𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 ❪ ⁿ ˢᶠʷ ❫ ┆ reverie. & venser

[reverie.]

. T O  H E L L  A N D  B A C K a roleplay by reverie.  &  venser the sojourner   C O N T A I N S  N S F W  E L E M E N T S   Natalie's partner just got murdered, and she is convinced that James Thatcher or one of his thugs pulled the trigger. She just has to prove it. But the young detective is in way over her head when she tries to go undercover without any backup. After the first day, she starts to wonder if it's really worth it. And before she knows it, her life has turned into a living hell.​

 

[reverie.]

N A T A L I E   Q U I N N   ​

―――  She should have known . . . She should have fucking known. She knew it had been a terrible idea—fucking crazy, really—but she just had to go through with it. For her partner, for Tim. Natalie wanted revenge. She wanted that motherfucker James Thatcher behind bars, the sooner the better. At first, she wasn't sure her plan would work, but it did. It worked almost too well. She'd gotten Sean—a colleague who was well acquainted with James—to convince him to hire Natalie's friend, Marissa Russell. But Marissa did not need a new job. Marissa didn't even show up for the contract signing—Natalie did. But Natalie had not been prepared for the job he hired her to do. Not even a little bit. Sean hadn't exactly mentioned anything about the job description when he'd said he'd gotten Marissa a job at James' club The Jade Serpent, but she'd assumed it would be as a waitress, perhaps even a bartender, not a fucking service girl—whatever that meant. But that same day, Natalie found out exactly what it meant. Only to realize she didn't want to be one—a little too late. Her first assignment had been to entertain four businessmen, and those four assholes still haunted her dreams. She'd sucked their cocks—twice. And then they'd fucked her so hard her pussy throbbed with pain. No, her entire body ached at that point. Several times she'd tried to get out of the mess she'd put herself in, and every time she'd failed. By the time they were done with her, Natalie had made up her mind. This wasn't fucking worth it. She'd find another way to catch James. Another way to get revenge. And as she was wiping off the cum from her body, she gathered up the courage to tell James to fuck himself. And she was determined to say it to his face too—but then that bastard caught her off guard. And instead of quitting, she agreed to yet another job. But at least she might get something out of this, since the person he wanted her to serve was none other than his close friend Derrick Powell. ​  . . . it wouldn't go as planned. ―――​           Natalie had shown up at The Jade Serpent the following evening with one goal in mind—get Derrick Powell to talk. But he wasn't interested in talking, especially not after she asked if he knew anything about Tim's murder. She should have known better than to push her luck when he'd already proved that he wasn't interested in her services. She'd offered to suck him off—she'd even straddled his lap. But he was nothing like the businessmen. As soon as he wrapped his fingers around her throat and squeezed, she should have known. She should have known that a friend of James' would be just as bad as the Devil himself. She should have known that he wouldn't be foolish enough to talk. She should have kept her mouth shut. She never should have said yes to this assignment. She never should have taken this job in the first place. She'd been a fucking fool. ―――  Fuck. When he eventually allowed her to leave—laughing at the sight of her—she was a fucking mess. She didn't need a mirror to know that her throat was turning purple. It wouldn't even surprise her if he'd damaged her vocal cords, but she didn't dare to test them. She had been able to scream, so they couldn't be completely shattered. But even now she could feel his phantom hand applying pressure around her throat, his words on repeat in her head. Useless whore. Natalie knew it was all lies, but she just couldn't get the words out of her head. But Derrick hadn't only been messing with her head, he'd taken the liberty of devouring her body. Her butt was on fire, and she knew it would be difficult to sit in the morning. She'd lost count of how many times he spanked her, but it was at least two dozen. Her butt would probably be red for days. But at least the discoloration would fade with time. What wouldn't fade as easily as the two tiny cuts he'd made on the underside of her tits, below her nipples. The wounds stung like papercuts, but at least she could conceal them. But if her bra had been any other color than black, the fabric would have been stained red by the blood