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Randy Buck, owner of a football team, a baseball team, a health club franchise operation, and a string of gourmet restaurants, is rich, powerful—and a sexual pervert of the first magnitude.
He was the Seneschal, the sinister operator of a private club upstate known as Buck’s Castle, a labyrinthine structure in which sado-masochism, bondage and discipline were practiced regularly by a large membership of perpetrators and victims.
Cynthia and Nancy had managed, at the risk of their lives, to destroy that operation, but not Buck, who escaped punishment by donating the odd structure to the state and subsidizing its conversion into an orphanage.
“Randy Buck, Nancy,” Cynthia Marvel, also known as the Baroness, owner, president and chief executive officer of Marvel Industries, the cosmetic and bluejean conglomerate says to her vice president of marketing.
“Now there is a name I haven’t heard in a long time,” Nancy responds, “and hoped never to hear again.”
“Now Nancy, the world is too small and Randy and I too large for us not to run into one another every now and again.”
Nancy, seated on the overstuffed sofa against the wall, does not look at her, preferring also to look out the window as she tries to overcome her fear of what she knows is about to transpire.
Why is the Baroness like this? she wonders.
How and why is it her responsibility to play the role of Randy Buck’s nemesis?
Really, it’s all so melodramatic and ridiculous.
They are like comic book characters, the villain, Buck, the heroines, Cynthia and herself, with attendant supporters on both sides of the fence of good and evil, right and wrong.
And the action comes complete with costumes hoods or masks, black leather corsets, whips, spiked heels and black mesh stockings—in short, the full paraphernalia of S&M, B&D, the full alphabet soup of sexual perversion.
Yes, Nancy thinks, Randy Buck is one sick puppy, all right.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.