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The story “Trisha" is the fanfiction intellectual property of Kellan Meig'h and may not be reposted, transmitted or copied and redistributed without expressed written permission. All characters are the property of Kellan Meig'h unless otherwise noted and may not be used without permission. Blue Diamond, Tigre, Cheshire, Chili, ICON, Foxforce, Firefox, Shadowfox, Silverfox and Technofox are the properties of Dynotaku (visual arts) that inspired the fanfictions by Nathan Cowan (written works). Any resemblance to any human person or chimera, whether living, dead or reprogrammed is purely coincidental.

I recommend that you read “Firefox" by Nathan Cowan first to better understand this story. If you don't, there are spoilers in here that would reduce your reading pleasure of the story that inspired this piece of fan fiction.

" Trisha Part 2"

by Kellan Meig'h

Copyright© 2008 - 2016

All Rights Reserved

"Trisha Part 2"

Act XI

***

Chuck picked up the handset from the phone on his desk, looking at the number that was calling him. He recognized that number and the man on the other end that was calling.

“Hello, Chuck Waddell here," he greeted the caller, picking up and idly tapping a pencil on the desk.

“Hello, this is Glenn Bischer at Blue Diamond."

“Nice to hear your voice again, Glenn. How's the place look after the rebuild?"

“Just like it did before except we took out the Panopticon. We have performer's quarters like yours now. That change actually gave us eighty percent more beds for our performers."

“Glad to hear that. What can I do for you today, Glenn?"

“I have a small problem, Chuck. I have two of your ladies here, Patricia Pollard and Claudette Hunter." Chuck let out an audible sigh of relief.

“How did you end up with them?" He asked, curious to know how they ended up there. Chuck didn't like the feel of it. Something felt all wrong about this.

“I purchased them from my contacts here in Southern California. The problem is, Chuck, the ID's the sellers gave for them belong to some other chimeras. I called around and confirmed those chimera's ID's personally."

“Shit, not effing again," chuck said to nobody in particular. He had been stung in the same way several years ago. “I have a bad feeling it's the same group that stung us the last time."

“Think so?" Glenn asked.

“I'm getting a gut feeling it is, Glenn." He waited just a second and told his counterpart, “I'll make arrangements for them to fly home this weekend. I'll have to send them their ID's so they can board the plane, though."

“OK, I'll take them to the airport myself. By the way, would you mind if I borrow them while they're here?"

“Sure, I think they won't mind working there for a few days." Chuck waited for a moment before he asked, “Would you let them call their friends? Everyone's worried sick about them."

“Sure, Chuck. I'll let my people know to let the phone in their room call long distance direct."

“Thanks, Glenn."

“No problem, Chuck. Take care." Chuck hung up the phone, quickly lifting the handset again to dial Mace's cellphone.

***

Trisha was sitting up on the edge of the chair, waiting for the room to quit spinning on her. She had expected this to happen and it didn't let her down. She was glad to have been restrained during that diagnostic because she had two very strong muscle convulsions while the diagnostic ran. Kind of par for the course for her, anyway.

“Is Miss Pollard still here?" a voice asked in the outer office right before the real boss appeared in the doorway. “I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself earlier. I'm Glenn Bischer, the General Manager of Blue Diamond." He held out his hand, giving her a warm smile.

“Nice to meet you, Sir," she replied, shaking his hand softly. She still expected him to say 'Dumb Ass.'

“I just got off the phone with Chuck Waddell and he wants you ladies to know your flight home will be this weekend. chuck said he's sending you and Claudette your ID's so you can board the plane." he proffered up. “I also want to apologize for your rough treatment here. I had no idea who you really were."

“Apology accepted," she replied, giving him a smile. “Is there some way we can call home?" she asked, hoping that they could do so. He nodded, letting her know what the deal was.

“I told my people to allow your phone in your room to call direct for you," he informed her. “And by the way, your boss says you girls have his blessings to do a little light work around here. I only have one trainer and one tamer right now so I could use both of you."

***

Trisha was hooking a performer to a bed, setting her up for her client. The feline, a gray tabby color, was softly weeping.

“Listen, sweetie, it isn't that bad. Just pretend he's a boyfriend or something," the tamer suggested, making sure her wrist and ankle cables weren't too tight.

“I hate the man that's coming to fuck me. He just comes in, puts some lube on his dick and jams it home, using me like a fuck toy," she spat back, looking at Trisha with fire in her eyes. That made the mare stop and think.