drizzling out. What she would have more trouble concealing, was the ugly cigarette burn he'd given her left shoulder. That would definitely not heal right no matter how well she tended to that wound. And with the Policeman's Ball coming up, she'd have to find a new dress—fast. But that burn was the least of her worries when there was a purple imprint on her neck. No amount of makeup would cover that up, and there was no way she was going to find a dress with a fucking turtleneck. This time, there was no James waiting outside for her. Natalie left the room, and Derrick, with tears threatening to surface, her body aching in places she'd never thought she'd experience—not even in her line of work. She'd never been happier to enter her apartment. The next morning, she called in sick. ​ And the morning after that. And the morning after that.  . . . but then there was the Policeman's Ball. ―――​          And Natalie was not really ready for it. She had been looking forward to it for months, but now. . . not so much. At least her butt wasn't that sore anymore, but that was about the only thing that had changed. The bruises on her throat looked even worse than they did a few days ago and the burn mark too. Luckily, she'd found a dress with long sleeves that still had cleavage—she needed something that would draw the attention away from the flower choker she'd stumbled upon when looking for some sort of scarf. The cuts on her breasts were starting to heal, but there were still two fine lines on her delicate skin. Not that she was planning on flashing her tits to anyone at the Ball. The burn mark on her shoulder was concealed by fabric, and the bruises on her neck were slightly hidden behind the ridiculous chiffon flower, a poor makeup-cover attempt, and her wavy hair. The ball wasn't much different from the one last year. The food might have been slightly better, but the speeches were just as boring. When people started mingling and some even made it to the dance floor, Natalie decided that was her cue to leave. She hadn't stayed long last year, but with everything that had happened only a few days ago, she wasn't really in the mood to hang out with people—especially not policemen. Besides, she'd already gotten half a dozen compliments about the flower around her neck—even more on her dress—and she didn't want more attention. Who decided to throw a ball on a fucking weekday anyway? "Natalie, wait up!" someone called from behind as she was making her way towards the exit. She turned around to see Sean approaching her and resisted the urge to grimace. ―――  Give me a fucking break. "Are you leaving already? It's just begun!" he exclaimed, grabbing her by the shoulders as he was motivating a teammate. "Come on, it'll be fun." He shook her a little, flashing her one of his signature smiles. Natalie lifted an arm to brush him off, "I'm tired, Sean." That was only half the truth, but she wasn't about to go into more detail. "Nooo," he dragged out, "Come on, just a little bit longer. I promise it'll be fun. I'll even—" But then his eyes moved to something behind her and his smile widened as he let go of her shoulder and lifted his arm to grab someone's attention. "Eyy, James!" he shouted to someone past her shoulder. "Get your ass over here!" Natalie turned her head just enough to see James Thatcher in her peripheral. Panic surged to the surface and she quickly said to Sean, "Look, I really need—" He cut her off, his voice low but his tone sharp. "Don't be ridiculous." And then he changed his tone again, as he turned to James who was obviously approaching them, "James, say hello to Natalie—" He waved a hand towards her. "She's one of the best detectives we have. Don't ask me how she did it, because I still don't know. But she did learn a lot from the best, I guess. It's such a shame that Tim got himself killed. . . He didn't deserve that." He made another pause as if trying to remember something, and then his face lit up as if he'd just remembered something very important. "She's the one who asked if her friend could get a job at your club." He turned to Natalie, "She did get one, didn't she?"  She was screwed. ―――​ So fucking screwed. "Marissa, yes, she did. . but then she got the flu," Natalie lied, her words slipping through her lips as she raised her gaze to meet James'. She gave him a charming yet innocent smile, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn't hide the fear in her eyes. This was not a scenario she had prepared for. "Hi," she said, offering him her right hand as if this was the first time she met him. She could only pray that he wouldn't blow her cover. Her cheeks flushed as she introduced herself, "I'm Natalie." ​

 

[Venser The Sojourner]

