Executive Orders (closed for Momadness)

Hearing the lock on Everett's door click softly, Maria sighed. The slow pace of her attempted seduction was frustrating but it was clear Everett needed more time.

A soft chuckle bubbled up. She couldn't have timed Cena's proposal more perfectly if she'd planned it herself. The Ice Bitch removed herself from the competition with that acceptance on national television.

Not that Maria could imagine that there was actually anything mutual between Everett and Samantha Noelle. He was just infatuated. That would fade soon enough, once he saw that she, Maria, was the perfect woman for him.

She would bide her time. Make herself indispensible. Take care of his every need. But not push for anything more. Yet. And tomorrow? Tomorrow it might be a good idea if his cellphone were conveniently misplaced on the bus. If she made sure the battery ran down and tucked it deep down between the cushions of his seat, with any luck it would take days for anyone to find it. Meaning all his calls would have to be filtered through her.

But that is for tomorrow. Tonight… tonight she would leave her adjoining door unlocked and sleep in the nude. Just in case.

--

Samantha pressed her hand against John's chest reinforcing the slight distance between them as he pulled back from the kiss.

"Would you mind if I stayed here tonight?"

She drew a deep breath, scrambling for an acceptable refusal, when she heard an unexpected voice behind her.

"Samantha?"

She spun around John, seeing Evie and Heath exiting the doors of her building.

"Jarvis told us you were out. We thought maybe you and Everett had forgotten our plans for this evening…" Evie's voice trailed off slightly as she noticed John for the first time, standing with his arm protectively around Samantha's shoulder. Her eyes narrowed as she looked him up and down. "I'm sorry," she turned sharp eyes on Samantha, "are we interrupting something? Where is your M-…"

"Everett's out on a shoot for work," Samantha spoke quickly, cutting off Evie's question. "John, this is one of my oldest friends, Evie, and her husband Heath." Samantha blurted the stilted introduction, "Evie, this is John. My…"

"Her fiancé," John cut in smoothly, with a possessive smile.

Evie's mouth dropped open, eyes widening, looking from Samantha to John and back again. "I'm sorry, her what?"
Samantha smiled tremulously, grateful that John was standing behind her as she blinked up at Evie, lost. "John proposed tonight. At the Make-A-Wish Gala. On national television. With the help of a little wish recipient named Caroline." She lifted her shaking hand to show off the stunning ring he'd placed on her finger.

Evie looked deeply into Samantha's eyes, recognizing the lost little girl look immediately. "Oh, Sam," she wrapped her arms around Samantha, pulling her trembling form into a tight hug, whispering, "it will all be okay. Have a little faith in your Master."

Samantha shook her head sadly. "I already tried to explain. He texted that he hoped we would be happy together. When I tried to call him, Maria answered his phone and he was in the shower." She blinked back tears. "He's finished with me Evie, and I don't know what to do."

Evie glanced over to see John and Heath in quiet conversation. She smiled her gratitude at her perceptive husband who'd just earned himself a reward later tonight. She turned back to Samantha. "What do you want to do?" She wrapped her fingers around Samantha's arms. "Do you trust your Master?"

"I- I don't know! I want to." Samantha's eyes dropped. "But Maria…"

"Do you trust her more than you trust your Master?"

"No! I wouldn't trust that bitch as far as I could throw her," Samantha growled.

"But you believe her?"

"Well… no… I…" Samantha looked up, eyes wide. "Why did I not question?"

"Do you want to marry John?"

"I don't want to hurt John." Samantha's shoulders dropped. "He's so sweet and kind and such a gentleman. Any woman would be lucky to marry him."

"But do you want to?"

Samantha sighed. "John could never make me happy and I don't think I could make him happy either. He has no idea…"

Evie raised a sharp eyebrow, still waiting for her answer.

Blushing, Samantha whispered, "there's only one man I could ever marry." She lifted her fingers to her throat, caressing the chain and lock hidden under the high collar of her dress. Her smile faded. "but he'll never ask me to marry him."

Pressing a finger under Samantha's chin, forcing her eyes up, Evie grinned, "and where is it written that you can't ask him?"

Samantha's eyes flew open wide, her mouth dropping, "But he's… I'm…"

"Did you think Heath wasn't the one who proposed to me?" Evie looked fondly over at her husband, then back to Samantha. "Perhaps we still should go upstairs for that visit? Don't you think it's time for John to learn a little more about the woman he's proposed to?"
"Evie…" Samantha shook her head.

"Nothing too dramatic dear. Just a bit of an eye-opening." Evie turned away, speaking up. "Heath, dear, we're going to go up for that drink after all."

Heath looked over and silently acknowledged the order underneath the words. He smiled. "Yes, ma'am."

Samantha caught John's slightly puzzled smile as they turned to walk through the doors toward the Penthouse elevator.


The private elevator dinged, doors opening to release them and Samantha led the way to her door, slipping her key into the lock and opening the door wide. As coats were removed, Samantha's eyes goggled and John started to cough.

Evie smiled, admiring the ropes criss-crossed over Heath's bare chest. "oh, we had a previous engagement that was unexpectedly cancelled. It didn't seem worth going home to change. You don't mind, do you dears?"

Samantha smiled, ever the gracious host. "Of course not, Evie. Have a seat and I'll get us some drinks."

"Heath will help you serve, dear."

"Oh, I don't…" Samantha started.

"Yes, Mistress," Heath nodded, already at her side as Evie led John to the small seating area.

Drinks served, they settle in to quiet conversation, only the sight of Evie sitting on Heath's lap, her hands absently petting his hair, toying with his collar and ropes a reminder that they were anything other than any of the other couples they'd visited with all evening.

Samantha closed the door behind John with a soft click, letting her forehead drop to rest against the cool wood for a moment. How did her simple life get so complicated so quickly? The urge to run and hide from the world washed over her and she curled her fingers against her palms.

"Samantha?"

Evie's soft call brooked no argument and Samantha straightened, lifting her chin and walking steadily back into the other room.

"You've said your good night to John?" While it was clear from her tone that Evie knew the answer to her question, she waited for Samantha's small nod before continuing. Samantha felt pinned under Evie's sharp gaze as Evie crossed her arms over her chest. "I believe you would benefit from some clarification." She paused a moment.

Samantha fought back the urge to collapse into Evie's comforting arms as she had so often in the past, still harbouring the tiniest niggling hurt over Evie's manipulations, even if the result had brought her to her Master and happier than she could ever remember being.

At least until tonight.

But no matter how much she needed the solace, the confidence boost, she couldn't turn to Evie any longer. Not in the same way she had before. Everything was different now.

"Dress. Off. Now." The stark command in each word lashed against Samantha and she flashed on a memory of Everett. Her Master would expect her to obey.

"Yes, Mistress," she whispered, dropping her eyes. She unclasped the fastening at the back of her neck and shimmied, letting the dress fall in a pool of purple satin around her feet. Steeling herself to not cover her nakedness in front of Heath, Samantha clasped her hands behind her back, lifting her chin.

"Good girl," Evie nodded, stepping close. She tapped the silver lock hanging at Samantha's throat. "This is a stunning piece," she smiled. "Tell me where you got it."

Samantha smiled, well aware that Evie knew the answer to that question as well as she did. "It belongs to my Master."

"As does the slave who wears it. You would do well to remember that."

"Yes, Mistress." Samantha felt calm settle into her soul at Evie's words. How could she have ever doubted? She wore her Master's collar, she bore his mark. Permanently. She could not remove either one, nor would she let anyone else try without a fight. Samantha turned a radiant smile toward Evie.

"There she is." Evie smiled back. "Heath," she ordered without turning. "Knees." She pointed to the floor at Samantha's feet. Stepping behind Samantha, she wrapped her arms around her, pulling Samantha to lean back against her as she nudged her feet apart.

Samantha gasped as she felt a rough whiskered chin pushing against her, a pointed tongue working her clit. "please," she whimpered, shuddering. The skilled tongue was pushing her closer and closer to the edge. "Mistress, please, no… please, stop." She twisted slightly, struggling to press her thighs closed, to pull away. "Please… I can't cum without my Master's permission. Please don't make me…"

"Enough!" Evie curled her fingers through Everett's hair.

Samantha panted softly, easing back from the edge of the precipice. "thank you, Mistress!"

"Very good girl. Your Master should be proud." She cupped her fingers around Samantha's cheek. "Now, go fetch me the chastity belt you were wearing last time I was here." Samantha nodded, hurrying to the bedroom, hearing Evie's voice call, "and the key!" as she headed down the hall.

Returning quickly, Samantha lifted her hands, presenting the chastity belt and key to Evie.

Evie nodded, locking the belt snuggly around Samantha's hips. "I will hold onto the key in your Master's stead." She pressed a kiss against Samantha's cheek, whispering in her ear, "I'll be back in the morning to unlock you."

"Thank you Mistress," Samantha nodded gratefully, as much for the help to obey her Master tonight as for the promise to unlock her in the morning.

Evie turned to Heath. "You have been perfection tonight, darling boy. You have earned your reward and you will have it." She smiled softly, "as soon as we get home."

Heath's smile was radiant and adoring. "You honour me, Mistress."

"I love you, dear boy." She turned to Samantha at the door, "Sleep well. I'll see you tomorrow."

--

Maria glanced side to side, making sure no one was watching and climbed carefully onto the bus. She pulled Everett's phone from her pocket, checking it. Completely dead. Perfect.

Moving quickly to the seat that had become Everett's first choice, she tucked the phone deep between the cushions and the arm, as if it had fallen there, unnoticed.

Now any calls for Everett would have to filter through her. No text messages, no voicemails. No chance for the Ice Bitch to rub salt in his wounds. Not that he possibly cared at all deeply about that woman. She'd just been his responsibility for so long. It was only habit.

And habits could be broken. She intended to make sure of that.

--

Samantha tossed and turned in her bed, unable to settle. An ache of need curled in her core, and she was grateful again to Evie, for helping her to control. But that ache was familiar, constant. It wasn't the real problem.

She rolled over, shifting over to the other side of the bed. Pressing her face into the pillow, she inhaled deeply, Everett's scent washing over her. She settled in, her eyes drifted closed. She curled her fingers around the lock at her throat. "Master," she whispered, finally slipping into sleep.

Maria watched Everett slide from his seat and head to the bedroom in the back of the bus to grab a quick nap. She felt a twinge of guilt at the worried creases around his eyes, but only a little one. He would soon forget about the Ice Bitch.

She bit her tongue to keep from offering to make sure he was relaxed enough to fall asleep. He wouldn't appreciate that.

Yet.

One day he'd realise what he was missing. He'd realise who really cared about him… who really took care of him. On that day, he'd put a huge rock on her finger and take her away from all this.

No more scrabbling to find the money to cover the rent in her shabby little walk-up apartment. No more ramen for lunch and dinner. No more trudging through the rain to work because her piece of shit little car was broken down again.

Patience was the key.

Patience and keeping him away from the Bitch.

Grabbing up her phone, Maria slipped into the bathroom, quickly dialling Noelle's extension. As she expected, Annie answered the call.

"Annie," she whispered urgently.

"Who is this? Maria?"

Maria rolled her eyes. "Yes, it's me. Annie, listen, I need a huge favour from you."

"Anything." The bright perkiness in Annie's voice almost made Maria gag, but it was exactly the answer she needed.

"There will be an email coming in to Ms. Noelle from Mr. Johnson's email address. I need you to junk it."

"What? Why?"

"Please Annie, his account's been hacked. I need to take care of this before I get fired. So please, just filter the emails coming from his address until I can get him a new one."

Maria could sense that Annie was wavering and went in for the kill. "Please. I wouldn't want Mr. Johnson to get into trouble with Ms. Noelle because someone's trying to stir up trouble."

"all right. If you're sure…"

"Thanks, Annie! I owe you big time." She hung up the phone. "Moron."


--


As she caught sight of the photo that slipped out of the envelope that had just been delivered, Samantha felt all the blood drain from her face. Recognising the photo from her first night with Everett, she lifted it with trembling fingers.

She stared at the image of herself, wrists bound to widespread ankles, chains connecting nipple clamps to a collar around her throat, her face smeared and dripping with cum.

Would Everett have sent this? Was it some sort of threat? Or a reminder?

No, she couldn't believe that. Everett took the photo, but he wouldn't risk her at work, would he? He threatened it in the beginning yes, but they were beyond that now.

Weren't they?

What if Annie had intercepted this package and opened it? Everett wouldn't risk that.

Would he?

She flipped the photo over to check for any identifying marks and a second paper slipped loose. Typewritten in block letters.

YOU IGNORED MY FIRST DELIVERY. YOU WERE WARNED. LAST CHANCE. THERE IS AN EMPTY WAREHOUSE AT THE CORNER OF 99TH AND VINE. TONIGHT. 10:30 PM

First delivery? What delivery? What…

"You look like you have seen a ghost. Are you okay?"

Samantha jerked in surprise, slamming the photo and note together and shoving both into her desk drawer.

She smiled absently, mind awhirl, the threat circling round and round. Did she dare to meet whoever it was? Did she dare not?

She was barely listening as John expressed his concern for Heath.

Without thinking she waved her hand, brushing aside his concern. "Heath's fine. He adores his Mistress, and she adores him."

"Heath has a mistress? How did you find out? Does Evie know?"

"What?" Samantha shook her head, turning to John, "I'm sorry, what?"

"Baby, please," John took her hand, "what's wrong? I'm going to be your husband. Maybe I can help?"

Samantha pulled away, grimacing. This at least, she could deal with. Needed to deal with. Now.

"John. Please, sit."

Concern filled his features, but he sat without questioning. Pulling her down beside him.

She pulled away a little, putting some distance between them, but allowing his grip on her fingers to stay.

"John," she sighed. "There is something we need to discuss."

"Ok. I'm listening."

"I…" She hesitated, struggling to find the right words. "I can't marry you," she blurted.

"What?! Sammy…"

"Don't call me that!" She drew a calming breath. "I'm sorry. I'm not explaining this right…" She pulled his hands up, squeezing his fingers. "I'm not the same woman I was."

"You mean the accident?" John started, but she pressed a finger against his lips.

