Heather Willow Book IIChapter 2
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Live Eye Witness 8 News
The bomb exploded around one AM outside the Nimitz Hotel and Casino located on Treasure Island just outside of the city of San Francisco. It is believed that the explosives were hidden in a delivery truck that was approaching the service area of the hotel. It had been stopped by security at a checkpoint about two hundred feet from the southeast corner of the casino and entertainment section of the building. It appears that when the driver realized his truck was to be searched, he detonated the bomb before it could closely approach the building.
Thirteen people are confirmed dead but authorities expect that number to rise. Seven of the dead were security personnel that were working the checkpoint. It is known that at least three of the victims were from inside the building. We have been told that the southeast corner held a bank of elevators and that some of those killed were in those elevators.
As you can see behind me, the rescue efforts continue. We have seen a few survivors emerge from the damaged end of the build, some walking, some on stretchers. The rest are being taken out of the main entrance on the West, or San Francisco side of the building. Some are covered in dust, a few have minor cuts or injuries from being knocked down by the blast. We do not have any count of how many were injured.
A spokesman for the casino told us that because the building was designed to withstand the earthquakes that are common in the San Francisco area, the structural damage to the building was not severe. We are told the elevator shafts absorbed much of the explosive energy before it could reach the casino floor or the loss of life would have been much greater. The spokesman for the department of public safety praised the quick reaction of the casino personnel in helping minimize the loss of life.
There are reports that the checkpoint had only recently been established due to an anonymous tip sent to the casino regarding a possible attack. Law enforcement will not comment on the record, but some have drawn an unofficial connection between this event and the slave auction bombing in Fresno. They say much work has yet to be done to make a solid connection, but the fact that both facilities are involved in the slave market makes a connection likely.
Madam Carronade was sitting like a queen in her high backed chair as Carl walked into the parlor. Her clothes, hair and makeup were perfect. Her face was calm and still, but there was electricity in the air, a sense of building energy like from a coming storm. Pictures of the bomb site and the damaged building littered the table in front of her chair. There were so many people behind her chair and more in front that Carl almost had to push his way into the room. Some he had met or seen before but most were strangers. Carl was sure each had a function related to the crisis, but that made him feel out of place. Carl did not have a function. He just wanted to find Page and get the hell out of the San Francisco.
It was not going to be that simple. He was not sure where Page was located. He knew she had gone to Madame Carronade before ... Time had become simply "before and after" the bomb.
Someone was loudly explaining what was happening to the guests from the hotel, " ... even though we checked out as many guests as we could, those that decided they did not want to stay in San Francisco, Oakland, San Jose or Napa, we still needed to find more than two hundred beds. Some of the area hotels are not really slave friendly, so we had to sort the guests and place those with slaves mostly in Napa and San Jose. The great news is that every guest is accounted for with the only one needing medical attention being Mr. Cassia, the executive that was in the elevator with..." the man's voice faded out with the words unspoken.
The great lady's head turned like a gun turret tracking a target. Her eyes focused on the Asian man Carl had known as Matt. When Madame Carronade spoke, her voice sounded cold and measured, "Mr. Yamada, please secure the entire site. Work outwards. Double check that our vault and casino is locked down and guarded, then the slave assets, then the building and the bomb site. Everyone gets an escort. Everyone gets photographed. Everyone gets searched when they come and when they go. We need to get all of the slave product off the site, but be sure they are all accounted for first." Matt was nodding and taking notes.
Carl had been impressed with his professional attitude before the crisis. It had been Matt Yamada that Carl had called when he had first heard about a possible bomb. It had been Matt that decided to search incoming deliveries and to limit employees to parking off site. They had converted two of the employee parking lots to checkpoints. The plan had been in effect for three hours when truck carrying the bomb was stopped in the south employee lot.
Matt looked up from his notepad and his eyes were drawn to the movement of Carl coming into the room. "Madame, Master Carl is here," he said softly.
"Everyone out!" Madame Carronade shouted, but stopped Matt from leaving by placing a hand on his arm, "Please stay for a minute.". As the last of the crowd left, a guard softly closed the door.