J A M E S   T H A T C H E R   ​

James Thatcher was the sort of man who did not like when things did not go exactly as he wanted. His establishment, The Jade Serpent, catered to the most elite clientele in the very heart of the city, those with plenty of cash to flash and who looked for a very specific brand of entertainment as a result. Of course, the club itself was merely a front for James' many varied criminal activities, as he was fully an avowed kingpin in charge of his own vast empire in that regard. Drugs, guns, and trafficked girls; all of it and more made up his typical purview, and he liked it that way, with him at the very apex and the rest several rungs below. All had been smooth with his operations until that damn cop had gotten involved. Vincent had been the one to point him out, down at the docks, just when a bevy of fresh beauties were coming in. The cop went bye-bye shortly after, and that was that. James had barely paid it much mind at all afterwards. Then, Franceska had called in sick. Shit. One of his best girls wasn't available, and he hated it but such were the mysteries of life. Luckily, a friend of his, Sean - who also happened to be a cop - suggested someone he apparently knew, Marissa Russell, and James had agreed to take her on. The initial meeting with Marissa was very interesting; she was dressed to kill, easy on the eyes and very much game to perform her duties despite him not explicitly explaining them to her. However, he could tell that there was a hint of trepidation in her manner, and that registered as curious. Still, she'd accepted the assignment, and it had gone from there. Her first job had been to provide services for four of his most prized clients, businessmen all. James had watched on his private camera as Natalie surprisingly mouthed off to one of them, twice, raising his ire enough that he decided to punish her for her insolence by having them all fuck her mouth, hard. Then they'd done it again while spitroasting her, ramming their big, thick cocks into her seemingly little pussy until she was thoroughly used and abused. James had recorded it all, and then caught up with her before she even had a chance to back out in order to give her the next assignment, to go see his close personal friend, Derrick Powell. She had no choice, so she'd gone, and this time James watched while she brought up the name of the cop who'd been summarily dispatched, prompting Derrick to angrily fuck her up. Every spank, every cut, every burn had been captured by James' cameras again, and then he was given the rundown after by Derrick though it wasn't needed. This time, he'd allowed Natalie to leave, using it as a test, and she had bolted from the premises and not been seen since. Afterward, she called out. One, Twice, Thrice. Fucking hell. Even with his strong suspicions, James wasn't exactly sure if she was legitimately sick, though he strongly doubted it. In his mind, she likely just didn't want to come in again, ever. So he decided to just forget about the problem of Marissa Russell for a while and go to the Policeman's Ball. It had become one of his regular parties to visit annually and he sure put on a show for those bastards in blue, ironically enough, since he was their number one criminal and they didn't even know it. As usual, the speeches had bored him, despite the surprisingly high quality of red wine in his hand, and he'd cheered and applauded with the rest of them, sitting beside Sean. All the while, James' active mind kept thinking about Marissa, and just what she was up to. Perhaps he should send someone over to her given address to check on her? Despite ample evidence to suggest otherwise, James might have been willing to accept that she was in fact simply sick, and that her experiences had scarred her enough to stay away. Just then, though, fate intervened. It came in the form of Sean shouting out, possibly inebriated, James' name; they'd become separated as James had milled about the place, falling into discussions here and there while fixing his plate of dinner at the same time. Once the plate had been set down at his reserved table, he had made himself known to the chief - another acquaintance - and glad-handed the Mayor among other little personally amusing notes before he heard the call. "Eyy, James! Get your ass over here!" Who should surprisingly be in his field of vision unexpectedly, then, but Marissa Russell herself? Or, as Sean revealed to him when he arrived, one foot in front of the other faux-casually, a foxhound sniffing his prey..."James, say hello to Natalie—" Natalie. Not Marissa. Natalie was the name, and not only that, he learned so much more about dear Natalie right away. Huh. Interesting, very very interesting. Oh, but this was just...delicious. James' features lit up; he heard the whole story and then was presented with her version of the truth from the very same woman herself. He saw it then, that fear that got him so excited, that made his own heartbeat quicken with the surging anticipation of what retribution would come swiftly and violently onto dear, sweet Natalie. Yet they had to pass through this conversation first. "Hi, Natalie. I'm James," he said smoothly, taking her palm in his own larger one, giving a very firm grip that functioned as a signal that he now knew full well who she really was as if she wasn't entirely aware. "Marissa tells me a lot about you." A lie, and then a pause and a beat. "How is she doing, by the way? I heard that she had gotten sick as she did call off the last few nights; hope it's nothing serious?" Sean seemed to sense the generally taut tension in the air, coiled like a tight piece of rope, even in his inebriation; he didn't say a word. There was no need; James said it all, releasing the smaller hand delicately, flashing the brightest of smiles. Inwardly, he was swearing and deviously plotting, but he simply couldn't resist the false discussion amongst the real one at play. "It's nice to meet you though. Are you cold, by the way? I see that you dressed for the breezy weather," he added quietly, pointing to her out-of-place scarf. "Everything alright? That's a little unusual this time of year." Another beat. He sorely wanted to reach out with both hands around her exposed neckline and just choke her out till she suffocated to death by his own hand directly, but duly refrained. Her recompense would come...soon. Until then, he merely wore his wide grin for both her and Sean and waited to hear what the great deceiver had to say to him right now.​

