The Master of the Kollar

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WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2019 by The Technician.

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.

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Everyone gets a little nervous when the lights of a police cruiser go on behind them. So do I. But when it’s after dark and I know that I haven’t done anything illegal, I get more than a little nervous. In fact, my pucker string pulls all the way tight. It could be nothing… or it could be a setup.

A fake police car is the perfect trap that can be sprung almost anywhere dark and remote– like the section of rural road I was now on. In compliance with the ridiculous concealed carry laws in this state, my Glock was secured in a gun safe hidden in the glove compartment. That requirement is in case I might accidentally drive past a school or playground or hospital or public park or whatever. It only takes a second to get my weapon out, but if I get it out and it is a real cop pulling me over, I risk being shot… or worse, I risk shooting a real police officer who panics and decides to go all Dirty Harry on me because he sees a gun.

If I don’t get out my weapon and it isn’t a real cop, I’m defenseless against attack… well, not defenseless. I have a an old-fashioned Maglite 3-cell flashlight that sits alongside the seat. It’s legal in all 50 states as a flashlight and if I happen to swing it in panic when someone attacks me, then it is only an accident that it happens to have the force of a weighted club.

I decided that I would– as usual– wait him out. I never speak first when the law is involved. It gives too much away. Let them be the ones who tip their hand. If things went south in a hurry the window glass wouldn’t be of any protection, but the six layers of Kevlar woven with steel and aluminum in the door panel would stop almost anything that came out of a holster. At least they haven’t made it illegal to put lightweight armor in your car… yet.

I pulled over onto a wide spot on the side of the road, leaned slightly down into the car, and waited. Like I said, it was a pucker factor five situation.

What happened next surprised me. The cruiser pulled past me and parked in front with its lights still flashing. A black, unmarked SUV with concealed flashers pulled up about a car length behind me. I couldn’t see what was happening back there, but the officer in front of me slowly got out of his car and held his hands up and out from his body with his palms toward me and his fingers spread. He then stood in the light from my headlights and turned slowly around, pausing only to make sure that I could see that his gun was strapped securely in his holster. After all of that, he walked over to my driver’s side door and held his thumb and forefinger a short distance apart while at the same time indicating with his other hand that I should lower my window. I rolled it down about an inch and waited.

“Mister W,” he said softly as he leaned in toward the car, “she said that I should approach you very carefully.” He laughed and added, “In fact, she said I should approach you like you were me in a car being pulled over at night for no reason.”

“I think I’m going to like you, Officer…” I said rolling my hand.

“Reynolds,” he answered, “Bill Reynolds. And the woman who wants to talk to you is Lacy McGrath.” He pointed back at the black SUV and said, “She says she’s sorry about this farce, but this meeting has to be in secret. There’s a mole in their task force.”

He pointed again to the black SUV and then made a sweeping gesture with his hands like he was welcoming me into the best restaurant in town. I took a very deep breath and got out of my car. Lacy McGrath was the head of the FBI task force looking for the Master of the Kollar. As I walked back to the unmarked police car, the marked cruiser switched off its light bar and sped away. I walked all the way around the heavy SUV and came back up on the passenger side. The plates were civilian, but there was a small motor pool ID tag at the bottom of the rear tailgate indicating that it was a government vehicle. That reassured me a little… but not much. I tapped nervously on the heavily-tinted front window on the passenger side of the car. Nothing happened at first, then the back window rolled slowly down.

“Back here,” a feminine voice said.

I was pretty sure that I recognized the voice as Lacy’s, but to make sure I called out softly, “Marco…”

After a moment, the feminine voice answered, “Roni.”

It was a joke between us dating from several years back when we had gotten finagled into a long stakeout / manhunt together out in the Arizona desert. What happened there and why I was helping the FBI track someone down is for another time, but a lot of things can happen when you spend almost a month with someone out in the middle of nowhere. One of the things I found out about Lacy– other than the fact that she is perpetually horny– is that she had never played Marco Polo as a child, but remarkably had an internet friend by the name of Marco Roni. We were walking through some gullies at night and I lost track of her. I softly called out, “Marco,” and she answered “Roni.” It was the first thing to pop into her mind and to me it sounded like she was completing macaroni. Luckily there was no one around to hear us laughing ourselves silly. After that, it was a fairly regular way of breaking the monotony.

I opened the door and got in. Her eyes said it all. They were wide and frantic as she said in a very soft voice, “We’ve got a mole in our taskforce.” She took my hand and her voice almost cracked. “We’ve all been walking around with our backs to the wall the past couple of days scared to death that someone is going to slip one of those Kollars around our necks.”

“That sounds a little extreme,” I said flatly. She opened the computer in her lap and turned it so I could see the screen. There was a video queued up. Two naked people stirred groggily on the floor. Both were wearing Volkov Kollars.

“These are my lead agents,” Lacy said flatly. Then even more flatly, she added, “… were.” After a breath to collect herself, she explained, “Four days ago Agent Ramon Sanchez sent me a late evening text saying that he thought he was close to the Master of the Kollar. He said that by morning he would know for sure… or be dead. I got this video in an email the next day.”

