Posts Tagged ‘kidnapping’

He came to me in the night. It was always in the night. In the daylight we both pretended that there was no nightly visitation. But he was highly sexed, and since my mom died, he came to me often at night. He waited until I’d turned eighteen, but after that, he came for me.

“Dad . . .” I murmured, still only half awake.

“Shush. Take this.”

I was on my back and he was straddling my chest with his knees and leaning over me, holding my arms out and above my head with strong fists encasing my wrists. I felt the tip of his erect cock at my lips and I opened to him, and we both moaned quietly in the dark as he stroked his cock in and out of my mouth, hardening it and arousing him further—and slicking up his tool for what he’d do later.

When he was sufficiently aroused, he moved his knees and lips down my chest and belly and swallowed my balls as his hand went to my cock. His hand went to join the other to cup and raise and separate my butt cheeks as his mouth went to my entrance. His hand on my cock was replaced by one of my own, and I lay there, looking dumbly toward the window, watching the wind sway the branches of the willow tree, and stroking myself. For a moment I had the sensation of someone being there, watching us, but I had shut my systems down. I didn’t care and my senses weren’t on alert. I was trying to transport myself to someplace else altogether.

He pulled my sleeping shorts—all that I was wearing—off my legs.

“Turn on your belly.” The voice was low, raspy, needy.

“Dad . . .” I murmured again. It was all I could manage, and I knew it had no effect.

“Turn on your belly, son.”

With a sigh of resignation, I did as he commanded. I always did as he commanded, whether day or night.

A heavily muscled arm went under my lower belly and lifted me to my knees, while a palm between my shoulder blades pushed my chest down on the cool sheet. He was crouched over me from behind, his thighs encasing mine. I felt the stretch and filling of the entry. But no pain. There hadn’t been pain, really, for months. My channel was fit to his cock now. He just slid up into me as I gasped slightly and groaned the almost nightly possession by him.

One of his fists went to the wrist of my left arm and pinned it to the bed above my head. He let me have the use of my right hand—he’d done so for nearly two months now—and I moved it to my cock and began stroking it again to the rhythm of his fucking cock.

He moved his other hand between gripping my waist and pinching my nipple and turning my head toward his face when he brought it down to my head. When he did that, we kissed, deeply, his tongue invading and searching my mouth cavity. This was something else that had only entered the ritual in the last month or so.

My lips freed, I once more turned my head and gazed at the window—and once more had the sensation of someone or something pulling away from it out there as I turned my head. Then I closed my eyes and concentrated again on not being there.

The nature of pretending I wasn’t really involved in what was happening to me in the night had changed in the last month or too also—and it scared me. In the initial months, I had zoned out to deny it was happening. Now I was zoning out because I was beginning to need it—to look forward to it each night.

Of course he really wasn’t my dad—not my biological dad—and nothing that he was doing was something I could report him for, something I could stop, short of fighting him, which, considering our differing sizes and physical power, was a comical notion. And leaving was something I couldn’t do, at least not yet.

My real dad had died when I was eleven, and Tyler had been with us for six years now, arriving a little more than a year after Mom was widowed. I say us, but he really was only with “us” for a bit more than five years. My mom died six months ago. She had been sick for some time before she died, and I think she understood Tyler’s interest in me before she went. But by then she was too far gone to do anything about it. She seemed to be hanging on mostly to be there until I got old enough to leave the house and go on my own.

My real dad’s death and her own quick decline there at the end had bollixed up that idea, though. I’d worshipped my real dad, and his death had been a real blow to me. I just shut my life down for nearly a full year though—and that included school work. So, I was set back a grade. And, so, when mom died, I was no more than a week past eighteen, but I had a year and a half more to go in high school. And what were almost Mom’s last words to me stuck.

“Stick it out until you graduate high school, Chris,” she’d said. “Promise me you’ll get your high school. Then go in the service for a while or something. Get away from this. But promise me you’ll get your high school in first. A man can’t do much of anything without that diploma.”

And so, I promised.