 

[reverie.]

N A T A L I E   Q U I N N   ​

Natalie didn't know if she should be grateful or fucking terrified that James played along. She tried not to give away that she noticed how his grip was extra firm, giving her a clear message—he knew. Oh, he knew, all right. The cat was out of the bag now, and she was so fucking screwed. If only she had left earlier. If only she'd ignored Sean and left. James wouldn't have seen her, Sean wouldn't have introduced her. This whole mess could have been avoided. She could have been on her way home. But now she had to deal with this, to act as if she hadn't just been caught red-handed by the guy who most likely killed her partner. Fuck, what thoughts were going through his head right now? He had to be at least as surprised to see her there as she was to see him. She had called in sick, after all. Or, Marissa had called in sick. But Natalie knew he wouldn't be mad about that. He probably wasn't even that mad about her giving him a false name. Oh no, he was mad—furious, most likely—because she'd been lying about her intentions. And the fact that she was a fucking cop. Her smile never faded and she didn't break eye contact, but she pulled her hand back as soon as he loosened his grip. Then she folded her arms over her stomach, obviously nervous despite trying to pretend otherwise. The fear in her eyes could probably be seen from a mile away and yet, she continued the conversation. Natalie knew Marissa hadn't told him anything about her. He didn't even know there was a Marissa. As far as he knew, she was Marissa—and she was—but not really. "All good things, I hope," she said playfully, pulling the corners of her lips into a fake grin. This was going to be a lot harder than she expected. "She's all right, don't worry," she lied. As if he was worried about her. "She just has the flu, but I'm sure she'll be back next week." They both knew that she would not be back next week, not if Natalie had a say in it. Because she was not planning on coming back— ever. Sean, who had been quiet up until this moment, turned to Natalie and opened his annoying mouth, "Wait a second, I thought you said she was—" "She was," Natalie cut him off. "But they rescheduled." Sean didn't know that the real Marissa didn't work at The Jade Serpent. He didn't know Marissa personally—Thank God—but only through her. She remembered it now, how she'd complained about Marissa not being home on her birthday because she was visiting her parents for their anniversary. Perhaps she should be more careful what she shared with him from now on. But then James just had to make a comment about her dress and mention that stupid flower around her neck. "You mean this?" She lifted her arm to touch the chiffon flower. "It's pretty, isn't it? My grandmother gave it to me," she lied. "It's old, but it looks new. And, it matched my dress." Natalie had a feeling that he knew what she was hiding behind the thin fabric. Derrick must have told him what he did to her. And that meant that he knew why she was wearing long sleeves too. Not to mention the small cuts on her tits and her healing butt cheeks. She swallowed hard before she continued, "I'm just taking precautions is all." Another lie. "I don't want to catch what Marissa is having." As if she could catch it—Marissa wasn't sick and neither was she. "Speaking of which, I'm actually feeling a bit under the weather, so I was—" Sean cut her off, a smirk planted on his handsome face, "Don't listen to her." He put an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. "She just agreed to stay a little longer. Isn't that right, Nattie?" Natalie turned her head to shoot daggers at Sean. "No, I didn't," she said harshly and tried to push him away. Sean only tightened his grip. "Ohh, come on. I'm sure James here —" He waved his hand towards James, "Wouldn't mind your company. Don't think I don't remember what you told me—I know your last date was a disaster. Maybe you should try your luck with him instead." He nodded towards James, and Natalie resisted the urge to punch him. He didn't know what the fuck he was talking about. He didn't know what he was doing. She turned her attention over to James with an apologetic smile, her eyes still filled with fear. "Please ignore him. He doesn't know what he's talking about." As if she would ever go on a date with James fucking Thatcher. Sure, he looked like a movie star, but she knew he was not the Saint everyone thought he was. He—or someone in his inner circle—had murdered her partner, and she was going to prove it. ​