A voice on the video said, “I think Senior Agent McGrath would like to see you fuck Agent Carter in the ass.”

“Agent Julia Carter was assigned as Ramon’s partner for the task force,” Lacy said flatly. “Except for the fact that she’s an extreme loner, she’s been a good agent.”

Ramon’s voice came over the speakers, “You and I both know that’s never going to happen, so you might as well pull the string or whatever and get this over with.” He then raised his right hand toward the camera and gave the all-American one-finger salute.

Julia’s scream overwhelmed the small speakers on the computer as Ramon’s body shuddered and dropped to the ground. “We got his head in a box two days later,” Lacy said flatly. “It had been sent FedEx. The collar was still around what was left of his neck.” She sighed deeply and said, “The security video shows that it was Agent Carter who shipped it.”

The video had changed to a close up of Agent Carter’s face frozen in terror. An electronically- altered voice said, “Since you no longer have a partner, Julia, I think you need to fuck yourself in the ass for us.”

The camera switched over to an image of a rather large dildo stuck to the floor with a suction cup. Julia could then be seen being dragged into place by two masked men– or perhaps women– dressed in black. They forced her down on her knees and pushed her back so that the huge, tapered dildo was pressed between her asscheeks. Then the voice said, “I think you know what to do, Julia. And we want to see your ass touch the floor by the time you get to the tenth bounce.”

You could hear her whimpering “No, no, please no,” as she pushed down on the dildo. It had to be made of some sort of soft rubber because there was no way something that large could get into her ass without compressing. But that meant that it was expanding out again once it got past the anal sphincter and was painfully filling up her insides.

A soft, but altered voice was counting, “One… two… three…” as Julia rode the dildo, going down a little farther each time. At nine the voice said, “On the next one, your ass… or your head hits the floor.”

With a tremendous grunt, Julia drove herself all the way down on the dildo and stopped. “Good girl,” the voice said. “Now you have a choice. Ten more times all the way up and ALL the way back down, or you can get fucked ten times by our men.”

There was an inaudible answer. The voice said loudly, “Speak up, Julia, Senior Agent McGrath can’t hear you.”

“Fuck me,” Julia said. “Please fuck me.”

“Ten times?”

“Yes,” Julia answered with a sob. “Please fuck me ten times.”

“The fucking is mainly crotch shots of her with various men and one woman with a strap-on,” Lacy said, closing the computer, “I’ll give you copies of the video so you can look at it later, but we weren’t able to get anything of value off of it.”

“I turned everything over to the FBI after I unlocked Loraine and Melinda from their Kollars,” I said firmly, and then added, “I hear they have found a way to medically induce the needed orgasms even in a male. You’ve found and freed several dozen Kollar slaves that had been sold around the world. You seem to have all that you need to catch this person.”

“We need you,” Lacy said, the firmness of her voice matching mine.

“I’m not a law enforcement officer,” I replied somewhat heatedly. “And many of my clients would be upset if I were working for the FBI.”

“You wouldn’t be working for the FBI,” a familiar, deep voice said the from front seat. The driver turned so that I could see his face. It was Master Tyrone, the current Chief Master on the Inner Circle of The Society. “You would be working for us,” he said firmly.

“And for us,” Lacy said pulling back her blouse and shining a UV light on her breast. The five pillars of The Mansion Club shone brightly in the darkened car. “I am not Chief Master,” she said, “but I am on the international board of Masters and Mistresses and represent them in this. The Master of the Kollar is a threat to our entire community, and not only because of what he might do to our members. Law enforcement is starting to look at all of us in the community as though we were this evil villain or were somehow concealing him in our midst.”

“He doesn’t need our help with concealment,” Master Tyrone continued from the front seat. “Up to this point, he has been able to hide from every state, national, and international group trying to track him down… including us.”

Lacy looked up at me and said softly, “We need someone as devious and twisted as he is to ferret him out.”

I sat in silence for a moment and then said slowly, “I’m not sure I take that as a compliment.”

“I didn’t mean it like it sounded,” Lacy almost sputtered. “That’s just the way it came out.”

“Marco,” I said softly.

“Roni,” she answered. Her face was flushed red.

“Who do I bill?” I asked flatly.

Both Lacy and Tyrone laughed and said in unison, “The FBI, of course.” Master Tyrone then said, “But the Society will cover any expenses above and beyond what the government will pay.”

“We need to know who the Master of the Kollar is,” Lacy said. “Once we know who he is, we– the FBI… or Interpol… or, if necessary, private contractors, can take him down. And once we take him down, we can hopefully find and release the rest of the Kollar slaves.” Her voice went very quiet as she added, “… including Agent Carter.”

“Where’s the Kollar you just received?” I asked.

“Currently in the evidence locker,” she replied. “Our techs looked it over, but they can’t get anything from it. There are no biologicals except for Agent Sanchez’ blood and it looks exactly like the other two Kollars you unlocked.”