“You know Sandi, that's probably why he likes you. You probably fight him, making him feel superior." The tabby nodded, agreeing with this thinking. “Why don't you be nice to him, give him a good ride. He might treat you differently afterward." Trisha pulled a chair up to the bed, holding her hand softly. “You need to understand Blue Diamond will use you for whatever you're the best at. If that's happens to be rape fantasy, so be it. If it's being a good, gentle, loving girlfriend or a dominatrix, that's what they will do with you."

“I don't know if I believe that," Sandi said in a sullen voice. “I've been beaten and shocked ever since I arrived here. I'm not sure I think you're right about this. All that ever happens to me is rape fantasy, it seems."

“Listen, I was Blue Hawaii's worst hard case ever. You can see for yourself that I wear tamer's bands now." Trisha pointed out. “I wouldn't have gotten this far without finally going with the flow of things. Lighten up, maybe this guy doesn't like a loving roll in the hay and he'll move on."

“Yeah, maybe you're right." the feline mused. “I don't have anything to lose, that's for sure."

“Sweetie, you have a lot to lose, your sanity being one and what little dignity this place allows being another." Sandi nodded slowly, giving this some thought. Maybe Miss Trisha had something here. “Listen, do you want a lubricant suppository? It might help him to get going easier." She nodded so Trisha retrieved one from the supply cabinet. “You'll just have to excuse me," she said, shoving the goodie up Sandi's snatch. Trisha then set her wrist cables free to spool in and out under spring tension, allowing her to touch her client, or maybe hold him while he screwed her.

“Thank you for setting the cables to free spool," the feline said, giving Trisha a smile.

“You're welcome. I hope your evening goes better for you now." the bound female nodded as Trisha slipped out of the room.

***

Dr. Wilkins was sitting at his desk, patiently waiting for Brandon Biotech Tech Support to come on the line. He was still looking at the information he had wrote down, hoping to figure out what had went wrong with his attempt at breaking into Trisha's programming.

“Brandon Tech Support, Technician #439 speaking. Please give me your name, location and the CID of the subject you're working with," the voice said in a monotone, like the tech had been on the help desk for some time today.

“This is Dr. John Wilkins at Blue Diamond and I'm working with subject 339564ri7f-87H-a," he replied, smiling at finally getting some help.

“Your subject is Patricia Marie Pollard, 5' 6'' tall, buckskin equine female, model 87H. I see by her 'dash-a' designation she's been reprogrammed from a combat model into a pleasure model." the man commented. “What can I do for you concerning Miss Pollard?"

“Well, I tried code 4094 on her to force her to release her programming and ..." the tech support technician cut him off.

“You used a code box that was not manufactured by Brandon Biotech." the technician stated.

“Well, yeah, I used a generic control box made by Stewart Warner that was customized ..." the technician cut him off again.

“You should consider yourself lucky, Doctor. If you had used a Brandon box, she would have killed you and we wouldn't be having this conversation," the tech stated.

“She would have what?!?" the doctor blurted out.

“Sir, I see by my records she's been given her ownership papers by a Mr. Charles Monroe Waddell. That locks out a lot of things a code box can do to her but she's always been able to neutralize anyone attempting to use a Brandon code box and code 4094 on her."

“Oh Shit ..." the doctor said, realizing he had a Brandon box in that same drawer. He also didn't like the way the technician had said 'neutralize', either.

“Yeah, code 4094 is too well known these days and that's why she's set up with that programming, Sir. You were lucky the box you used wasn't able to give out the right MD5 checksum to her. That would have been the trigger."

Oh ... My ...Gawd," he said slowly, realizing he had almost used his Brandon box but the battery was low in it. The room was starting to spin for the doctor as he got nauseous.

“Sir, it seems you might benefit from some remedial training." the tech suggested. “We have a diagnostic systems training class starting in a week that I can slide you into. It's just $12,855 USD if you pay in advance by credit card or we have another class starting ... erm, Dr. Wilkins? Are you still there? Dr. Wilkins??"

Dr. Wilkins never heard the rest, dropping the receiver on the floor when he passed out.

***

In a back room of a bar, in a seedy section of Honolulu, Brett was sitting at a table with his friend Cruiser and Thomas Goss, a local hood of sorts. Cruiser had an Ingram MAC-10 in .45ACP lying on the table, his hand poised over it. Brett had his Desert Eagle .44 Magnum in hand, safety off. The two Samoans that sat on either side of Mr. Goss had their hands in the air at Cruiser's suggestion.