 

[Venser The Sojourner]

J A M E S   T H A T C H E R   ​

So many many different possibilities about how best to approach the current situation echoed around in James' very active mind; clearly, the most obvious and perhaps best choice was simply to conduct this highly charged conversation exactly as Sean must have intended when he had been called over. Marissa, or rather Natalie, was no fool; she had to understand very clearly that her current employer was now completely and fully aware of the lie that she'd told him, and that also he had to maintain his own sense of self in the face of a hundred cops surrounding them, as he could not lash out in any sort of rash violent action - despite sorely wanting to do exactly that. And why had the girl done these things? Well, he didn't have to think very hard to figure that part out. The fool who'd observed him at the docks and gotten himself murdered, Tim, had been a cop - detective no less. Here was suddenly another cop who had infiltrated his organization and even asked about Tim directly, to Derrick. It all made perfect sense to him. That meant, taken alone, that she strongly suspected that he was involved in the murder, or at least he had a hand in it regardless. Which, of course, happened to be true. Even though dear Natalie did her absolute best to present an air of politeness to both him and in front of Sean, James had studied enough body language to comprehend the fear that was in her eyes, as well as the slight tremble that he thought he noticed in her frame, if he was reading her correctly - and he thought that he, in fact, was. As far as James was concerned, there was no single individual named Marissa that actually existed; the evidence of that had been clearly indicated thanks to Sean's introduction by name. Natalie Quinn. Again, he let that moniker linger in his mind for a spell, committing it to memory; when he was able to do so back at the club, he'd have to look her up. Completely. James wanted to know every single thing that she had ever done in her life and what was important to her, then take all of that away permanently. "All good things, yes," he lied back, as easily as the falsities came to her own lips. He'd seen those same lips plundered with thick, fat cocks over and over again, and he had to pretend that he was deaf and dumb to all of it. Oh, the irony. "Well, she did go through a lot, I'm sure, in terms of her recovery. I wish her the best." In truth, James wanted to stab 'Marissa' right in her aorta and watch gleefully as she bled to death in front of his very eyes. Ah, Sean. Such a pal. James could always count on him to say precisely the wrong thing at the wrong time to the wrong person, especially when he was very apparently drunk. In doing so, he confirmed to James that he was an innocent bystander in all this, and had not been privy to the trick that Natalie had played. What a fucking trick. Moreover, there had been something that she'd said to Sean in order to explain Marissa's absence, on at least one occasion. This was what James was able to glean from that impromptu exchange. Huh. What other secrets would be revealed on this wondrous evening? He could only guess, or even hope. The more that Natalie opened her mouth, the worse it would get for her - though she hardly knew it yet. In fact, James would have bet the house that she planned to never, ever turn up to The Jade Serpent ever again. Hence, he had to engineer it so that she felt she had little choice in the matter. "Your grandmother has fine taste," he said cheekily, flashing his teeth, though this came off more like a wolf about to bite rather than anything else. "And you wear it so well." For a moment, James thought that he was going to ask her to see the scarf, but with Sean there, that was a big risk. If she said no, even their mutual friend might wonder why; if she said yes, then her mask would come off and the scars from her intense, painful session with Derrick would be on display for all to see. Yet, he refrained from that instinct; it had to be a slow death, and excruciating at that. "She really did sound so sick on the phone. Three days in a row, in fact," he added slyly, reminding her that he was well aware exactly how often she'd missed work. "You're right; better to be safe than sorry." Don't worry, I'll show you fucking sorry, he thought plainly. The male was so angry he'd have to go break some things - or some faces - directly right after this conversation was over. Again, Sean saved him from allowing Natalie to escape further unscathed by wrapping her up and all but keeping her rooted to the spot. He'd have to give the man a very expensive Christmas present this year for all that he was unwittingly doing just to benefit James unknowingly. "Haha. You always amuse me, Sean," James said lightly, though his voice was laced with the most silken, dangerous tone. "I'm sure Natalie has plenty of men in her orbit to be getting on with." Four of them, in fact, for her first go-around; one more just after. "Besides, I've sort of given up on the ladies lately. None of them are really my type." This was said solely to let Sean know that his attempts at matchmaking were neither required nor appreciated. Then James opted to drop the atomic bomb, as he'd grown tired of this little charade; it was wearing thin on his patience, and he simply wished to end it. Immediately. "You know, Marissa did share a bit of the service that she's been hard at work on; I think I even have some of it recorded," he let slip, looking fully at Natalie this time, fiery voids boring into her own. "It's tough work, and with that on top of her illness surely made it so much worse." A single beat followed this statement. "Perhaps I can show you what she's been up to sometime, if you'd like. Or, you know, whoever wants to take a peek. It's really top-notch work." Thus did he fire off his own nuclear weapon straight at her, and felt that his message had come across strongly enough. Do what I say next. Or else. "If you see Marissa or talk to her, Natalie, please tell her that I'd love to see her back at work tomorrow, at least to talk in my office if nothing else. Say, around 2 PM, if that's not too much trouble?" Again, he ignored Sean; it was as if the other male wasn't even there. James had his focus wholly on Natalie alone. "I'll be happy to...work with her to sort out her flu troubles. Very thoroughly." And that was it. If she was indeed as intelligent as he figured, Natalie would understand exactly what he was saying to her all too well. Therefore, tomorrow loomed large, and her recompense would be waiting for her. In full.​