"Let me say this. Please. I was a bitch. I was using you. I didn't care about you except as a convenient piece of eye candy on my arm for events." She blushed. "And for sex."

She looked into his eyes, holding his concerned stare. "The old Sam would've said no to your proposal, without a single thought for your humiliation or that child's crushed moment. I couldn't do that anymore."

John smiled, reaching for her cheek.

"I couldn't embarrass you with a no in front of all those people, but I can't marry you."

"Sam… mantha," he began.

"No. You deserve a woman who loves you with all her heart. Who would do anything for you. Who wants you and needs you. I'm so sorry to do this to you John, but you deserve better than me." She finished with a whisper, pulling the ring from her finger and pressing it into John's slack fingers.

"Good-bye John. Please."

She saw his eyes flick toward her desk, saw the wondering and then a determination fill his face, but she led him toward the door. "I'm sorry," she whispered again, pressing a kiss against his chin before guiding him out the office door and closing it quietly behind him.

No sooner had Samantha closed the door behind John than she turned the lock and collapsed back against it, curling her fingers around the lock at her throat for some small measure of comfort. Blinking back tears, she stood straight and drew a deep breath.

Hurrying back to the desk, she opened the drawer and pulled the envelope out once more, studying the note and pictures. There was only one possible source of these shots… the pictures Everett took on the night he found her here.

But he gave them to her. Could he possibly have lied to her? Kept a copy? She had both USB drives. One locked in the safe in her panic room and the other…

She dug through her purse, finally emptying the whole thing onto her desk. No USB stick. It was gone. She'd lost it somewhere. This was all her own doing. Here she sat, so little faith in her Master than she would blame him. Would believe he would betray her trust. When all along, she was her own worst enemy.

Well, no more chances.

Stuffing the note into her purse, she picked up the envelope and all the photos. Grabbing up the decorative lighter from her end table, she headed into her private bath and took great satisfaction in holding them over the sink and lighting them on fire, watching them burn to cinders and then washing the ashes down the drain.

"Sam!" She heard Bill's shout followed by pounding on her office door. "Sam!"

"Be right there, Bill." She spared a glance to check her makeup in the mirror, then hurried out to the door, unlocking it and swinging it open in one smooth move.

Bill eyed her suspiciously, glancing between her and her desk several times.

"You're due on The Couch in 15 Minutes."

"Bill…" she shook her head in denial. "You know I'm not…"

He held up a hand, cutting off her protest. "No argument. The promos have aired. America is waiting."

Samantha sighed but knew better to argue with that tone. Tucking her bag under her arm, she shot a single glare at Bill, but headed dutifully to the studio.

By the end of the segment, Samantha was drained. Only professional determination and sheer force of will kept her in her seat, laughing and teasing under the emotional toll of pretending to be the happy bride-to-be, the physical strain of feigning enthusiasm and maintaining a smile that did not look forced.

Wedding dress after wedding dress had been paraded through the stage until Samantha was ready to scream. Little did they realise that Sammy would be happy to crawl down the aisle in nothing more than her collar, leash and a veil if it meant she could marry her Master at the end of that aisle.

Finally, Gina Hegseth began her wrap up. "well, ladies, that's all the time we have for today. Can we just say again, congratulations, Samantha, to you and John both!" The audience cheered and applauded loudly.

Samantha let the noise die down a bit and smiled. "Thank you all."

"Is there anything you'd like to say to that man of yours?" Gina grinned at the audience with a wink. "I'm sure he's watching."

Glancing down a moment, wondering if Everett really might be watching, Samantha lifted her eyes with a tremulous smile, wrapping her fingers around the lock at her throat. "I… just…" she looked directly into the camera, "I love you. With all my heart and soul." She blushed, but continued softly, "I want you to know that I am yours. Always. No matter what…" Samantha's voice faded to silence.

Gina chuckled, "Sounds like we've had some disagreements over wedding planning, doesn't it? All couples do, don't they?"

The audience cheered again, and Samantha leaned back as Gina spun into her promo reminder for the next day's show and the audience applause drowned out the end credit music.
"Thanks, Gina," Samantha pulled the microphone free, standing to leave.

"Thank you, Sam," Gina shook her hand. "You sure you're ok?"

"Everything's fine. Listen, I've got to slip out before Bill shows up. Thanks again." She offered a small smile before slipping out the back.

--

Everett stumbled along the hotel hallway bleary and barely conscious, one arm draped over Eugene, the other over Maria.

"this one here, " Maria nodded, shifting Everett's weight to Eugene as she dug in her bag for his keycard. Finally opening the door, she nodded to the driver, "Thanks Eugene. Just dump him on the bed. He can sleep in his clothes tonight."

"No problem, Maria. You want me to walk you to your room?"

Maria ignored the hopefully look in Eugene's eyes. She was after bigger fish than a bus driver. "No thanks, Eugene," she smiled. "It's right next door. We'd better all get some sleep, hey? We've got an early start in the morning."

"All right then," Eugene sighed, disappointed. "See you in the am."

"Night, Eugene." Maria followed him out, locking the door behind her and heading to her own room. As soon as the elevator door closed behind Eugene, she turned, heading back to Everett's room.

He still lay where Eugene had dumped him, snoring softly.

She walked over to the bed, crawling up to lean over him. "Everett…" she whispered, leaning over to kiss him as she slid one hand down his chest and over his cock. "I want you." She leaned close, breathing into his ear, "I need you so bad."

"Sammy?" Everett rolled toward her, curling one fist in her hair and pulling her closer.

Maria winced, her eyes tearing up. She pried at his fingers with her own as she took his mouth in another passionate kiss. Everett's hands slid down her back, grabbing at her hips and holding her tight as he ground his own up against her.

Maria slid her hands around his neck, wrapping her legs around him. "Oh, Everett," she whispered.

His eyes flew open and he pushed her away, Maria's fingernails scraping over his shoulders. "What the fuck are you doing in my room?" he snarled.

"you wanted me, baby," she purred, reaching for him. "I can make it so good for you. Just give me a chance." She dug her fingers under his belt, searching for the erection he'd had earlier.

"Too little, too late, bitch," he slurred. "The tequila took care of that hours ago, and you sure as shit can't bring it back. Only my Sammy…" The soft snoring resumed.

Maria shoved away, frustrated. She glanced at her watch. She looked back at Everett. Scratch marks were stark on his shoulder from when he pushed her away. She glanced over at the mirror. Her hair was mussed, her makeup smeared, mascara just beginning to run a bit.

She stood and glared down at Everett. Reaching up slowly, she tore at the sleeve of her blouse, separating the seam, and ripped at the buttons, sending the top two flying. She checked the time once more and then stepped over to the door, glancing out the peephole into the hall. Like clockwork, Neil stepped out into the hall on his nightly run for ice.

Waiting just long enough for him to be on his way back, Maria carefully opened the door and slipped out, hunched and sniffling, clutching at her blouse where the buttons were missing. Careful not to look in his direction, as though she didn't know he was coming, she turned and quickly unlocked her own door, ducking into her room.

She straightened, locking the door behind her and headed for the shower.

--

At precisely 10:27 pm, Samantha pulled into the back alley behind the empty warehouse at 99th and Vine and parked, turning off the ignition. It was dark and quiet. No lights or any other indication that there was anyone around.

This was insane. She wasn't quite sure what she was thinking, coming here alone.

She stepped cautiously out of her rental car, locking it behind her. She felt like a fool, dressed in her black yoga pants and navy blue hooded jacket, a Yankees hat pulled low over her eyes. Like something out of an old movie. She curled her fingers nervously around the .38 Special in her pocket.

Walking slowly over to a small side door, she tested it and, finding it unlocked, stepped cautiously inside. She closed the door behind herself and turned, letting her eyes adjust to the dim light before taking a step forward.

With a snap, a bright light flooded the area, blinding her a moment as a disembodied voice spoke.

"That's far enough, Ms. Noelle."

Samantha swallowed, blinking repeatedly as she tried to shield her eyes from the glare. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"Where's the money?"

"what money? Your note just said to meet you here. I never received any other deliveries. I swear." Samantha's heart was racing, and she fought to keep the shaking out of her voice.

"That's too bad. I would rather have had the money. I guess I'll have to settle for releasing the videos instead. I can always go after the pretty boy for the money."

"Everett? You can't!" Desperation filled her voice as Samantha squinted, shifting to the side, trying to make out where he was standing.

"oh, but I can. I've got enough to make sure he's never allowed anywhere near his pretty little daughter again. I can make him pay and pay and pay."

"NO!!" Samantha cried out, pulling the handgun from her pocket and firing wildly in the direction of the dark laughter.

Annie double-checked the room number she'd found scribbled on Ms. Noelle's desk, and sucked in a deep breath to calm her fluttering nerves as she knocked on the door.

Hearing a muffled "just a minute" from the other side of the door, she cast one more longing look at the stunning diamond ring on her finger before slipping it off just as the door swung open.

John Cena looked down at her, a slight frown wrinkling his brow. "Miss Harrington?"

"Annie, please," she blushed, not waiting for an invitation as she stepped through the door.

"Annie," ever the gentleman, John stepped aside for her rather than blocking her entrance. "You have some news about Samantha?" he asked hopefully.

"I'm sorry, no. She left the office shortly after her taping today and I haven't heard from her since."

"Taping?"

"She did The Couch this morning. Wedding planning."

"She did? I missed it!"

"I'm sure you can find it FOX online," Annie dismissed, "that's not why I'm here." She hesitated before holding up the ring, "I found this under my desk. I thought you might be searching for it."

"You found it? Annie!!" John lifted her up, swinging her in a huge circle, and Annie wrapped her arms around his neck with a delighted squeak, savouring the moment.

--

Maria stood silently in Everett's bathroom doorway, studying the pathetic figure curled up on the floor between the tub and the toilet. Perhaps it was time to rethink her plan. This one didn't seem like the type she'd really want to be saddled with long term.

Better to move to Plan B. Take the payoff and move on to a better target.

Reaching under her skirt, she shimmied off her panties and stepped out of them. Gripping them tightly between her fists, she ripped at one side seam, tearing it open. She knelt and positioned them carefully half-hidden under the mussed covers of the blanket.

Considering the shape he was in, she was confident that Everett would barely be conscious, nevermind awake enough to find them before the guys showed up here this morning for their daily production meeting.

She eased out the door and headed back to her own room. This morning, she definitely needed to be the last to arrive.

--

"I got someone I want you to meet. Let's go."

Panic curled in Samantha's belly, but she ruthlessly forced it down. She needed to stay calm. To think. She needed to play along. At least for now. Her own career was probably over, and surprisingly, she could accept that. Somehow in the past week, her career had shifted down the list from the most important thing in her world to somewhere near the bottom.

If it were only herself on the line, she would tell this bastard where he could stick his video, but it wasn't.

And Samantha realised she would do whatever she needed to do, to protect Everett. To protect his career, and his family. His wellbeing was the only thing that mattered.

Even if he didn't want her anymore.

He hadn't made any attempt to contact her since she'd tried to explain about John. Other than to offer his congratulations. Clearly he was done with her this time.

That was his choice and she could accept it. But whether he wanted her or not, she would never stop loving him and she would never stop being his. Her fingers crept to the silver lock and curled around it protectively without her even being aware of it, seeking its strength, its comfort.

"Look," she fought to keep the tremble out of her voice, channeling her strong, calm anchor tone. "Is it money you want? I can pay you whatever you want. Let's just keep this between you and me."

"Tempting…" he glanced over at her, the look in his eyes as they raked up and down her body making her skin crawl, "but where's the fun in that?"

Samantha pressed her thighs together, curling her free arm over her belly and shrinking in her seat.

"oh, I'll take your money too, have no fear, but I really think we can be a little more creative than that, don't you?" The car slowed to a stop and her blackmailer turned abductor slipped it into park, turning off the ignition. "Oh look, we're here…"

Maria couldn't hide the edge of panic in her voice as she saw all her plans crumbling before her very eyes. "Just… wait…" Her mind raced, frantically considering and discarding alternative plans. There had to be a way to salvage this. Think, think, think.

She couldn't afford to lose this job. Not just because she needed it to pay the rent on the little dive she was living in, or because she preferred eating to the alternative… she needed this job because it was her ticket to meeting the wealthy and powerful men who could take her away from all that.

She swallowed, looking up at Neil and David with wide, blinking eyes. She'd worked her magic on men a lot smarter than these two, she could do it again. "Please… don't tell HR! Please. There must be something I can do for you. Some way we can… work this out?"

Maria swallowed her satisfaction, keeping the slightly wide-eyed worried look on her face as she watched Neil look at David with a shrug and a grin. Men are so fucking easy.

Neil reached down, stroking over his denim-covered cock. "We might be able to work something out." He grinned, looking Maria up and down. "If you can convince me how much you want it."

Maria shuddered slightly, biting back a sneer. Putty in her hands. Just like they all were. "Please," she whispered with a soft smile, "let me show you." She dropped to her knees, reaching up to work Neil's button and zipper, peeling his jeans away from his rapidly growing cock.

Stroking once, twice up and down his length, Maria extended her tongue, licking a long swipe up his length, ending with a swirl of her tongue around his crown before taking the whole thing into her mouth with a soft hum. Using her fists and mouth, she worked the entire length of the massive pole for several minutes.

A fist in her hair pulled her back and she winced with a gasp, looking up to Neil's eyes, questioning.

"You're forgetting our friend Dave there."

Maria turned to see David sitting on the edge of the mattress, idly stroking his own fat cock as he watched her. She smiled a sultry smile. "Mustn't forget David." She crawled over, nudging his hands aside to slurp at David's cock with a hungry moan.

She was just beginning to really enjoy herself when she felt David's hand pushing her forehead back, his cock slipping free with a pop. "Sweet as your slutty little mouth is, it's gonna take more than that, Maria."

Maria scowled a moment, but quickly wiped the expression from her face, replacing it with a seductive smile. She didn't notice the odd light in his eyes as she stood, crawling on the bed, lifting her short skirt and shoving aside her thong panties as she straddled his hips.

David's hands wrapped around her hips, holding her still. "First you tell me how much you want it."

