*****************************8
Abby swung her pigtails around when her computer dinged. Since morning, she had been blissfully working her way through pages of internet documents that McGee and Ziva had found on Ms. Chantal Payne. THE Chantal Payne. The woman who could bring down the most powerful men in the most powerful cities in the world, and had done so—many times. Needless to say, there were massive amounts of data on the woman, which is why Abby had been working non-stop for most of the day.
Alternative music blared in the background as she clicked and rolled the ball of her mouse, wondering which file had produced the match. Her brows knitted together at the images she saw. These weren't exactly the pictures of a sweet southern bell from Savannah, Georgia.
She scoured the page for the source of the match. It had come from an arrest record of Chantal's dating back to 2003. The state versus Chantal Payne, but it had never gone to trial and based on the lack of paper trail, it looked like the records in the case had been buried deep.
She went back to the images, clicking through each one, studying them. Even the most gothic friend she knew didn't have half the paraphernalia she saw in these pictures. It made her uncomfortable, and it didn't help matters that the sun had set hours ago.
"Abby," McGee said, sliding into the room with purpose, "have you finished going through those files yet? Gibbs is going to want answers."
She just looked at him.
He looked past her at the images on the monitor and made a face. "What's that?"
"That, McGee, is what is commonly referred to as an S&M chamber."
"Abby?" Ziva said, unaware her entrance was interrupting anything, "did you get the files I sent?"
She looked at her.
Ziva looked past the pigtails and asked, "What is that?"
Before either could answer, Gibbs entered, "What'd'ya got for me, Abs?"
"I have a 'Wow!', or I have an 'Eww!', it just depends on your point of view. I pulled these images off a sealed 2003 arrest record for Chantal Payne. From the notes, it appears our very powerful and very rich Ms. Payne is also into sadism and masochism."
He only slightly tilted his head at the information. "That might explain why she was able to take down some of the most powerful men in the country."
Abby shrugged, "Welcome to the world of S&M. This is an exclusive club, Gibbs, and not many people ever get to experience it, let alone see it. It's a world of dominants and submissives, and it can be a very dangerous place."
Gibbs studied the large screen as she flipped through photo after photo of harnesses, chains, whips, and beds.
"Who does this sort of thing?" Ziva asked.
"You'd be surprised. It could be your neighbor, a pastor, a rabbi, a teacher, even your run of the mill everyday housewife. From what I've learned, it's difficult to break away once you've been indoctrinated. And, get this, it's never forced on anyone, it's completely voluntary."
Ducky entered, unaware of the subject at hand, and looked at the plasma. "What in God's name is that?"
"That is a harness, and that is a branding iron, used by masochists who can't distinguish between pain and pleasure."
Gibbs looked away, his brain going down roads it shouldn't be. "So how does this connect to DiNozzo?"
Abby, Ziva and McGee stared at him, taken off guard by the question.
Frustrated, Gibbs faced them and opened his palms, "Well? Chantal Payne specifically selected DiNozzo to guard her. Why? Why him? She could have had any man from two agencies, yet she wanted him, and only him. In fact, she insisted that DiNozzo be her protection, her only protection, or she wouldn't testify. I want to know why."
Abby looked at Ziva and McGee waiting for someone to offer an explanation, but when they looked at each other, she knew they had nothing. Hesitantly, she ventured, "Because he's really handsome?"
Gibbs shook his head, "A woman like Chantal Payne can have anyone."
There was a brief period of silence before Ziva felt compelled to voice what she knew McGee was also thinking, "Maybe Tony is into S&M and she knows that somehow?"
"Tony?" Abby said, not believing it. "No way," she said, confident that her boy wasn't into any type of deviant behaviors. "I'd know if he were." She looked at her colleagues, all staring at her and then had second thoughts. Backing out of her statement, she admitted, "At least, I think I'd know."
Ziva reluctantly supported her claim, "You said it could be anyone. A teacher, a housewife, a rabbi. Why not a federal agent?"
"I don't believe it," McGee said, trying hard to convince himself. "Tony shares more information about his sex life than anyone I know. If he were doing these kinds of things, something would have slipped about it by now." His argument would have been more plausible if he had presented it less like a question.
"Duck," Gibbs said, turning his attention to the medical examiner, "profile someone who does this sort of thing."