“If you boys had pulled out your peashooters, I would have had to vent ya a bit, comprende?" the biker told them, his stare capable of melting steel at the moment. “I told your boss I only wanted to talk. Oh, and by the way, this thing's loaded with armor piercing ammo, same as my buddy's little pop-gun."

“Okay haole, don't get your leather all twisted up," the taller Samoan said, obviously scared by the situation. He slowly pulled out his pistol with his thumb and index finger, a Beretta P92 and laid it on the table, pushing to the biker. His partner did likewise, giving Brett a nervous smile as he gave up his 1911 pattern Colt. Brett unloaded each gun, breaking them down quickly and scooting the parts into a pile, mixing them up a bit. He then emptied the rounds into his pocket and threw the magazines into the corner of the room.

“OK, boys, put your palms down on the table and leave them there," Brett suggested, pulling the hammer back on his hand cannon for effect.

“What d'you wanna talk about, Cruiser?" the hood asked, obviously scared himself. It wasn't that warm right now but he was sweating profusely. Either he was scared or he was high on Meth. Probably both.

“I'm looking for these two ladies," he said, sliding a picture of Trisha and Tigre across to him. “I want to know who nabbed them. I'll count to three." Brett took aim at the thug's forehead, slipping his finger into the trigger guard while Cruiser gathered up his machine pistol. “One ... two ..." Mr. Goss quickly interrupted him.

“OK, Billy Kilanea had something to do with it. He called me earlier trying to sell them to me." That made Brett and Cruiser both smile.

“Call Billy, tell him you have a buyer that wants a chimera bitch or two." Cruiser instructed, giving him an evil smile. “Do it before I finish counting to three. Hmm, now where did I leave off?" Brett sat there, cool as ice while the thug and his henchmen were sweating bullets and shitting bricks.

“All Right! Just quit pointing that fucking cannon at me, please?" Thomas begged, his voice just a bit higher in pitch. “I can't think when I'm all nervous like this!" Brett took his finger out of the guard but didn't lower his weapon.

“Call!" Cruiser shouted, pointing his machine pistol at the thug across from him. “Call or I kill the big fuckwad first, then the little one next, then you!" Thomas furiously tapped numbers into his cellphone, impatiently waiting for someone to answer.

“Speakerphone!" Brett hissed, making the thug put the phone on external speaker so they could hear the conversation.

“This is Billy, what can I do for you, Thomas?" the man on the phone said smoothly, as if he had nothing to hide.

“Hey Billy, I have a buyer if you have a chimera tigress or equine for sale." he replied. There was silence for a moment, then Billy asked for particulars. He had taken the bait, hook, line and sinker.

“What's he looking for exactly? Golemtechs? Brandons? Indiana Mil-Tecs? How about a North American Biotech Mark 15 lioness? She's quite hack-proof and one hell of a lover," he pointed out, Thomas looking at Cruiser for direction. The biker mouthed 'Brandon' to him so Thomas relayed that information.

“He says he wants Brandons, dude," Thomas said, swallowing hard from fright.

“Hang on a minute, let me make a call on my other phone and see what we've got available," he asked, not muting his call with the thug. They couldn't make out what was being said but he came back to their call sounding cheery. “Sure, I can get you two Brandon 87 equines for 50 G's apiece. Meet me in the banquet hall in the back of the Coconut Grill around ten, Okay? Bring cash only, tell your buyer the price is _ not _ negotiable." The man on the other end of the call then hung up.

“All Right, Cruiser, there you go. I've done my part so I'm leaving." Thomas started to stand up but Cruiser coughed to get his attention.

“Sorry, Thomas. You're sitting right here until it's time to go get the girls. I'm not that stupid, bro." The two Samoans looked at their boss, seeming kinda confused by this. They spoke to one another in their native tongue, nodding in agreement of something.

“Hey haole, we're walking because we're not a part of this," the taller Samoan spat out, starting to leave. That was until a shotgun barrel was pressed into his neck.

“No, you're sitting right here with your boss." Cruiser then nodded as another man put a rifle to the smaller Samoan's neck. He took out a cellphone, making a call on it. “Hello Freddie, this is Cruiser. I need for you and the guys to stake out the Coconut Grill starting about nine or so. Go in without colors, maybe loud Hawaiian shirts to look like tourists or something, I don't know. I'll leave it up to you guys to decide how to handle it." Cruiser nodded, listening to the person on the other end, then hanging up.

“It's on," Brett said, getting up to go get them a soda from the bar.