Maria closed her eyes, barely stopping herself from rolling them. So fucking easy. "Oh, baby," she smiled, pumping his cock with her right hand as she pushed him to lean back on his elbows with her left, "I want it so bad. Want your big, thick cock filling me up more than anything. Please, David. I want you to fuck me. Hard."

"You want it, take it," David grinned. "Ride me, slut!"

Maria forced a tight smile, but did as she'd been told, climbing up to ease onto David's thick cock with a soft moan. "Oh, yes," she hissed softly, pumping her hips, grinding herself against him. Her eyes drifted shut and she missed seeing the grin and the nod that David offered Neil.

Before she was even aware of what was happening, hard hands had grabbed her arms, bending them together and holding them tight against the small of her back as Neil pushed her forward and David reached up to stuff her own torn panties into her mouth, holding them in place with his hand.

"Now you're forgetting about Neil, slut."

She felt a hard, spit and pre-cum slicked cock sliding between her ass cheeks, stroking back and forth over her tight hole. Maria grew wild-eyed, struggling in panic, but couldn't escape the four strong hands holding her in place.

"Don't tell me you've already changed your mind about working things out, bitch?" Neil growled in her ear, pushing the full length of his cock into her ass in a long, single thrust.

Maria arched her head back with a muffled squeal, clenching her ass, struggling against the two cocks filling her.

"What's the matter, Maria? Slut like you never been double-stuffed before?"

Maria shook her head wildly, blinking back tears.

"But you love it, don't ya?" A hard hand twisted at her nipple, pulling it sharply. "I think that's your new name. Oreo." The long cock eased slowly, slowly back and then plowed back in, hard and deep. "You love being filled with two big cocks, don't ya, little Oreo?"

Maria whimpered.

Both men were thrusting hard now, pumping in and out, stretching her and filling her like she'd never been before. She could feel it building to a crescendo and in a matter of minutes first one and then two hoarse shouts filled the room as she felt pulse after pulse of wet heat filling her.

Neil stepped back, pulling out of her ass, letting the last dribbles paint her cheeks. Then David slipped free, shoving her off onto the floor, wiping his cock off on her hair.

Maria only sat, shell-shocked, feeling the spunk drooling from her gaping asshole and pussy.

"Now get the fuck out, bitch, before Everett gets out of the shower."

Maria blinked up, spitting out the panties in her mouth as she wiped at the tear tracks on her cheeks.

"And Oreo… this was just the first installment. If you want to keep that tape away from HR…" Neil walked over to pick up the FOX cap, "… and this one off the internet…" he grinned, waving the camera in her direction, "… you'll be in Dave's room tonight. Nine sharp."

--

"Now... it’s time you find out what you have to do for me to keep quiet... slut. Go to the bathroom and change into that... and ONLY that. You have five minutes."

Samantha barely caught the heels and hose that he tossed in her direction, her stomach dropping.

"You can't be serious." She shook her head in denial, backing away. "What will Cedric say? You heard him. He's making me marry John." She swallowed, still not ready to deal with that. "You can't do this."

"Listen, slut," Conner growled, "I can do whatever the fuck I want." He crossed his arms over his chest. "You think Ced gives a shit about you? Or about John?" He snorted a cold laugh. "All Ced cares about is his 12 percent." He tilted his head. "Besides, you're not going to tell him, and I'm sure as shit not going to, so how will he find out?" He looked casually at his watch. "And you're down to four minutes and counting, slut."

Samantha swallowed at the cold, hard look in his eyes. She turned quickly into the bathroom and slammed the door, locking it behind her. She clenched her eyes shut, ignoring the dark laughter from the other side of the door.

She curled her fingers around the silver lock with a soft whimper, her heart breaking.

To do what he wanted… to obey another man… it felt like the ultimate betrayal of everything she had shared with her Master. It ripped away any small hope she had of coming out the other side of this fiasco together with Everett.

To do this… to give in to his demands… she would be no longer worthy of the only man she ever loved.

But what option did she have? To fight? Her eyes drifted up to the tiny bathroom window. To run? She glanced back at the door. She could run. Could disappear. Maybe with her gone they'd have no further reason to threaten Everett?

"Three minutes!" The muffled voice called through the door.

Samantha blinked back tears. She couldn't take that risk. She would do whatever she had to do to protect Everett. Even knowing it would push him forever out of her reach. All that mattered was his safety, and his family's.

God, and Bill's. He and Helen were innocent in all of this. Only dragged into it because of their friendship with her.

No, there was no choice. She would do what she had to do.

"Time's up, slu-…" Conner's words were cut off as the lock clicked and the door swung open revealing Samantha silhouetted by the bathroom light, naked but for the silk and lace thigh highs and pumps. She stood tall, chin raised and eyes blank, only the fingers curled around her lock any indication of the turmoil inside.

Samantha blinked away tears, staring in horror at the monster cock twitching to life in front of her. "I-I… I can't…"

Her cheek exploded in pain, her head snapping to the left as he slapped her hard before dragging her back to face front, one hand twisted in her hair, the other pulling at Everett's collar.

"Don't test me, bitch," he snarled at her. "You won't like the results." He twisted the chain, digging it into her neck. "If I have to repeat another command, you can kiss your pretty little locket good-bye. Are we clear?"

Samantha closed her eyes with a small nod.

"Try again."

"p-please…" She licked her lips, tasting blood at the corner of her mouth. "please… l-let me have your c-cock…" Samantha couldn't bring herself to use an honorific. He was not her Sir, or her Master. He would never be, no matter what he did to her. "please," she barely whispered, "please, let me t-taste…" She extended her tongue, swiping a tiny lick across the tip of the fat cock, wincing at the stale, sour smell and the bitter flavour filling her mouth.

"You can do better than that, bitch!"

Conner braced her head in his hands and thrust forward, fucking her mouth.

Samantha's cry was cut off, forced back down her throat by the thick piece of meat stretching her lips wide. She twisted and fought to no avail, only seeming to spur him to a tighter grip on her hair and harder thrusts. She coughed, choking, struggling for air. With her arms tied so tightly behind her back, she was completely helpless to his tight hold, unable to push him away.

His grip tightened, his pace picking up, becoming erratic and she felt his cock get harder, grow impossibly thicker. His grunts grew louder, longer and finally his cock exploded, filling her mouth with his thick slime.

When he finally released her, she gagged and sputtered, his spunk drooling from her chin and nostrils, stinging her torn lip. He dragged her face up to take more pictures.

"Who'd have believed? Samantha Noelle," he crowed with a grin, "swallowing my cock and loving it!"

She shook her head in mute denial, still coughing for breath.

He laughed cruelly. "Deny it as much as you like, bitch. Your hungry whore's cunt can't lie." He dug his fingers into her, and held them up for her and the camera, gleaming slick with her juices. "It's just begging to be fucked."

Samantha stared at his fingers in horrified denial. His words echoing in her head. She didn't want this. Couldn't want this. Tears filled her eyes. Her betrayal of her Master was complete. She deserved this. Deserved to be punished.

"Of course, there's no telling what whore's diseases a fucking slut like you has stewing in there," he continued, wiping his fingers clean in her hair. He stroked his slowly thickening cock, grinning down at her. "Always been partial to a tight little back door anyway. And judging by the video I've seen, you are too, aren't you?"

Mind racing in desperate denial, Samantha shook her head wildly.

"Ass or cunt, whore?" He waved his monster cock in front of her face. "Which am I going to destroy first?"

"Is fear an aphrodisiac to you?"

Samantha heard the click of the gun being cocked echoing loudly in her ear and she whimpered behind the gag, thrashing uselessly in his strong hold. With her arms and legs bound so tightly it was a futile escape attempt at best and fear began to edge into panic. Her heart pounded, blood rushing through her veins and her entire body pulsed with every heartbeat.

She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head in desperate denial. She was not turned on by this… she was not! She clenched around the vibe, hoping to expel it but only succeeded in forcing it deeper, intensifying the vibration, her traitorous body riding closer and closer to the edge.

"Shove your ass onto this cock... or else."

She felt the butt of his pistol press tightly to her temple and she whimpered, stiffening in his grip. She twisted her hips, shifting slightly. The vibe shifted position, battering her g-spot and Samantha threw back her head in a muffled scream, biting down hard on the gag. Tears dripped off her chin, mirroring the remnants of her sloppy orgasm dribbling down her thighs.

The pistol still digging into her temple left her no time to wallow in her remorse. She shuddered, terror and the aftermath of her violent orgasm both taking a hard grip on her body, flooding her every nerve with sensation.

The huge monster of a cock brushed across her tiny rosebud hole, sliding up and down her crack a few times before coming to rest against her tight hole, waiting. She felt the pistol press harder against her temple and gasped behind the gag.

She levered her hips, pressing back against him to know effect. Panting slightly, squeezing her eyes, she struggled to relax her hole, to push back harder. Pain lanced through her. It felt like she was tearing herself in two, as she forced herself back onto the massive pole, slowly but steadily driving her painfully stretched ass onto it.

Samantha held her breath, pushing the last fractions of an inch until her ass was pressed against his hips. She sagged, barely conscious, gasping to breathe again, relief at having taken it almost enough to eclipse the painful, stretching fullness.

A hard slap shocked her awake as a rough snarl filled her ears. "No one said you could fucking sleep you cunt! Fuck this cock hard!!"

A fist dragged her head back sharply by the hair, but her cry was cut off, along with her air as his other hand yanked at her collar, holding her tightly in place as his hips pulled back slightly and then pounded roughly forward.

Samantha screamed behind the gag, twisting and writhing in his tight hold, but the huge cock fucked relentlessly, easing back and slamming forward over and over. "Fight all you like, whore, it only makes it sweeter!" His derisive laugh washed over her and Samantha screamed again, shaking her head desperately.

He thrust harder, slamming her back and forth, her heavy, hanging tits slapping back and forth, bouncing with every buck of his hips, each thrust forcing a grunting cry from her.

"Fucking slut!" he growled, "you love it, don't ya, bitch."

Samantha screamed and struggled, helpless to pull away from his hold.

"oh yeah, heatin' up. I can feel it. Ready to cum again so soon?" He let go of her collar to reach around, pinching at her throbbing clit. "just a natural cockslut, aren't you, whore? You get horny for any cock up your ass, or just mine?"

He picked up the pace, pounding at her stretched and aching hole.

NO!

She shuddered, her mind screaming denials even as she felt the trembling beginning in her thighs and her body succumbing to another mind-shattering climax.

Samantha bent over her knees sobbing, curling into a tight ball as she stayed right where he left her under the hot spray. Not because he'd warned her not to try and follow him, but because she had no will left to fight. She almost giggled hysterically.

The bastard threatened to destroy her life? Did he not realise what an empty threat that was? He already had. There was nothing left to destroy. Did he honestly think she gave a shit about her fucking job?

She was being forced to marry John. A man she didn't love. A good man who deserved so much more than a wife who could never love him.

She was whoring herself to that bastard, not to protect herself, but to protect John and Bill. To protect Everett. She would protect him with everything she had… do anything to keep him safe. And that bastard knew it.

She curled her fingers around her locket with a fresh sob. The only thing that would destroy her life was losing Everett… and she already had. Forced or not, she had betrayed her Master. She'd been used, degraded. She'd cum on that bastard's cock. She'd called him Master. Against her will or not, it was a betrayal of her true Master… of the only man she'd ever loved.

She was the filthy, fucking whore that bastard called her. She was a dirty, worthless slut who didn't deserve any better. Samantha felt the cold creeping back over her heart and she welcomed it.

The sudden ringing of her phone had her scrambling from the shower. Hope and fear warring in equal measure as she checked for Everett's name on the display. Instead she saw MC. She hesitated, each ring making her jump again until she finally couldn't stand it.

"Hello?"

"Wrong answer, cunt! You take that long to answer again and you will see your new home movie on the internet. Samantha Noelle: Cum Dump for Hire. Remember that!" He didn't wait for her response. "You will answer my calls with 'how may I serve you, Master?' Got it?" The call disconnected and Samantha closed her eyes with a sob, knowing what was coming next.

The phone rang again. MC.

She drew a deep breath. "How may I s-serve you… M-Master?" She had to force the word out.

"Better, whore. I found some interesting pictures on your phone." She could hear the sneer in his voice. "Your face wasn't in them, but I recognise that slutty little cunt you're showing off."

She didn't respond. She should have deleted the pictures right after Everett had demanded she send them, but truthfully, with everything that had happened between them, she had forgotten about them.

"I want you to send me some nicer pictures. I want a nice shot of the asshole that I destroyed. NOW! And don't try to keep your face out of the shot either, bitch."

He waited for her whispered "yes, M-Master," before disconnecting the call.

Samantha inhaled a calming breath. Twisting around, angling the phone she struggled with trying to get a good shot, but couldn't manage to get both her ass and her face in the picture. Then, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror, she had an idea. Shuffling around on her knees, she bent forward, angling herself carefully and resting on her elbows. She adjusted her aim and clicked a series of photos.

Examining them carefully, deleting those that were blurred or didn't show her face clearly, Samantha's mouth dropped open as she studied the rest. Her ass was red and swollen, almost gaping it was stretched so wide. Smears of cum streaked with tiny pink ribbons of what could only blood, drooled down her thigh. Her eyes shimmered with tears, a shadow bruising her cheek and a trickle of dried blood at the corner of her lips.

She quickly sent the photos to MC and shoved the phone away, heading back into the shower to stand under the scalding water, though she knew she would never be clean again.

"Baby... what happened?"

The slight frown as John's eyes locked onto her lip made it clear to Samantha that she may not have been as successful at hiding her bruises as she'd hoped. She rolled her eyes with a smile and a shrug, unable to meet his eyes as she brushed aside his concern with a light laugh. "Just my usual clutzy self. Nothing to worry about."

She stood with an almost imperceptible wince, the slightest stiffness in her first few steps as she walked toward John. She kept her eyes on the floor, guilt keeping her from meeting his eyes, and so she missed the narrowing of his eyes as he watched her.

She heard him draw in a breath to speak, then hesitate. Curiosity warred with the guilt for a moment, but before she could work up the nerve to meet his eyes, he spoke again. "I asked Ced and Bill to wait outside. I thought maybe we should talk privately first."

