Sadie continued: “I’m sure you’re aware there’s some pain involved, no matter how high your pain tolerance may be. I will be using my forearms to hold your thigh down. This piercing is a knee knocker honey, and everyone’s reaction is to close their legs. It’s a central nervous response. But not to worry, it will be quick.”
When she looked up at me, I acknowledged that I understood, “That sounds fine, you’re the expert.”
She used her fingers to get everything lined up while she positioned herself at the very center of my legs, now spread very far apart. Her elbows more than her forearms pinned my thighs down and apart.
I looked up at the ceiling, and took a deep breath…
“AHH…FUCK.” I couldn’t help myself, unlady-like or not. She’d been right about my thighs, they’d have slammed shut had it not been for her pivoted arms. I’d been cunt-punched by a 16 gauge needle. I had to hold still while she got the jewelry. The barbell replaced the needle, and then the top ball needed tightening, but the worst was behind me.
I got dressed, all the while feeling a low throb on my clit. I was then instructed on aftercare, distilled water with teaspoons of iodized salt, and all that. They even suggested to Lewis he abstain from intercourse with me for at least one week, ideally two.
“No worries,” he replied, “we’ll make due.” Then he looked at me and winked. My mouth and ass would surely pick up the slack.
With Sadie having completed her work, Melissa came back into the room and began to remove her own jeans. She was beautiful, with a few scattered tattoos and piercings of her own. Was she about to get another piercing now? Lewis kissed me on the cheek.
“I’ll wait for you out front,” he said. Huh? Out front? Aren’t we leaving together?
Sadie also patted my back, wished me well, and left the room. Melissa, meanwhile, was now fully nude and sitting in the same chair I had with her legs wide apart. Her pussy glistened in the light.
I looked at Lewis, slightly confused.
“What?” he said. “How did you expect to pay for your piercing?”
CHAPTER 20: XOCHI’S RESCUE
Three months later…
The alarm clock sounded at the ungodly hour of 4:45 am. Lewis was flying to Chicago for business, and since this was the only time I’d see him all day, I dragged my ass out of bed to make coffee. After his shower, he was in the bedroom putting on his suit while I powered up my iPhone – two fresh coffees and some toast prepared for both of us. My phone was buzzing immediately. I was very surprised to see a voice message and text from Marjorie. Marjorie? Something must be wrong. Otherwise, there’s no way Marjorie would reach out to us in practically the middle of the night.
Lewis’ reaction and initial fear was the same as mine – did a client get out of hand?
In the voice message, Marjorie sounded panicked. She immediately clarified it had nothing to do with the network or with one of the network’s clients, but that Xochi had been drugged and taken somewhere by bikers! Apparently, she was out partying with some of her girlfriends at an after-hours bar, and someone slipped something into her drink. Incoherent and rambling, barely conscious, Xochi was carried away from the bar by some bikers in the DemonEyez gang. Marjorie feared the worst, as did we. This was everything the network stood against. It was non consensual, to say the least, and downright dangerous. What plans did this biker gang have for Xochi? The only gleam of hope was that the girl who relayed this information to Marjorie also provided an address. The DemonEyez clubhouse was at 308 Franklin Street. Franklin Street? That was less than ten minutes away from our suite, in a grungy side-neighborhood.
Lewis sprung into action decisively and without hesitation. He tore off his suit, and threw on a T-shirt. Meanwhile, I was still on the phone with Marjorie trying to get more information.
“Tell Marjorie to phone Steve,” came Lewis’ voice from our bedroom. Steve was one of the members who had interviewed me at the Four Seasons. “Then, see if you can reach Victor.”
Through the half-open doorway, I saw Lewis reach into the bottom drawer of his dresser and unlock some sort of wooden box. He slipped something behind his back. What was that? Was that a gun?!?
Lewis flew past me while I was scanning my phone for Victor’s contact information, “Where are you going?” I desperately asked.
He gave me a fast kiss and replied simply, “We live the closest.”
I knew there was no point in suggesting I go with him. I also knew there was no point in suggesting we call the cops. Time was of the essence. Xochi’s best hope for a quick rescue resided with my husband.