***

Sarah was sitting in her suite, looking over her Yahoo! e-mail on her laptop. It had been a while since she had checked it so it was full to the rim with Spam. She just couldn't believe the lines people used to get idiots to open and respond to their scams. She didn't have credit cards with every outfit in the world and her warranty on her last vehicle expired more than thirty years ago, long before she got it fourth-hand. That's if that old 1980 Chevy Malibu wagon was still around.

She thought back to the day she sold her old wagon, just a few days before she shipped out to Australia to join the military that was still fighting that losing cause that was the middle-east 'police action'. She had been purchased by the Australian Army in what amounted to a lottery drawing to see who would go to war. Her number had been called so she was briefed as to what would happen. The person doing the briefing, a human, offered $1,000 USD for her car, since it did run and it was exempt from smog testing with its 4 cylinder Mercedes bio-diesel only engine swap.

She remembered the flight from the US over to New South Wales International airport, a very rough, bumpy ride in a converted Boeing 777G military personnel transport. They arrived at the airport, were bussed to the Army post and quickly outfitted for their jobs. Within 36 hours, she was in a hot zone, doing her best to keep communications open any way possible.

“Hey Horse Cunt!" was the way the Commanding Officer of that section always addressed her, forgoing addressing her properly by rank and name of Lance Corporal Mitchell. He made extremely improper comments to her, touched her bits at every opportunity and always blew his cigar smoke in her face if he had the opportunity. One night he took it a bit too far.

He had been with a few other officers, drinking hard liquor that was illegal to do in a war zone. He had stumbled into her path, knocking her down onto her back. He quickly straddled her waist, tearing her BDU blouse and t-shirt open, slurring out “Let me fondle those milk jugs, Horse Cunt!," looking at her with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Two Military Police that were just getting off duty were coming to her aid when she rolled him off of her, getting over him to administer a serious left hook to his unknown to him glass jaw and then holding him at gunpoint until the MPs took control of the situation.

The scene quickly turned to chaos as the two MPs argued whether to take him to the field hospital first, charge him at the brig with insubordination and drunkenness in a war zone before getting medical attention for him or just let her shoot him, saving them a shit-load of paperwork. He kept insisting that Sarah had started the whole thing but eye witnesses refuted his story solidly. His jaw was still wired shut when they court marshaled him and sent him back home to serve a life sentence in a military prison. It was about a year after that when her position was overrun by insurgents and she ended up as a POW for a while.

Sarah was thinking about how she had been rescued initially but that medivac chopper had been shot down by an RPG and she was recaptured. That thought was derailed because she was momentarily startled by a knock at her door.

Getting up to answer it, she found a security guard at her door that she was positive was on suspension. That was the last thing she saw besides stars as the guard used illegal shock gloves to knock her out.

***

Brett and Cruiser wandered into The Coconut Grill, sidling up to the bar very calmly. The bartender, an 'employee' of the owner, came over to greet them.

“What'll it be, gentlemen?" the lioness asked in a smooth alto voice. She was a chimera, a Golemtech model as evidenced by the ice-blue eyes with round pupils. Her voice was very sensual with none of that 'kitty rumble' that some felines used. She was looking at them intently, sizing up their capabilities. The two males knew better than mess with her; besides her long, lethal claws that could tear them apart like a handful of straight razors and her long canine incisors, meant to tear flesh apart, her musculature gave her the strength of several men.

“Listen, I'm looking for Billy Kilanea," Brett said softly, giving her his best disarming smile.

“What are you looking for him for?" she asked, putting her towel on the bar. He noticed her claws unsheathing slightly as she stood there, unmoving. The lady did have a good poker face, though. She was still looking at him with a slight smile on her face. Even her pupils didn't dilate, giving him no idea what she was thinking.

“I have some business with him to attend to." Cruiser stated as he sat the small duffel bag on the counter. The lioness could smell the money in the bag, letting her know they were for real.

“He's in the banquet hall in the back." she told them, motioning with her muzzle to a door at the end of the bar. They went towards the door, noting there were eleven of Cruiser's biker brothers sitting in the bar acting like drunken locals.

Brett and Cruiser stepped into the banquet area and found Billy Kilanea sitting with one other person, a canine chimera, probably Billy's muscle. The canine, solid black in color and looking like a rottweiler in the face, stared a hole through them as the two men came into the room and sat down opposite Mr. Kilanea, putting their duffel bag on the table.

“We brought the money, Bro," the biker said smoothly, putting on his best bargaining face. He was hoping like hell this didn't go sideways on them. Billy nodded at the canid, who got up and left the room through a side door. They heard a door on a vehicle outside opening followed by the sounds of hooves on the pavement coming their way. Momentarily, two female chimeras were guided into the room, blindfolded, handcuffed, gagged and muzzled.

