Operative of Obsidian

Hello everyone, I wanted to share with you all a bit of my fiction. The following is the first chapter of a piece I'm currently working on. I'd love some feed back. Thanks everyone.

Chapter 1

The stage was set. A Council sponsored party at an extravagant European mansion. Elegant trappings of art and culture adorned the yellow warm walls. Expensive champagne and the finest wines flowed freely down the wine glass pyramids at the buffet table. Scantly clad servants rushed about demurely, ensuring that every last detail was attended to as the guests began to arrive. Footmen greeted the guests, exquisitely dressed Diva's and dashing gentlemen from every corner of the planet, offering their hands from bended knee.

She watched them through a window, eager to join in the festivities. Tonight's guest list represented some of the most wealthy and influential individuals in not only the Society, but the world. So much power and wealth in one place, it was like something out of fantasy. Yet here they all were, availing themselves to the carnal pleasures the Society provided. Gorgeous slaves of both genders attending to every need, every whim. It was enough to get a girl's heart beating.

However, she wasn't here for fun and games. She had a job to do. Taking another slow sip of her wine, she continued to watch for her target. So many people, so many rich people. It was incredible to think that Society had managed to remain hidden from the outside world. She supposed that was part of why she was here.

Outside, another vehicle pulled to a stop, one she had seen before in surveillance photos. A lavish sporty number, slick wheels, custom paint. He was here. She watched as the car door opened. He was handsome, hair graying around the ears, clean shaven, strong jaw. Glossy shoes, pressed suit, a gaudy watch so large she could see it from where she stood. He was showing off.

As he walked to the doors, she made her way down a grand set of stairs to the main room. The festivity's favors were in place, female slaves locked into frames, exposing their charms to frequent use. This was a game like a virtual pony race, whoever can bring their filly to a screaming climax first wins. A popular favorite, she remembered with a smile. There were other games of course, many others. Such a gala event, the Council pulled out all the stops.

She caught sight of her prey making his way through the welcoming committee. No badges or name tags here, only those that belong marked by a single signet ring, a House ring. A House ring or a House collar. She fingered the ring on her own hand. The bursting star on its face marked her as a member of House Scion. She resisted the urge to twist the unfamiliar hunk of metal. There was only one piece of jewelry she was allowed to wear and she longed to feel it locked about her neck again.

He was on the move, passed the entry way and straight to the pyramids of champagne. In a celebratory mood? Draining what was left of her own wine, she made her way through the growing crowd toward the table. Like a predator stalking its prey through a forest of people, hidden yet in plain sight. He plucked a glass from the stack and downed half of it right off.

Good, she thought, he's looking to enjoy himself. That will make her job easier. She stepped up near him and pulled at a glass, knocking two off the pyramid. They tumbled down the side, spilling their contents into the other glasses before crashing to the floor. The structure shook, but remained intact.

“Oh my gosh!” she squealed, a hand over her mouth. He turned to see what had happened and for an instant when his eyes fell on her, he froze. A simple pause that to the untrained eye would have barely registered. She, however, knew she had him. Quickly she bent down to reach for the broken glass.

“Hey, careful,” he said, smoothly setting his own glass down and snatching her hands gently in his. “We can't have hands as lovely as yours being cut up by broken glass.” He smiled broadly as he stood up.

“Oh, but...” she said, looking back at the mess.

“We have people for that.” He snapped his fingers and in an instant a servant arrived to sweep up the debris.

“Of course,” she said, rolling her eyes and smiling at herself. “I'm...”

“New?” he interjected. His interest was piqued.

“That obvious?”

“Not at all. I'm Kyle Porter of House Phoenix.” Of course you are.

“Melanie. Oh of House Scion.”

Kyle took her hand in a gentle grip. “A pleasure. Here, let me get you another one.” He reached over and expertly plucked a glass from the pyramid and handed it to her.

“Thank you,” she said with a bright smile.

He retrieved his own from the table and held it out for a toast. “To new friends.”

She tapped his glass with hers and took a drink. He took a small drought. Savoring it now, eh?