And the way it worked out with Tyler wasn’t wham bang, either. It was gradual. He worked me. He seduced me. And he was smart. He waited until I was eighteen. And when he finally had me, there I was, an adult, and not able even to claim rape. And the longer I stayed, the less anyone would care what I let happen to me. They would have asked, “Why didn’t you just walk?”

Well, I didn’t walk, because I promised my mom I’d get in that last year and half of school, and I didn’t have any other good options. I had no living family left, and I had no means really to live out on my own. I didn’t mind the idea of signing up for the military—I was leaning toward the Navy—but it stuck in my mind that one thing my mom had asked me to promise to do was to get that high school diploma before leaving.

And, as I’ve said. Tyler was clever. And he took it slow so that by the time I really was over the edge, it was done.

It had started the day after I turned eighteen. Mom was in the other room, dying. She’d been to the hospital and was back, under Hospice care, to die at home. I was keyed up and confused and into self-denial and wanting to make it all go away—transport myself to some fantasy land—and because I was a teenager with raging hormones, that meant a flashlight and dirty magazine and beating myself off in the middle of the night.

Which was all fine, but Tyler found me that night, right after my eighteenth birthday. I was terrified and paralyzed in place when he found me. But he came into the room and was calm and sat down on the side of the bed and told me all sorts of mumbo-jumbo over how it was normal and understandable under the circumstances. And while he was talking and holding my attention, he had his hand on my cock. When I noticed and flinched and began to object, he shushed me, reminding me that Mom was just in the other bedroom and that, although what I was doing was normal and understandable, it wasn’t something we wanted to worry her about.

“So, just lay back, and I’ll take care of it.”

And so I did. And he did. And I was surprised at how much different and better it felt when someone else did it.

Three days later, the night before Mom died, Tyler was back and sweet talked me into letting him take care of my fears and tensions again. And this time he ran his other hand over my body as he was slowly jacking my cock off.

When we came home from Mom’s funeral, I was a basket case, and Tyler sent me to my room and told me to try to get some sleep. But I couldn’t and I couldn’t stop crying. And Tyler came into my room and sat on the bed and hugged me close and soothed me with his calm, soft voice—which was really something coming from such a big, muscular man—and with his hands patting and stroking me here and there. He had my cock out of the fly of my sleeping shorts before I knew it. And I was in such a state that I didn’t care—in fact it was comforting. And this time he didn’t relieve me with his hand. He did it with his mouth.

Mom was dead now and there was only Tyler. And he’d already given me a blow job. And I was already eighteen and had promised my mom I’d stick it out through high school. And not only wasn’t I thinking too straight, but I was a teen with raging hormones and Tyler was giving me release and pleasure that, though I knew it was evil and not right, was overwhelmingly hard to resist.

Everything was fine during the day. Tyler was a coping single-parent dad by day. Fitting in getting me to school and being there during my ball games and other activities while still holding down his job. I took up more of the cleaning and cooking duties, but Tyler was hanging in there on those as well. And we said nothing during the day of what was happening at night. The dark covered all of our sins.

But he was coming to me more often at night now. And he cajoled me into taking head, and one night he introduced a dildo into the ritual as he was sucking my cock. The first time I just thought it was his thumb, which he had started strumming rim of my hole with while sucking me, but it wasn’t—it was a dildo. And the second time I knew it wasn’t a thumb—and that it hadn’t stayed at the entrance. By the time he fucked me with his cock, he had me asking for it. And I was over eighteen, and with nowhere else to go.

And now it was four months later.

Tyler had just been to visit me the night before. But he was here, at the door, tonight, as well. I’d heard it. He’d had a video on out in the living room. A male porn film. He was standing at the door, breathing heavily and giving me a scary stare. He was stark naked and had a raging hard on. I was sitting on the floor, on the thick cushion I’d taken off the overstuffed chair in my room; my back to the bed; earphones in, with the music set to something I liked to listen to before I went to bed; and doing my last-minute homework. I already was in my sleeping shorts.

Tyler was on me like a flash, grabbing my wrists with his hands and pushing my arms back on the bed. His cock was assaulting my mouth, pushing my head back on the bed as well. And I was gagging and gasping as he face-fucked me.