They were both about the same height and weight, obviously Brandon 87's by their hooves. One was a chestnut and white blanket appaloosa and the other one was a palomino. The palomino one was very feisty, trying her best to figure out where they were.

“Okay, unless you have a problem with the ladies, that looks like a deal," billy stated, looking at Brett who nodded at him. He nodded back as Brett pushed the bag towards the hood. The canine chimera muscle picked up the money bag and followed his boss out the side door, as if this were some common legal transaction. Moments later, they were backing back through the door due to a semi-automatic shotgun being pointed at their heads by Freddie.

Brett grabbed the money bag back from the canid chimera and placed it back on the table. He then began to remove the handcuffs from the girls. As soon as the palomino mare's hands were free, she removed the blindfold, her muzzle and gag.

“Alright, which one of you sonuvabitches kept groping me? Well? Nobody?" she hissed, looking like she intended to kill somebody or something. She turned to Brett, still working on her partner's handcuffs. “Did you grope me or was it the Fairy Fuckin' Godmother that kept fingering my clit?" she asked harshly, giving him a hard stare that could melt steel.

“Listen, lady. I'm just trying to get back a couple of missing chimeras for a friend, Okay? Don't get your thong in a knot," he said, finally getting the second pair of cuffs off the appaloosa that were around her elbows. She got her blindfold off and removed her muzzle and gag, looking around at them with a scowl.

“These aren't the ones we were looking for," Brett told Billy, pulling out his Desert Eagle. “Where are they? Tell me before we start cutting pieces off of you." That made Billy swallow hard.

“Who are you looking for?" the palomino mare asked, putting her hand down onto a non-existent whip, cringing slightly when she didn't find it there.

“These ladies," Brett replied, showing her the picture of the missing chimeras. Her eyes grew wide in astonishment as Linda realized just who were in the picture.

“You're looking for Trisha and Tigre?" she asked, still in shock. “We're their friends!" Before Brett could say anything, she added this; “Didn't anyone tell you they turned up at Blue Diamond?"

“Nobody told me that, lady," he replied, giving Billy a hard stare. “I wanna know how they got to Blue Diamond, asshole. Looks like you and your buddy here are pretty good at snatching and smuggling chimeras. Ya know that's a federal crime so tell us and we won't turn ya over to the authorities, asshole."

“I was knocked out by a guard using some kind of electric gloves," Sarah stated, looking quite upset about it. “A hit that hard could kill a chimera that wasn't a Brandon. We're battle hardened to take electro-magnetic pulses." Looking down at the floor, she made a comment; “I'm really lucky he didn't hurt my implants, though. That was a hard hit."

“Did you see who shocked you? That bastard got me from behind," Linda stated, getting an angry look on her face. “Those shock gloves aren't allowed on Blue Hawaii property by Mr. Waddell's orders!"

“It was that guard that's on suspension," Sarah proffered up, rubbing her wrists and elbows, “I saw his face on a bulletin Mr. Waddell put out. He's in deep, deep shit with me now." Brett got Sarah's attention, handing her a key on a fob.

“Why don't you girls go back to Blue Hawaii in my blue Pontiac Tempest and I'll come get it from you later. I parked it right out front." Brett then turned to Billy, giving him a hard stare. “I'll be tied up here for a bit, getting some information out of this guy." He then pulled out a Buck knife hunting blade, giving the thug an evil stare that meant he would use it if necessary.

Linda and Sarah started to leave until they walked past the canid chimera that was leaning against the wall while one of Cruiser's friends covered him. Linda stopped, sniffing the air again. She turned to the canid, giving him a grim look.

“You're the bastard that kept groping me, aren't you?" she asked, bearing her teeth in an atavistic way.

“Yeah, what of it, bitch?" he retorted, just starting to smile at her, like he had got away with something. His smile went away when the mare kneed him in the balls, dropping him like a bad habit. That knee to the balls was so hard, it had lifted his feet off the floor from the impact.

“This is what, asshole!" she spat out, kicking him in the balls a second time, so hard he passed out. She turned to Brett, giving him a sweet smile as she said, “We'll be going to Blue Hawaii now to find that guard and work him over." That piece of information made Brett and Cruiser both cringe. The bikers had various mental images of male genitalia smashed by hooves run through their minds.

“I call dibs on the first knee to the balls on that bastard," Sarah was heard saying as they left through the side door.