“So, how long have you been with House Scion?”

“Oh not long, I just finished my initiation this week. Actually, the Head of House insisted that I attend this party as the last part of my initiation. So really I'll be a full member at the end of tonight.”

“Well, congratulations and welcome to the Society!”

“Thank you.” She took another drink. “So how long have you been with House Phoenix?”

“Oh about five years now, I'm well on my way to being named a House leader,” he said with an ever so slight broadening of his chest.

Fucking liar, you've only been a member for two years and you're no where near to a House leadership role. Far from it.

“That's really impressive, congratulations to you.”

“Thank you, I don't like to brag.” Right... “So, this is your first function?”

“Yes. I mean I've heard about these from my mentor before. They always sounded so glamorous and wild but I'd never dreamed it was like this! Some of the things they have in the parlor are crazy!”

“Well, since this is your first time then I shall escort you.”

“Oh, you don't...”

“No, no, I insist.” He held his elbow out to her.

She smiled, “Well, if you insist.” Gotcha.

He showed her around, being careful to steer clear of some of the more intense areas she noticed. No need to scare the newbies off. The Society held to the ideologies of slavery from the ancient times, a slave was chattel and required no more consideration than a member of the Society was willing to give. The human rights of the outside world held no sway here. By the end of the night it was highly likely that at least a dozen slaves would die. Such was the way of the Society.

She noticed that he lead her passed the races twice, placing wagers on which of the ponies would cum in first. A game fraught with puns. She enjoyed watching though, knowing what the girls were going through.

Locked in a plastic shell molded to look suspiciously like quarter horses found outside of grocery stores, ass and cunt splayed aching for and from use, mouths clamped open for easy breathing, moaning, and the final cleanup. The taste of their own juices mixed with donations of semen from the riders, dripping long strings of saliva to the floor. Their faces hidden, just an anonymous piece of meat to fuck. No thoughts, just the raw purity of being. A creature to be used, breathing, moaning, cumming.

“Alright!” Kyle shouted as his pick came in, startling her from her thoughts. She was getting distracted. That was dangerous.

“Excellent choice, Kyle!” she exclaimed.

“I can always tell which one is the one.” So can I.

“Well, that has put me in a great mood. What do you say we go and celebrate?”

“I don't know...”

“Oh, come on. Live a little.”

“Okay.”

“Okay!” he took her by the hand and lead her to the expansive bar. It was time to get liquored up.

They shared a few rounds, getting progressively stronger with each. She knew how to drink without loosing control, so she played along. She was fully aware that he had stopped drinking long before he insisted upon going upstairs to the private rooms, his charming smile absent from his now serious face. It was time.

He led her by the arm upstairs, his grip getting tighter as they approached an empty room. She played the part, drunk little new girl slowly growing worried too late to save herself.

“Hey, you're hurting... hurting me!” she protested as he threw her into the room. He closed the door behind him, locking it securely.

“Well, well, well. Look what I have here,” he said, walking slowly, menacingly toward her.

“Kyle,” she said with a nervous laugh.

“A little, lost whore. A sheep in wolf's clothing.” He snatched her arm again, twisting it.

“Ow! You're hurting my arm! Kyle stop!” she cried.

“Oh, demanding now, are we, bitch?” He twisted her arm behind her, spinning her around.

“Ow! Please!” she screamed. Come on, fucker! Is that the best you have?

“That's right, beg. Beg like a little slut. That's all you bitches are.” He reached down with his free hand and tugged the Scion ring from her finger, holding it up before them both. “They may let you walk on your hind legs, pretend to belong on top with the men. But in reality, you're all just cunts to fuck.”

Dropping the ring, he spun her around and back handed her across the face, flinging her face first down onto the bed. That's right, you like to rough them up. Makes you feel superior. Too bad you didn't just stick with beating slaves. Too bad for you.

He was on her then sitting on her legs, pinning her to the bed as he tore at her dress. She squealed and cried, putting up a token resistance as he worked. She waited for him to turn her over. He liked to rape them while they were looking up at him, so he could see their tears, their degradation. So he could see that moment when they broke inside, the line between Mistress of a House to common bitch vanishing. That is what he was after.