The caution and concern in his voice twisted her heart. John was such a good man. Honourable. Generous. Kind. Tears pricked at her eyes but she blinked them back. He'd deserved so much better than the way she'd used him before.

Deserved so much better than what Cedric was forcing her into now. He deserved a woman who loved him as whole-heartedly as he loved her. Samantha knew that she would never be that woman.

Her fingers lifted to her silver locket. As much as she wished she could just tell John about the manipulative bastard that was his manager, she could never risk the repercussions to those she cared about. Cedric held all the cards and he knew it.

"I'm sorry, John," she whispered. "I think it was just nerves… cold feet. I hope you can forgive me?"

John smiled cautiously and Samantha felt his hesitance, his lack of confidence pierce her heart. Before she'd met Everett, she would have crowed in satisfaction at having twisted this strong man around her little finger. Now she felt only shame.

"You still want to marry me then?" he asked, hope lacing his words.

"I…" Samantha could feel the lie sticking in her throat, a painful lump, "I will marry you, yes."

She couldn't hide the wince or the tiny breathless gasp as John wrapped her in his arms and swung her exuberantly around.

"Baby?" he lowered her to her feet with quick concern. "I'm so sorry. I don't know my own strength sometimes. I'm just so happy right now! Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she patted his hand on hers. "I'm just a little stiff this morning. Must've slept wrong. That's all." She squirmed under his assessing gaze, but he didn't question her answer any further. Only, with a single hesitant glance, pulled the ring box from his pocket and offered it to her.

She could not fail to notice how he held his breath, only releasing it when she accepted the ring and slipped it back onto her finger.

--

Samantha sat on the Fox News couch, plastering a false smile on her lips, feigning an excitement she didn't feel. She was afraid the ice in her heart probably filled her eyes, just as she was certain that it had spread to her fingers, cold and stiff in John's tender grip.

The irony of playing the ecstatic, adoring fiancé to John while she sat with Everett's collar locked around her neck, in the dress and earrings Everett had chosen for her, was not lost on Samantha, but there was little else she could do. Cedric stood off camera but directly in her line of sight, arms crossed over his chest, watching her every move.

She wondered if Everett were watching her. What would he think? Would he take her choice of clothing as a sign? Would he understand that she would always love him… would always be his… no matter what she might be forced to do? Would he care?

He hadn't tried to contact her since that terse congratulatory message he'd texted the night John proposed. Had he given up on her? While she wished with all her heart that her life could turn into a fairy tale and she might have her happily ever after with Everett, her head forced her to acknowledge cold, hard reality.

There was no happily ever after for her.

There was blackmail. There was pain, degradation and abuse. Even if, one day, the bastards tired of it all and let her go, there would still be no happily ever after with Everett. Forced into it or not, she had betrayed everything she had with him. She was no longer worthy of being his.

"So I hear congratulations are in order, Ms. Noelle... Mr. Cena! I mean it... congratulations, you both look good together. This is Fox news... back to you!"

Everett's voice cut into her thoughts and Samantha felt her heart rend in two. There was her answer. She only hoped that her shining eyes would pass for tears of joy.

--

As soon as the broadcast was finished, Samantha escaped back to her office, abandoning John to the crowd of well-wishers. Closing the door softly behind her, she collapsed against it, breathing deeply, fighting back the tears.

Straightening, she walked over to pick up her phone and saw it flashing that she'd missed a call from Everett. Heart in her throat, she checked the message.

"Hey Sammy, it's me. I lost my phone and just got the replacement. I'm a little worried here, I haven't heard from you. I understand that you couldn't embarrass him at the Gala and refuse so publically, but why are you still pretending? Or are you pretending?"

She could hear the doubt, the hesitation and it cut her to the core.

"I need to know, pet. Are you still mine? I need to hear you say it. If not, I'll let you go and never bother you again, but if you tell me you love me, then I swear, we'll make this all right again. I love you, Sammy."

Samantha's breath caught as she pressed her fingers to her lips, covering the cry that threatened to burst free. He still wanted her… still believed in her. He still loved her!

She clutched the phone, about to call him back when her stomach rolled sharply, twisting. Dropping the phone on the desk, she turned quickly, brushing past John as he stepped in through her office door, running to the bathroom just in time to lose her breakfast.

"Baby?" John's concerned voice called through the closed bathroom door. "You ok?"

"Must be something I ate last night. I'll be fine in a minute." She flushed the toilet and turned on the tap, grabbing up her toothbrush.

--

Glancing in concern at the bathroom door, John heard the text chime ring on Samantha's phone and peeked at it, just catching a glimpse of the message alert before it flickered away.

Message from MC: Phone. Now. Or else.

John scowled. He didn't like the threatening tone. Who exactly was MC? And what were they threatening Samantha with?

Samantha stepped out of the bathroom, blushing. "I'm sorry about that. I guess it's time to toss those leftovers." She was hoping to draw a laugh from John and allay his concerns, but he only stared at her.

"You got a text while you were in there."

Samantha could feel his eyes on her, watching her, but she couldn't stop the blood from draining from her face when she read the text.

"You want to tell me what that's about?" He crossed his arms over his chest.

She pasted a false smile on her lips. "Oh it's nothing, just work. But I do need to return this call. You don't mind, do you darling?" She held her breath while he hesitated, every second that ticked by delaying her response and risking everything.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Samantha blinked, looking away. "Of course, but this is just work."

He studied her a moment more, then said, "I'll be just outside that door."

Samantha followed him to the door, closing it behind him, turning the lock with a soft click. She almost ran to the bathroom, closing that door as well, needing as much space as possible between herself and possibly prying ears.

She dialled MC, and at his grunted answer she spoke, "h-how may I serve you… master?" The words tasted like bile on her tongue.

"I watched that sickening display on TV this morning. I think you need a reminder of who exactly owns your ass, whore."

"No, please," Samantha pleaded, "I'll pay. Any amount. I swear. I won't tell anyone. Please."

"I like the begging, get used to it. And, you'll pay. Stupid cunt. But it's not cash that I'm interested in." Samantha bit back any further pleading, realising it would make no difference and she would not give him the satisfaction. "I'm texting you an address. You will be there in 1 hour."

"But I have a spa appointement…"

"Cancel it, bitch. Your new master will provide you with all the facials you need."
His disgusting, dark laugh rolled over her and Samantha closed her eyes, fighting the tears.

"what do you say?" he growled.

"yes, master, thank you," she whispered.

He grunted, apparently satisfied. "So you will be at that address in 1 hour. You will strip naked on the porch and crawl in through the dog door. Do NOT be late if you know what's good for you and your little boy toy Evan."

The call disconnected before Samantha had a chance to protest.

She slid to the floor, sobbing, tears flowing freely. The happiness and hope she'd felt only moments ago at hearing Everett's message crumbling to despair. If it were only her own career, her own life at stake, she would deny the bastard and let the pieces fall where they may, but she would protect her friends. Bill and Helen were innocent in all this. Everett was… Everett was her heart and soul.

She would pay any price to protect him, even never seeing him again.

All he wanted was to hear her say that she loved him. Unable to bear speaking to him… lying to him, she pulled out her phone, typing a quick text.

I'm sorry. I can't. Please forgive me.

Hitting send, she dropped the phone, wrapping her arms around her folded legs and burying her face in her knees, letting the cold creep in and freeze her shattered heart.

Everett pulled into the Patterson Hospital parking lot and shut off the ignition. He sat and stared blankly at the building's main doors.

All the way here his mind had swirled, bouncing between the almost overwhelming fear that something would happen to his daughter, some turn for the worst, before he could get to her… and the soul deep ache, the empty shards that stabbed through his chest at the thought of a life without Sammy.

He clutched his phone in white-knuckled fingers. He had no need to pull up the text. Her words were seared in his brain, looping over and over through his mind.

I'm sorry. I can't. Please forgive me.

He clambered out of the car, slamming the door and pounding his fist against the hood, ruthlessly pushing down the urge to call her. He needed her here. Needed her quiet strength and solace. He needed to wrap himself up in her arms. Needed to hear her sweet whisper in his ear, "I love you, Mas-…"

Dammit, no!

He was not her Master. She was not his slave. She didn't want him anymore, and he'd promised her that he would respect that.

He shoved himself away from the car, striding purposefully toward the hospital. Time to shift his focus. He had a daughter who needed him. It was time to shift all his love and attention onto her. He'd deal with the rest of it later.

Several minutes later, after a set of directions and a couple of false turns, Everett eased open the hospital room door, almost afraid of what he would see.

He searched the room in the dim lighting, the soft beeping of monitors the only sound.

Bailey lay on the bed, her eyes closed. So still. So silent. He stared, assuring himself she was still breathing. She looked so small, so fragile in the big hospital bed, surrounded by blinking monitors. At the same time, she looked so big… so much older than the last time he'd seen his little girl.

He stepped closer, sliding into the chair at the bedside, laying his hand gently over hers. "Hey, Bay," he whispered, "everything's going to be okay. I promise."

Bailey's eyes blinked open and she slowly scanned the room, her eyes finally focussing on Everett. "What are you doing here?" Sarcasm dripped from her tone, almost but not quite masking the fearful little girl voice as she added, "where's mom?"

Conner grinned at the tense terror visibly radiating from his slave. It would only take a few of these sessions to really teach the cunt her place. She'd realise how lucky she was to service a true Master.

These fools had no idea that they were nothing more than a useful training tool. He pulled out his camera, getting ready to begin filming.

He chuckled as the cunt jumped, unable to escape the hands groping her from all sides. "She likes to resist," he called over, "if she's slow to obey, don't be afraid to be rough. She loves it." He finished setting up his tripod and mounting the camera, aiming it in the direction of the group. "Smile for the camera, Toy!" he called out, knowing full well she couldn't hear him, "the Dirty Whore is about to become a star!"

--

Samantha struggled to breathe as the hood closed over her head. The leather hood alone would have seriously restricted her hearing, but with the addition of the earplugs, her world was almost completely muffled. Blind and all but deaf, she fought the panic rushing in to take hold.

Rough hands pulled at her, and she felt leather constricting her throat. Something metal was shoved into her open lips, forcing her mouth wider and wider open until she whimpered in protest, her lips stretched to their limit. She reached up to trace it, test it, but before she could her hands were roughly slapped away and dragged behind her back as she was shoved against what must have been the wooden door.

She felt leather wrapped around each wrist, cuffs she imagined, clipped together as she could no longer separate her arms. More leather encased her ankles. The thump of chain against her feet was explained by the way her ankles were hobbled together when she was spun back around, almost losing her balance when her step was cut short.

She shook her head wildly and felt the chain between her pussy lips dragging against her. Hard fingers pinched her nipples, dragging her up onto her toes before letting them drop down and she cried out, almost dropping the leather she held with her tongue as the harsh bite of nipple clamps tore through her.

The leather was pulled from her mouth and she almost had the sense that he was speaking to her, but the mumbling noise was too muffled to make out anything at all.

A sharp tug simultaneously pulled her wrists down as the chain dragged across her clit and up her belly to tug sharply on her clamped nipples as it dragged her forward. She cried out, shuffling forward hesitantly, blindly following the painful pulls.

The dragging stopped and Samantha stood still, panic creeping back in as she fought to breathe calmly. Her mind slipped back to her dungeon visit with Everett. The same almost panic had filled her then, but Everett's strong presence calmed her. Gave her the strength she needed.

She bit back a whimper. Her Master would not save her today. Everett would never save her again. She let the ice build, slowly freezing out the panic.

This was her life now. She was a fool to have ever let Everett inside her defenses. If she hadn't let Everett destroy her protective walls, she wouldn't… she wouldn't be suffering his loss right now.

But she would never have known the joy of a loving Master either.

She'd learned long ago that she deserved to be punished. Everyone she ever loved was gone. Lost. She should never had let Everett convince her she was worthy of more than spending her life alone. She would not fall for that trap again.

Fingernails scraping against her breasts startled her out of her reverie and she jumped, trembling.

"no…" she shook her head, "…-lea-…" The metal gag forcing her mouth wide prevented her speaking clearly, but she couldn't hold back the attempted protests, the futile hope that her denials, her pleas, would be respected.

Disembodied limbs surrounded her, hands pushing, pulling, pinching, slapping… forcing her legs apart, digging into her open mouth, fondling her tits, lifting them by the clamp chain and letting them bounce free.

She felt herself dragged, stumbling blindly forward until her hips pressed against what felt like the slats of a wooden chair. Sharp downward pressure on her tit chain pulled her over and she felt her hips and legs tightly secured.

Cold metal slid into her ass and she cried out, twisting once before the sharp pull on her clamped nipples stopped her. Her head was dragged back, lifting her face. She shook her head with a whine and each movement pulled the metal deeper into her ass.

"…-lea-… no," she moaned again. She wrapped the fingers of one hand around her opposite thumb, twisting them, knowing that no one there would recognise or acknowledge her safeword signal.

A thick cock filled her pussy at the same moment as another drove into her throat. Teeth nipped at her hanging tits. Her hands were unlocked and dragged apart, one pulled to wrap around another cock, the other dragged to a wet pussy.

Hard hands wrapped around her head holding her tight as the cock in her mouth began to fuck hard, pumping deep, gagging her, choking her.

Something moved between her legs, vibrating against her clit. She writhed, bucking her hips, unable to escape. The movement only drove the cock in her pussy even deeper. The relentless vibe matched her move for move, driving her closer and closer to orgasm.

The cock in her pussy pulled out and she felt wet heat splatter across her back before another cock shoved in, shorter and thicker than the first.

Another splash of spunk washed against her left side at the same time as the cock in her mouth exploded, flooding her throat and tongue with bitter fluid as she coughed and gasped for air.

Suddenly pushed her over the edge, she screamed and writhed in orgasm, but the relentless vibe did not move away, driving hard against her oversensitive and spasming clit. She twisted and bucked, ignoring the painful dragging on her nipples in her need to escape the tormenting buzz, but it followed her every move as she screamed.

The cock in her pussy jerked and she felt sticky warmth flooding her, drooling down her thighs as it pulled free, immediately replaced by another, this one long and slender.

A wet pussy was shoved against her mouth and she twisted her face away, but a sharp slap against her ass and hard, breath-stealing drag on her nipple chain turned her back forward, tongue extended to lap blindly at it.

