CHAPTER NINE - Postlog
When I woke, I was surprised to see a digital alarm clock on the night stand by the bed. We had been kept in a timeless state since arriving. They must have put the clock there during dinner last night. It was seven AM, my usual time to wake up. And as usual, I had blue steel hard on, so did Joey and it was poking in my back. I could feel him stirring.
"Did you notice that they put a clock in our room?" I asked.
"Did you notice I put a cock in your back?" He answered.
He hopped up, positioned his cock over my mouth and his head over my dick, and said, "What about a little sport suck to get the day started off right?" Without waiting for my reply he plunged his mouth down on my dick and pressed the head of his cock against my lips. I opened wide and let the whole thing in, right down to the base where my nose buried itself in his pubic hair. It was early morning, and I have no stamina then, in no time, I was shooting my man stuff into his mouth. Keeping my dick in his mouth, Joey began a pattern of in and out that wasn't quite so deep. He was draining my dick of every drop and then proceeded to lick my shaft and head to clean it up while pounding my mouth. Even though I had just come, it felt good to have his cock in my mouth, and then I had more than just his cock as he shot another huge load of cum into my mouth. I realized it was the first time I had ever sucked him off right after coming my self. It was another lesson in taking care of my man.
After a together shower and getting dressed, we packed up our bags and opened the door, surprised to find that it was not locked, and went to the dining room for breakfast. This morning the room was furnished as a cozy little breakfast nook with ruffled cafe curtains on a fake window, a small bouquet of flowers on the table and country style furnishings.
Breakfast was custom made omelets, coffee and fresh squeezed,unadulterated orange juice. As we were finishing up, Cedric said that we could check out any time we chose and if we would like Dr. Carnassi would spend a few minutes answering any questions we had.
Wow! Did I have questions! I looked at Joey and he was watching me, and we both nodded that we would like to meet with Dr. Carnassi.
He received us in one of the clubrooms near the entrance, not the one where I had watched the punishment video. He was very gracious and charming in a European sort of way.
"No doubt you may have some questions about your fantasy adventure here at Villa Carnassi this week-end," he began.
Joey was back in his power trip lawyer mode, so he started off with, "You're damn right! How the hell did you decide that punishment was any part of a fantasy I would be interested in.?" He was really loud.
Dr. Carnassi answered in a calm, measured tone, "Punishment for disobedience is never considered a part of a fantasy. When you were being received here I told both you and your, um ,er, partner, that I expected you to tell the complete truth to me and my staff and to be totally obedient to the rules of the villa. You did not do that, so you were punished. It's as simple as that. Even my staff understands that they will be punished if they break the rules."
I was thinking, "yeah, right" but I had a vision of Dr. Carnassi paddling Bubba or Cedric, when I remember the hand print on Ingrid's face. It was then that I realized she had been slapped hard, by whom I couldn't guess for our little adventure in my room after the fisting yesterday morning.
I asked the next question, hoping to give Joey some time to reconsider his aggressive manner, "On numerous occasions, we were given a beverage that looked like orange juice but clearly had some sort of drug or narcotic in it. What was that?"
"Nothing that will harm you or in any way show up on any sort of drug test you may encounter in your work place," Dr. Carnassi said, "It was a combination of a drug similar to Paxil, enhanced by my own proprietary compound that simulates the effects of an advanced form of Viagra and a mood altering substance that increases submissiveness in subjects. For the "colon manipulation sequence," there was a combination of muscle relaxers and a drug similar to a compound of Paxil and Zantac plus Valium. All of these are my own developments. In fact, should you care to have some for your own use, you may order them from the Carnassi Institute in Antigua, online or by phone."
Joey was still in attack mode, he glared at the doctor and said, "You mean to say you infused me with illegal substances without my knowledge and against my will?" He was in a highly agitated state. He rose from his chair and towered over Dr. Carnassi, who was still seated, shaking his finger in his face and shouting, "You lured me in here, videotaped me without my consent while your thugs beat and gang raped me and ..."