***

Trisha was walking down the main corridor, headed for the staff cafeteria. It had been a long day and she was ready for some lunch before the evening clients began coming in. She mused about what she had heard about Blue Diamond, that it was a very rough place. It seemed that things were a little less brutal here since it was now governed by over one hundred new laws and regulations for the performers.

The thing that bothered her was the fact that shock gloves were still in use here. Mr. Waddell had deemed them banned from Blue Hawaii several years ago but she was fairly sure somebody there still had a pair of them. It had to be that guard named Johann Richart that helped the two Samoans 'escort' them to the airport.

Walking into the staff cafeteria, she noted the food here seemed on par with the staff cafeteria back in Hawaii. She found a few things she liked so she ordered them, getting herself a cup of coffee and a glass of ice water in the meantime.

She wondered what Mace and Linda were up to right now. Thinking about the situation, she smiled a bit. It would be very soon when Tigre and herself would board a plane headed for home and ultimately, she would be back in Mace Alexander's arms. In just the little time that she had known him, she had fell completely in love with him. He was a kind, gentle soul that had a good sense of humor and didn't miss a chance to play a practical joke on somebody. She was startled momentarily by Master sitting across from her.

“Patricia, do you mind if I sit and talk with you?" he asked, giving her a nervous smile.

“No, I don't mind. What did you want to talk about?" she replied, confused by all of this. He put salt and pepper on his meal, sampling the vegetables before he spoke.

“I wanted to ask you, what does it feel like to be self-owning?" This question surprised the mare completely.

“Um, I don't know exactly how to describe what it feels like but it feels good," she replied, looking to see if that was the answer he was looking for.

“Good like good sex?" he asked, seeming somewhat confused.

“No, it's a feeling that nobody has control over you, that you are your own person," she elaborated, still unsure if this was even a correct statement. “May I ask a question?" she queried, needing to know something about him.

“I know what you're going to ask," he replied, looking down at the table before looking up at her. “I'm not a meat puppet like my predecessors were in the literal sense, if that was what you were curious about. I'm a Golemtech Mk. 22 design with a full interface to Blue Diamond. I can think independently, though." He thought for a moment before he added, “There is only one of me, so in that sense I'm unique."

“Yeah, that was what I wanted to know, if you could think independently," she stated, now kind of embarrassed to have thought that.

“I understand you have a boyfriend," he said after he sampled the roast beef. “What's that like, to give yourself to only one man?" Trisha really didn't know how to answer this but she tried anyway.

“Well, I don't have to anticipate what he might do or how he might act," she replied, giving it some more thought. “I know he'll treat me nicely and tenderly. He's not an unknown quantity, he's always the same."

“I have to say, that sounds boring in a way," Master stated, sipping at his glass of ice water. “Don't you like variety?"

“Not when one man fucks me in the ass so hard it hurts for days then the next one ties me up so tightly the marks take a day to fade. No, I would gladly trade all of that for consistency in a relationship." Trisha felt odd, trying to explain this to a man that deals out pain on a regular basis. “Can you make love to a woman without making her hurt or forcing her to get in bed with you? Have you ever made love to a woman that wasn't chained to your bed?"

“No, I .. I don't know how," he replied, getting that confused look on his face again. “I have not been ... instructed in how to do that." He frowned, feeling somewhat at a loss in this arena. “My programming lacks in several key areas, according to what you just told me."

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." Master cut her off.

“Don't apologize for something you had no idea about." he retorted. “It would seem I need more training or maybe better programming."

“You know, there is something about you that's so different," she stated, giving him a serious look. “Do you have a name besides 'Master'?" He really looked confused now. “The reason I ask is my 'Master' at Blue Hawaii has a name. I call him Mr. Waddell or just Sir at times. I've called him by his first name, Chuck, on occasion by his request."

“I don't have a name," he stated, seeming rather depressed over this. “Do you think I need a name?"

“What do your tamers call you?" He thought for a moment, then looked up at her.

“Master."

“They're an extension of your will. Don't you think they deserve to call you by a more personal name?"

“I would have to have Mr. Bischer give me a name, since he more or less owns me," the tall male stated, still seeming a bit confused.

“Well, why don't you ask him for a name. A first, a middle and a last name," she suggested, looking to see that he was really thinking about this idea. “Then your tamers could call you Mr. Whatever you choose for a name."

“Maybe I will ask Mr. Bischer for a name, then." he stated firmly. “I think maybe I should have a name, just to help me to be more unique, if anything else."