Two more cocks bucked against her hands, fingers dug at her tits. The pussy at her mouth was replaced with another cock. She endured an endless parade… the only constant was the painfully tormenting vibe driving her to orgasm after orgasm.

The last cock in her swollen, battered pussy pulled out, shooting its load across her already well spattered ass and hips and she could only sag, unable to even drop her head forward.

This time, instead of yet another cock, she felt fingers sliding along her slit, pushing into her aching cunt. She whimpered, shifting her hips. More fingers pushed in and she shook her head, futilely attempting to twist away. She felt another hand pushing in, sliding alongside the first and she screamed. "no… no… no…"

Rough hands dragged her head down, a thick cock gagging her screams as yet another hand forced its way along the others, stretching her impossibly wide.

The vibe pushed against her and she stiffened, exploding in orgasm as she screamed around the cock filling her throat, collapsing, barely conscious, only her bindings keeping her in place.

--

The cold splash of a bucket of water brought her back to her senses and she blinked against the brightness, feeling cool grass under her bare body. She could barely move. A sharp slap against her cheek as grasping fingers dragged at her hair cause her to cry out.

"Wake up, you lazy bitch. Or would you rather stick around for the neighbours to come take their turn?"

Samantha pushed weakly against the grass, attempting to sit up.

"I think you should be thanking your Master for the gift he gave you today."

She blinked, glancing quickly around the empty yard. "thank you… master," she managed to rasp, her throat feeling like she'd swallowed glass.

"Not with words, you stupid cunt!" Conner fisted her hair, dragging her already bruised and battered mouth onto his thick cock. Three strokes and he was pulling back, shooting his sour load in her face.

He crouched down, tossing a USB drive in front of her. "I made you a copy. Thought you might like a souvenir of you enjoying your debut." He stood, calling over his shoulder as he walked away, "I'll be in touch."

Alfred slammed down the phone after leaving the terse message for Conner. Damn the man! He was getting nowhere with this and Samantha was the one suffering for it. He paced outside her room, listening to the shower run and run and run.

He jumped when the bathroom door finally opened, a billowing cloud of steam first, before Samantha finally emerged. Wrapped in a voluminous fluffy robe, she looked small and fragile. Dark shadows circled her eyes and an air of despair surrounded her as she shuffled past him, her head lowered.

He trailed her hesitantly. "Can I get you something, ma'am?"

She paused, shrugging, never meeting his concerned eyes. "I was just going to make myself some peppermint tea," she finally whispered. "My throat's a little raw and I'm a bit nauseated. That's all."

"Perhaps you should see a doctor?"

She winced slightly, nodding. "I'll call as soon as I finish my tea. I'll be in my study."

He watched her slowly turn and shuffle out of the kitchen and turned to make the tea, concern being replaced by determination. Conner was out of time. He would not wait any longer for results. Not while Samantha was so obviously suffering.

--

Samantha settled into her chair with a wince. Pulling her hand from her pocket, she unclenched her fingers and dropped the USB on her desk, staring at it as if it were a scorpion poised to strike. Minutes ticked by while she stared.

Suddenly whirling, she grabbed a heavy marble bust of herself off the shelves behind her and slammed it into the USB with a cry, pounding it over and over until the bust cracked in half and nothing but a small pile of metal and plastic crumbs were left.

She collapsed into the chair, letting the bust fall as she buried her face in her hands with a soft sob.

"Are you alright?" The concern in the soft-spoken words and the barely there touch on her shoulder, stabbed at her.

"Get out!" she screeched. "Go! Leave me alone!"

He stepped back, setting the cup of tea next to the broken pieces on her desk. "Call me if you need anything, ma'am. Anything."

She turned away. "Just go," she whispered, "please. Go."

Waiting until the door closed behind him, she wiped away the tears and logged on to her computer. It would be salt in an open wound and she knew it, but she needed just a glimpse of Everett. To see his smile, hear his voice.

She pulled up the station online, looking for Everett's show. Nothing. No broadcast, no link. Where was he? Had something happened? Her chest constricted, cutting off her breath.

Before she was even aware of having picked up the phone, Bill McLean's private number was ringing.

"McLean."

"Bill," she gasped, "What's going on with Everett? Why wasn't he on the air today?" Fear clenched her belly. Was this Conner's doing? Some kind of reminder of the damage he could do if she refused him? "Bill!"

"Sam? Is that you? Didn't he tell you?"

"Tell me what? Bill?"

"There was an accident."

"Oh my God! Is Everett…?"

"It wasn't Everett. His ex-wife and daughter were in a serious accident. His ex was killed and last I heard, his daughter was in a coma. He's gone to be with her."

"Sam." Bill's voice was quiet. Serious. "What's going on?"

Samantha hesitated a moment, reeling from the news and the abrupt change of topic. "I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do." He sighed. "Helen is very concerned about you. She seems to think…" he hesitated. "She was more surprised by the renewal of your engagement than she'd been by the breaking of it."

Samantha's eyes drifted closed, her fingers clutching at the phone. Silence fell over the conversation.

"Sam." Bill's voice lowered further. "If you're in love with Everett Johnson, why are you marrying John Cena?"

Samantha swallowed, fighting to keep her voice steady. "I-I don't know what you mean." She had no other answer to offer.

"Ced, just let me finish with this call…" Bill spoke away from the phone.

Gasping, clutching the phone almost as if her were in the same room, Samantha rushed, "I've got to go, Bill. Appointment. Thanks for the info." Without waiting for his reply, she quickly ended the call.

Staring at the phone in her hand a moment, she double checked her messages and text log, hoping for any message from Everett.

How could he be going through something like this and not contact her? Not call her? Leave her a message?

She bit her lip, letting her head fall back as she blinked back the tears. Why would he? She'd pushed him away. He had no way to know the reasons why. No matter how she longed to go to him, offer him comfort and support, solace for his loss… she wouldn't. She couldn't. Protecting him was the only meaningful thing she had left.

He would find himself someone else. Someone new. Someone fit to be with him and his daughter.

He would be happy. And that's all that mattered.

She swallowed, and the raw scratching of it brought her mind back to the present. Alfred was right that she needed to see a doctor, but she couldn't go to her regular physician with this. No. A free clinic. Someplace far.

She stood with a wince and headed off to get dressed.


Several hours later she was sitting in a free clinic waiting room, hiding behind a pair of dark sunglasses and the Yankees ball cap Everett had given her, what seemed so long ago.

"Sammy Johnson?" A nurse called, consulting her clipboard as Samantha stood. "Come with me please." She led Samantha to a small exam room. "The doctor will be in with you shortly."

Samantha sat as the nurse bustled out, closing the exam door behind her. Nerves fluttered in her belly, nausea building.

"Miss Johnson," the doctor smiled, as she stepped into the room. "We have your early results. You realize that some of the STD tests we've done will take longer for the results to come in?"

Samantha nodded, ducking her head.

"Alright. Well, the preliminary results are good. You're negative across the board. But as I said, some of the tests will take longer to process."

Samantha breathed out softly, slumping in her seat.

"Now, about your request for a contraceptive implant…" The doctor drew a breath, looking Samantha in the eyes. "I'm afraid it's too late for that."

"What?" Samantha whispered, shocked.

"While it is very early, you definitely appear to be pregnant."

Samantha's left hand came up, covering her mouth, as her right hand curled protectively over her belly.

"Are you sure?"

"As I said, it is quite early, but yes. You are pregnant." The doctor leaned closer. "I'd like to have someone come talk to you about reporting your assault, and about your options."

"What? No, I can't. I… I have to go!" Jumping up, Samantha fled from the clinic, not pausing in her headlong run until she was several blocks away.

Settling back in the cab, she stroked her belly, bemused. Everett's baby. She was going to have Everett's baby. A tiny piece of Everett inside her. She smiled softly, revelling in the gift for a moment.

Her phone chimed, signalling a text. She pulled it out of her purse and saw MC.

Her smile faded, the bubble of joy popped. How could she…

She read the text. An address and a time. Nothing more. She checked her watch. Barely long enough to get across town. She read the cabbie the new address and shoved her phone away.

When the cab finally pulled to a stop, she paid the man and stepped out, her eyes widening in shock at the familiar sign.

Max's Tattoo & Piercings.

While she stood still, staring, a rough hand curled around her arm, a dark voice growling in her ear. "You're my girlfriend. Here to get your both your nipples and your hood pierced, understood?" When she didn't respond, he shook her hard. "Are you deaf, cunt? What do you say?"

Samantha blinked, curling her free arm over her belly. "Yes, Master," she whispered.

"You will not speak unless asked a direct question. So, why are you here?"

"I'm your girlfriend. I'm here to get my nipples and my hood pierced."

"Good enough," Conner leered at her. "Let's go."

He headed toward the shop door, dragging her behind him, barely loosening his grip on her arm until they were inside.

"Conner!" Max's booming voice rang out from the back of the shop. "Be right there. Who's this girlfriend I can't wait to meet?" As the burly man stepped out of the back, he met Samantha's eyes, surprised. "Well, well, well… look who we have here."

Conner piped up. "Everyone tries to tell me she looks like that chick from FOX News. I don't see it myself."

Max just stared at Samantha a moment, with an intense questioning gaze, until Samantha had to blush and look away. "So, what are we here for tonight?"

"I told you on the phone what she wanted," Conner interrupted.

Max shrugged. "I need to hear it from the lady."

Samantha drew a breath. "I'm here to get my nipples and hood pierced. Please."

Max watched her closely, but nodded. "All right then. What's your favourite colour?"

Samantha blinked, caught off-guard a moment. "Blue. It's blue."

Max smiled. "all right then. Conner, why don't you head over to the jewellery case there and pick out some pretty blue barbells? I'll take your girl here to the back and get her ready."

Conner gritted his teeth, ready to protest, but Samantha was already meekly following Max into the back room.

Almost before they were out of earshot, Max was turning, "what are you doing here with him, little Sammy? That man out there is seriously bad news! Where's Everett?"

"Max, please," Samantha whispered urgently, glancing back at the door. "Don't."

Max sighed, shaking his head. "Would you like me to do a touch up on the tat? Cover his initials?"

"No!" Samantha grabbed at his hand, "please, don't mention…"

"Just let me glove up," Max interrupted as Conner came through the door. "You strip down and take a seat."

Samantha blinked back her tears, surreptitiously wiping them away as she pulled off her clothes and settled in the chair.

Max accepted the jewellery from Conner, frowning slightly. "I said barbells. Captive bead rings are good for the swelling, but they're gonna drag on the nipple. It'll take even longer to heal and be more painful."

"What can I say," Conner shrugged with a grin, "the lady wants the rings."

Max looked at Samantha. "You sure?"

"I'm sure," she whispered softly. "The rings, please."

"Alright." Max swabbed her nipples and pulled out a pen to mark the placement. "Good?" her offered her a hand mirror, but Samantha barely glanced at it, only nodding.

He took back the mirror. "OK. This will be quick. Deep breath and hold it. Don't move. You can scream after if you need to." He grinned.

Samantha curled her fingers against the seat, bracing herself as she drew a breath and held it. A moment's sharp pain quickly muted to a dull throb, and she blew out her breath with a whimper.

"One more, same deal."

Samantha nodded, bracing herself and drawing in a deep breath. Another flash of pain and the same dull throb.

Max dabbed at the blood and offered her the mirror again. This time, her eyes couldn't stay away. Tiny sapphire beads hung from perfectly matched rings, drawing the eye to her perfect, pierced nipples. She looked at Max in awe.

He grinned back. "I'll give you some aftercare instructions. It'll likely be 9 months to a year before they're fully healed. You have any problems you let me know, ok?"

Samantha nodded softly.

"Now, let's see about getting your hood done. What were you thinking? Vertical? Horizontal? Triangle? A Diana?"

"Vertical" Conner answered.

Max just looked at Samantha.

She nodded her agreement.

Max turned to Conner. "In that case, go find us a pretty blue J barbell."

After Conner left the room, he looked at Samantha. "What's going on, little Sammy? I know you're not that man's girlfriend!"

"Please, Max," she whispered, curling her fingers around his arm, "just leave it."

Max scowled but held his tongue as Conner came back into the room, dropping a barbell in his outstretched hand.

Samantha flushed as she leaned back, spreading her legs to offer Max access while he swabbed, and marked the placement.

"OK. Last one, same deal. We'll be done in a minute."

Samantha held her breath, bracing herself and in a flash of sharp pain it was done. She shifted, releasing her breath explosively, hyper aware of the new bits of metal permanently attached to her body. The dull throbbing of her nipples had muted slightly, and the throbbing of her hood was interrupted every time she moved by the press of the barbell against her clit.

"This one will probably heal in a month or two." Max grinned. "Then you can really start to enjoy it."

Samantha blushed as she stood, accepting the aftercare pamphlets Max pushed into her hands. Slipping back into her clothes she hissed at each contact of fabric against her fresh piercings.

Conner crossed his arms over his chest, clearly eager to leave. "Pay the man and let's get going."

Samantha merely nodded, heading slowly toward the till as Max curled a supportive arm around her shoulder. "Thank you, Max," she whispered with a smile.

"Take care of… those piercings," Max returned.

As they left the shop, Max closed up behind them, hitting the lights and heading to the back.

Conner turned to Samantha with a dark grin. "Well, slut, it's early yet." He leered at her. "Plenty of time to get in a little training."

"So... how have you been?"

Linda sighed, wiping at her tears as she slipped into the seat across from Everett's. "It's been tough. When Mike passed, I was a bit lost. Brandy and Bay… they were a gift. Dragging my out of my empty apartment. Filling that hole with light and laughter. I don't know what I would've… and now…" She muffled her sob in her fingers.

"Oh, God, Lin! I didn't know. I swear." Everett rested a hesitant hand against her shoulder. "I'm so sorry!"

"No," she waved aside his concern. "It's okay. Really." She blinked, tears trembling on her eyelashes. "I was truly blessed to have Mike as long as I did." She sniffled. "It's just now… losing Brandy too… and seeing Bailey so hurt, so fragile… it's been a lot to take in."