Before he flopped her onto her back though he wailed on her ass, laying several harsh swats to redden her cheeks. A spanking meant to further humiliate and blur the lines. She was actually a little personally offended. Her ass reddening, he finally flipped her over.

“Please!” she sobbed.

“That's right, beg for it bitch.” He began tearing at his clothes, freeing his bulging prick. “You know you want it.”

Her cries turned then from fearful sobbing to uproarious laughter. The sudden shift shocked him and he straightened up in confusion.

“What the fuck? What the fuck are you laughing at, bitch?” he shouted, enraged and humiliated.

She continued to laugh, unable to keep her true feelings of just how pathetic she thought he was back any longer.

“Shut the fuck up!” he screamed, hauling back with a big fist.

Swiftly, she snapped her heel out, stabbing her five inch stiletto into his solar plexus. Air erupted out of him in one big grunt and he fell to his knees, gasping. She slid gracefully to the edge of the bed, each movement like that of a tiger readying for the pounce. Kyle reached a shaky hand out for her but she deftly snatched and twisted it around, planting him face first on the floorboards in an instant. His face made a satisfying thud against the hard wood planks.

She buried one heel into his back, pinning him to the floor.

“Now then, Kyle,” she said, her words smooth and calm, “you've been a very naughty boy!”

“Who the fuck are you?” he shouted, his words muddled.

She clamped down on his twisted wrist, eliciting squeals of pain from her would be rapist.

“Don't interrupt, Kyle. Its rude.”

“Okay, okay!” he grunted.

“Say you're sorry.”

“Fuck you, bitch!” he screamed.

She clamped down again, “Say you're sorry!”

“Alright, alright! I'm sorry!”

“Good boy! Now as I was saying. You've been very naughty, Kyle. You've broken the rules and openly attacked members of other Houses. That was very bad.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Really? Denial? Shall I refresh your memory?” she asked, grinding her heel into his back. “You raped three women, Kyle! Members of other Houses. You left one of them, Tanya Peters of House Garnet in a coma! Ring any bells?”

“They were just bitches, you're all just bitches. No better than the slaves downstairs. Pampered little bitches, strutting around playing dress up. Fuck you! Fuck them!” he shouted, spitting on the floor.

“Yes, I heard your spiel. But your House does not see it the same way, Kyle.” She pulled the Phoenix ring from his finger, and examined it. “House Phoenix has some very strict rules about how its members may interact with other Houses. They're very disappointed in you. They want you out, Kyle.”

“What are you talking about? Membership is for life!”

She leaned over closer, putting pressure on both his wrist and his back. “Exactly,” she said, dropping the Phoenix ring to the floor with a heavy thud. A moment of silence followed, a moment she used to slip the locking cuff chained to the bed frame around his wrist. The click of the lock broke Kyle from his silence.

“You bitch!” he yelled, impudently.

She stood on his back, enjoying the crack of a rib breaking under her heel before walking across the room. He groaned, pulling himself off the floor, tugging at the cuff around his wrist and cursing over his ribs.

“They have no proof! They'd never take the word of you bitches over me!”

“Proof?” she asked, bending down to retrieve the Scion ring from the floor where he dropped it. “But you gave them all the proof they need.” She examined the ring thoughtfully before looking back at him with a cruel smile. The tiny camera imbedded in its polished face stared back at her. Kyle's smug expression fell.

Utterly satisfied, she slipped the ring back onto her finger and tore the tattered remains of her dress free, letting them fall to the floor. Naked, she went to the armoire to retrieve something to wear. Kyle sat quietly as she got dressed, no doubt in shock over the death sentence that hung over his head. She would have been happy to carry out that sentence herself, but the Houses liked to handle their own wayward members. A matter of honor. Besides, leaving him here to await his executioners seemed more fitting.

“Who are you?” were his last words to her as she turned to leave.

“I'm just a bitch.” With that she left the room, shutting the door on his quiet sobs.