"Well," Ducky began, "from what I understand, this defiant behavior involves a great deal of pain to enhance the sexual experience. The person who inflicts the pain is called a dominate. That person may have experienced sexual abuse as a child, or some form of neglect. As for personality traits, usually he or she is the quiet type, commanding, quite successful, and has a need to overachieve in everything, from simple tasks to complex endeavors. This person never settles for seconds."
"That doesn't exactly fit the profile of Tony," McGee said. "We all know he turned down Rota."
"And he is anything but quiet."
Gibbs' brain raced as he was trying to connect the dots between his senior agent and his key witness. "What about the other person, the one who receives the pain?"
Ducky continued, "Well, the person who is the dominate selects another person, usually of the opposite sex, and usually much younger. That person basically submits willingly to anything the dominate wants. It usually involves periods of excruciating pain followed by intense sexual pleasure. That person may have lived a completely normal life, but the important thing to note is that that person was specifically chosen by the dominant to become a submissive. As for personality traits, the submissive would most likely have commitment issues, definitely authority issues, be a master at deflection, and as adept at talking as he or she is at steering conversations where only he or she wants them to go. In other words, if there is something he doesn't want to talk about, he simply changes the subject with ease and fluidity."
"Cue: subject change," McGee mumbled, more as a reminder of Tony's slick ability than anything else.
The obvious thoughts hung in the air as that profile seemed to fit their friend perfectly.
"That's why she wanted Tony," Gibbs said as he put it all together. "C'mon! Let's go!"
**************************************8
He woke up with a start. His mind was trying to meld together everything at once. He lifted himself off the bed and found his weapon, and then found her. "Are you okay?"
She smiled lazily. "Of course I'm okay, but I can't say the same about you." She had spent the afternoon watching him suffer through nightmare after nightmare. He may have been sleeping but he certainly wasn't getting any rest.
He ran a hand over his face and head and shook out some of the cobwebs. The house seemed secure, she appeared okay, and he was no worse for wear, albeit a little fuzzy headed and definitely out of sync with life. He went to the sink and got a glass of water.
Feeling better, he used the bathroom and returned to the small living space of the house. But her presence next to him did something to him. She made him feel weak and pathetic. With just one simple look, she could make him feel less than what he was; make him forget why he was there; make him not care.
He noticed Chantal was staring at him and asked, "Have you eaten? Are you hungry?"
"Yes, I've eaten, and no, I'm not hungry."
He nodded, feeling uncomfortable under her gaze. He shouldn't be near her right now. He recognized the signals; he recognized how he'd felt and what it was going to mean later. He finally mumbled, "I shouldn't be here."
She moved closer and let her fingers lightly caress his back. "You should be here. I need protecting." She was a master manipulator and he knew this, but he was having a difficult time separating the segments of his life and they began melding in on one another. "We have all night together, Agent DiNozzo."
The idea of what was coming mystified him, just like it used to mystify him years ago. Her voice and her aroma toyed with his head, just like it used to.
"Enough!" he said, pushing her away. "I'm assigned to protect you. And that's all!"
She glided around the small space, doing what she used to do. Hanna led him over to the shackles, explaining his role in this newfound fantasy world he was in. She teased him with touches and soon he was intoxicated by the idea of what she was saying. Goodbye sixteen, your world just changed. But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks to months, he had discovered that there were so many things he didn't want to do. So many times he wanted to walk away. He learned quickly that this was a lifestyle that wasn't what is seemed, but he also learned that it was something you didn't leave. You couldn't leave. It grabbed hold of you and wrapped its tentacles so tightly around your body that breathing felt impossible, let alone escaping.
"You want it," she said, "I can see it in your eyes. I saw it the first time I met you. I saw it when you interrogated me. We understand each other. I've been the dominant for so long now that all I want is to be the submissive for once. I want someone I can trust, someone who understands what it's like. Someone like you, Anthony. I'm yours to do whatever you want—"
In two strides, he went to her, kissing her hard, feeling the overwhelming urge to control; a new role for him. He'd never been the stronger one, the powerful one, the dominant. She had never let him be the dominant. She had always said it was too dangerous. He could only be a submissive—she had never allowed him to be anything more. She said he had to perfect his role in order to experience more.
