Preston The Persian Princess

Obsession Series, Book Three
1. Auflage 2016
ISBN: 978-1-945648-02-1
Verlag: Pink Flamingo Media
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet/DL/kein Kopierschutz

E-Book, Englisch, 128 Seiten

Brittany Milani is 27, an Iranian-American CIA Operative. Hot and sexually uninhibited, Brittany has gone undercover, using her body to convict drug dealers and sex traffickers. When her shadowy CIA handler assigns her to work a covert sting operation, she doesn't hesitate to accept the dangerous mission. She meets the major players at Obsessions, a Gentlemen's Club catering to Dominants and their submissivess.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Preston, Paul

Leseproben

Chapter Two Lucius Barrington “Thank you. We’ll be out on the floor shortly,” Jefferson said. My boss touched the screen once more and the grotesque picture of what looked like a human snake appeared. Lucius Barrington looked more like a carnival freak show performer than the spawn of Satan. In the photograph his scalp was shaved, his mouth was open and his tongue slithered out between reddish lips. His tongue apparently had been surgically altered to resemble a snake, with a little slit cut into the middle of the tip, like prongs of a slimy fork. What’s more, two small red and black pointed horns of some kind were mounted into the skin on top of his forehead. All he was missing was a tail. Other than those anomalies, he looked like a college dropout who ate too much fast food, with a pudgy layer in the middle. I’m sure he won the Halloween contest every year, but if I had my choice I would much rather take my chances with a Terrorist Prince Charming than this Creature from the Black Lagoon. “Lucius Barrington is the misfit son of a rich Chicago family who used his trust fund to open some kind of devil-worshipping church called The Church of the Anti-Christ, in order to assist him in getting laid more often, I would presume,” my Handler said. Another religious wacko. We looked at the disturbing image. “I’d like to turn the briefing over to Mr. Jefferson and let him explain the situation in detail,” my Handler said. “Thank you, Sir. First, I’d like to convey my deep appreciation to both the CIA and FBI for assisting me with this… particular problem,” Jefferson said. “It’s our pleasure to help you Mr. Jefferson,” I said. “As mentioned, Mr. Barrington is the spoiled only child of Mr. and Mrs. Randolph Barrington, who have both recently passed away, leaving the entire Barrington Estate, with the family’s extensive stock portfolio and commercial real estate holdings in their son’s hands. So far, he’s visited my club twice. Tonight is his third and hopefully last visit. He came two weeks ago escorting two rather plain looking women, all dressed in black lingerie. He claims that they are witches and he is their Warlock, a powerful High Priest of the Worldwide Church of Satan. I’ve met some odd people since I opened for business four years ago and I try not to judge people by their appearance, but this gentleman certainly ranks right up at the top of the list of characters. When I spoke to him at the initiation I hold for all new visitors to Obsessions, Barrington was polite, soft-spoken and readily agreed to the rules of the club. He seemed rather innocuous to me. I just thought he liked dressing up and someone had forgotten to tell him Halloween was over last month. I assume he came to Obsessions like many of our patrons, to indulge in some forbidden sexual fantasy. Although his physical appearance was a bit extreme, I didn’t see any reason at first why he couldn’t patronize my club. I escorted Barrington and the two women around, giving them the standard tour. After the initiation, my submissive caught his eye and he walked right over to the table where she was sitting. It was odd to me that he went directly to Grace; as if he knew she would be there. Grace is quite popular here due to her kindness to members of our club and her physical beauty. She’s very friendly and a great number of people enjoy talking to her on a nightly basis. Barrington patiently waited while Grace talked to the various regulars. Once it was his turn he sat down at her table and carried on a conversation with her. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her.” Jefferson paused in his story and took a sip off his drink. “What were they talking about?” Zardooz asked. “At the first meeting between them I wasn’t close enough to hear all of it, but later that night back at home, Grace told me Barrington claimed to have known her from childhood. He told her that he had once gone to the same Sunday school class and they had played together, though Grace has no memory of this whatsoever. He apparently spouted off some religious mumbo-jumbo about how he was the ancestor of one of God’s most beloved angels, but the ancestor rebelled and fell from the Heavens, banished by God. After his strange story Barrington got down on one knee and made a strange proposal to her. He asked her to become the wife of the Prince of Darkness and bear him a child, the anti-Christ, foretold in the Bible who would rule