“It’s different,” I said, trying to keep the anger out of my voice. “The person behind this is an egomaniac.” I gave her a tight smile and said, “I know, it takes one to know one. But in any case he– or she– wouldn’t give you another Kollar unless it was new and improved… sort of a way of shoving it in your face that they were at least a couple steps ahead of you.”

“Our profilers say the Master of the Kollar is probably a white male in his mid-thirties,” Lacy said softly.

“Don’t get me started on that, Lacy,” I said, letting my anger show. “Your profilers told us we were looking for a young, anglo when we were camping out in the desert. Those two old banditos nearly got the drop on us because you didn’t suspect them.”

“But you did,” she replied. “You suspect everyone.”

“It’s kept me alive this long,” I said. “A special courier will stop by to pick up the collar sometime tomorrow. I will let you know what Boris and Natasha figure out.”

I handed her a burner cellphone and said, “Contact me on this or not at all. If you contact me on anything else I will assume you are compromised. Is that understood?”

She nodded her head as she accepted the phone and I let myself out of the car.

***

As soon as I got home I contacted Boris and let him know what was going on. His short reply was “Expected this. Will pick up.” I left the details to him. I also contacted three very trusted men who had worked with me before to help me move some equipment I would need. I told them to stand by for now, but would probably need them within the next few days..

The next day I parked a couple blocks from Lacy’s office building and walked around the neighborhood. People who saw me might have thought that I had lost something because I was walking with my head down, carefully scanning the pavement as I walked. I found what I was looking for in the alleyway behind the building.

I approached the man in the alley who was leaning back against the building smoking a cigarette and said brusquely, “You bypassed security to get out here and back in, and you did that just to satisfy your nicotine addiction.”

He looked up at me with surprise and then anger. His hand moved reflexively toward what was undoubtedly a shoulder holster. “I could get your ass fired,” I said firmly, “or you can answer a question for me and I will forget all about this.”

I held up a business card. It was blank except for a large embossed W printed in black on one side. “Take this to Senior Agent Lacy McGrath and ask her one question, ‘Can I trust this man?’ then come back here.”

He stood looking at me for a moment and then dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed it with his foot. Saying nothing, he took the card from my hand, turned, and walked a few steps toward a solid, gray, double door in the back wall of the office building. About five minutes later, he returned and stood in front of me.

“What did she say?” I asked.

“With my life… and hers,” he answered firmly, looking me carefully up and down. “What do you need to know?”

“I need to know exactly how you get in and out of what is supposed to be an ultra-secure federal building without going through security,” I said, “and how long you have been doing it.”

It was laughingly simple. There were no regular doors or windows on the back side of the lower two floors so no security cameras faced in that direction. The block-long building was L-shaped, so the alley behind it was effectively off-set from both ends to go around the building. A security camera pointed down the alley from each end, but nothing covered the sidestep in the middle. And in the middle of that sidestep was an access door to the boiler room. There was supposed to be an alarm which sounded if the panic bar was pressed, but there was a “service switch” above the opening so the door could be opened to load or unload supplies for the boiler room. Even worse, if you opened the door with a key from the outside, it didn’t trigger any alarms or notifications at all on the main security desk.

“Day after tomorrow,” I said, “you are going to go back to your boss and report a serious security deficiency in this building.” I smiled and added, “You might even get a commendation in your file for your due diligence.”

“Thank you…” he stuttered.

“That’s my name on the card,” I said. “I’m known as W. What’s your name?”

“Harold Simmons,” he said as he automatically handed me his card. “Special Agent Harold Simmons,” he added straightening up to his full height.

“We may work together again,” I said. As I turned to walk away, I called back over my shoulder, “And you need to find a new place to smoke your cigarettes.”

“I think I just quit,” he answered as he stepped back into the building through the boiler room door.

***

The next morning a small van pulled up to the door in the alleyway. The large magnetic signs on the side of the van said, “AAA Boiler and HVAC Service.” All the rental agencies have vans available for the day, week, or month. Magnetic signs are cheap and easy to get on short notice.

It only took a moment to unlock the door and start bringing equipment into the boiler room. Shortly before noon, I called Lacy on the burner phone.

“As soon as we hang up,” I said, “you are going to announce a security sweep of the building. All personnel are to leave through the security stations. Tell them that security will search them on the way out and then sweep the building for contraband.”

“O… K,” she answered. It was obvious she wasn’t sure what I was up to, but a few moments later I could hear her voice over the PA speakers in the building announcing the security sweep. It was shortly afterwards that I heard the soft squeaking of the internal door to the boiler room being opened. That’s the problem with heavy fire-retardant doors, they almost always squeak.

From the sound of the footsteps, it was a woman walking rapidly through the boiler room. I waited for her to get to the middle of the room and then stepped out of the shadows. She gasped in surprise and I said flatly, “It must be very difficult to get in and out of a high-security building daily with a metal collar around your neck.”

She turned and tried to run, but two of the men with me grabbed her by the arms and held her as she struggled and screamed, “Let me go. Let me go! He will kill me!”