Linda smiled. "I don't need to ask how things have been with you, do I? Mr. Big TV Star! You did it! Just like you always wanted." She nudged his shoulder with a grin. "I saw your interview with Samantha Noelle. That must've been a thrill! What's she like… really?"

Samantha heard a familiar voice calling Conner's name, but before the identity of its owner could register she heard a horn blast, a squeal of tires and a sickening thud. She spun to see Alfred tumbling in the street, a yellow cab screeching to a halt. Screaming his name and pulling away from Conner's hold on her arm, Samantha ran to Alfred, the pain of her fresh piercings forgotten in her headlong rush.

She knelt down beside him, calling his name, careful not to shift his position. "Alfred? Alfred!" She pressed her fingers against his cheek. "Alfred, answer me! Are you alright? What are you doing here?!"

Her breath exploded in relief as she heard a muttering groan. "I was concerned for you… Conner not doing his job… have to save you…"

Samantha sat back, shocked. His job? Alfred knew Conner? She looked up with a frown, searching the crowd, but only saw Conner's back as he slipped away in the crush as a police car pulled up, blocking the street and diverting traffic.

"Ma'am?" She felt a strong grip on her arm, guiding her up and away. "You need to step back, the paramedics need room to work. If you're an acquaintance, you can see the vic at the hospital."

Samantha stepped back with an absent nod. Shock and confusion were at war but the simple truth was that this news made no real difference. How Conner found her made little difference. She was still utterly at his mercy.

--

Linda ducked her head around the door, peeking into Bailey's room. "Up for some company?"

"Auntie Linda!" Bailey held out her arms with a sob.

Linda hurried forward, wrapping her arms around the trembling girl. "shhh, shhh, shhh,"

"I don't want to see him," Bailey mumbled into Linda's shoulder. There was no question who she was referring to. "I hate him!" Sobs eased to hiccups and silent tears. "I want my mom."

Linda sighed, stroking Bailey's hair. "I want to talk to you, Bay." She drew a breath. "I know this is hard. Sometimes life sucks and you just have to get through it. You're old enough now to understand a few things." She eased Bailey back against her pillows, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Do you remember when Cindy Thompson was telling the whole school those stories about you? Those lies?"

Bailey frowned slightly. "Yes, she wanted to turn everyone against me. Wanted them to like her better."

Linda held Bailey's hand between both of hers. "Bay, your Gran is just like Cindy. Only she's telling stories about your Dad."

"NO!" Bailey pulled her hand away. "He left us!"

"Bailey." Linda shook her head. Bailey was barely 14 years old, but life had decided she was going to have to grow up fast. "You know how sad your mom has been. She really loved your dad, but she let your Gran interfere. Let her push them apart."

Linda wasn't sure that Bailey could understand the pressure that woman had put on Brandy, but she wasn't going to get into the abuse her mother had suffered at her Gran's hand. Now was not the time for that. Maybe not ever. "She wanted your Gran's love and approval so badly, she let it cost her the one thing she'd always wanted. Her own happy family."

Bailey scowled, arms crossed over her chest, her angry pout only slightly tempered by the tiniest hint of confusion and longing in her eyes.
"Bay," Linda dug out her phone. "I've known your dad almost as long as I've known your mom. He's a good man." She flicked the screen, searching. "I want to show you something…" She settled next to Bailey, holding the phone up. "Do you remember this?"

A video played on the phone screen, a happy family, laughing and giggling. A little girl running and squealing, her father chasing her with tickling fingers outstretched. "gonna get you, Baybay!" "Daddy, no!" The girl running to hide behind her mother before her father caught up, cuddling and rolling and tickling them both. "Got both my girls now!" The video ended with hugs and kisses and laughter and "I love you's".

Bailey sniffled, looking up at Linda. "I don't remember that."

Linda kissed her on the forehead, as she hit play on the video again. "You need to think about what you want now, Bay. Your mom is gone, but your dad is here. Waiting right outside that door. And I know he'll do anything for you. You're still his baby girl."

--

Everett sat in the waiting area, alone again. Ralph had trailed meekly away after Carla stormed out, as usual. Ms. Nicholson had gone as well. He wanted nothing more than to storm into Bailey's room, wrap her up and get them both out of here… he sighed.

Bailey didn't want to see him. For all that it was not exactly as surprise, it was still a stab through his already battered heart.

He looked up as a scruffy young man, dressed all in black strode through the door, chains jangling with every step. Watching as the kid strutted up to the nurse's station, Everett rolled his eyes. Moron.

The kid put on a show for the pretty nurse, smirking and posing, and Everett snorted. As if any woman out of her teens would fall for that idiocy.

He chuckled as the nurse rolled her eyes, pointing in his general direction as she said, "Room 1851."

Wait, what? He stood up, stepping directly into the idiot's path, taking another long look. The kid… he decided to rethink calling him that… this guy was 19 if he was a day.

"Look man, I don't know what your problem is, but shove."

"I don't think so," Everett scowled. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Not that it's any of your business," he smirked, "I'm going to see my girl." He jerked his head in the direction of Bailey's room.

"I... just wanted... to h...lp..."

Samantha sat at Alfred's bedside, watching as he drifting back to unconsciousness. He was lucky to be alive. Even more fortunate to have suffered only a sprained shoulder, a twisted ankle and a few cracked ribs.

She snorted. At least one of them had good luck. She looked down at the text from MC. "Not Done yet slave. Don't say a fucking thing about us to anyone or else..." She wanted to smash the phone to pieces and just disappear. She had enough money to make sure she was never found. Her fingers curled protectively over her belly. She could take her baby and…

And what? Deny the child any chance of ever knowing its father?

But what choice did she have? What else could she do?

That bastard Conner would never leave her in peace. He had made that more than clear. She doubted he'd be interested in a pregnant sex slave. Even if he didn’t care, his abuse would likely be more than the baby could survive.

More immediately than that… how could she explain being pregnant? The media attention on her private life would skyrocket. Being pregnant and unmarried would be enough for the studio to invoke the morals clause on her contract if they chose to… not that she would care if they did. She rubbed soothingly over her still flat belly. If the last few weeks had taught her anything, it was that she found there were things that were much more important to her than her career.

She pulled her knees up to her chest, bracing her feet on the chair as she curled protectively around herself and the precious life inside her.

***

Linda stood in the doorway to Bailey's room, a little shocked by the anger and frustration in Everett's voice as the threatened to call the cops on that bastard horndog who'd been sniffing around Bailey the last few months.

Inwardly, she applauded Everett's decision, if not the angry outburst itself. A little more diplomacy might have served him better, but she agreed with him. Brandy had been too afraid of Bailey's reaction to draw the line, trying instead to allow the relationship but keep it under control. Definitely a losing battle.

Linda had tried to tell her to call the cops. Bailey was underage. But Linda had refused. Truthfully, Linda believed that Brandy was afraid that Bailey would run to her father and she'd lose both of them.

"Justin!!" Bailey screamed, but he was long gone. "How could you?!" she turned on her father. "I love him and he loves me!" She sniffled, tears starting fresh as he voice faded to a whisper. "He wants to be with me." The implication, obvious to Linda, was that Everett didn't.

She looked between father and daughter. "I think I'll go get a soda. You two need to talk."

Samantha jerked awake, eyes darting around the hospital room, scanning quickly over Alfred's sleeping form and the gently beeping monitors. Something had…

Her phone rang again and she jumped, startled. She reached for it and hesitated, afraid to see MC on the display screen.

She closed her eyes and drew a deep, fortifying breath as she reached for the phone. She did not dare to keep him waiting long. She would only suffer for it in the end. Worse than that, the people she cared about could suffer in her stead.

Another ring and she forced herself to lift the phone and look, her heart slamming in her chest as she read the name on the display. Everett.

"H… Hello?" she barely forced the whisper past her tight throat.

"Sammy." His voice was so quiet. So hesitant. Her heart ached with it. "How have you been?"

Her mind raced. How had she been? How had she been? Abandoned? Blackmailed? Raped and abused? Tears filled her eyes. Lost and alone with no Master to turn to? YOU SAID YOU LOVED ME! YOU BROKE DOWN MY WALLS AND MADE ME LOVE YOU AND THEN YOU ABANDONED ME! YOU SAID YOU'D NEVER LEAVE ME!

She sniffled softly. "Fine," she whispered. "I… I was sorry to hear about the accident… about your… wife. I hope… is your daughter going to be all right?" She curled her fingers over her belly. Her conscience was screaming at her to tell him about the baby. He deserved to know the truth.

She tried to tell herself that he had enough to deal with at the moment. It wasn't fair to burden him with more. Now was not the time.

But it was fear keeping her silent. Fear that he would want the baby, but not her. Fear that he would take her back only for the love of the child.

Fear that he was assume she was trying to trap him, lure him back to her with lies.

Worse, fear that he would take the child and leave her alone again.

Fear that he would assume she'd been unfaithful. She bit back a sob. Unwillingly, yes. Forced into it, yes… but she had betrayed him in body, if not in spirit. She could not deny it, even to herself. She closed her eyes, tears trailing down her cheeks as her throat squeezed tight. She didn't even have any idea of who or how many. Hooded as she'd been, completely blind and deaf, she had no way of knowing.
She bit back a sob. He wouldn't want her after he found out. Who would?

The silence on the line dragged out, as if he didn't know what to say, how to answer that. Was it that bad? "Is there anything I can do to help? Specialists? I know some good people…"

"So umm... how are things going with you and John? Everything going well? You seem kind of quiet. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Samantha wanted to scream, to rage, to rail at him. YOU COULD KEEP YOUR PROMISES! YOU COULD LOVE ME!

But she swallowed the words, a tight ball of pain sticking in her throat. She had no right to make demands of him, to expect him to still want her. Not after everything that she'd done.

"I… no… John's gone…" she hesitated, appalled at her sudden wish for that to be true. Permanantly. It was entirely unfair to blame John for her predicament. He was the one person in all this who was blameless. "I… he's on tour… between PR for Ferdinand and his WWE commitments, he's been very busy."

She shifted in her seat, biting back a hiss as her fresh piercings caught and sent a sharp dagger of pain shooting through her entire body.

"What's wrong?"

Samantha bit her lip, fingers clenching around the phone, the deep concern in his voice catching her offguard.

"Sammy?"

The almost harsh command in his tone wrapped around her, pulling at the truth.

"I…"

A sudden commotion just down the hall from her seat in the waiting area caught her attention as two attendants burst through the main doors pushing a stretcher at a jog toward the elevators. She gasped, recognising Conner's pasty face as she overheard a few snippets of conversation. Heart attack. Unconscious. No ID. Possible mugging victim.

"oh god," she whispered.

Her heart was racing, blood pounding in her ears. Had someone come after Conner? She certainly had no sympathy for the bastard, but who was it? Did they have his phone? Her pictures? Would they be coming after her next?

"Sammy!"

She blinked at Everett's shout. She longed to throw herself into his arms… wrap herself in his comfort and protection and love. Leave the rest of the fucking world behind and spend the rest of her life with her Master.

"I'm sorry, Mas-" she whispered, barely catching herself. "I have to go. I hope that Bailey recuperates soon, and that ev-…" she swallowed, fighting to keep her voice steady, knowing that Everett, of all people, would recognise her tone, "everything works out for you two." She wiped the tears from her cheeks, glancing over her shoulder. Every stranger appearing suddenly ominous… suspicious.

"I lo-…" she bit back a sob. "Goodbye, E-Everett."

She cut the call off before he could respond, powering down her phone completely, before dropping it into her purse and turning to run out the hospital doors.

Forty-five minutes later, she knocked frantically at the locked door of Max's Tattoo & Piercings.

A light flicked on in the back and a shout of "read the sign, stupid. we're closed!" echoed before a scowling Max emerged. When he saw who it was knocking, he walked to the door, unlocking it and letting her in, closing and locking it again behind her.

A slight scowl furrowed his forehead. "What can I do for you, little Sammy? Problems with the piercings?"

Samantha bit her lip. She wasn't sure what had compelled her to come here, or how she could explain it to Max, but at the moment, this was the only place she had left where she felt remotely safe.

"I… you… you never got your picture… of the tattoo… for your portfolio."

Max tilted his head to the side, just staring. "Okay," he nodded, gripping her shoulders in his hands, "now how about the truth?" He waited a moment, and when she didn't speak, he prodded further. "What's wrong? And why isn't Everett taking care of it, and you?"

Her lips trembled, her eyes flooding with tears as a sob burst from Samantha and she collapsed against Max's broad chest. Her sobs only intensified as his massive arms wrapped around her, pulling her in closer. "Shhh, shhh, shhh…"

--

John let himself into Samantha's penthouse, curious at the silence. "Hello? Anybody home?" It was so strange. Where was Samantha? Where was Alfred?

A beeping on the panel by the door startled him and he turned to answer it. "Yes?"

"I have a delivery for Ms. Noelle. Is she home?"

John frowned slightly. Why would no one be here if they'd arranged for a delivery? "I'm Ms. Noelle's fiancé, can I accept it?"

"Sure man, no problem."

John met the young man at the door, signing for the package and sending him on his way with a generous tip.

"Thanks, man. And congrats."

Congrats? John scowled, looking at the delivery slip and then at the pharmacy prescription stapled to the small bag. What the… prenatal vitamins?!

John pushed through the hotel suite door with a sigh, tossing his jacket on chair as he flopped down on the sofa, settling back with his arm resting over his eyes.

Cedric walked in from the adjoining bedroom, a cross between curiosity and concern on his face. "That was quick."

"It's over," John muttered. "There's not going to be any wedding."

"What?!" Cedric shouted, rage filling his features. "I warned that bi-…" He bit off his words, but not quickly enough.

Slowly, steadily, John lowered his arm from his eyes, sitting up straight, fixing his manager in place with his stare. "You what?" he spoke with quiet, deadly calm.

--

Samantha sat huddled on the couch between Max and his wife, staring absently at the television. The couple murmured softly to each other, but she paid no attention.

A soft lilting tune filled the room as the program gave way to a diaper commercial. Tiny babies snuggled in their mothers' arms. She bit her lip, eyes falling to the cigarette in one trembling hand and beer in the other. She started to heave, dropping the cigarette into the ashtray on the table and shoving the beer away.

"I need…" She heaved again, jumping to her feet.

