Our Only Hope - S01 E33

Story 9 months ago

Our Only Hope - S01 E33

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 33

The upstairs hostess must have been alerted because she met me as I came out of the elevator. I tried to look very upset. “I need my toy case from the trunk of my car,” I said firmly, as if I were trying to control my anger. “Tell the valet it’s worth fifty if he gets it in here right away.”

She pressed something on the lapel of her ruffled shirt and relayed my message to the valet. Again, Master Walter’s setup impressed me. I wouldn’t have suspected that the upstairs hostess was part of his security team.

The valet arrived moments later carrying a small, brown suitcase. I handed him a fifty, as promised, and then opened the case. The hostess appeared disinterested, but I could tell that she was inspecting what it contained. There were a variety of paddles and whips in the case and one very large, oddly-oversized crop. I took it out and still carrying the case started back toward the elevator.

“You can’t take that case into the club,” she called after me.

“I’ll leave the case on the elevator, then,” I called back. “You can keep it up here until I bring back my Elephant Crop.”

There is no such thing as an Elephant Crop, but the name justified the tennis racket-sized handle on the flat leather paddle. It did look like the type of crop you might use if you were riding an elephant.

I didn’t wait to hear what the hostess might say, but instead swiped my card and headed back downstairs. The downstairs hostess was standing in front of her desk watching me as I got out of the elevator. “I left it in there,” I said firmly, pointing back at the case. “I’ll take it back up after I’m done disciplining my petulant slave.”

She smiled at me as I swung the crop through the air to emphasize my words. I looked into the club and said, “I’ll wait back here so I don’t disturb the girls. They are fabulous dancers.” She just nodded slightly and stepped back behind her desk.

I don’t know if Walter had brought little sister in to check me out or if he just brought her back to LA after his brother’s club in Iowa closed, but in any case, she didn’t have a chance to see me close up. And even if she did, she wouldn’t be reporting back to Wyatt’s big brother until it was too late.

I stayed in the back until both women slither-danced their way back on stage and dropped back into their basket. The four security men walked forward and picked up the poles to bring the basket back out. As soon as they left the stage, Master Walter hurried into the spotlight and said, “As you may have heard, we had a slave misbehave during that performance.” He smiled and brought his hands together. “So...” he continued, “she is going to be our next performance as Master Harold Guthrie uses something called an Elephant Crop on her bare ass.”

I said, “Showtime!” loudly and the hostess smiled at me. Then I started up the aisle toward the spanking bench on the left-hand platform. As hoped, Master Walter remained on stage to further introduce me, or perhaps just to get a closer look at my weird oversized crop. As I moved forward, I could see the elevator doors closing out of the corner of my eye. Hopefully Boris was in control of the elevator because I had already pressed the control in my pocket which activated the bomb. It was now T minus fifteen seconds.

I was almost up on the platform when a loud explosion rocked the club and smoke billowed in from the reception area. Alarms went off and as Sam had predicted, arrows of light began flashing in sequence pointing toward the three fire exits. As expected, Walter Monty’s bodyguards came running forward to take up positions with their boss. I also ran toward him crying “What’s happening? What’s happening?”

The first bodyguard didn’t feel the microneedle go into his muscles when I pressed the handle of the crop against his back. The second guard must have sensed something was wrong because he went for his weapon. If he had been wearing a belt holster, I might be dead, but he was wearing a shoulder holster and had to make a cross-body draw. I pushed the back end of the handle into the middle of his chest and pressed hard, triggering the second microneedle’s launching charge. With the paralytic injected that close to his heart, he dropped before he could clear his weapon.

All hell was breaking loose. Firemen– actually Sam’s operatives– were pouring into the club from the now open firedoors. The security team was overwhelmed preventing panic and keeping people moving calmly to the exits. They didn’t notice pussy slip her collar from her neck and use her leash like a combination lariat and garrotte to subdue Walter and pull him toward one of the exits. I noticed that two of the fake firemen were wearing body mounted portable jaws of life units. The powerful cutters that can take the roof off a car in seconds had no problem removing the chains and restraints from all six captives held against the wall. The huge metal globe surrounding Mistress Tenesha lasted only seconds longer. Soon we were all moving out of the front of the mall and into waiting ambulances which roared into the night.

The ambulance I was riding in stopped right after leaving the mall parking lot and I transferred to a red SUV which took me back up to the front of The Blue Deuce. The SUV had proper LAFD decals on it and said “Fire Marshall” on the hood both forwards and backwards. It stopped just long enough to let me out at the valet station.

I held out a hundred and said firmly, “I need to get my car out of here NOW!” The valet grabbed the bill and brought the electric Mustang around just as the first real firetruck was arriving. I discovered that it truly could accelerate to 60 mph in twenty feet.