She returned the passion, knocking over a lamp and shattering it. Clothes started coming off.
But wait; that's not how it's done. She was right. I'm not ready for this.
"You're doing fine, Anthony. It's time you took control. It's time you learned the power you have. It's time to dominate someone who wants to be dominated!"
He grabbed a handful of hair and pulled, forcing her head back so she had no choice but to look up into his eyes. She was everything he had ever dreamed in a submissive. She was willing, able, and completely knowledgeable of what was going to happen. Most importantly, she wasn't afraid.
One night it was the shackles, the next, it was the harness. There were many sessions with whips and chains, but few hurt as much as The Chair. There were hours of torture for just minutes of pleasure. And she didn't play by the rules. He had wanted to stop, but she didn't let him. She threatened him with lies to keep him shackled to her even when they were miles apart. He stopped enjoying it, realizing he'd never enjoyed it, but she gave him few choices. He was always reminded who was the dominant and who was the submissive.
Her eyes were begging for him to begin, to control her, to force himself on her so she could struggle, in vain of course, but struggle so that when the moment of climax came, the intensity would be far greater than any agony he could inflict.
He looked into her eyes, those very eyes that became his. Begging to be let go, released from the perversions she had so expertly inflicted on him. The feelings and emotions of one particular night washed over him, and he froze in the moment. It was then at that very moment when he finally realized that he had to escape this lifestyle, that it had never been worth the pain and suffering and humiliation that he had been made to endure.
But he didn't know how. She had scrambled his head so profoundly, twisted his most basic instinct into some perverse and abnormal behavior, until finally she had done the worst sin a dominant could ever do: turning a deaf ear to his pleas. He wouldn't allow that uneasy feeling to dissolve and he fought to control it until something in his head switched on, and like a spotlight, his vision cleared and he saw her. More importantly, he saw himself controlling another human in a way that should never, ever, be done.
He pushed her away, dizzy from the encounter, his brain fighting hard to regain his senses and suppress the urges that she had conditioned him to feel so long ago.
Dismayed, Chantal furrowed her brow, studying her victim. "What's wrong, darling? Are you looking for tools of our trade? I have only a few that I was able to bring, but there will be more later."
He ignored her, trying to focus on the chair, the picture, his boss, anything that would give him strength to fight this woman and her deviant ways.
Beginning to understand the extent of her rejection, she furrowed her brow refusing to accept her fate. She watched him stumble as the reality began to dawn on her that he was having a change of heart, and that her dream may never be realized. Coaxing him back, she reached for him again, "Come back, baby. I know we can make this work. I know that you remember how fantastic it feels."
But he pulled away, her hand like a hot iron on his skin.
"You can't stop," she toned, her anger building. "You can't turn it off just like that! I've waited years for this, finding the perfect man to fulfill my desires!"
He staggered backwards, still under the spell of Hanna, still trying to break away from a lifestyle that no one should ever experience. He couldn't face her because he didn't trust himself. Her pull was intense and if given the opportunity, she would consume him with her deviant ways. She gave him no choice but to run. He made it outside, into the cold night air, stumbling down the steps and onto the cold hard ground.
"This isn't about you!" she shouted. "I hand-picked you from hundreds of men!"
His head was pounding and he heard her yelling at him in the distance, but he kept moving until he finally sunk to the ground covering his ears and blocking out her screams.
He couldn't take the shouting anymore, and it was always his own voice. She never stopped when he said the safe word, she was too far into her own fantasy to hear him. The crushing blows he endured combined with the bright lights and the physically impossible contortions became too much, but she had never let him leave.
The hand on his back just meant more pain to come. Just like her, she followed him. She always came for him. "Get away from me!" he demanded and slapped the hand off him. "I don't want to do this!"
But a strong hand grasped his bicep and he had no choice but to look at her. Only it wasn't Chantal he was looking at.
"Boss?" he said, trying hard to believe his eyes. Back then he'd dream that his father would come and rescue him, but his father never did. "Boss?" he repeated, thinking the image might dissolve.
"Yeah," Gibbs said, prepared for whichever emotion came next.
McGee and Ziva were less prepared at seeing him this way, outside in the middle of the night in nothing but jeans and an undershirt, down on his haunches and covering his ears against sounds nobody else could hear.
