join the ranks of torturers—that was repugnant to me.
"Jayson and I can go through some of the basics this afternoon," Hank rose to stand beside me. "We have some research materials, so you can prepare yourself."
"This is horrible," I muttered and pulled away from Bill to hug myself.
* * *
"Boss, I just heard from Trace. He says Ace saw the same car go past our gate three times. Windows too dark to get a good look at the driver."
William Winkler looked up from his laptop. He'd been tapping out emails at the breakfast table while he ate scrambled eggs and ham. His dark eyes studied his Second for a few moments while he chewed and swallowed a mouthful of food.
"Get a tag number?" Winkler asked.
Trajan Gibson, at nearly seven feet, shook his head in exasperation. "Boss, I know we look dumb, but most of the time we actually know what to do. Here." He passed a slip of paper to the Dallas Werewolf Packmaster. "Trace ran the plates. Car's from Oklahoma. Sold yesterday. No info on the buyer, yet. Paper tag removed, for some reason."
"That doesn't raise suspicions or anything," Winkler sipped coffee. "If it comes by again, have it followed. Discreetly. And call Director Bill. Let him know."
"Will do, Boss." Trajan left the kitchen.
* * *
Breanne's Journal
"There are several types of piercings. These," Jayson pushed a book with photographs toward me, "use long, thin pins to pierce the skin. Sometimes cord is laced around the pins afterward, for a more intense sensation."
I cringed at the photograph. A woman's labia had been pierced by several pins, which went through both sides. Another photograph depicted a woman's belly pierced similarly, with silk cord laced around the pins.
"You do this?" I stared at Jayson.
"No. I don't do piercings. People have specialties—things they like and are comfortable doing. I learned to go solo on fire play about a year ago," he stated proudly.
"Unbelievable," I shook my head. "Please tell me you haven't set anybody on fire."
"I haven't." He sounded offended that I'd mentioned it. "I saw what can happen, remember? I make sure the sub has clean, scrubbed skin and their hair is tied back and kept away from the areas in question. They ask me for this, Bree. Maybe once or twice a month I get asked. Their dom or master is there with them, just as they should be."
"Have you burned yourself, then?" I asked.
"I've been singed, and I don't have any hair left on my fingers," Jayson snickered.
"Pyromaniac," I accused. Jayson laughed.
"These next photographs," Hank pulled the book away and flipped forward a few pages, "are the ones I worry about," he said. The first one made me want to vomit again, and it wasn't the worst of the lot. A woman was lying on her belly, hog-tied. I freaked.
* * *
"Bill, this is Trajan Gibson," Trajan spoke over the phone. Bill, working on his laptop in a borrowed bedroom, had answered Trajan's call immediately.
"Trajan? Something up?" Bill asked.
"Maybe. We've had a suspicious car driving past the front gate all day. Paper tag missing, old tag registered in Oklahoma and sold yesterday. No info on the buyer."
"That doesn't raise suspicions," Bill observed dryly. "Have you tried tailing it? You think somebody caught wind of the update Winkler's working on for the software?"
"No idea, but that's the logical conclusion," Trajan agreed. "Had one of ours tail it after the last drive-by, and contacted the Grand Master, too. Since this is probably a human, there's not a lot he can do at the moment."
"Understood. Look, I'll see if there's anybody in the Dallas office I can put on this, and have them contact you. I'm in the San Francisco area at the moment, so if this turns out to be more serious, let me know. I can get a flight pretty quick."
"Will do, and thanks for the help," Trajan said.
"No problem. Keep me informed," Bill said before ending the call.
* * *
Breanne's Journal
"They really like it—being tied up," Hank stroked my forehead. I was on the
"Jayson and I can go through some of the basics this afternoon," Hank rose to stand beside me. "We have some research materials, so you can prepare yourself."
"This is horrible," I muttered and pulled away from Bill to hug myself.
* * *
"Boss, I just heard from Trace. He says Ace saw the same car go past our gate three times. Windows too dark to get a good look at the driver."
William Winkler looked up from his laptop. He'd been tapping out emails at the breakfast table while he ate scrambled eggs and ham. His dark eyes studied his Second for a few moments while he chewed and swallowed a mouthful of food.
"Get a tag number?" Winkler asked.
Trajan Gibson, at nearly seven feet, shook his head in exasperation. "Boss, I know we look dumb, but most of the time we actually know what to do. Here." He passed a slip of paper to the Dallas Werewolf Packmaster. "Trace ran the plates. Car's from Oklahoma. Sold yesterday. No info on the buyer, yet. Paper tag removed, for some reason."
"That doesn't raise suspicions or anything," Winkler sipped coffee. "If it comes by again, have it followed. Discreetly. And call Director Bill. Let him know."
"Will do, Boss." Trajan left the kitchen.
* * *
Breanne's Journal
"There are several types of piercings. These," Jayson pushed a book with photographs toward me, "use long, thin pins to pierce the skin. Sometimes cord is laced around the pins afterward, for a more intense sensation."
I cringed at the photograph. A woman's labia had been pierced by several pins, which went through both sides. Another photograph depicted a woman's belly pierced similarly, with silk cord laced around the pins.
"You do this?" I stared at Jayson.
"No. I don't do piercings. People have specialties—things they like and are comfortable doing. I learned to go solo on fire play about a year ago," he stated proudly.
"Unbelievable," I shook my head. "Please tell me you haven't set anybody on fire."
"I haven't." He sounded offended that I'd mentioned it. "I saw what can happen, remember? I make sure the sub has clean, scrubbed skin and their hair is tied back and kept away from the areas in question. They ask me for this, Bree. Maybe once or twice a month I get asked. Their dom or master is there with them, just as they should be."
"Have you burned yourself, then?" I asked.
"I've been singed, and I don't have any hair left on my fingers," Jayson snickered.
"Pyromaniac," I accused. Jayson laughed.
"These next photographs," Hank pulled the book away and flipped forward a few pages, "are the ones I worry about," he said. The first one made me want to vomit again, and it wasn't the worst of the lot. A woman was lying on her belly, hog-tied. I freaked.
* * *
"Bill, this is Trajan Gibson," Trajan spoke over the phone. Bill, working on his laptop in a borrowed bedroom, had answered Trajan's call immediately.
"Trajan? Something up?" Bill asked.
"Maybe. We've had a suspicious car driving past the front gate all day. Paper tag missing, old tag registered in Oklahoma and sold yesterday. No info on the buyer."
"That doesn't raise suspicions," Bill observed dryly. "Have you tried tailing it? You think somebody caught wind of the update Winkler's working on for the software?"
"No idea, but that's the logical conclusion," Trajan agreed. "Had one of ours tail it after the last drive-by, and contacted the Grand Master, too. Since this is probably a human, there's not a lot he can do at the moment."
"Understood. Look, I'll see if there's anybody in the Dallas office I can put on this, and have them contact you. I'm in the San Francisco area at the moment, so if this turns out to be more serious, let me know. I can get a flight pretty quick."
"Will do, and thanks for the help," Trajan said.
"No problem. Keep me informed," Bill said before ending the call.
* * *
Breanne's Journal
"They really like it—being tied up," Hank stroked my forehead. I was on the
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