***
Spy Games
Chapter 18
For the next couple of weeks, the electronic ghost of Janis Moorehead continued to haunt Raven Hardwood throughout the night. Raven did her best to avoid the nightly harassment. She changed bedrooms but Flanagan and Sixty-nine foresaw that eventuality and the backup hidden sub-floor speakers followed the sleepless realtor where-ever she went in her house.
At one point, she got so desperate for sleep that she rented a room in the Merryville Inn. It took Flanagan and Sixty-nine just under an hour to track down Raven’s location, determine her room number (which was fortunately on the second floor), break into the room below Raven’s (I’m fairly sure it wasn’t already occupied, but you never know with Flanagan) and install yet another hidden wireless speaker.
At that point, I’m not sure Raven truly believed the spirit of Janis Moorehead was behind the strange noises and voices under whatever bed she laid her head, but she did know that the only time she didn’t hear the sounds was when Flanagan spent the night.
This is where Flanagan and I have a slightly different opinion of what happened next. We both agreed that, soon after we started haunting her, Raven started inviting Flanagan over to her house for the occasional sleep over. Miss Moorehead, Sixty-nine and I believed that Raven’s sudden interest in Flanagan as a bedmate was entirely based on his ability to scare away the haunting spirit of her supposedly deceased nemesis. Flanagan thought his performance in bed was the basis for the invitations. Regardless of the reason, it marked the first time my lifelong friend ever had to deal with two women at the same time.
Besides pretending to be Miss Hardwood’s personal enforcer, the way he and Sixty-nine acted together suggested some sort of romantic involvement. My suspicions were confirmed when Miss Moorehead brought it up one evening during our nightly session of pre-slumber pillow talk.
“Do you know what Flanagan is doing with Sixty-nine during the day when you’re out screwing the ladies of Merryville?” she asked.
“He’s supposed to be teaching her how to shoot.”
“Yes. He is doing that. But do you know about the spankings?”
“Sort of. I hinted to him that she might need a bit of discipline every now and then.”
“You told him to spank her?”
“It wasn’t a direct order. More of a suggestion.”
“Why would you even suggest such a thing?”
“Because I’ve been so busy, I can’t do it anymore.”
“You used to spank Sixty-nine?”
“Only when she needed it.”
“What in God’s name did that sweet girl do to deserve a spanking?”
“She apologized.”
“For what?”
“Everything.”
“So, you spanked her?”
“It was the only way to cheer her up.”
“Really. After everything your wonderful Mrs. Bancroft taught you about women, you decided turning Sixty-nine over your knee and beating her bare bottom was the optimum morale booster?”
“If it makes you feel any better, I also brought her to her first orgasm.”
“You had sex with her?”
“Not officially. The Ball Busting Bitch won’t let me. That’s why I turned her over to Flanagan.”
“So, since you have a city full of willing women to fuck, you decided to give Sixty-nine to your partner as a consolation prize.”
“Has Sixty-nine complained about her treatment to you?”
“No. She hasn’t.”
“Does she seem pleased with her station in life?”
“Ironically, yes. I don’t know why, but despite what you and Flanagan put her through, she seems happy. In fact, she’s told me many times how privileged she feels to work under your tutelage.”
“That wasn’t the case a few weeks ago. When we first started this mission, Sixty-nine was a miserable little girl with zero self-esteem. The young lady we had dinner with tonight is a confident professional, well on her way to becoming a skilled field agent for the premier intelligence agency in the country.”
“Okay. I think I get it. You gave Sixty-nine some over-the-top tough love treatment and she responded. You know I trust you. But I’m still concerned about how Flanagan treats her when you’re not around.”
“Why? Because she is screwing a much older man?”
“No. They’re both consenting adults. What bothers me is the whipping post he installed in the basement this afternoon.”
Flanagan was always what one might describe as an aggressive sexual partner… sort of a Cro-Magnon Don Juan. Unfortunately, most twenty-first century women were not into being clubbed over the head and drug into his cave. But, on those rare occasions when he managed to find a damsel who enjoyed being in distress, he made sure she got the complete medieval experience.
The next night, when I descended the basement stairs, I was not at all surprised to find Sixty-nine bent at the waist, wrists tied to a three-foot high hitching post, with her legs spread and secured to the floor. A dozen or more “sexual aids” hung neatly on the far wall. I recognized the cane, cat-of-nine-tails, and a few other common instruments of BDSM foreplay. Some items, such as the rubber snake with an on/off switch, were foreign to me.