 

[reverie.]

N A T A L I E   Q U I N N   ​

James played along so well Natalie was having trouble to keep up with his tricks. She let her fingers brush the chiffon before she lowered her hand. "Thank you." They both knew she didn't wear it well; it was just a ridiculous accessory to cover the bruises on her neck. Bruises he had to know about because there was simply no way Derrick would have left that out. He must have given James some sort of recap of what he'd done to her. But then he decided to bring the attention over to Marissa again if only to make her even more uncomfortable. "She hasn't been out of the apartment," Natalie lied. "But I think she's getting better." If he knew the truth—he sort of already did—he'd know that Marissa was not sick, and neither was she. But James wasn't really her biggest worry right now. No, it was Sean. Sean, who wouldn't shut the fuck up. Sean, who wouldn't let her go. So, when James responded to his nonsense, she narrowed her gaze at him. "I really don't," she said, her tone sharper than she'd originally intended. She'd dealt with enough men for a lifetime this past week and there was no way she was getting involved with another, let alone James Thatcher. Hell no. Unless it was to arrest him, Natalie didn't want anything to do with him. But then James said something that made her blood run cold. No. He had to be bluffing—he just had to. But when Natalie met his gaze, she could see that he wasn't. That fucking bastard. Had he recorded her ??? The change in her expression was clearly visible as realization merged with her fear. She quickly disguised it with a fake smile. "That won't be necessary," she said after she'd collected herself so her voice wouldn't give away anything. "I'll take your word for it. I'm sure Marissa would appreciate the privacy." Natalie emphasized that last word so he would understand that under no circumstances was he to show any footage to anyone without her consent. There was just no way she was going to let anyone see her being violated like that. Natalie had to get out of there—fast. She couldn't breathe properly and her panic was growing out of control, but she had to remain calm. But even though her face looked somewhat unchanged, her eyes glistened with fear. "No, no," she said, her mouth dry. "That's no trouble at all. . I'll uh—deliver the message." But as she said it, her stomach turned. Natalie didn't need to deliver any message, because the message was for her. And he didn't give her much of a choice. "I'm sure she'll be very happy to work things out." That was the biggest lie she'd told her entire life. The very last thing Natalie wanted was to set foot in his club again. She was going to quit, but now she didn't know if he was going to let her. She placed a hand over her stomach and stepped out of Sean's grip, giving him a deadly look when he tried to pull her back. "I'm sorry, but I'm really not feeling well. I think maybe it was the dessert," she lied—again. The dessert had nothing to do with how she felt, and she wasn't really feeling that ill either. Natalie just needed an excuse to get the fuck out of there. "I should go home before I make a mess." ​