“He will try,” I said firmly, “but right now you are in the middle of a suppression field and he currently doesn’t have control of the Kollar.”

“That doesn’t make any difference,” she nearly screamed. “It’s automatic…”

“I know, I know,” I said, trying to sound comforting. “I know we have only ten minutes to open the new Kollar once we get you into a suppression field. I also know that multiple orgasms won’t open the new Kollars. That takes the right sequence of seven tones transmitted on the proper frequency.” I grimaced and said tightly, “And I only have five chances to get the tones right.”

She was whimpering softly and practically vibrating as I held a metal tube up to the collar and said, “Let’s see if our magic wizards are as good as yours.”

The woman continued to whimper and struggle as the tube hummed and vibrated. Then suddenly a small black dot appeared on the front of the collar next to the almost invisible seam. I immediately reached up and pulled outward on the collar. It opened in my hands and I quickly pulled it from her neck. One of my men was holding a heavily-shielded metal container into which I dropped the Kollar. He immediately closed the lid and secured it. I turned my attention back to the young woman.

“You are?” I asked once she realized the Kollar was gone and had stopped struggling.

“Sylvia Patterson,” she replied, still very shaken and afraid. “I am… I was… an executive assistant to the director of the task force.”

I looked carefully at the woman. She was in her mid-thirties and more than a little overweight. The ruffled collar and scarf fit in with her rather frumpy clothing. The Master of the Kollar had chosen well. There were probably only one or two people in the entire building who could conceal a Kollar in their clothing.

“What have you done?” I asked softly.

“Nothing,” she replied. “Nothing!” she repeated, her voice getting higher and more frantic. “… not at work. I didn’t tell anyone about Ramon and Julia. I didn’t know anything. There wasn’t anything to tell. He…” pointing to her neck. “He kept making me do nasty things at home, but hasn’t demanded anything of me at work.” She slumped her shoulders and said softly, “He said I was his pawn in reserve… whatever that means.”

She was crying now. “I kept waiting for him to force me to betray my friends,” she sobbed, “… or for him to trigger the collar,” she sobbed again, “… or for something like this to happen.”

Sylvia sniffled and then fell silent as she looked down at the steel box into which I had placed the Kollar. After a moment she asked, “What now?”

“You’re dead,” I said flatly. “After an unsuccessful attempt to free you from the Volkov Kollar, you were horribly murdered.” I turned her so she could look at me and I could look directly into her eyes. “You will be taken into witness protection by federal marshals in another state. You will disappear until the Master of the Kollar is caught. If what you have told me is true, I doubt that there will be any charges.”

She gave me a very weak smile and said, “I don’t care if there are. I’m alive. I never expected to get out of this alive.”

It took a few minutes for me and my three helpers to dismantle the suppression equipment and store it in the van. Then they and I… and Sylvia… got into the van and drove away. Once we were several blocks from the building, I called Lacy on her regular phone. “I think we found one of your moles,” I said quietly, “Sylvia Patterson.”

There was a slight gasp on the other end of the line. “We tried to remove the Kollar,” I continued, “but failed.” I could hear a deep moaning groan from Lacy. “I will take care of her body,” I said.,“but you need to do a very thorough sweep for electronic devices in case she planted something.”

Lacy sounded very shaken as she answered, “Understood.” Losing another agent or support person under her had to be hard, but I couldn’t tell her the truth. Sylvia’s life depended upon everyone– including Lacy– thinking that she was already dead.

I hung up and then sent a short text to Boris. All I said was, “It worked.”

I probably should have congratulated Boris for having already found Volkov’s plans for an improved version of his Kollar on the dark web, but I wasn’t feeling victorious. We had kicked the hornet’s nest really hard, but we still didn’t know who was actually calling the shots. Just after sunset the alarms on my access road triggered. I didn’t wait for it to get to the house. The vehicle was barely off the highway and onto my road when I lit up the night with my intruder lights.

Whoever was driving must have been expecting it because they kept a steady pace up to the turnaround. As they turned, the back door came open and another naked female was launched out onto my front yard. I was waiting with my gun drawn when she staggered up to my door.

She said nothing. Instead the collar spoke for her as she held out her hand with a jump drive in it. “You can keep her in your special bedroom for the time being,” the Kollar said. “But you have to watch the video with her within the next fifteen minutes or I will trigger the Kollar.”

A more mechanical, but no less tinny voice from the Kollar said, “Connected to partyguest,” and I signaled for the woman to step inside. I gave her a glass of water and had her sit at the kitchen table while I stuck the jumpdrive into a terminal on the counter. In a few moments a monitor on the wall showed the woman slowly removing a police uniform and stepping over to a bed. Obviously, whoever the Master of the Kollar was, he or she had a real hatred for the police.

“Make it look real,” a disguised voice said from the shadows and the naked officer looked in the direction of the camera and said, “I need you to fuck me. All of you.” Her whole body was trembling with fright. I wondered if they had shown her the earlier videos.

“You don’t sound like you really want it,” the voice said. “Look right into the camera and beg for it.”