Carl came forward. His head and face were still dusted with concrete and his hands were filthy where he had help dig two waiters out of the wreckage. In front of such an elegant lady he felt like a wharf rat in front of a swan. Madam Carronade's voice was barely audible, "Master Carl, can you confirm what Mr. Yamada told me earlier?"
Carl looked at his dirty hands and said, "I have no idea what Matt ... Mr. Yamada told you, but I will share all I know. One of the rescued slaves told me that there was a plan to bomb a hotel. Since this all was related to the Expo attack, I considered the possibility that the plan might be aimed at your hotel. I told Mr. Yamada my concerns and we both deemed the threat legitimate and he decided to take action just in case. As there was about to be a shift change, he had the idea to use the employee lots for the checkpoints as they would be emptying and the people coming on shift could park elsewhere. He went to organize that effort while I looked at the front entrance. I do not know how many lives he saved by his efforts but I think the bomb was big enough to bring the whole building down if the truck had gotten to the loading docks. He is a hero in my book."
Madame Carronade looked at Matt Yamada and nodded, "We will talk later, but know that you have my thanks. Now please leave me with Master Carl, we have some things to discuss." At that he bowed low and slipped quietly out of the room.
Carl realized this was the first time he had been completely alone with Madame Carronade. He was not sure about protocol or the rules of the house other than what the slaves were to do. But this was her house, her domain. Should he bow? Kneel? Kiss her ring?
None of those would have been as shocking as what happened next. Like watching a glass dropped on a hard floor, the beautiful, powerful and regal Madame Carronade shattered. The steel straight posture melted and her carefully controlled face broke. She began to silently sob, tears marring her perfect makeup. Her hands flew to her face and wrenched at her hair. She slid out of the chair and to the floor. No longer Madame Carronade, she was now just a heartbroken woman.
Carl did not hesitate, but found himself on the floor with her, holding her close and allowing her to cry on his shoulder. After the smell of burnt wiring and the stink of explosive, the warm, clean, spicy scent coming from her hair was like a refreshing breeze to Carl. It did cross his mind that he probably did not smell very good and her face was pressing into his dusty shoulder.
"Do you remember the first time we met?" He said softly.
It took a few moments for the sobbing to abate, but a soft reply came from somewhere near his neck. "Yes, you were at the Master's Expo."
"When we met, you told me to call you Jane. I had been told that you were a friend of Lord Blackmon's. I have since seen that was more than true. You did not know me then and I know you were just being polite. But now I believe we know each other, and I would like to be your friend too. May I call you Jane, at least when we are alone?"
His words had an unintended consequence. Her sobs were renewed and he was determined to simply hold her quietly until she was done.
The events of the night were completely unknown to Willow and Heather. The building had shaken slightly and there was a noise, but they put that off as just another small earthquake in the Bay Area.
It was morning and Willow wondered if Heather had left in the night. Willow had spent time the night before thinking about what she had done to Heather. But the images that kept coming to mind were of how Page had taught her, had shown her, what the life of a slave could be like. Willow remembered a number of moments that were more painful, more humiliating than what she had put Heather through, and none of those were as bad as what she had seen Page submit to willingly. She had also remembered the connection, the bond, and yes even love, she had for Page. It was a sisterhood forged in tragedy. If Heather was going to say, she had to experience the heat of that forge as well.
A soft alarm went off in Willow's room. She had been awake long before to clean herself and her area, to prepare for the day, and be ready to confront Heather like it was just another day. It was time.
Willow walked down the hall towards the room where the new slave was staying. Heather was there, in her place, standing for inspection, just as Willow had instructed her. Willow was shocked to realize that she was relieved that Heather had not run. She might have a new sister after all.
Carl carried the sobbing form of Madame Carronade into what he hoped was a bedroom. Instead he found a combination of private office and lounging area, at least that was what he thought the sofa looking things were for. He moved across the room to another set of double doors. Finally he had located the bedroom. He laid Madame Carronade down on the gigantic bed and watched as she curled on her side around a pillow and continued to quietly weep.
Carl almost fell into an overstuffed chair next to the bed. It felt like it was the first time in a month he had sat down. He closed his eyes to think about what he needed to do next, but his body overrode everything else and he was asleep in thirty seconds.