Flanagan had a short-handled flogger in his hand and was just about to deliver what, considering the numerous red streaks already on Sixty-nine’s naked ass, was most likely the third or fourth blow.
“Do you two mind if I interrupt for a minute?” I asked.
Flanagan gave the target of his affection another stroke of the lash and then both turned to face me (which wasn’t easy considering Sixty-nine’s current situation).
“Is something wrong?” Flanagan asked.
“No. From where I stand, everything seems to be going well. How about you Sixty-nine? Any complaints?”
“No sir. The Ball Busting Bitch has been happy with our daily progress reports. We’re about fifty thousand below budget so the finance department is ecstatic –”
“I’m glad that our bosses are pleased,” I interrupted, “but I was asking about you personally. Is there anything you would like to see done differently?”
Sixty-nine twisted her mouth to the side as she often did while thinking through a difficult problem. She probably wasn’t aware of what I thought a cute little quirk and I certainly wasn’t going to make her self-conscious by bringing it to her attention.
“As far as me personally, I’m having the time of my life,” she said after careful consideration of the question. “But there is one thing I’d like to talk to you about… if this is a good time.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to… I don’t know… maybe stand up straight and put some clothes on before we have this discussion?”
“Oh, no sir. I’m very comfortable just the way I am. In fact, I find I get some of my best ideas when Flanagan is… well…”
“Giving you a massage?” I suggested.
“Exactly. Can we talk while he continues?”
“By all means.” I gestured that they carry on.
For the next fifteen minutes, while Flanagan reddened the entire back side of her body, Sixty-nine explained how she could hack into the Multiple Listing Service (MLS) data base and inflate the posted sales price of every home we bought in Merryville.
“I know it’s not legal,” Sixty-nine said between blows, “and I would never even suggest it if we were selling to Americans… but since our prospective buyers don’t know anything about small town America real estate, and well… since they’re terrorists, I thought it would be a good idea to make a healthy profit on the deal. You know, screw them financially before we fuck up the rest of their lives.”
“This all came to you while you were chained to this hitching post?”
“Oh, no sir. It first came to my mind last night, just before I went to sleep.”
“You were thinking about work when I was fucking you?” Flanagan asked.
“Sorry, I can’t help it. I do my best thinking during sex.”
“What did I say about apologizing?” Flanagan dropped his flogger and gave her two particularly nasty bare-handed swats to the ass. Followed by gentle caresses. Followed by kisses. And a well-placed tongue.
I retreated back upstairs, heartened and yet distressed by the thought that my best friend may have found his soul mate.
***
Mulberry Lane
Despite Flanagan’s and Sixty-nine’s not-so-secret love affair, they were doing an excellent job of preventing Raven from getting a good night’s rest. Which let me concentrate on my job… which was keeping Raven distracted during the daylight hours and buying a shitload of houses.
My tried-and-true method — screwing the good-looking female home sellers and letting a good percentage of the male sellers fuck my realtor — was getting the job done, so I didn’t deviate from it. However, there were a few instances when both a desirable woman and a virile man opened the door when we knocked.
Such was the case at 235 Mulberry Lane. We got to the residence a little after 4:00 pm and were met at the door by Bonnie Learner, a twenty something brunette with a cover girl face and swimsuit model figure. She escorted us into her living room and introduced Lester, her husband, and Lucas, their realtor. Apparently, they thought that by outnumbering us, they could negotiate a higher price for their home.
By this time, Raven had already gone ten days on minimal sleep and had taken a rather large cock up the ass not an hour before in exchange for a ten-thousand-dollar discount on the well-endowed man’s house. Which might explain why my usually sharp minded realtor so readily agreed to what happened next.
I took a cursory glance around the house, spending most of the time perusing Bonnie’s extensive collection of lingerie. Two black slivers of silk, which would barely cover her boobs and pussy, caught my attention. I turned the bed down and laid the naughty nightie on her pillow with a note that said:
“For an extra forty thousand on the price of your house, put these on and wait for me.”
Next, I went downstairs to the living room where the two realtors and owners were discussing the dire condition of the Merryville real estate market.
“I’ll give you three hundred-eighty thousand.” My offer was forty thousand below their inflated list price.