"Down the hall to the right, honey. Do you need help?" Illian pointed in the direction of the bathroom.

Samantha quickly shook her head, already running.

She hurried into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her. She stared at her reflection, red-rimmed eyes staring back. What were you thinking? She snorted softly. She knew the answer to that. She wasn't.

She hadn't been thinking since she ran to Max in the first place. She barely knew the man. He was Everett's friend, not hers. He'd been kind to her. Gentle. Caring. She'd needed that. She'd had no one else she could turn to.

Still. She shouldn't have gotten him involved. She was putting him at risk. And judging by his response tonight, putting his and Everett's friendship at risk as well. She had no right to do that. She had no desire to do that. Everett didn't deserve that and neither did Max.

She curled her hand over her still flat belly, stroking softly. "sorry, angel," she whispered. It was time she started thinking before she acted. First things first, she wiped the tear tracks from her cheeks, pressing her fingers against her swollen eyes, I've got to get out of here before Conner figures out where I am. I can't let him turn his venom on Max too.

She splashed some water on her face, and patted it dry, just staring in the mirror.

A soft knock on the bathroom door startled her and she jumped with a squeak.

"Are you all right, honey? Your phone has been ringing. You've missed a couple calls. You should probably check your messages."

Oh god! Conner! Or worse… it was whoever had mugged him. Did they have his phone? Either way, she couldn't draw Max and Illian into it. Her heart pounding, she struggled to appear calm as she opened the door with a sniffle. "I'm fine, thanks. I think I need to g-…"

Before she could finish the sentence, the doorbell rang and Samantha could hear Max inviting the police officers in.
The police!

Conner warned her not to talk to them! Not to talk to anyone.

"Come on, honey. We'll be with you. Let's get this done." Illian wrapped an arm around her, and Samantha reluctantly allowed herself to be guided back to the living room.

Two officers stood uncomfortably in the small room, eyes drifting between Max and the two women. "Ms. Noelle," the older man stepped forward, "we understand you need to report a sexual assault?"

Samantha's eyes flicked nervously as she dropped into the armchair furthest from the officers, unconsciously wringing her hands in her lap. "I…-"

"A Mr…" He consulted his notes, "Everett Johnson?"

"No!" Samantha blurted, before calming her voice. "No. There's been a bit of a misunderstanding. Mr. Johnson and I are… were… in a relationship. Everett never did anything with me that I didn't consent to doing." It was a stretch of the truth, she realised, but it was how she felt now.

The officer pursed his lips, shooting a look at Max and Illian. "And a Mr. Conner Toretto? Was that also consensual?"

Samantha dropped her head, tears filling her eyes as she whispered, "no."

"Ma'am, we're going to need you to be examined by a doctor. And you'll have to come down to the precinct and make a statement."

"NO!" Samantha's eyes flew open. "No, I can't. This can't become public knowledge. The tabloids… my private life… exposed…" She curled her arms around her knees, huddling into as tiny a space as possible. "No, I won't… I can't press charges."

"That's up to the District Attorney, ma'am."

"you don't understand!"

"We're familiar with Mr. Toretto, ma'am. Is he stalking you? Threatening you?"

"not me." It was a barely audible whisper.

"He's threatening someone else then? Someone you care about?"

"I can't do this… I'm sorry… I can't do this." She jumped up, grabbing her purse and running from the room and out the door, barely hearing Max call "Sammy!" behind her as she fled.

--

Three blocks away, Samantha finally hopped into a cab. Not knowing where to go, she directed the cabbie to just drive. Her home would likely be the first place anyone went looking for her, and Alfred's room at the hospital a close second. She didn't know where else to go.
She pulled her phone from her purse. There was still Conner's call to answer. No doubt he would provide a place for her to be, she grimaced wryly.

She thumbed through her missed calls, her heart pounding as she saw Everett's name and not Conner's. Hands trembling, she took three tries to manage to dial up her messages.

"Sammy. I love you too! God what is going on with you? Please call me! I want my slave! I want her back desperately!"

Tears filled Samantha's eyes as she pressed her fingers over her mouth, covering her cry. She thumbed up the second message.

"Sammy. Please pick up. Don't do this! Don't walk away from me. You swore you wouldn't. You still remember that Friday night at your office? The night I walked in on you? The night I claimed you as mine? I never forget that night. I found my home with you. Please call me. I love you baby. You aren't alone. I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. Please call."

Samantha's throat squeezed shut, her heart clenching painfully in her chest. She had imagined that the pain of Everett not wanting her anymore… of him moving on with someone else… would be the worst pain she ever felt.

She was so wrong. He loved her. He still wanted her. She was not only breaking her own heart, she was breaking his, too.

But what else could she do?

--

Linda knocked softly on Everett's door. Nothing. She knocked again.

The door swung open. She peeked inside. Everett had already turned, shuffling toward the bed, staring at the paper in his hand. He grabbed another little bottle, leaving the minibar swinging open.

Linda closed the door softly behind her, and walked into the room, shutting the minibar door as well.

"Everett? What's wrong?"

"More like what's right? Nothing, that's what!"

Linda stepped forward, no nonsense. She pulled the bottle from Everett's hand and pushed him toward the bed. "Enough of that. Sit. Talk."

Everett waved the paper in her direction.

Linda took it and quickly scanned it. She glanced at Everett, watching him stare mournfully at his cellphone.

"This isn't unexpected. You know she doesn't have a leg to stand on." She settled on the edge of the bed shoulder to shoulder with him. "So what's really wrong?"

"She's not calling. I know she loves me but she won’t talk to me."

Linda studied Everett carefully. This was not about Bailey. She smiled, taking an educated guess. "Ms. Noelle?"

"What? I didn't… how did…"

"Rod," Linda bumped his shoulder with a grin. "It's been obvious you were in love with her from the moment you took the job."

"What?"

"A woman notices these things."

"And would a woman have any idea why another woman would deny the man she loves?"

Linda could see that even though his tone was joking, Everett was waiting intently for her answer. She hesitated, taking a thoughtful breath. "My guess? She's a woman who is used to being in charge… making decisions. Right? I'd guess that she has decided that she's doing what's best for you." She let him think about that for minute. "The real question is… are you going to accept her decision or are you going to change her mind?"

"You've been a very bad girl, slave."

Samantha whimpered, shifting her hips, tugging at the fist that wrapped around hers, pinning them to the small of her back as she was bent naked over her desk.

Her captor leaned closer and Everett's voice growled in her ear. "You ran from your Master." A rough hand slapped hard against her bare ass.

She twisted with a soft moan as the vibration of that blow rippled straight to her soaking wet pussy. "Master, please!"

"You denied your Master." Two more hard bare-handed blows stung her flesh.

Her knees began to buckle and she forced them straight again, bouncing on her toes with a groan. "I'm sorry, Master!"

"Worst of all, you failed to trust your Master." Four more blows rained down on her reddening cheeks.

"Forgive me Master please!"

Everett stepped away and Samantha heard the soft clink of his belt buckle opening. "You will not be bound. You will hold your position and freely, silently accept your punishment. Is that clear?" The sound of his belt, sliding through its loops seemed to echo through the room.

"Yes, Master," Sammy whispered, clasping her own wrists as she shifted her feet apart, bracing herself against the desk.

She barely registered the whistling sound before the first blow slammed against her already tender ass leaving a stripe of pure fire in its wake. She inhaled sharply, biting her lip against the cry tearing at her throat. Tears flooded her eyes.

Another blow fell. Another. And another. She pressed her forehead to the desk, fighting to lock her knees. Each stripe threatening to break her cries free, the first criss-crossing blow left her throwing her head back, mouth open in a silent scream.

She lost track of the number of blows long before the belt dropped onto the table next to her. Sagging in relief, she panted softly, tears freely flooding her cheeks, the raging fire lighting her ass matched only by the throbbing need pounding through her core.

"You may speak."

"Th-th…" she croaked, licking her lips, "thank you, Master. Please fuck your slave, Master… please?"

She felt Everett step closer, sliding his cock along the length of her sopping pussy lips, teasing repeatedly at her entrance before slipping away again.

"Good girls get the pussy. What do bad girls get?"

Samantha whimpered, easing her fingers down to her battered cheeks, pulling them open with a hiss. "Bad girls get the ass, Master. Please… please fuck my ass."

She felt his thick cock centered on her hole as he gripped her hips, holding her steady. With a single, hard thrust he slammed in deep, grinding his groin against her throbbing ass.

Crying out, she let go, bringing her hands around to brace against the desk as he slipped easily into a hard, punishing rhythm.

"Whose ass is this?" The question was breathed into her ear on a hot puff of panting breath.

"Yours, Master!" she cried, squeezing her muscles around his thick meat.

Callused fingers pinched at her clit, dug into her wet folds. "And whose cunt is this?"

"Yours, Master!" Shudders rippled through her entire frame as she bucked under him. "So close, Master, please!"

"Who owns this body?" One hand fisted her hair, pulling her head back sharply as the other squeezed around her tit, tugging hard on the ring piercing her nipple.

"Only you, Master! Only you!" She cried out, on the brink of climax.

Everett's voice growled in her ear, "You will not cum." Even as she moaned her disappointment, fighting off her own orgasm, his harsh shout and bucking hips heralded his as heat flooded her ass, oozing out, trailing down her trembling thighs.

"You will trust in your Master."

"Yes, Master," she whispered.

"You will never run from your Master again."

"Never, Master."

"then it's time we got married." Everett's voice whispered, as he pushed a silver, jewelled plug into her ass.

"What?" Samantha stood up, spinning in a circle. She stood in a small vestibule, naked but for sheer white silk thigh highs and white 4-inch pumps. Something tickled her shoulder and she twisted, realising she wore a short veil as well, pinning her hair back but stopping well above her still striped and flaming ass.

"You just need one more thing, little Sammy."

Samantha spun again, seeing Max standing in front of her with a grin. Taking a length of fine, silver chain in a cross shape, he carefully clipped the ends, one to her collar, one to each nipple ring, and the last to her hood piercing. A soft tug on the center ring jolted each of her piercings lightly and she gasped, seeing he had fastened a short leash to it.

He held the leather handle up, tapping her lips and she obediently opened, taking it between her teeth. He smiled, nodding to her left. "You know where you're going."

She turned, seeing Everett waiting at the end of the aisle. She looked back, but Max had disappeared, joining the crowd lining either side.

Dropping to her hands and knees, Samantha began the long crawl down the aisle. She blushed, realizing that her red-striped ass would be waving for everyone to see, along with the jewelled plug winking between her cheeks. The chain hung down, swinging with each step, the slight pull just enough to make her hyper aware of her need.

When she reached the end of the aisle, Everett held out a hand, taking her leash and helping her to her feet with a smile.

"Samantha Noelle," the officiant spoke, "do you take this man as your husband, lord and Master?"

She licked her lips, eyes wide, heart pounding. "I do."

"Everett Johnson, do you take this woman as your wife, servant and slave?"

Everett smiled at Sammy. "I do."

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife." He turned to Everett. "You may ride the bride."

Everett grinned, spinning Sammy in place and she gasped as he bent her over and slid effortlessly into her throbbing, wet pussy. She whimpered and moaned, grasping at the hands gripping her hips as he thrust repeatedly, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

"Master!"

"Not yet," was his only response as with a roar, he climaxed, filling her with his hot load.

She collapsed to her knees, panting, whimpering, fighting to hold off her own impending orgasm.

"You may kiss the groom," the officiant droned.

Everett's hands fisted in her hair, pulling her toward his still hard cock, glistening with their mingled juices. Samantha hummed her pleasure, slurping his length into her hungry mouth, working his crown with her lips and tongue, savouring his flavour even as she did the rumbling groans she pulled from his throat.

She looked up at him, pleading with her eyes and Everett nodded. "Now."

He pulled free of her lips, shooting another heavy load across her face as she cried out, her hips bucking in intense orgasm…

Samantha gasped, waking from the dream even as her body continued to shudder and spurt. She panted softly, barely awake, whispering, "master" in a voice full of longing.

"Do you mind if I asked you a few questions? Perhaps we can take a short walk."

Everett shot a glance at Linda, shrugging at her worried, questioning look. "Of course." He turned to smile at Bailey. "I'll be right back, Bay. Then we'll hit that homework." He turned to follow the detective from the room.

Detective David Kendrick sighed. He really hated these custody cases. Most often it was a bunch of lies and exaggerations. One parent trying to get an edge over the other. But they had to be investigated. On the off chance that this was one of the worse times. The times when the abuse allegations were true. Sometimes he really hated his job.

"Mr. Johnson," he began once they were situated in a nearby empty waiting lounge, "there's been a few allegations made…"

"Look," Everett interrupted, "I know you're just doing your job. I get it. I shouldn't have threatened the kid, but he's nearly 20 and my daughter is only 14 years old! Shouldn't it be him getting the questions?"

Detective Kendrick held up his hand, forestalling Everett's short outburst. "First, you're right, you should not have threatened him. Second, we've already had a discussion with the young man in question, after we received an anonymous tip and video of the incident, and educated him about the laws against statutory rape in this state, and the possible penalties he's facing."

He watched the man's angry stance ease slightly. So his anger wasn't out of control. Point in his favour.

"Third…" he drew a breath, "those aren't the allegations I'm here to discuss."

"Listen Detective," Everett shook his head, gritting his teeth, "if someone has insinuated that I've abused my daughter, and I have a pretty good idea who it was, you need to be aware that up until yesterday, I haven't had contact with Bailey for a number of years. She's been here in the hospital since I arrived. When am I supposed to have abused her?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Johnson, but any allegations of abuse are taken very seriously and must be investigated."

He watched the man sigh, deflating a bit. "I understand that, Detective. But these baseless accusations are something I've been fighting ever since my ex-wife and I divorced. If you look into our history you will find that the accusations were always judged to be without merit, and were always stemming from the same source."

The Detective nodded, having already come to the same conclusion when he'd checked the records before coming here.

"I will cooperate fully with your investigation, but for now, if there's nothing else, my daughter needs me."

"Just one more thing," the Detective flipped through his notebook. "Have you noticed anything strange happening lately? Stalking? Received any threats?"

Everett frowned. "No… what's this about?"