Joey was interrupted when the door opened and Cedric, in his white butler's coat stuck his head in and said, "Will you be needing anything, doctor?" Bubba was right behind him, dressed in his chauffeur's suit, with his arms folded across his coat, looking a lot like the cartoon character in the Mr. Clean commercials, which is to say huge arms, bald head and big, really big.
"I think not, Dr. Carnassi said, "Unless you gentlemen would like some more coffee or something cold."
That disarmed Joey and Cedric quietly closed the door. I think the point was adequately made that the muscle part of the staff, was right outside the door and available at a moment's notice.
Dr. Carnassi continued, "All of the equipment, including the bench with the chairs that was used in the treatment room, is available through the Carnassi Institute, should you choose to recreate any of your adventures."
He stood and strode to the mock fireplace, turned and looked at both of us when he said, "From time to time you may be contacted by the Institute to inquire as to whether or not you would like to make a contribution to continue our research into advanced sexual satisfaction. I hope you will not mind if we use your office addresses for that contact."
I wasn't sure what that meant, but I had an idea that the institute's on going research might have to do with how much they could milk out of Joey and me, before we blew the whistle. I can remember thinking at the time that I probably should order some cheese and fruit and use the knife to slit his throat. It was a good plan that should have been executed. Bubba drove us back to the downtown office where we picked up our cars. We had the obligatory hoods on. Cedric removed them, put our luggage in our cars, and said a cordial good bye. I walked around to the driver's side and said a genuine sounding good bye to Bubba as I made note of the VIN on the van. I figured the license plates might be a switch out, but the VIN was almost certain to be real.
As they drove off, Joey jotted down the license number. I quickly took the pen and paper and wrote down the VIN. "You don't trust him either, do you?" Joey asked.
"Nope, that's why I got the VIN. Tomorrow I'll run a DMV on it and see who this Carnassi really is." I said.
Joey called his home and there was no answer, none at my home either, so we decided to go over to my house and wait to see if the girls showed up this afternoon. Technically they weren't due back until Tuesday night, but we were hoping. Their not being there gave us some time to plan what we were going to tell.
By the time Tuesday evening and the girls arrived, the story was pretty solid. We told them about the adventure in fisting, but not the punishment episode nor about the new relationship that had developed between Joey and me.
Em looked astonished when she heard about the fisting. I told her "Hon, with your dainty little hand, you might be wonderful at it."
Her first question was, "Do you think women would enjoy it as much as men? Like could Sue and I do it and enjoy it? I don't think I could ever take your big old hand up there," she said.
"I don't know about women, maybe we will order some of the relaxers and have a party one night, a boys only adventure and a girls only adventure." Joey said.
Those adventures and some other thrilling events should be told in a separate chronicle. Maybe someday.
Joey assigned some research to the private investigator that his firm used and in about two months, they had found Bubba in his private life, in a neat suburban home, live-in girl friend and her child. Joey drove me by there on Sunday morning when we were on the way to the golf course. "One day that son of a bitch will regret ever touching me," he said.
Two months to the day after that there was a story in the Sunday edition of our metro paper about a man's body being found near the city trash incineration site, it made the local front page of the Sunday edition because of the unique circumstances of his death. The medical examiner 's report said that someone had pounded an entire softball bat into his rectum, and eventually into his upper intestine causing death by internal hemorrhage. When I saw the article, I called Joey to tell him about the story. "Have you heard anything about this?" I asked.
"Sounds like a terrible tragedy. Someone got to him before I had a chance."
That told me that the man in my life played hard and for keeps.
When Cedric's body was found at the end of one of the side runways at the airport with a softball bat driven down his throat, I did not even both to ask or mentioned it. I was sure Joey was involved somehow in both the deaths. But I knew that there was no way in hell I would benefit from knowing the details.
The following year, I received a light gray envelope with an Antigua return address printed in deep maroon ink. Inside was a letter from The Carnassi Institute offering me a chance to donate $10,000 to continued research by the Advanced Sexual Satisfaction Studies section of the institute. When I reached Joey at his office, he confirmed having received one too. He advised me to do nothing. Keep the envelope and the letter, but don't respond.