 

[Venser The Sojourner]

J A M E S   T H A T C H E R   ​

The whole conversation with Natalie was both extremely amusing, given the double-edged sword on which he danced easily, and also because of the sheer weighty tension to each of their words. He delicately twirled around and spun with her; for each pointed charge that he knew damn well what the story really was, she had another careless lie to tell - which only served to enrage him further, though he hid it quite well. Though she tried to shuffle away from the specter of this 'Marissa' crap as far as she could, but he stayed bringing it right back to that mysterious woman who supposedly worked for him and drew his ire as a result of her behavior. In actuality, though, as they both knew full well, it was Natalie herself whom he employed, and Natalie that had been very clearly marked up, which she avoided showing him despite his obvious move to call it out. "Ah, I see. Well still I do want to make sure I catch her tomorrow," he stated bluntly, a cold reminder that he wasn't going to take no for an answer on that critical point. Since kept on babbling repeatedly about the two of them going on a date - as if - he then had to pretend to be summarily offended by the tone she took in denying that very thing. "That would be something, wouldn't it? But it appears that...Natalie...isn't much thrilled by the idea. Which is fair, naturally," he said softly. "I am a lot to handle, after all." And he was, both in his manner and his other hidden-away talents which he had not deigned to introduce her to, although he was sure going to. Very soon, in fact. That was when he played his trump card, indicating to her plainly that he had recordings of ever single sordid act that she'd participated in. Every single facefuck, every moment of her tight little pussy being destroyed, every beating and burn and scar that was left on her. Satisfyingly, that at least had a very deliberate effect, the kind which he had fully intended, and he could see the wheels turning within her surely overactive mind, thinking about what he might say or do with those clips at his disposal. "Are you sure? Well, clearly you know better. I'll just ask her when I next see her," he said carefully, though he left it at that; no need to antagonize her further. Already the girl had quite enough to be getting on with. What was more important was that he was telling her that he had seen it all. She wasn't taking the news all that well. Sean looked as confused as ever, and James couldn't say that he blamed him; all the color had fully drained from Natalie's countenance, and she was left struggling to even come up with simple answers to the strong statements that he posed. "Splendid. I'll look forward to it, then," James told her, sealing her fate entirely in that single sentence. All she had to do was come to his private office the following day, and he knew that she wasn't going to be able to escape from her fate, not with his threat looming over her menacingly. "Oh yes, I have no doubt that she'll be very happy indeed." He was going to work it out, alright; work it out all over her fucking frame. Derrick's time spent with the woman was a true mercy; James already had plans to be far more vicious. However, it was time for her to leave, and even Sean didn't try to dissuade her this time. "Nice to meet you then, Natalie. I'm sure we'll be seeing each other soon regardless. I do hope you feel better," James said lowly, watching her go. Then he turned to Sean. "I'll be heading out as well, old friend. Take it easy on the drinks, will you?" Slapping his back heartily, he then waited till Natalie had left, and then hopped into his black Benz coupe and all but raced home. James didn't like to be kept waiting, and on the morrow, he awaited Natalie's arrival, dressed in all black - a crisp Kenneth Cole number - from head to toe. The ridged paddle in his hand also happened to be black, as did the various instruments that he'd set up specifically for this meeting. He'd get into all of those soon enough, but at the moment the male simply drove his open hand through his hair, thinking about the scene he'd experienced one day prior, and how it had inflamed his passions so. Then, before long, he did hear the fateful knock on his door. "Come in," James said firmly. Her punishment for those severe transgressions was about to begin.​