Her lower lip trembled, but she tried to make her voice sound sexy as she said, “Please fuck me. I need you to fuck me. All of you.”

There was soft laughter from the disguised voice as the first man pushed her down on the bed, lay between her legs, and forced himself inside. It was obvious from his efforts that she was dry and not ready for him. He pumped rapidly for a few minutes and then slammed himself hard into her crotch. The next man leaned in close and said something to her before entering her, also pumping rapidly. Four more men joined the train before the seventh turned her over onto her hands and knees so he could position himself at her face. He held her head and forced her up and down on his cock. Two more men fucked her face, leaving her kneeling on the bed looking slimy and in shock.

“Stay on your hands and knees,” the disguised voice said and a woman in an abbreviated catsuit stepped into the picture. She was wearing what appeared to be a shiny black, vinyl, one-piece swimsuit with a rather impressive strap-on attached at the crotch. A matching mask covered most of her face, but left the mouth and chin exposed. She looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place her.

“Beg me to fuck your ass,” the voice said and the naked officer stammered out slowly, “Please, fuck me in the ass.”

“Make it sound like you mean it or your head goes back in a box,” the voice commanded and the officer’s voice broke. Choking back sobs, she said rapidly, “Please, please, fuck me in the ass.”

“Since you ask so nicely…” the voice said. Even electronically altered, the sarcastic, mockingly sweet tone of a true sadist was clearly evident. The woman stepped forward and began pushing the dildo into the officer’s ass. Except for a few quiet yelps and sobs, the officer remained silent throughout the thorough ass-fucking.

When the woman with the strap-on pulled out, the video ended. By then the Kollared officer in my kitchen was fast asleep.

“I gave her a sedative,” I said to the Kollar. “This is between us. Talk to me. What do you want from me?”

The high-pitched tinny laugh from the Kollar was slightly unsettling. “You are predictably unpredictable, W,” the Kollar said. “I expected you to try your suppression field or something to interfere with my control of Officer Zucker, but I didn’t expect you to suppress her. I will just have to wait until the sedative wears off. We will talk again shortly.”

I carried Officer Zucker to the bedroom and placed her in the bed. Then I shut off all of the lights and closed the door. Once in my bedroom, I sent a quick message to Boris, “Need Buster NOW!”

Within a few moments a reply said, “Two hours. White Honda. Open garage doors.”

Two hours and seven minutes later my road alarms again went off. A white Honda had left the main highway at a high rate of speed and was traveling toward the house without lights. I kept the lights off and waited until he was just short of the house to open the garage doors. I don’t know how he stopped without retro-rockets, but the car somehow did not smash into the back wall of the garage. As soon as it had stopped, an extremely thin young man stepped out of the car holding what appeared to be the torso and neck of a test dummy.

“We have to work in silence and without lights,” I said in a loud whisper as we stepped into the kitchen. Boris reached up and pulled his night vision scope back into place. Officer Zucker was stirring slightly, but was still deep in sleep.

“Suppression field on now,” I said tensely, hoping that we were not triggering the Kollar. Nothing happened and Boris held a short tube up against the Kollar.

“Detecting clock frequency,” he said calmly as the device hummed. When the hum changed slightly he added, “Sending trigger burst.”

The shiny dot next to the latch turned from silver to black and I quickly pulled the Kollar from the officer’s neck. Once it was in place on the test dummy, Boris again held the device against the Kollar so it would send a clock frequency trigger burst. The shiny dot turned back to silver. Boris and I spent less than a minute strapping the short portion of the test dummy to Officer Zucker’s front. He noted with satisfaction that the officer’s breasts fit nicely into the cavities designed for them on the back of the dummy. Once he had double-checked everything and nodded to me that all was good, I deactivated the suppression field.

As soon as we got back to the kitchen, Boris said in a whisper, “We have to talk.”

He remained silent as we walked to my bedroom and put it in saferoom mode. Then he said slowly, “I ran my special body recognition software on Agent Carter.”

He stood silently looking at me until I said, “And?”

“The Agent Carter,” he said slowly, “that joined the Killer Kollar Task Force is not the same Agent Carter who was at the Las Vegas FBI office.” He paused and moved his mouth like he was chewing for a moment and then added, “The woman who was fucking herself with that giant dildo, however, is the Agent Carter from Las Vegas.”

“So the video is a fake,” I said almost angrily.

“Not a fake,” Boris said. “They just switched women between the closeup image of her face and the scene with the dildo. They might even be from different times, but they are very real.” He waited a moment to see if I would say anything and then continued, “In any case, the woman with Ramon is not Agent Carter. I think that’s what he figured out, and I’m sure that’s what he meant about it not happening when they ordered him to fuck her in the ass. He knew she wasn’t the real Carter, so he knew he was already a dead man.”

“So who is she?” I asked and Boris held up his phone. There was a smiling couple on the screen.

“Recognize them?” he asked. “I don’t have a name. It took awhile for my programs to locate them because they don’t have many images on the web– light or dark– but that’s her.”