Later, Carl became conscious in stages. The first thing that cut through the exhaustion was something soft and warm pressed against his cheek. He liked that and wanted more. Without opening his eyes, he moved to envelope whatever it was and draw it closer. He then heard a soft squeal and sigh. When his eyes opened all he could see was blonde hair. There was a girl sitting on his lap with her arms around his neck and her cheek pressed against his. He gently pushed her away to get a look at her face. It was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. It was Page.
Page batted her eyes and smiled, "Hello Master Carl," she said in a low voice that was almost a whisper.
"Are you ok?" Carl asked.
"Yes, I am. How are you? Were you ... Did you ... Were you there?" Page stammered.
"Yes, but I am ok. I was knocked down and some stuff fell, mostly ceiling tiles and drywall ... I had to push my way out. I helped a few others get free of the debris." At that Carl began to cough. His throat felt like he had swallowed a bag of nails. Page jumped off of his lap and opened a small refrigerator hidden in the night stand next to the chair.
It was then that Carl could see all of Page. Page was naked. She had rarely been covered around Carl, but this was more startling because the only thing Page wore was a heavy gilded metal collar at least two inches wide with a chain that was attached to the headboard of the bed. To Carl, Page had never looked more the role of 'slavegirl' than she did at that moment. She was the very embodiment of a medieval fantasy.
Carl also could see the bed. He could see Madame Carronade, Jane, asleep on the bed covered in a sheet.
"Page, how did you get here?"
"You knew that I was coming to serve Madame Carronade for a while. It was part of the bargain to help bring Lord Blackmon back home."
Carl took another swallow of water. He then touched the chain connected to her collar and said, "No, how did you end up here?"
Page smiled, "Lord Blackmon and Madame Carronade used to tease each other over the years about Madame chaining me to her bed for days and giving me the fucking of a lifetime. When I arrived yesterday, she did just that. She placed this collar and chain on me and told me she would let me go only when she was satisfied. I can tell you the first four hours were intense. Then her phone rang with news of what had happened. I have never seen her like that. She was sobbing in my arms. I helped her dress and fix her face and hair so that she could go out there and deal with things. I curled up on the floor on the other side of the bed to wait for her to return. I was asleep when you brought her in. You fell asleep in the chair less than a minute later. I let you sleep and tended to her needs myself. But I missed you and curled up in your lap. I have been there for more than an hour when you woke."
"How long have..."
"You slept for about three hours."
Carl finished the bottle of water and wondered what the next step should be. He thought Jane needed to sleep and that her staff could handle the situation for a while. He needed to get Page out of here and get back to Willow so that they could get back to Rose House. But something else was nagging at the back of his mind, something left unfinished.
Page interrupted his musings, "Sir, why are you here?"
"I came for you. We need to leave."
Page had been checking on the still form of Madame Carronade when she became very still. "You came here for me?"
"Of course. I could not leave you here without knowing you were safe. I was not sure where you had gone so I came to ask..." That was all Carl was able to get out before Page covered his mouth with hers. It was not a seductive kiss but still filled with intense passion. It was a kiss of someone completely welcoming and giving of themselves because they know they are loved. Page pulled back for a moment and whispered, "You did not leave me," then went back to kissing. Carl felt Page unbuckling his belt and reach into his pants for his cock. The kissing had gotten him started but now her hand brought him to full hardness. Page broke the kiss for just long enough to lift herself onto his cock. When he was completely inside of her she renewed the kissing with the added feature of her using her hips to fuck him. All of it was Page. She moved in short bursts then would slam down, grinding her clit against him. She came in thirty seconds of being impaled, but did not stop or even slow down. Carl thought there was something very erotic and perverse about this beautiful naked woman fucking a fully dressed man.
The intensity was turned up a notch when Page hissed to Carl, "Grab the chain. Let me fuck you while you hold my chain." Carl wrapped his hand around the chain one link below the collar itself. He started guiding Page's thrusts by tugging on the chain and collar. Page exploded in another orgasm ten seconds later. When her eyes rolled back and her hips slowed, Carl jerked on the collar, pulling her forward until her forehead touched his. He hissed the command, "Keep fucking me..." Page's eyes popped open and she renewed her thrusts three fold. Carl pulled on the chain again to bring Page's mouth to his again. Unlike the first kiss, this one was all Carl. His mouth consumed Page and her passion.
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