Then he pulled me up on my feet and kicked the cushion out into the middle of room as he was stripping off my sleeping shorts. He pushed me down on my shoulder blades on the cushion and grabbed my hips in his hands, and pulled my pelvis up into his crotch and my hole onto his cock, and started fucking down into me with long, deep strokes, thrusting down with his cock, while he pulled my pelvis up into him. Pushing me down as he moved his hips back and then pulling me in again as he thrust forward.

He was fucking me with a fury as he’d never done before, and I hooked my legs on top of the flare of his butt and hung on for dear life, my soothing “go-to-bed” music still playing in my ear from the earphones.

Above the sound of the music, I could hear the sound of the sex. Grunting and groaning and moaning in harmony, but above that, a plaintive cry of “Oh, shit, oh yes, oh gawd yessss, Fuck ME!”

I was shocked—and scared—at the realization that it was my voice.

* * * *

By this time, Tyler wasn’t the only one fucking me. By now, I knew what was done was done—and that I didn’t mind it when I wasn’t thinking real hard—and was thinking why should I give it away just to Tyler for free. I was scraping together whatever money I could to help my escape from here, which was coming within a year. I kept the money in an old can out in the rafters of the storage shed in the back yard.

I figured I knew where I would make some money off this. And I was right.

For years, Mr. Collins, a bachelor living in a house twice as large and tidy as ours just down the street from us, had been giving me the eye and trying to make friends with me when I walked past his house. I wasn’t so dumb that I didn’t know what his interest was—and there were whisperings going around the neighborhood and at school that bore this out.

All it took to get him to come out of the house was for me to stand out on the front walk by his white picket fence one day and look around like I had nothing better to do than stand there. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before he sauntered out, acting like he had a reason to be on the move and “accidentally” noticing I was there and coming to the fence to greet me.

“Hi there, Chris,” he called out in a chipper voice. “Great day, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah, it is,” I answered. “Might rain tonight, though. The rains will be heavy this summer, they say.”

Mr. Collins was trembling like a Chihuahua on speed at this string of words from me. It was more in total that I’d ever said to him in all the years he’d been living in the neighborhood. He literally wagged his tail as he came out to the fence, obviously thrilled that I was still standing there.

“Yes, it’s good for the flowers, though.”

“Nice flowers,” I said. “And you got a gardener to take real good care of them, I see.” I was searching for words. The gardener was kneeling at the rose bed that lined the front porch of the house. He was facing away from us, an Hispanic, I guessed, maybe in his thirties. An outdoor worker. I wondered if he could hear us—and if he could understand English if he could.

“I try to keep the grounds up,” Mr. Collins said, his voice full of pride. “Say, I was real sorry to hear about your mother. I—”

“Thanks. Thanks, Mr. Collins. You’re a nice man for saying that.” I turned my eyes on him and smiled.

He practically melted on the spot with pleasure. He had his hands on top of the fence and they were trembling. I put a hand up there too, trying to make it seem like a natural move, and I could see him shudder as our hands touched each other.

“Nice house too. Real nice house. Big. Bet you have lots of rooms in there. Bet you have some nice things in there.”

“Would you like to see inside sometime?” Mr. Collins asked. His voice sounded so hopeful that I felt kind of sorry for him.

“I’m not doing much of anything now,” I said. I tried to keep my voice low, because I could see that the gardener had turned his head toward us—that maybe he was listening to us.

I thought that Mr. Collins was going to melt down to a puddle on the spot at the prospect of getting me in the house.

The gardener looked up from the rose garden as we passed and gave me a tentative little smile. I wondered if he figured any of this out. But then I didn’t care. He was just a gardener.

“How’s school and the baseball going, Chris?” Mr. Collins asked me as we entered the foyer. I walked right on into the living room, which showed that Mr. Collins made a whole heap more money that my stepdad did. “I’ve always been interested in how the kids of the neighborhood were doing.”

“Yeah, I know you have, Mr. Collins. I’ve seen how you watched me over the years. Well, I’m here now. And I’m over eighteen.”