I put it in a personal file in the drawer in my desk that I lock each day before leaving the office and literally forgot about it. Not more than a month letter, I received a call from a Mr. Stimpson who identified himself as a member of the staff of the Carnassi Institute. He said he had been made aware by the staff in Antigua that I had received a letter soliciting a donation to the Institute to further research. He assured me that the letter had reached me by mistake and asked if I would allow a member of his staff to pick it up from me personally this afternoon.
I was in the middle of some tense negotiations on some financing of a major capital improvement project for one of our manufacturing customers, and said, sure, why not. About an hour later, Joey called, "Did Stimpson call you?" he asked.
"Stimpson?" I fumbled, I was having a mental block, being more concerned about several millions in revenue for the company than in someone named Stimpson.
"Yeah, Stimpson! The guy from The Carnassi Institute." He was shouting into the phone. "Did he ask you to give him the letter back?
"Well yes, he did."
"What have you done?"
Nothing, I'm in and out of some tricky negotiations right now, frankly I had forgotten all about it."
"Here's what you do. Put a couple of blank sheets of paper in a big plain envelope, write Mr. Stimpson's name on it and put it at your front desk. Tell your girl to call you before she gives it to the messenger and then you call this pager number." He gave me a number and was making ready to hang up when I said, " I don't know when he is coming, or where I will be, I might now be real prompt in calling."
"Listen you dolt, " Joey said in a very harsh tone, "Unless you want to pay them $10,000 every time they think they can squeeze you for the rest of your life, do this. I've spent a lot of time and money getting this thing worked out where they are too scared to even let you keep the envelope so do it. And don't fuck it up! There may not be a next time to get it right. Be sure you keep the envelope and letter they sent you. Give it to me the next time you see me, okay?"
"Okay," I agreed.
I was re-doing my spreadsheet when Allison at the front desk called and said, "A Mr. Dunn is here to pick up something for Mr. Stimpson."
"It's right there in the hold for pick up box," I told her.
"Thank you."
I dialed the pager number and an automated message asked for me phone number, which I keyed in and then hung up."
Jason Darby, one of the senior partners in the firm called me about twenty minutes later and said our customer wanted to meet for a drink at The Money Tree, a very posh bar around the corner from our offices. I met him at the elevator and filled me in one the details on the way down. "It seems he doesn't trust his partners and feels this expansion and improvement is essential to the life blood of the company. He wants us to brief him on how we will go about selling it to his partner so he can coach us. In the lobby there were EMT's and uniformed and plain-clothes cops. It seems someone was mugged right there in the lobby and he lay bleeding on the white sheets of the stretcher as the cops asked a few last questions. I overheard him say, "I was just picking up something for my employer upstairs, when I came down these two guys grabbed me, dragged me to the broom closet and beat the shit out of me, took everything I had and left me there."
"Do you know the value of what you were picking up?" the cop asked as I went by.
"Doesn't matter," the guy said, "here it is right here," and he gave the cop the plain white large envelope in which I had enclosed the two sheets of plain paper. I marked it off to Joey's operations and went through the door into my own world, sure that I was freed from the long fingers of the Carnassi Institute.
I made a mental note to ask Joey how much I owed him for my part of this exercise.
Em and Sue learned a lot about getting the most out of the lady's version of fisting and claimed it added a whole new aspect to their sex life together. We finally confessed the same. It seems they each had a new and committed relationship with each other similar to the bond between Joey and me. And now, once or twice a year, we hole up in some rented cabin somewhere in the mountains and, equipped with our own enema equipment, chemicals etc, we have a whole Saturday of ramming arms into each other's rectums, non stop orgasms, etc. And then on Sunday it's a standard issue sex fest, boys and girls, boys and boys, girls and girls.
And that's it, folks, the whole tale of how two couples became a committed foursome. It all started on the Dunn River Falls in Ocho Rios and hasn't ended yet.