the earth for 1000 years. He spoke with such sincerity, proposing some kind of twisted marriage with her. Grace was greatly disturbed by him and back in my office she confessed to me that the odd man made her extremely nervous. I was a trifle annoyed with the mind games he was playing, but before I had a chance to speak to Barrington about the matter, he swept out of the club with his witches. Grace slept fitfully that night and the next day appeared nervous and skittish. After a few days, I could see that she felt much better and was back to her usual cheerful self again. I thought that would be the end of it, but a few days later Barrington and the two women came back to the club, unexpectedly. As soon as she saw him, Grace withdrew to the safety of my office and locked the door. Barrington didn’t see Grace in the club on this occasion. I told her that I would keep an eye on him while she monitored Barrington’s activities on my computer. That’s when she noticed the scars.” “What scars?” I asked. “On Barrington’s first visit, Grace remembered seeing the red markings of a lash on the back of the older of the two witches. On the second visit, Grace noticed the younger woman had fresh strokes of the scourge on her back as well.” “So Barrington’s been physically assaulting these two women, apparently. You give a very detailed presentation of this case, Mr. Jefferson,” my boss said. “Indeed,” Zardooz added. “Mr. Jefferson,” my boss continued, “I hope you don’t mind that I had you thoroughly vetted after we spoke yesterday over the phone. After the severity of what you brought to our attention, I needed to make sure you were a reliable source. Mr. Jefferson is from a family of cops in Chicago. He graduated first in his class at the police academy and holds a Master’s Degree in Criminal Justice for University of Illinois. Soon after starting your job as a police officer, you sued the Chicago Police Force and won a large undisclosed settlement. Now you run this gentlemen’s club. The details of the court case were sealed. I’m curious, Sir. What happened, if you don’t mind my asking?” “On my first day on the beat I witnessed my female training officer physically abuse a homeless man in front of a liquor store,” Jefferson said quietly, his eyes cast downward. “Ahh. And you reported her I assume, as was your duty. Let me guess. The department covered their asses and you were fired,” my Handler asked. “That’s about right Sir,” Jefferson said. “That’s a damn shame, Jefferson. Sounds like you got screwed,” Zardooz said. I could tell by Jefferson’s demeanor he was still bitter about what happened to him. He frowned at the memory and continued the briefing. “So after inquiring about the whereabouts of Grace to my security guard, Barrington and the two women abruptly left the club. Grace told me how much it upset her to see the young woman’s flesh marked so violently by the whip, so I agreed to refuse Barrington’s further entry to my club. But when you called back this morning about the terrorism concern, I thought we could, as a team, put a stop to his abuse of women. After you pledged me your support, I called Barrington today and told him how impressed I was with him. I offered him a free room rental for this evening if he wished to find new acolytes for his cult. On his website I saw that he conducts some kind of meeting at his church every Friday at midnight. Agents, I realize your real mission starts tomorrow, but you’d be doing a great service to Grace and me if you could help us resolve the issue of Barrington, once and for all.” Both Zardooz and I readily agreed to help. My Handler took over the meeting. “So, here’s the basic play. Agent Milani, Grace will introduce you Barrington. You’ll turn on your charm and express your desire to join his coven this evening at his midnight mass. If he attempts to scourge your body with the lash during the ceremony, we’ll put this masochist away where he belongs,” my Handler said. I raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never been too fond of being whipped,” I said. “Don’t worry Agent Milani,” my Handler said, anticipating my concerns. “If we in fact make it to his church, Agent Zardooz will pose as your Dominant for the evening and stand at your side the whole time. As soon as he raises the whip the CIA and FBI task forces will immediately intervene before a single lash touches your skin. The Chicago Police Department has been notified of our sting and we’ll hand Barrington over to them. He’ll be arrested and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. We should be able to get him for kidnapping, assault, attempted rape perhaps…” “I’ll make sure he doesn’t harm a hair on your head Agent Milani,” Zardooz said. “OK, but can we make the charges stick?” I asked. “I think so. Mr. Jefferson’s security cameras captured footage of the markings on these two women and the images were forwarded to the DA’s office. We obtained a court order from a Judge so my team can wire his Church of the Anti-Christ with cameras this evening, which should allow us to gather sufficient evidence against him. Our local agents are setting it up as we...