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To the Estate
Michael spent the next
three days searching for information, but discovered little. Dominic D'Attillio had been the sole owner of a large industrial
firm until some twenty five years previous. Then he sold everything and moved
to the south of
He could also find
nothing definite about anyone called Mandy Grey. A search on the name brought
up many possibilities, but nothing that would connect to Dominic D’Attilio,
On the third day he was
sitting at his terminal when another secure mail message arrived. This time
Dominic's face was on his screen. “Michael,” said the image. “I would like you
to come to my home on Friday of this week. My driver will pick you up at
Friday was the day his
lease expired, and so it could hardly be more convenient. The apartment was
furnished, and Michael had few possessions of his own. He decided to get rid of
some and bring everything else with him. On Friday when the car arrived Michael
had everything in one large bag, which the driver (the large man again)
accepted without comment and placed in the trunk. The man opened the rear door
for Michael, and ushered him in.
Inside, Michael noted the
spacious luxury of the car. There was an envelope beside him on the seat with
his name on it. Inside was a note saying simply: “Please relax and enjoy the
trip. There is a bar in the seat back in front of you - help yourself.''
Michael opened the bar
and poured himself a beer as the car moved away from the curb. “Could be worse!”
he thought as he took his first sip. But the sense of mystery was intense.
The driver made no
response to his attempts to communicate, and soon Michael gave up trying. The
car headed for the freeway and then out into the countryside. Gradually Michael
felt himself getting sleepy, and before long his head was back and his mouth
was open as he snored away peacefully. The car continued on to a small airstrip
where a very modern plane was waiting. The man carried Michael easily into the
plane, which was small and fast but also luxuriously appointed inside. He laid
Michael into a large reclining seat, fastened him in, and then took a seat
himself. The plane took off smoothly and continued flying on into the night.
The next day Michael
found himself waking up in a car again, just as it was pulling up to a large
house. He awoke quickly, feeling rested and refreshed. But then he had a moment
of absolute disorientation as he realized that he was not in the same car that
he had fallen asleep in. Immediately the door was opened for him, and he was
asked to step out. The air was balmy and soft, and full of unfamiliar smells.
Looking around -- the house, the birds, the gravel on
the driveway -- everything told him that he was no longer in
“Where am I?” he asked the
driver.
“Welcome to
Michael placed himself
quickly. He was at the D'Attillio estate in
Inside he was met by the
large man again. “Welcome to France, sir, and welcome to this home. My name is
Michael was ushered into
a large panelled room with lush carpets, wooden and
upholstered furniture, a desk, and a large fireplace on one wall. It was well
lit and smelled fresh. There was no-one there, and Michael had some time to
himself. His eyes roamed the room, finally landing on a small framed picture on
the wall. Approaching it more closely he recognized with a shock that it was an
original sketch by Jo Farrell.
The picture showed a
young woman tied with her back to a tree in a garden. Her clothes had been torn
open to reveal her legs and her very large breasts. Two ropes were tied very
tightly around her breasts and strung over a branch of the tree. A man was holding
the other ends and was about to jerk her breasts upwards, while off to the side
a small group of elegantly dressed men and women watched with interest.
At that point Michael
heard the door behind him, and he turned to see Dominic. “You have seen this picture
before.” he said. It was not a question and Michael did not answer, but just
stood there feeling somewhat guilty. “Copies of this picture have circulated on
the web and the hyperweb since the 1990's. There was
one on your opti-drive in your office in
Michael could say
nothing. Pictures like this were not illegal to possess but this was a side of
his private life that he had never discussed with anyone.
“Relax,” said Dominic
with a smile, and he placed his hand on Michael's shoulder. “You have excellent
taste. This is a work of genius.”
Dominic moved beside him
and looked at the picture. “See the way he captures the absolute moment. The
girl is surprised and terrified, and pleading for the man to stop. Look at her
face. It is such an outrageous violation for such a well dressed, attractive young
girl.” He pointed to her nipples, which
in the picture were dripping fluid. “Perhaps they chose her because she is a
young mother and her breasts are swollen with milk. They will be particularly
sensitive to this treatment.”
Dominic paused,
contemplating the picture. “Look how the overall scene is portrayed - with such
normalcy! The spectators are interested, but the event is just an entertainment
for them. They are pleased by the creativity of the punishment, perhaps. And
look at the way the man is leaning into it -- his enthusiasm! You can enjoy this
sketch for hours. It draws you deep into the world the artist has created.
There are so many delicious possibilities. So many ways the story could have
led to this moment, or could go from here. Don't you think?”
Michael's head was
spinning. His erection had grown enormous while Dominic was talking, and it needed to be
adjusted. He felt at an enormous disadvantage just because he was so turned on
– just as he had felt in the restaurant when he had first seen the girl. This
man seemed to know everything about him. Michael knew he had to respond.
