He was leaning back in his seat. A mild smile playing on his lips as he watched the ground come nearer. They were descending. Just minutes away from their destination. It had been a quiet flight. Most of the time there was a flight attendant on board for serving drinks, meals and whatnot. But not today. This was something more delicate. Just the two pilots up front who could be trusted not to talk. They had flown in from Europe, had stayed the night in Athens, Greece, before flying the last two hours here, some airstrip in the Saudi desert. He had wondered, when he had first heard of this operation, where they would have their base. It was logical that it wasn’t in some country in the Western hemisphere.<br/><br/>The<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.airlinereporter.com%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2012%2F03%2FoutsideBBJ737.jpg&amp;hash=d09d814b293ae6650000a45f31639872" href="http://www.airlinereporter.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/03/outsideBBJ737.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank"><u>Boeing Business Jet</u></a>touched down perfectly. The man who owned it wasn’t showing off his wealth by putting his name on the outside. If anything the private jet tried to be inconspicuous with its tranquil grey exterior. The interior wasn’t too shabby either, but not lavished with gold and whatnot. No,<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.airlinereporter.com%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2012%2F03%2FBBJ7371.jpg&amp;hash=454e367561cd6cd22166e798e7b46197" href="http://www.airlinereporter.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/03/BBJ7371.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank"><u>the main cabin</u></a>held a few seats and couches,<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.airlinereporter.com%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2013%2F03%2FBBJ737bed.jpg&amp;hash=8cabb4280e5a7087d8fd3ff896bf46ac" href="http://www.airlinereporter.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/BBJ737bed.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank"><u>the bedroom</u></a>was comfortable,<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.airlinereporter.com%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2013%2F03%2FBBJ737kitchen.jpg&amp;hash=af754cde8ed9ac3a11e4c7bbb0dece01" href="http://www.airlinereporter.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/BBJ737kitchen.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank"><u>the galley</u></a>was large enough to service the guests and there was a small bathroom on board as well. When he had bought this, he had doubted if he needed something larger. But he liked the 737. With added fuel tanks, it was a long range plane. It had everything he needed, and he didn’t buy it to impress or to take along large crowds. It suited his needs perfectly.<br/><br/>That man inside was<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fgoo.gl%2Fimages%2FqJnxJN&amp;hash=177cb3954022db883b584df7759f2600" href="https://goo.gl/images/qJnxJN" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank"><u>Jason McCullen</u></a>. Jay to his friends. He had specialised in internet communications and security. It had started small, the communications part mostly invested in real estate, places were servers would be housed, where large transfer points for the internet would be set up, in the US at first, but that was soon a worldwide operation. The security firm mostly worked through hackatons on local colleges, showing large companies where their faults in their security were. That made less money, but was more fun. He had made his true windfall by investing the profits in other things though. Just last year, he had sold off 10.000 bitcoins. And through his real estate he was still mining for more.<br/><br/>The bitcoins had bought him this jet. And now, they would buy him a second indulgence. Or should he call it a second and a third? He had been tipped by some CEO of a large internet company. They had been talking during a party. He had asked Jay if he was still alone, told him that there were solutions for this. That he knew of a company which trained women especially for companions of the rich and famous, or so rich and not so famous like Jay. He had shrugged it off, acted like he wasn’t interested. But after a few weeks had passed, the thought still lingered in his mind. When two months had come and gone, he had called up said CEO and scheduled a private meeting.<br/><br/>He had met his so-called companion that day. A pretty specimen of a woman. She was owned. Like a commodity. He wondered if he could handle that. If he could press the woman enough to keep her at his side, if he could exact his power over another human being. It was different from sacking someone from a position at his company. In the end he had contacted the firm that sold these women.<br/><br/>It had been a long wait. The first contact was now seven months ago. He had been brought USB sticks with pictures, videos, and bios. He had a treasure trove of women to sort from. In the end he had fallen for a brunette. 10K in bitcoins came a long way. For a second he looked around the jet. This little baby had cost him about 50 million. The woman would cost half as much as the jet had. Somehow that seemed expensive, on the other hand that seemed cheap, he wondered what he would sell for, if he ended up in slavery. Not that much probably. A mild chuckle erupting from his lips. She would probably be worth every dime. Trained… perhaps even excited from just the sound of a zipper.<br/><br/>One of the advantages of the BBJ, was that it was self sufficient. He could hear the engines dying down as they ended up on the parking, the clicks sounding that the<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DXotd3L10OK0&amp;hash=9d3d21a444eb9174d3fd46b510417f73" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xotd3L10OK0" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank"><u>staircase</u></a>was already unfolding. Soon enough he was out of his seat, hurrying down the stairs to the waiting car. It was hot, out here in the desert. Something the airconditioning hadn’t prepared him for. But it didn’t matter. The time had finally come.<br/><br/>They drove him to a building nearby, without a word being exchanged between him and the driver. A large hangar on the otherwise empty airfield was their destination. As soon as he entered, the door closed behind him. He was inside a<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fwinampers-pro.deviantart.com%2Fart%2FEmpty-white-room-with-columns-and-windows-3d-illus-572970014&amp;hash=78e937b0315e14ec2e708a8dc5b5af76" href="https://winampers-pro.deviantart.com/art/Empty-white-room-with-columns-and-windows-3d-illus-572970014" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank"><u>surrealistic room</u></a>. Completely white, with large round windows that wouldn’t let you look out, just let the light in. In the middle of the room a<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.istockphoto.com%2Fae%2Fphoto%2Facrylic-glass-recliner-chair-gm173580806-7995317&amp;hash=04f758d0f85c0c0db184cca24e8b2da8" href="https://www.istockphoto.com/ae/photo/acrylic-glass-recliner-chair-gm173580806-7995317" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank"><u>glass recliner</u></a>. Next to it a white box, as white as the floors and walls. He opened that for a second, to look. A set of toys, oils and lube. His brown arched slightly as he closed the box again. Then, he settled himself on the recliner watching the far wall.<br/><br/>He waited. In silence, impatient, but not showing it. He had dressed rather simple for the occasion. A white V-neck tshirt that clung to him like a second skin. Jeans. White sneakers. God. He’d nearly blend into the walls here. He had left his leather jacket on the plane. He was watching the far wall intently, it seemed to open up now… revealing some kind of a platform… the wall seemed to open up in the middle and slide away to the sides….