"Boss," his voice shaky, "I can't do this anymore."
"I know."
"I can't be alone with her—"
"I know," Gibbs said, still holding his agent's arms and trying to get a fix on his state of mind. "McGee, stay with him. Ziva, come with me."
Ziva did not want to leave her partner and she hesitated only a second before scurrying after her boss. Tim slid in next to him, taking his elbow and feeling the deep trembling that his entire body was experiencing. Only he knew it wasn't from the cold, it was from something much more sinister. "Can you make it to the car?"
Tony wasn't even aware there was a car nearby as Tim led him towards one. He sat down in the back seat, allowing the familiar smell to offer a degree of security and safety in his otherwise unsafe world.
Gibbs stood in the doorway to the safe house and looked around. A broken lamp lay in pieces on the floor, several articles of clothing were strewn about, the bed unmade, and Chantal standing by the window, watching her carefully thought-out scheme fade away.
"What'd you do to him?" he asked.
She sighed, the kind that accompanied defeat. She was never going to experience what she wanted with Special Agent DiNozzo, and probably would never see him again. But at least she had the kiss. The very powerful, passionate kiss to remember him by. "Unfortunately, we didn't do much of anything."
He stepped through the shards of ceramic remains and approached her. She was slightly tousled but looked a hell of a lot better than his agent. "You chose him for a reason. Why?"
She hesitated briefly before answering, "He has a history of S&M behavior."
"How do you know that?" Ziva asked.
"It's not something you know, Agent David. It's something you feel."
Ziva knitted her brow, casting a quick glance to her boss.
Chantal continued, "The first time I saw NCIS Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, the hairs on the back of my neck prickled and my stomach flipped. Finding another person who has experience with this sort of thing is rare, so rare that when I connected my reaction to his knowledge of S&M, I could barely contain my excitement. That's why I made the deal to roll over on Captain Bowers in exchange for giving me two days of privacy with Agent DiNozzo. Only you couldn't do that," she sneered.
Gibbs and Ziva remained silent, their own minds racing.
Chantal paused, observing them closely, until something dawned on her. "You never knew, did you?" she mused, finding it powerful that she knew something about one of his agents that even the great Jethro Leroy Gibbs didn't know. Another thought slammed into her head, "And I bet Agent Fornell has no idea, either." She felt like laughing out loud. "I can't imagine how it must feel to learn that one of your own men is intimately familiar with the practices of Sadomasochism. You must feel pretty stupid right about now."
"No. Just angry with myself for agreeing to your terms."
"So you do remember my terms. That's good because if you take Agent DiNozzo away from me, I won't testify."
Gibbs looked around, biding his time as he formulated his words. He removed his badge and weapon and handed them to Ziva and approached the woman slowly.
The witness quickly lost her smile. In fact, she lost her confidence and took several steps backwards, away from the man coming at her.
"Let me tell you my terms, Ms. Payne. I'm taking Special Agent DiNozzo home with me and leaving Special Agent David to guard you the rest of the night. Tomorrow, she'll take you to the courthouse where you'll testify against Captain Bowers. If you do not testify, I'll make sure your name is leaked out as the witness who rolled. Once all your victims hear that you're the one who provided state's evidence, there won't be a hole deep enough for you hide in."
"You can't do that! I'm a federal witness with federal protection!"
He cocked his head and gave her a lopsided grin, 'Oh yeah, I can.'
Ziva loved this side of her boss. He could turn tables faster than anyone she knew and by the woman's expression, it was very effective. Ziva stood in the doorway as he left, handing him back his badge and weapon when he walked past. She thought of Tony, the way he trembled and his lost expression, and wished she could be with him. But Gibbs was taking him home and he would take care of him. In the meantime, she had a witness to protect, or guard, depending on your point of view. She turned back around to better face the woman who didn't look so confident anymore, "I would not test Agent Gibbs, if that is what you are thinking. He is true to his word. And if he weren't, I am."
Chantal Payne glared. Rarely did she feel beaten, and the thought of going back to her previous life didn't excite her in the least. In addition, she knew what was in store for her future. She was sentenced to thinking about Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo and the kiss they shared, and then she would have to resort to her own imagination as to what could have been.
TBC
To those who have written comments, many many thanks. ~Jasmine