“Wow!” was all he said at
first, and he turned away, spread his knees, and adjusted himself. “Yes,” he
said. “This man was an amazing genius. But I have never met anyone who would
have a piece like this hanging on the wall of his
house.” He turned to look at Dominic with more confidence.
“Ah but now you have met
me, Michael. And we know now that you have come by your appreciation of art
honestly.”
Dominic was smiling, and
Michael had to smile back. Dominic continued: “You will find that you can be
quite honest about your taste in art while you are in this house, Michael. Art and anything else. It will take some time for you to get
used to the freedoms you will have here. It is possible to indulge your own
self to an extent that you will find quite astonishing, I assure you.”
The two regarded each
other briefly. Michael was acutely aware of the pleasure rising from his crotch
but he was still unwilling to open up completely to this man he barely knew.
Michael had an active fantasy life that included the domination of attractive
women. He was quite comfortable with this part of his personality, but had
never revealed it to anyone. Yet this man seemed to know all about it. Further,
he seemed to share the same fantasies.
Dominic continued: “I
know a great deal about you, Michael, partly because you are so much like myself. And I also know you are reluctant to talk about
these things with another man.” Dominic's eyes were warm and conspiratorial,
and he chuckled. “Relax,” he said again. “I am not even slightly homosexual,
and neither are you. We are just transgressing some cultural boundaries on the
topics men can normally discuss with each other. I will say it again -- there
are no boundaries to expression in this house.”
Michael regarded Dominic
carefully. His mind was clear and he was forming impressions rapidly. Dominic
was a very powerful man—this much was obvious. Michael had been taken from his
home without leaving a trace. He was now in a position where no-one could ever
find him. No doubt if he were to turn and leave he would find the large man, or
perhaps several men, barring his way somehow. And Dominic's power showed in his
confident manner. But what was his purpose?
Michael took a long
breath and examined his instincts. As deep as he could go, in spite of his
situation, he felt trust. In fact he had to admit that the more he saw Dominic
the more he liked him. Dominic was enjoying Michael's discomfort, certainly,
but in a way that could only be described as friendly. And, try as he might,
Michael could see absolutely nothing that Dominic could have to gain by
deceiving him.
But there was still a
remarkable strangeness about the whole situation. And Michael simply could not
ignore the burning in his crotch. His cock was absolutely rampant under his
pants, and it strained even further as a powerful image of the large breasted
girl -- Mandy -- entered his mind. What was her role in all of this?
“Let me show you another
one,” said Dominic. “I think you have seen this one as well.” Dominic led him
to a spot on the other side of the fireplace. Hanging there was another Farrell
original that Michael recognized with a shock.
This one had only three
people. There was a woman tied to a post with her very large breasts exposed.
They were covered with puncture wounds, and several pins could be seen imbedded
in them. A man was pushing another large needle into the left one, the tip
making an indentation as it plunged into her flesh. Another woman, pleased and
interested, was watching from behind. The victim was screaming, her face a
picture of agony. The man was smiling calmly and watching the victim's face as
he forced in the needle.
“I like this one too,”
said Michael. “But it goes a bit far for me. Blood does not excite me.”
“No,” said Dominic. “Not
many of us find blood to be erotic. And to be honest the risk of infection
makes it all a bit too complicated. But what is it that draws you to the
picture then?”
Michael’s crotch surged
again. Did he hear correctly? Had Dominic just suggested that he had drawn
blood from a victim like this? The implications of this thought were too much
for him, and he turned quickly to the picture. His eyes moved from face to face
and over the poor woman's tortured breasts. It was in order to bring his
spinning thoughts under control that he focused on Dominic's question.
“It is the extended
violation,” he said finally. “The woman has been there for a long time, to have
her breasts so well marked. She has been struggling and screaming, and is now
becoming quite hysterical. And yet the man continues, slowly, taking his time.
He is enjoying her struggles and watching them, but he also just enjoys
punishing her breasts. And the other woman -- she is pleased to be watching the
process and thinks it quite normal and appropriate. And of course there is the
size of those breasts -- just look at them!”
“Why is it important that
the woman have such large breasts?”
Michael found the
question strange, thinking first that it didn't matter. He liked large breasts,
but he knew some men did not. But then he looked at the picture again and
realized that Dominic’s question was artistic. The drawing in the picture was
realistic - this was no cartoon. Yet the breasts were bigger than large -
bigger than life, in fact. Why would the artist have made them so big?
“I think,” said Michael
after a moment, “That it has to do with power.”
“Yes!” Dominic's voice
was pleased. “Go on!”
“I think,” said Michael
again, growing more confident, “I think that in the normal world, with all of
its rules for normal behavior, a woman with breasts like these has enormous
power. Men are overwhelmed with attraction, and yet to gain her consent they
must win her trust, and to do this they must restrain their behavior. They must
be polite, and attentive, and nice. And the woman can pick and choose among those
men on the slightest of pretexts, causing the rejected ones grief and
humiliation.”
