monica that since it was a special circumstance, I’d split the money evenly with them. They were grateful even though the thought of being locked up in Governor Hoskins’s kinky jail gave them the willies. It was hard work. Hoskins was one of the most twisted fuckers I’d ever encountered. |
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