“Bonnie and Clyde,” I answered flatly. “I’m not sure if I ever knew their real first names, but their last name is Barrow.” I chuckled rather hollowly and said, “I was instrumental in getting Master and Mistress Barrow banned from The Society for refusing to honor safewords… among other things.”

I looked again at the image on Boris’ phone and said, “I often referred to them using the names of the infamous leaders of the Barrow gang from the 1920s because, like them, he was a sadist and she was a psycho.”

“Probably not the correct medical diagnosis,” Boris said, “but close enough. … And look at this.”

He again held up his phone. This time the image was a closeup screen capture of what I had originally thought was the face of Agent Carter. “Notice anything about the Kollar?” he asked softly.

“Son of a bitch!” I said angrily. “I should have caught that.”

“It only appears in a couple of frames,” Boris said, “and you weren’t looking for it. That black dot is practically invisible unless you look really close.”

“So Bonnie and Clyde are the Masters of the Kollar?” I said firmly.

“And they have built version two of the Volkov Kollars,” Boris said. “Let’s just hope they don’t find someone who actually knows what they are doing and come up with Volkov Kollar version Three.”

He stepped into the garage. “Now that you know who you’re looking for,” he said quietly, “I’ll get out of here before Big Brother gets too interested in me.”

“I owe you,” I said as he hurried back to his car.

“I will send you a bill,” he answered as he pulled his night vision goggles back into place and sped off into the night.

I texted Tyrone a link to a YouTube video of Lester Flatt and Earl Skruggs singing “The Story of Bonnie and Clyde.” It was the theme song from a movie of the same name from the 1960s. Hopefully an electronic sniffer wouldn’t understand the meaning of the link… and just as hopefully Tyrone would.

I was about to call Lacy when a text came in on my personal phone. In all caps it said, “GO TO THE BEDROOM.”

As I walked into the room, the now familiar voice from the Kollar said, “I think it’s time you wake up Officer Zucker… and don’t tell me you can’t. I would hate to kill her in her sleep before she has the chance to look deeply into your eyes.”

I turned the lights on and said, “I’ll have to give her a stimulant.” As I walked around the bed, I added, “It’s a nasal spray, so I have to stand above her to do it right.”

It was a little tricky holding the little spray bottle and the four by six card with a written message on it at the same time. It was even trickier since I wasn’t sure how far up the camera on the Kollar could see and had to hold the card so the officer could see it, but hopefully the Kollar couldn’t. The message on the card said, “Kollar moved to dummy on your chest. You need to act like it is still on you. Can you do that?”

It took a moment for Officer Zucker to come fully awake and a short time for her to recognize her current situation. She rolled her eyes up at me and then nodded her head.

I walked back around to the bottom of the bed and said, “OK, she’s awake. Now what?”

“Now you fuck her, W,” the Kollar answered. “And I want you to look deeply into her eyes as you do.”

I looked up at the officer. Her lips were pressed tightly together, but she again nodded her head yes.

I said nothing, but lightly stroked her face while I ran my fingers slowly up the inside of her legs toward her slit. Under other circumstances, this might have been an enjoyable encounter. It was somewhat awkward to mount her with the strange dummy mounted on her chest. I’m not sure exactly what the sadist and psycho on the other end of the Kollar were looking for, but I brought my face close to the Kollar and stared directly into the lense of the camera.

I was right at the entrance to her cunt and nature was taking its course. I was rock hard despite the circumstances. I looked once more up into her eyes and she again nodded her head. They say there is no such thing as bad sex, but I now can point to something proving that to be false. It was far from enjoyable for either of us. After I had pumped for what I considered to be an appropriate amount of time, I thrust really hard into her and grunted loudly. I guess I also can no longer say that I’ve never faked an orgasm.

She gave a short, cut-off scream as blood suddenly spurted all over both of us. The Kollar had activated and severed the neck of the dummy. Boris is very authentic. The red fluid which pumped briefly from the severed plastic neck had the look… and feel… and smell… of real blood. At least I assumed it was a synthetic of some sort. Maybe Boris had gone old school and used real blood in his creation.

Officer Zucker’s eyes were wide with terror and her entire body was vibrating in fear, but she somehow remained silent. I grabbed the Kollar off the dummy and stormed back into the kitchen where I threw it down on the counter.

“I will get you, you son of a bitch,” I screamed at the Kollar. Normally I don’t let my anger– or any emotion– show, but I needed them to think that they had actually killed the officer.

“I had hoped that this demonstration would be enough to get you to back off,” the Kollar said. “But it looks like we will have to use a more… interesting subject.”

I walked over to the table where I had a steel containment carrier sitting. “Fuck you!” I said loudly as I dropped the Kollar into the container and closed the lid. When I turned, Officer Zucker was standing in the doorway. She had removed the dummy, leaving a very interesting-looking blood pattern on her bare skin.

“You are safe here in these two rooms,” I said firmly, “and there’s a shower in the bathroom.” I opened a drawer and tossed her a burner phone. “Don’t leave these rooms until I come back,” I ordered. “But if I don’t come back in two days, call whoever you need to call for rescue.”