Michael paused for a
moment, then continued, hardly believing his own
words. “What is happening in this picture is that the source of this power is
being slowly, carefully, and systematically violated. Perhaps the artist is suggesting that the
pain on this woman's face is fair recompense for the frustration she has caused
every man who has felt powerless and stupid in front of her. Breasts like those
are made to be punished.”
“And,” he added as an
afterthought, “I suppose it is recompense to this other woman too.”
Dominic had his hand on
Michael's shoulder once again. His eyes were beaming, and he laughed openly. “Very
good!” he said. “Very good indeed!” Michael turned,
but Dominic was already walking over to a couch, where he sat down. “Come, sit.”
he said, gesturing to a large chair opposite. Michael sat. There was a low
wooden table on the floor between them.
Dominic looked at Michael
for a few moments before he spoke again. “Michael,” he said. “I am about to
make to you a proposition that a great many men would accept in their dreams,
but perhaps only a very few would accept in practice. I told you several days
ago that I wanted you to take over my business. I am now going to tell you what
that business is.”
“You see, Michael, I am a
person who trains beautiful young females for the service of very wealthy men.
That is what I do. It is something that I thoroughly enjoy, and it is also
very, very profitable.”
Michael was amazed yet
again, but (he realized) no more so than he had been when he entered the room
and saw the first picture. The explanation made sense of everything that had
happened to him from the day he got his first secure message. He had seen it
coming, without knowing it. He nodded, believing Dominic instantly.
Dominic was still
speaking. “As you can imagine, it is also quite illegal. Some would say it is
highly immoral. You may also find it objectionable, and I must emphasize that I
have arranged things so that you do have the chance to refuse. At this point
you know very little about me, and you do not know where you are. We can return
you to your old life in such a way that you would have no hard information to
give to give to any authorities.”
There was silence, and
Michael knew that it was his turn to speak. He waited a few moments, feeling a
strength rise within him. “It seems to me that you have been telling me the
truth,” he began. “You have no obvious reason to kidnap someone like me - I
have no assets. And my instincts suggest that your claim to be my father could
be right - probably is. And your claims about the character of your business
also make sense. So while your claims are remarkable, they also make sense. But
there is much I would still like to know.”
“I will do what I can.”
“Well, let's begin with
this one. Why would you choose me for this . . . position?”
“Oh, well -- a father
cannot be faulted for looking first to his family. We have investigated you.
You have the intelligence and character to run an organization of this scope. I
have seen this in you already. You have the required interest. We want someone
who will enjoy the work, after all.” Dominic's eyes were sparkling again.
“But why choose anyone?
Are you planning to retire?” Michael said this with a smile, but immediately
realized he might have gone too far.
Dominic paused, and then
almost shrugged. “It is a good question, and I will tell you the answer.
Several years ago my doctors informed me that I have a condition that will kill
me within a year or two from now. There is no cure and there is nothing they
can do.” Michael started to say something but Dominic cut him off: “No - I need
no sympathy. I have known now for some time and I have quite some time left. I
am used to the idea. I will say no more.”
Michael looked down. This
was a lot of information. Finally he spoke sincerely: “Dominic, I am sorry to
hear this.”
“I know. I had not wanted
to tell you. We can talk more about this later if you wish. But now you must
think about your decision.”
“Fair enough,” said
Michael. “But what happens if I say yes? I have not the slightest idea how to
run an organization, least of all one that does what you claim. Are you
proposing to put me through a training program? Show me how to do all of this?”
“Absolutely.” Dominic spread his arms as he spoke. “There is an
enormous amount to learn, and it will take you many months - a year perhaps. But you will enjoy the
process, I assure you.”
Michael stared for a
moment longer. Then, suddenly, he shook his head and looked down. “No,” he
said. “It still doesn't make sense. You say that you are dying, which let us
say I believe. Why not just let your organization die with you? Or let one of
your more experienced employees take over and do the best he can with it? Why
would you go out of your way to bring in someone like me -- with no experience
and no suggestion other than a few pictures on an opti-drive
that he will take the job? Why do you need me?”
Dominic looked at Michael
for some time, his face a mix of admiration and indecision. “The reason,'' he
said finally, “is Mandy. You will come to understand this eventually, but I
will say no more now. You must make your decision.”
Michael realized he had
made his decision long before. But he waited nonetheless, going over everything
in his mind. He knew clearly what his cock was pointing to, but it had already
led him into situations he had lived to regret. But he was also being offered a
way to earn a good living. If he could indulge his fantasies at the same time,
so much the better. And, in his fantasies at least, he had succeeded wildly at
this job for which he had no practical experience.
Michael looked up at
Dominic again. The bottom line, he realized, was that he trusted this man who
had entered his life so efficiently and seemed to know so much about him. That,
and the fact that he had been asked to provide nothing other than himself to the deal, and indeed had nothing else to offer,
made his decision clear. Reaching out his hand he said, simply: “I accept.”
Dominic smiled, and took
his hand firmly. “Welcome to your dreams,” he said.
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