***

Sarah and Linda were patiently waiting at the front desk for Rita to give them Johann's address so they could go pay him a little personal visit. The palomino mare was thinking about how she had changed since she first arrived at Blue Hawaii. She wasn't a very compassionate individual when she was still at AGS but that had changed once she became a trainer in an attempt to protect her friend Trisha.

She felt that over the years she had become very compassionate towards her fellow performers. She always tried to help the new girls to get their black leather quickly and not end up being major hard cases. Thinking about it, it really bothered her that it took Trisha so long to get her black leather, to the point that she blamed herself at times for her friend's stubbornness. Now that Trisha had become a tamer, that really made her feel happy inside to know that she wouldn't be performing for the sadists that wanted her body to abuse for the night or the weekend.

Linda knew in her heart that they were destined to leave this place somehow and now Ed and Mace had given them the opportunity to do so. She smiled when she thought of Ed Crawford's gentle touch. He was such a gentleman with her, treating her almost like royalty. He said “Please" and “Thank You" and he was ever-so concerned that he might be hurting her in bed. When he had done a Japanese rope suit on her that went from her neck to her wrists and ankles, he constantly asked if it was hurting her in any way. She had to admit, all it was doing to her was driving her insane for his ministrations. Her musing was interrupted by Rita trying to get her attention.

“Linda, are you OK?" she asked, giving the mare a concerned look.

“Oh, I'm sorry, I was daydreaming," Linda replied, giving Rita a nervous smile.

“Here's Johann's address but promise me this; you'll bring him back here to work him over. I don't want to see either of you on the morning news." Sarah smiled, thinking about how they could give him the works once he was back here in their custody.

“All right, Rita, We'll wait until we get him back here," Sarah responded, giving the secretary a devious smile. Rita smiled back, knowing that bastard guard was in deep shit now. She waited until the girls had left for Mr. Richart's house before calling Chuck Waddell.

“Hello Rita, have the girls left to get Johann yet?" he asked, getting on some clothes so he could come downstairs to oversee the guard's punishment.

“They just left a few minutes ago," she proffered up.

“OK, I'll bring down the shock gloves I found in his locker. I'm sure the girls will find a use for them."

“You don't need to be in any hurry, boss. They won't be back for about an hour or so," Rita informed Chuck.

“OK, I'll take my time then. Let them know to use Torment 241 because it's nearest the elevator from parking. Um, I'm assuming Linda used her Jetta that Ed gave her to drive?" he asked, not sure how they were getting over to Johann's place and back.

“Yeah, they were going to use the Jetta because it was nondescript." Rita replied.

Alright, then. Have Harold Ford at the gate call me direct when they come back into the parking garage and I'll meet them in 241."

***

Tigre was headed for her appointment with a performer that needed to be set up, A doe named Margie Calhoun. Once she arrived at the performer's room, she knocked once before entering. Once inside the performer's room, the doe looked up at her with a shocked look on her face.

“Oh No, Tigre ..." she blurted out, placing her breasts on the floor and licking the tigress' foot.

“Please stand up, Margie," the feline asked, helping her to her feet after tapping her on the ear. This seemed to confuse the doe even further.

“I thought you were ..." Tigre cut her off.

“Rumors of my demise were greatly exaggerated, I'm afraid." the tigress replied. “You have some work to do this evening, I'm told." Tigre clipped a leash to Margie's collar and led her to Struggle 433. Once inside the room, Margie knew what she was facing; suspension by her arms over a padded lounge. Unfortunately, she was sure she would not benefit much from the padding.

Tigre was glad to have shared Trisha's setup files so she knew exactly what to do here. She led the doe over to the lounge, motioning for her to get up on it, facing the head of it. The tigress began to fasten Margie's ankles to the short cables at the mid-way point of the device, making sure she had about a foot of slack to get into position for her client. She then unreeled the cables from overhead, fastening them to her wrist bands. All this time, the bound female was stone silent.

“This doesn't look too bad to me," Tigre commented as she checked the connections one more time. This made the doe finally speak her mind.

“You're not the one strung up like this, Ma'am," she said bluntly, giving the white tiger a strong stare.

“I'm not gonna winch your knees off the table," Tigre retorted, giving the doe a kiss on the cheek. “That would make you uncomfortable, if you ask me and besides, how could you give a good performance if you were uncomfortable?" she pointed out, checking her ankle attachments again. “I don't need to be anywhere else right now so I'll just wait here until your client arrives to winch up the cables."