She looked like she would survive, so I left her standing there and went to my bedroom to call Lacy to let her know that the shit was about to hit the fan.

“Hello, dear,” she answered. Her voice was unusually calm and sounded somewhat unsure or flustered. “You’ve caught me at a bad moment,” she continued. “Could I call you right back? It will be on this number so you’ll know it’s me.”

“Understood,” I said. Lacy was many things, but sloppy was not one of them. Regardless of what was going on at the moment, she would have remembered that I told her to use the burner phone to contact me or not at all. To be exact, I said, “If you contact me on anything else I will assume you are compromised.”

“I will be awaiting your call,” I said calmly… or at least as calmly as I could. Then I said quietly, “Marco…”

She answered, “Polo,” and closed off the connection. She had just confirmed that she wasn’t being sloppy.

It was actually almost five minutes before she called me back. As soon as I answered, she said, “Sorry about the interruption, but I’ve been going over some things here at home. I think I’ve discovered something important. I know it’s awfully late, but why don’t you come over here and we can see where it leads?”

“I hate driving all the way into the city at this time of night,” I replied.

“Maybe you can just stay over after we get done,” she said with a laugh.

I matched her laugh and said, “I’ll be there in about an hour.”

It actually took me closer to ninety minutes to get to her apartment. If I had really pushed it, I might have been able to make it in less that an hour, but I had a lot to think about and wasn’t in a particular hurry. I parked in the car park below her apartment and took the elevator to the fourteenth floor. My Glock was in my hand as the elevator door opened.

There is a reason that I usually never take an elevator. Just as the doors opened four black blurs snaked through the small opening. Two of the blurs twanged against the side and back walls of the elevator. Two however, struck home– one in my chest and one in my leg. My mind was saying “Pull the trigger! Pull the trigger!” but my muscles were under the control of the high voltage pulses of the military-grade tactical tasers. My world faded into darkness long before the elevator doors were fully open.

I could tell several things as I slowly came to. One, I was naked… except for a Volkov Kollar around my neck. Two, I was lying in Lacy’s lap on the floor. Three, she was also naked… and also wearing a Volkov Kollar. And four, from the almost darkness, we were in a closet or some other small interior room with no light except what was filtering in around the door. I tried not to move my body or otherwise indicate that I was awake as I slowly brought my arm up and put my hand over Lacy’s mouth. I then brought my arm back down and lay back limp across her. I hoped she had gotten my message.

I’m not really sure what I was expecting her to do, but Lacy is very inventive. “Please, wake up,” she whispered loudly. “If you don’t wake up soon, they might kill us both.”

She continued that sort of desperate pleading while I slowly got up and checked our surroundings. I did a couple other things that I was glad she had no way of seeing in the darkness and then lowered myself back onto her lap before pretending to awaken.

“What the hell happened?” I said loudly and tried to jump to my feet. I staggered against the wall and then pounded on the door with my fist. “Let us out of here!” I shouted.

“If you insist,” a female voice said as the door opened slightly. “But before I let you out,” she continued, “I really must tell you that if you try to jump one of us, the other one will trigger your Kollar.”

When the door opened Mistress Barrow was standing there. She was wearing a rather nicely-tailored suit with a Volkov Kollar around her neck. She smiled at me and said, “Poor gullible Agent McGrath thought I had escaped.” Her voice turned very harsh as she added, “… as if anyone could escape these Kollars.” She then reached up and opened the Kollar that was around her neck.

Lacy reacted in surprise. I stood with my arms at my sides, my fists tightly clenched.

“Ramon wasn’t so gullible,” she said in a mocking tone. “He actually sent my fingerprints down to LA. We were able to change the prints in the national database, but the hard copy for my… for Agent Carter’s firearms permit was on file there. If he hadn’t given me a chance to explain myself, he would still be alive today.”

“Luckily I can move very silently,” a suave male voice said from the shadows. A moment later Master Barrow stepped out to join his wife.

“Why are we still alive?” I asked, looking directly at him.

“Because I rather enjoy watching people suffer,” he said coldly. “And I enjoy watching people do things to each other that they really don’t want to do.” He laughed. The laugh was as cold as… or colder than… his voice. Then he added, “I especially enjoy watching people suffer who have caused us so much trouble… like Senior Agent McGrath… and you, W.”

I glared at him silently.

“The cameras are running,” Mistress Barrow said brightly. “So, I’m going to give you the same chance David gave Ramon.” Clyde’s name was evidently actually David Barrow.

She then smiled widely and said, “W, I think the head of the FBI would like to see you fuck Senior Agent McGrath in the ass.”

Lacy looked up at me and I said softly, “Marco…” She looked confused for a moment, but then got down on her hands and knees. I spit between her asscheeks several times to provide some lubrication and then knelt down behind her. Getting it up on command isn’t an easy thing, especially when you are about to hurt someone you respect, but nature takes over when the mind isn’t willing and soon I was erect enough to press against her rosebud.