Kendrick clicked his pen, putting it away in his pocket. "Just following up on another department's investigation. Nothing to be concerned about."

He could almost see the wheels spinning behind the man's eyes as they narrowed, pinning him. "who's being threatened?" No wonder the man was a reporter.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss the details, sir."

Everett grabbed his arm and Kendrick glared at him, brow raised. Finally he dropped his hold. "Is it Sammy… Samantha Noelle?"

"I'm sorry, I'm not at liberty to discuss the details," he repeated. "Thank you for your time." He turned and walked away, leaving Everett behind.

--

"Uncle MAX!" Bailey's squeal of excitement announced his arrival to the whole floor.

Max grinned, "punkin!" He enveloped the girl in a giant bear hug, surrounding her completely. "how you doing, little girl?"

The sobs had faded to sniffles, peppered with chuckles and giggling by the time Everett returned to the room.

"Max!" Everett smiled widely. "You didn't need to come, but thank you."

"Needed to see my girl for myself," he winked at Bailey with a grin, then turned back to Everett, his smile fading. "And I needed to talk to you." He glanced quickly between Bailey and Linda. "In private."

Everett scowled slightly, but nodded, following Max out the door and leading the way toward the nearby stairwell, pushing through. "sorry I didn't return your messages, man. To be honest, I never even listened to them. Been kinda preoccupied." He started to turn, "So… what's up?"

Before he realised what was happening, a massive fist slammed into his face. "You BASTARD!"

--

Samantha sat at the breakfast table with Illian, toying with her food, unsure whether her unsettled stomach could handle anything.

"I'm sorry about last night," she murmured. "I just can't…" she let the statement fade, knowing they both knew exactly what she was talking about.

"Honey," Illian smiled, patting her hand. "It's absolutely your decision, but you need to think about it. You'll never take back control from those bastards if you don't."

Samantha sighed. "I know Max doesn't understand, but I was hoping you would." She looked up at Illian, her heart in her eyes. "I do love Everett."

Illian nodded, smiling sympathetically and Samantha gritted her teeth. "It's not some twisted kind of Stockholm Syndrome!"

Raised eyebrows were Illian's only response.

"I couldn't even admit it to myself at first," Samantha grinned with a wry shrug, "but I loved him from almost the beginning. There was something about him." She smiled softly at the memory. "He wouldn't let me push him away… he broke through my defenses a long time before that first night."

She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I don't think it was an accident that I called him for help that night." She curled her arms around herself. "Everett didn't hurt me. He saved me. He broke me free of my self-imposed, lonely prison. He nurtured the parts of me that I buried so deep inside even I didn't fully realise they were there."

She smiled into Illian's surprised eyes, tears shining in her own. "He loved me relentlessly, and he dragged me kicking and screaming to the realisation that I didn't need to hold myself apart, didn't need to stay alone to protect myself."

She wrapped her fingers around Illian's. "He loves me," she whispered. "And I love him."

Silence reigned for a moment before Illian wiped her own cheeks. "Oh my dear," she grabbed up her phone, already dialling. "You had better explain this to Max!"

Samantha sniffled, glancing around the kitchen. "Where is Max?"

"He went to have a… talk… with Everett."

Samantha slammed her phone onto the table in fear stoked frustration. "He's not answering!!" Her mind raced, near panicked with images of Everett broken and bleeding.

"Max isn't answering either." Illian's tone didn't bode well for the giant of a man when his petite wife and Mistress got her hands on him again.

Samantha gritted her teeth, almost growling under her breath. Assuming there was anything left of the big dolt after she finished with him! She glared at Illian. "If Max has done anything to hurt my… Everett, I will rip his arms off and beat him to a pulp with the bloody stumps!" she vowed.

Illian bit her lip and simply nodded. A little surprised at Sammy's vehemence, but honestly happy to see the poor girl show a little fire. It was nice to see that she wasn't as beaten down as they had feared she might be when she first came to them.

She was going to need that strength as Max's well-intentioned interference looked to be stirring up a shitstorm of trouble instead.

Samantha spun, bouncing between the phone and Illian. "What do I do?" She grabbed up her phone, dialling again. "I should go to him?" It was more question than statement. Still no answer. She tossed the phone onto the table. "Why won't he answer?" She paced to the counter and back. "I should leave him alone. If he wanted to talk he would answer."

She sat in the chair, reaching for her phone, then jumped up to pace again. "Did you try Max again?"

Her phone trilled, and Samantha dived for it, not even stopping to check the number as she thumbed up the call. "Everett?!"

"You BASTARD!" Sammy gritted. "You had your say, now you can damn well listen to mine!"

Shocked silence fell over the line, but Sammy was too angry to notice. "I guess it's clear how much your words mean now, isn't it? 'I want my slave back. I love you baby.' That lasted almost 24 whole hours." She snorted, fingers white-knuckled as she clutched the phone.

"You have no idea what I've been-…" she bit off the sentence. "I told them it wasn't you that…" That one wasn't any better. She had no intention of telling Everett about Conner. That should have stayed her dirty secret in the first place and all of this could have been avoided. No one else needed to suffer.

She drew a breath. "I was alone. I needed someone… someplace safe." She whispered. Max was the only one I could…"

"Max." The doubt was evident in his voice. "Max, who you met one time when he gave you a tattoo that I forced on you. That Max."

Something else she wasn't going to get into with him. "He was kind to me when I needed someone." She felt tears trailing down her cheeks but didn't bother to wipe them away. "I told Max, and the police when he called them, that everything we did was consensual and I had no intention of pressing charges." She sniffled. "I told Max that I loved you and that you loved me. He didn't believe me. I guess he knew better."

She heard a quick inhalation and shook her head, cutting him off before he could deny it. "Don't bother. I realise now I was stupid to dream. Stupid to let you convince me to believe in love and happily ever after. I won't make that mistake again." The ice was creeping back into her voice and she didn't fight it.

"Forget about your idiotic confession. I've already denied the allegations." She drew a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to say. "And while you're at it, forget about me! It obviously won't be too difficult for you. Good-bye, Mr. Johnson."

She ended the call and dropped the phone with a sob, hiding her face in her hands.

Immediately it started ringing and Samantha was tempted to shove it away, but curiosity ate at her and she lifted it to check the screen. Not Everett, but a number she didn't recognise.

She answered cautiously. "Hello?"

"Ms. Samantha Noelle? This is Detective Kendrick calling. I believe you know a Mr. Maxwell Hinkle and a Mr. Everett Johnson?"

"Yes, I do, Detective. I believe I know what this is about," she sighed.

"Ma'am, I hate to inconvenience you, but I'd really like to discuss this with you in person. Could you possibly come out here today?"

Samantha bit her lip, hesitating.

"I think it would be better for all concerned if we could clear this up quickly, ma'am. I would hate for this to negatively impact Mr. Johnson's custody case."

Her eyes drifted closed as she blew out a soft breath. "I agree, Detective." She inhaled deeply. "I will come to talk to you, Detective. As long as it is understood that I will not speak to either Mr. Johnson or Mr. Hinkle. Is that clear, Detective?" The thought occurred that she should probably not take that tone with him, but his reply, when it came, was only tinged with amusement.

"Crystal, ma'am."

Samantha climbed into the cab, giving the driver her home address before settling back in the seat with a deep breath and dialling Bill McLean. The ring cut off almost immediately.

"Sam? Where the hell are you?! What's going on? Are you okay?"

Caught offguard, Samantha hesitated. She couldn't remember the last time she heard Bill so worked up. "I'm fine, Bill. Calm down."

"Calm down? CALM DOWN?!"

"Bill," Samanatha frowned slightly. "Relax. What is up with you?"

"That's what I'd like to know!" Bill's voice thundered through the phone. "I just talked to John. He says the wedding is off… again!"

"What?!" Samantha's heart began to pound, Cedric's threats echoing through her head. "What did he say… exactly?"

"He said to tell you he understands now. And he's sorry about the vitamins… whatever the hell that means. And he hopes you'll be happy." She could hear Bill sucking in air before continuing with his tirade. "What does he understand? What vitamins? Are you… ill? Is there something wrong? Is that why you're suddenly needing time off? Is it… cancer?" Concern was shaking Bill's voice.

Samantha blinked, throat tight. "Bill. Slow down. I'm not ill, I promise." She drew in her own deep breath. "I can't really explain what's going on with John… not right now. I-… I haven't talked to him since he went on the road trip." She stared out the car window, absently watching the traffic.

"Sam…" Bill's voice lowered, relief and concern filling it in equal measure, "you know that you can talk to us about anything, don't you? Helen has been worried. About you and Everett both."

"H-how is he doing?" Samantha whispered. "Is his daughter…?"

"Last I talked to him, Bailey's doing well, should be released from the hospital soon. But there seems to be some kind of custody issue with the ex in-laws. It's going to court soon. He didn't admit as much to me, of course, but he's scared."

Samantha felt her chest squeeze, thinking of the damage Max might have done. She needed to talk to that Detective. As soon as possible.

"Bill… I'm going to be out of town. I've got a few things to take care of. I'll call you in a couple days. Tell Helen not to worry, okay. I'll see you both when I get back. I promise."

She ended the call just as she pulled up to her building. The building doorman hurried over, opening the cab door for her and offering his hand to help her get out.

"Thank you, Douglas," she smiled, heading inside.

"You're welcome, Miss." Douglas hesitated then added. "Mr. Cena was by earlier, but he left fairly quickly."

Samantha hesitated, looking up, then back to Douglas. "Thank you."

She tapped her foot, nervously waiting for the elevator to arrive at the penthouse floor. Finally arriving, she eased inside her door, glancing around. Quickly spotting John's note, she stopped to read it.

Tears filled her eyes and she sighed. "Oh John, I'm sorry," she whispered softly. She dropped the note to the table. Shaking off the guilt, she focussed instead on the present. Hurrying to her bedroom, she quickly changed and packed an overnight bag and was on her way in a matter of minutes.

--

Three and a half hours later, Samantha stood outside Bailey's hospital room door, shamelessly eavesdropping. Everett sounded tired. Disheartened. A woman's voice suggested he step out, get something to eat and some sleep. He protested, but finally agreed.

"I'll be back in a bit, Bay," he called, his voice approaching the door.

Jumping back, Samantha ducked into the nearby stairwell, hiding, heart pounding. When she peeked, she saw Everett's back heading to the elevator at the end of the hall. Waiting for the elevator doors to close, she slowly emerged from the stairwell and walked to Bailey's room, knocking softly.

Hearing a welcoming call, she walked in, seeing a pretty, young woman lying in the bed, textbooks spread on the rolling table in front of her. "Bailey?" She pulled off her dark glasses and NY Mets hat. "You don't know me, but I work with your dad. I'm…"

"Samantha Noelle!"

She smiled, shaking the girl's hesitantly lifted hand. "How are you doing? I know your dad was pretty worried."

Bailey blushed, lowering her head. "I'm okay."
"That's good. I hear that you could be sprung from this place pretty soon."

Bailey rolled her eyes. "God, I hope so! I am so sick of this place."

Samantha chuckled. "You sounded just like your Dad for a minute." She watched Bailey grimace, a tiny scowl blooming, but she ignored it. "I can't tell you how many times he saved my bacon!" she winked.

Bailey's mouth dropped open. "My dad? Saved you?!"

"I remember one time, I was supposed to be interviewing some of the stars of Walking Dead. I didn't know anything about the show. Hadn't watched it." She heard Bailey gasp and leaned over conspiratorially, whispering, "I hadn't learned to appreciate zombies yet."

Bailey snickered and Samantha continued, "in less than 15 minutes your Dad had filled me in with the whole history, including the comics. By the time of the interview, I sounded like an expert fan who had been watching the show from the beginning!" She reached down into her bag. "Which reminds me… I brought you something. After that interview, they gave me a signed script from the premiere episode."

She placed the script into a shocked Bailey's hands. "It's really more your Dad's than mine, anyway. So I want you to have it."

"Really?!"

"Really." She smiled, launching into another story. "Did he ever tell you about the time…"

Several stories later, they were still giggling together when the door swung open, Everett walking in.. "Bay, I forgot to-…" His eyes widened, the book in his hand dropping to the floor. "Sammy?" It was barely a whisper.

Samantha's smile faded and she turned away from the door, pointedly ignoring him. "I've got to get going. It was nice meeting you, Bailey. I hope you get out of here soon." She stood, rushing past Everett, twisting away from his reaching hand and almost running out the door, hearing Bailey's angry "Da-ad!" echoing behind her.

Almost at the elevators, she ran the last few steps, spinning to jab frantically at the buttons as she heard Everett call, "Sammy!" as he jogged down the corridor in her direction.

The doors finally slid closed and she heaved a sigh of relief, watching the numbers as the elevator sped to the lobby. Hurrying out without glancing back, Samantha headed for the main doors at a quick pace.

"Sammy!" Everett slammed the stairwell door, panting as he jogged in her direction.

"Samantha Noelle?" She spun to see a young man waving an envelope in her direction.

"Ms. Noelle?" A man in a dark suit walked toward her, brandishing a badge.

She spun in a circle, eyes on the main doors and freedom.

"Sammy!" Everett reached for her and she pulled away, bumping into the young man, who pushed the envelope into her hands.
"Samantha Noelle, you've just been served."

"What?!" she whispered, staring at the thick envelope.

"Mr. Johnson," Detective Kendrick pushed himself in between Everett and Samantha. "I suggest you go back to your daughter, sir. I need to question Ms. Noelle... alone."

"NO." Everett frowned. "I need to talk to her."

Samantha frowned, crossing her arms over her chest, ignoring Everett and speaking to Detective Kendrick. "We have nothing to say to each other," she twisted away, tucking the subpoena into her bag. "Where would you like to speak Detective? At the Precinct? Can you give me a lift?"

"Son, don't make this worse than it already is. Go to your daughter. I'll take care of Ms. Noelle."

Reluctantly, Everett stepped back. "We are not done, Sammy. I think we have a whole lot to say to each other." He turned and slowly headed back to the elevator, his eyes locked on hers until the elevator doors closed, whisking him away.

"Thank you, Detective," she whispered. "Now, shall we have that conversation you wanted?"