don't know who taught you how to give a blow job, but he was one helluva good teacher!'
Bren wiggled free and zipped up his trousers. He fumbled open the car door, then got back behind the steering wheel. Recovering his breath after the fierce face-fucking he'd just given Mindy – or, more accurately, she'd given him – he said to his partner, 'Look at the time. We've just got enough time to get to Jeff Co Airport if we hurry.'
Vic looked at his fancy wrist watch and nodded agreement. 'If I give honey sucker back there ten cc's of Valium, that should take care of her until she gets to The Institute.'
Mindy heard the low-voiced comment and protested loudly, 'You said you'd let me go! I did what you asked! You've got to let me loose! You promised!'
Vic turned to the angry girl, smiled wickedly, and said, 'Tough shit, doll. We lied.'
CHAPTER THREE
Mindy heard a buzzing, a nagging, annoying, distant hum like angry hornets. She reached up and touched her head, and the nasty sound increased tenfold in intensity. Through a strength of will she had not known she possessed, the girl forced her eyes open to look around. The first impressions received were not very favorable.
The brief glimpse of the room, before everything gyrated wildly and made her unbearably dizzy, showed her more of a prison cell than a hotel room. Cold, grey cement block walls and an iron-barred grille on a solid steel door just like Mindy had seen in hundreds of movies mocked her. She cradled her head in shaking hands, and soon the buzzing receded and died.
Head still honing, Mindy managed to sit upright in the bed. The bed seemed out of place in the spartan surroundings. Mindy managed to force her eyes open and carefully surveyed her quarters. The bed, nearest at hand, first caught her attention. It was an expensive model, kind-sized and had an elaborately embroidered pattern on the bedspread. The furniture in the tiny room was all high-grade polished mahogany, heavy, intricately carved and very expensive. The floor was thickly carpeted in a soft, grey shag rug.
When Mindy took a tentative step onto the carpet, she sank ankle deep into the luxurious pile. Luxurious and curious. Mindy knew she must be at the mysterious Institute that the two thugs had mentioned. Unconsciously, her hand strayed to the tiny puncture wound on her left arm where Vic had jabbed her with the hypodermic needle laden with the knockout drug.
But if this was The Institute, it raised more questions than Mindy could ask in a lifetime. Why was the prison furnished with incredibly expensive trappings? And where was she? Still in Denver? But this question was one for which she could provide at least a partial answer. Mindy knew that Vic and Bren were anxious to get to a small county airport; that meant she was possibly within flying distance of Denver, small-plane flying distance.
Call it a thousand miles. Mindy shuddered at the thought. A thousand miles was a long way. She could be as far away as Dallas or Chicago or Los Angeles or Seattle. There was no way of determining how long she had been unconscious from the drug.
The heavy metal door squeaked open to reveal the silhouette of a woman standing in the harsh light of the hail outside. At first, Mindy could see nothing but the smooth, flowing lines of the woman's voluptuous figure. The woman stood in the doorway for long minutes, fists resting defiantly on her hips.
As if making a decision, the woman entered the room and allowed Mindy her first good look at her. The girl had to repress a gasp of honor. She was not quite sure how she could have fallen into the hands of anyone quite like this… woman.
The girl's captor was tall, five foot nine or ten. Fiery-red hair tumbled down over her shoulders, and startlingly violet eyes glared out their contempt for Mindy. The face was slightly angular, patrician, but decidedly attractive, even beautiful had it not been for the sneer marring the woman's regular features and contorting them into a mask of hatred.
But Mindy took all that in with a single glance. The woman's black leather outfit was what captured the girl's eyes and held them. A skin-tight black leather tunic, laced up the front to reveal creamy white flesh and the slivers of moonlike tits. The tunic came down over equally tight leather breeches which disappeared into the knee-high tops of shining, jet-black boots. Clutched in one trim, pale hand was a short, ugly-looking whip.
The black-leathered woman snapped the whip and instantly had Mindy's full attention. 'I see you finally decided to wake up. I am Michelle, and I will be your guardian. If you have any questions or problems, I shall be the one who will handle them for you.'
Mindy, wide-eyed, couldn't help but stare at the cruel leather encasing Michelle and at the even nastier whip that lightly dangled from those ghostly fingers.
Michelle began to pace back and forth across the ten-foot square of the room, but her eyes never left Mindy. 'This is The Institute. Many of the inmates call it other things. When they do, they are disciplined.'
The whip cracked again with a deft flick of her wrist.
'We offer services at The Institute for very wealthy, very influential people. They pay for absolute discretion on our part, and we provide them with anything they wish in the way of…'
Mindy choked out, 'Whores?'
Michelle snapped, 'NO! We are not a whorehouse! The Institute is something more, something greater. Through judicious use of our power, we influence foreign policy, domestic spending, legislation, many things which need not worry you. But The Institute is not a whorehouse. Say that again and you will be punished severely!' The ugly snap of the lash insured Mindy would not utter that vile word again.
'But, my pretty pretty, come and I shall show you something of your new life. I think there are several patrons currently within the walls. Watching them with other inmates such as yourself will prove instructive.'
'Where are we?'
'The Institute, you stupid little bitch! Surely, we have not paid so much for an idiot?'
'I mean, what part of the country is this?' Mindy was frightened by Michelle's intensity.
'It does not concern you. Nothing will ever again concern you except giving our patrons their every wish. Come!'
Michelle grabbed Mindy's shoulder with polar cold fingers and propelled the young girl into the passageway outside the cell. Mindy gasped anew as she saw the incredible decor. Obviously chosen by a wealthy sybarite, everything in view screamed, 'Pleasure! Pleasure!'
The walls were covered with scarlet velvet and strips of golden wallpaper, and breaking the pattern at set intervals were smoky glass mirrors with spider webs of gold lacing across the surface. The exterior of all the cell doors was a uniform black leather cruelly held to the iron by large brass studs. The tiny barred window was barely noticeable amid the splendor of the hall decorations.
Mindy did not get the chance to further survey her sumptuous prison because Michelle shoved her down the hall, then into a passage running perpendicular to the first. Mindy was dragged along until they came to a door, indistinguishable from the cell doors except by its lack of iron grating. The girl's captor opened the door and pushed her inside. The room itself was very dimly lit and appeared to be a miniature movie theater. Sumptuous chairs were lined up to face one wall. When Mindy's eyes adapted to the dimness, she saw the purpose of the room. The wall was a one-way mirror looking into the next room where a powerfully built man in his late forties was butt-fucking a young girl.
Mindy couldn't drag her eyes from the girl who was even younger than she. The girl had her hands bound behind her back and was bent double over the back of an ornately carved wooden chair to expose her small, round ass to the man's lascivious attentions.
'You like the view, my pretty pretty?' Michelle leered. 'Soon, that will be you in there instead of Heather, but of course I can't guarantee you'll get a senator for a patron.'
Mindy's green eyes widened. 'You mean he's a…'
'But of course. I told you our patrons were of only the highest caliber, those needing discretion at all costs while they satisfy their sexual needs that go… outside society's accepted limits. Some of our patrons are heads of state, some financial wizards and heads of large corporations, all are powerful men and women with… quirks… to their sexual needs. We supply a perfectly natural outlet for those otherwise thwarted drives.'
