Blissful Torment

Only a couple people would usually be in a cheap twenty-four-seven diner, about half an hour from the nearest town at the best of times. Only very few would be there at midnight. Possibly a skeleton crew of two: one server and one cook. Nobody should be there when a thunderstorm turns the world around it into a black void, threatening to swallow anyone daring to step into the raging winds. No sane person would want to drive over an old street riddled with potholes and covered in half an inch of flowing water.

And yet there was a woman sitting on a red bench at the short side of the L-shaped room. She was dressed immaculately in a mulberry "power suit", padded shoulders, risky neckline, short skirt, black pumps with stiletto heels that could conceivably serve as a melee weapon. Her black hair in a sleek pony tail, her make-up enhancing her high cheek bones and contrasting her pale white skin with her blood-red lips, the contour so sharp it would have made Japanese knives jealous. In front of her was just a single cup of "expresso" which she had ordered, but then sniffed and not even bothered to taste. She watched the entrance like a hawk, her eyes only darting off to two items every so often: Her expensive mobile phone showing the time, and the gigantic suitcase besides her.

It looked like most hard-shelled suitcases: It stood on four metal wheels on its long and thinner side, made from shiny silver. If anyone would have touched it, they would have noticed that it was not made of cheap plastic like most of them. But of course even without feeling it up, it was obvious that the thing was absolutely massive and expensive. Big enough for two people's clothes for a long honeymoon. Or a tightly packed person.

From the inside of the diner, one could just barely make out the limousine's headlights coming up the old road, and then come to a rest directly in front of the entrance to the building. A white gloved chauffeur jumped out from the front, grabbed an umbrella, and opened the back door for his patron.

A man in his late forties stepped from the car, unperturbed by the cacophony of rain and wind around him. He was wearing a dark tailored business suit and his air of confidence made him seem perfectly comfortable despite the late hour and the shady place. He pushed the glass door open and stepped inside. His eyes critically scanned the room. As they passed the waitress, the contempt he showed made her shirk away and hide in the kitchen, knowing better than to bother the definitely questionable deal that was about to take place.

The man sat down across the lady.

"Do you sell apples?" he asked.

She pulled up a single brow, and asked back: "Don't you mean peaches?"

"Yes, that's what I meant. Peaches. Pink Lady, to be precise." He smirked as if that was a clever joke.

"That's a kind of apple," she replied, one eye twitching in aggravation. The joke had gone too far, and he was not taking the code phrases seriously, but he was clearly the buyer. "Have a look."

She pulled a second (definitely cheaper) phone and a pack of sealed earbuds from her inner jacket pocket, plugged them into the headphone jack, and turned it on. She waited patiently for the phone to boot, and started the single app on it. Then she handed it over.

The man took it gingerly with one gloved hand, and pulled off his other glove unceremoniously with his teeth. He placed one bud into his right ear. His eyes widened in delight as he saw the screen. It showed pictures of an Asian girl in her early twenties, first clothed, then naked. She was slim but busty, and looked very much like a famous Japanese Idol that had recently announced retirement, much to the surprise of her fans.

He flipped to the next page in the app, and it showed a slightly grainy picture of an incredibly tightly tied up woman, arms behind her back, legs frog-tied to her sides. She had a fat ballgag in her mouth and was clearly writhing in pleasure or pain, or both. A fat dildo was tied into her pussy, and below it a big buttplug was visible. She was in a tiny box, arranged just so that the wide-angle camera got a mediocre, but decent enough picture. He could hear her moaning softly through the earpiece.

The app had two controls: A gauge with a VIBE label, and a button with the picture of an airpump.

He pressed the pump button, and immediately was rewarded with a moan from the girl on the picture to his ear, and her squirming hard. A few more presses and she was making noises of discomfort.

He slid the vibration controller to maximum, and soon she was moaning hard, clearly close to climax.

He looked up from the phone to the woman. "Our... Peach... You guarantee she cannot orgasm?"

The lady smiled devilishly. "Not a chance. We conditioned her well."

The man nodded coldly, and waved to his driver, who stepped in quickly, carrying a much smaller suitcase, placing it down on the table. He grabbed the leash on the big suitcase, and dragged it out into the rain to pack it into the car's trunk, grunting under its weight. If the weather had been better, maybe someone could have heard soft buzzing and moaning from it, but all was drowned out by what seemed to be heaven's wrath.

"Keep the phone." The lady said with a smile as the man got up and left. "We put some extra toys inside the suit case. You'll like them."