“You're serious, aren't you Ma'am?" Margie asked as she sat down on her heels and rested her hands on her thighs, looking at the tiger like she had finally went around the bend. “I thought you loved to punish me in any way possible! What's gotten into you to make you so nice all of the sudden?"

“Do you want me to be mean to you? I can easily comply with that if you're really wanting me to be mean."

“Um, No, Ma'am, I don't. It's just that ..."

“It's just what?" Tigre crossed her arms, giving the doe her full attention.

“You seem ... different now, that's all. You used to take great pleasure in seeing me hurt. Maybe I should shut up, now before you decide to be mean." Tigre heard foot falls in the hallway so she decided to try out something Trisha had shared with her.

“Why don't you get ready for me to give you ten, then," Tigre suggested with an evil grin, unrolling her whip and stepping behind her, out of her sight. Just as the door opened, Tigre gave Margie an extremely light strike to the small of the back as she said “Ten" very loudly. The doe shrieked because she wasn't prepared for it so the effect was perfect. Margie didn't get hurt badly and the client thought she had just been punished for something.

“Excuse me, am I interrupting something?" the client asked, looking at the tigress with a confused look on his face. Margie was breathing heavy from being startled and Tigre was looking at the client with one eyebrow raised.

“No, I was just finishing up here, Sir," the tigress replied, winching up the doe's wrists until she was close to being pulled up from her kneeling position. She did make sure Margie could still put her entire weight on her knees and her heels still touched her butt, however. “Do you need anything before I leave, Sir?" she asked out of courtesy in her best demure voice before she left.

“No, I ... I'm fine, Ma'am," he replied, seeming somewhat intimidated by her presence. She nodded, slipping out the door quietly. She noted the time, accessing the database to see when to retrieve the doe from her room.

Once the door closed, the client looked at it momentarily, like he didn't believe his eyes, either.

“Uh, Margie, that was Tigre, wasn't it?" he asked.

“Yeah, I think she's Tigre, anyway." Margie replied. “Jerry, I think she forgot to lock the controls for the overhead winch. If we're lucky and she did forget, let me down a bit so I can give you a good ride, please?"

Her client checked to find that she had indeed left the control panel unlocked. Letting the cable spool out a bit, he made Margie more comfortable before he got on the lounge, making himself comfortable while the doe did her best to please her long-time customer.

***

Tigre was standing in line at the Starbucks© on the main promenade, waiting to order an espresso. A quick check with her implant told her that the cables had been readjusted after she had left Struggle 433. Well, at least Margie might enjoy this evening, at at any rate she thought, smiling a contented smile.

***

Linda put the red baseball cap on her head, getting the almost empty pizza box that had been their late dinner in her hands like it was still full. Keeping her head down so nobody could see her face, she rang the doorbell, waiting for Johann to open the door.

“I didn't order a pizza!" he said as he answered the doorbell, suddenly finding the two female equines rushing him, driving him back inside his front hall. A leather blinder hood hidden in the pizza box went over his head, blotting out his vision while handcuffs were roughly put on him.

“You're coming with us, you sorry excuse for an ass-wipe!" Sarah said tersely, punching him in the ribs to get him to cooperate. “Don't struggle with me or I'll just punch you again, Johann. You're forgetting I'm twice as strong as you, shit for brains." Chuck had purposely removed her failsafe for her, allowing her to protect herself if need be.

“OK, OK! I'll behave, lady! Please don't punch me again!," he retorted, going with them quietly. They jammed him into the back seat of Linda's Jetta, using the seatbelts to keep him secured down and out of line of sight.

OK, sweetie, get us back to Blue Hawaii," Sarah stated, putting her seatbelt on for the ride back. Linda smiled, nodding in agreement as she smoothly pulled out into the street, headed for their place of employment. As they drove along, Sarah's cellphone began ringing so she answered it only to hear Rita's voice on the other end.

“Hello Sarah, just answer yes or no to me. Do you have him in your custody?" she asked.

“Uh, yeah, that's right" Sarah replied, trying to make it sound like a normal conversation.

“OK then, take him to Torment 241 and Mr. Waddell will meet you there."

“Sure, that sounds good to me," Sarah said, nodding her head just a bit.

“OK hon, you take it easy getting back here."

“We will. Talk to ya later, then."

“Bye, Sarah," Rita bid as she hung up the phone.

Sarah ended the call and holstered her phone, looking over at Linda. Using her implant, she let the palomino mare know they were to use Torment 241. Linda looked at her and smiled as she nodded, thinking about the various ways they could exact revenge on the bastard in the back seat.

***