I tried to be slow and gentle, but Clyde– David Barrow– said, “I am going to count to five. If you aren’t balls deep by five, Sharon will trigger your Kollar… or her Kollar” He laughed and said, “… or perhaps both of your Kollars.”

David and Sharon Barrow. I would have to remember their proper names for the trial… if there ever was one.

David’s voice said, “Four,” and Lacy pushed back against me hard, burying me fully within her. I reached up and put my hands on her shoulders and then on her neck. I gave a low moan to hide the very soft humming that was coming from my hand. Then I pinched her neck… hard. She screamed in surprise. The scream was short, but loud enough to mask the thunk of the metal cylinder hitting the floor. I brought my hands down to her hips and began slowly thrusting inside of her.

“Make it look like you are enjoying it,” Sharon said harshly and Lacy started moaning.

I also started moaning softly and then said loudly, “Yes, Yes, Go, Go. Both of us are free. Go, Go.”

All four of the big windows in the living room dissolved as sniper rounds slammed into David and Sharon. A loud blast tore through the apartment as the front door blew off its hinges and SWAT team members with bright yellow FBI identifiers on their chests swarmed into the room.

I slowly pulled out of Lacy and stood up. She remained on the floor as Special Agent Harold Simmons rushed forward and placed a blanket over her. Another agent handed a blanket to me and said, “Sorry about…” His voice sort of trailed off and I chuckled.

“Don’t worry, agent,” I said, tilting my head. “I’ve been caught in a lot worse situations by police who weren’t there to rescue me.”

He gave me a strange look and answered, “OK… sir… I guess.”

Lacy was now standing next to me, holding the blanket tightly around herself. “Are they alive?” she asked.

“All four were leg shots,” Harold answered stiffly. “They should live.”

I turned to Lacy and said, “I don’t think I need to tell you that they need to be held absolutely incommunicado. They cannot give anyone an order to trigger the Kollars. You can’t even announce that arrests were made. We have no idea how many slaves they have under their control.”

Agent Simmons turned to me and said, “We planned for this, sir. Senior Agent McGrath gave orders covering this situation.” He suddenly blushed and stammered out, “Well, not exactly this situation, but what the procedure was to be when we captured the Master of the Kollar.” He looked around at the glass covering everything and said, “This will be on the news as a… gas explosion… or something like that.”

“Ready to transport,” one of the medics said.

“Wait a moment,” I said firmly. Then I reached up and pulled open the Kollar around my neck. I walked over to the Gurney with Master Barrow on it and placed the Kollar around his neck. Then I pulled the Kollar off of Lacy’s neck and placed it on Sharon’s.

“How… how…” Lacy sputtered as I walked over to where she had been kneeling. I reached under the end table and brought out a small cylinder. I held it against each of the Kollars and the black dots disappeared indicating that the Kollars were now locked.

“Bonnie and Clyde there,” I said derisively, “or whoever they hired to upgrade the Kollars didn’t really understand the mad Russian’s plans… probably because they were old plans and he used the technology of his time. He intended the trigger code to be six tones and used the best digital tone filters available. But back in those days, such filters would also trigger if you hit them with the clock frequency of the computer. So, you always put an additional filter in the lock tuned to something really strange or to nothing at all. If it were triggering, then it was the clock frequency messing things up and the lock didn’t activate.”

I held up the cylinder, “Boris figured out that all seven filters were set to trigger codes. That meant that hitting the Kollar with the clock frequency would open it.”

Lacy looked at the small device in my hand and said, “But… but… they stripped you. You were naked. How… how… did you sneak that in here?”

“Senior Agent McGrath,” I said with a smile, “there are some things that you really don’t want to know.”

“Oh,” she said. “Oh!” she repeated and began to turn red.

“Why don’t you pack some clothes and whatever you need,” I said, “and I will take you out to my place until they repair your apartment. Some of your people need to come out there anyway to pick up an Officer Zucker who was delivered to my front lawn earlier tonight.”

I smiled at her and said, “I’m not sure what police department she’s with, but someone with a lot of practice in obfuscation needs to recommend her for a commendation without saying exactly what it was she did… or was done to her.”

Lacy looked around at the various officers and agents and said, “I have a feeling there are a whole slew of commendations that are going to have to be very vaguely worded.”

Her apartment was repaired in two weeks. She stayed at my place for three months. In that time a total of sixty-three additional slaves were rescued from Volkov Kollars world wide. Officer Zucker received her sergeant’s stripes and now works with victims of sex trafficking. Boris set a bot loose on the web that tracks down and deletes any files containing information on Volkov or his marvelous slave Kollars. Bonnie and Clyde never went to trial, at least not a public one. The official reports say that they were killed in the rescue attempt at Lacy’s apartment. The unofficial reports say that they were tried in secret and handed over to an international organization that specializes in their sort of crimes. I understand that Tyrone ordered that their deactivated Kollars remain in place as they serve out their life sentences at the island prison run by The Society. It is a well-run place, and no one is mistreated there, but they will absolutely be there for the rest of their lives. The members of The Society, perhaps more than many others, know that certain people can never be allowed free in this world.

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END OF STORY

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