He turned his head toward where I was standing in the living room, surprised by what I said and by the hard tone I’d taken when I said it. And there I was, standing in the middle of his living room, with my fly open and my dong hanging out and cupped in the palm of my hand. I was kind of proud of my cock, and Mr. Collins seemed pretty impressed too. He went to his knees with a loud moan and began sucking my cock in a way that assured me that, as suspected, I probably wasn’t the first neighborhood boy who had visited this house.

We were naked on his bed with him stretched out behind me and stroking his cock inside me from the rear as I propped my knee up on the bed to give him better access when I told him what the deal was: “$15 for you to suck me; $25 if I suck you. $50 for a fuck; $60 for the whole package.”

He didn’t object and signed up for the next visit to be on my way home from school three days hence. My stepdad didn’t get home from work for nearly three hours after my school finished for the day.

The gardener was in the front garden the next day I visited Mr. Collins, and he turned his head and gave me a little smile again when I reached the stairs to the porch and started climbing. I instinctive smiled back, a little nervous because he was there, and because I couldn’t think of a plausible reason to be approaching Mr. Collins’s house by myself if the gardener asked. But he didn’t ask.

The door was slightly ajar when I got to it, and I heard a faraway voice call out from upstairs. “Come on in. It’s open. I’m upstairs.”

I went in and began to climb the stairs. Half way up I stopped dead in my tracks and let out a “Holy shit.” I began to turn to flee the house, when Mr. Collins said probably the only thing that kept me there.

“$75. I’ll give you $75. And you won’t be doing anything special or different. This is for me. This is to make it more interesting for me.”

I turned back and looked up at him again. He was wearing women’s lingerie. A black lace bra, with matching panties and black mesh stockings and black stiletto heels. He also had on a red-haired wig, and his face was made up like a baby doll, a mean slash of shiny, deep-red lipstick across his mouth. He was talking in a funny, high voice like he was playing some sort of game. And I guessed it was pretty obvious that he was.

“It’s no different for you, honey,” he repeated. “It’s just me. It’s just what I like. $75, OK?”

He didn’t look all that bad as a woman. Younger even. And he wasn’t fat; he had good muscle tone and firm arms and legs. A flat belly and a nipped-in waist.

If I closed my eyes. . . . And it wasn’t like I had to get it up. He said it would be no different. And he had topped me earlier, although for the money, I was willing to try going either way.

I started walking up the stairs again, and as we crossed the hall to the master bedroom, I was impressed on how well he walked in the heels. I guessed he’d done this a lot.

“Please take your clothes off and sit on the side of the bed,” he said.

I watched myself—and him/her in the mirrors as I stripped. That was the thing I’d remembered the most about his bedroom from the other day. The mirrors. He had them everywhere. It had been arousing to me to see myself being fucked no matter how I turned my head. I assumed that the mirrors were there because he found it amusing as well. He wasn’t bad looking for an old guy and was a good cocksman—or so I thought, only having Tyler to compare him with. But I thought Tyler must be good at it as much as he was fucking me—and I knew he and my mom really went at it before she got too sick to enjoy it. And, surprising, Collins was as good at it as Tyler was, although he must be at least ten years older than Tyler.

We didn’t do it just like we had the first time. This time Mr. Collins spent more time in setting it up—and he had an extra fetish thing going with the lipstick. The color was something that rubbed off easily. Collins made a point of paying attention to nearly every inch of my body with his lips, and I could see that the lipstick was rubbing off on my skin. And he got up every once in a while and renewed it, so that it was always leaving fresh lip marks.

I found quickly that the panties had a slit in them in front, so that his cock came out without having to remove the panties. I sucked him and then he sucked me, being careful to leave distinctive lip-shaped red markings on my cock. He followed this up with lip attention to the rest of my body, and then he had me lay on my back on the edge of the bed, and he came between my thighs and fucked me to mutual ejaculations while we watched ourselves and each other in the mirrors. Although I had been worried about being able to get it up, the setting was so exotic and he was such an expert cocksman that I didn’t have any trouble at all. The mirrors helped too.

Afterward, Mr. Collins made me stand in front of a full-length mirror and he took photos of the artwork he’d done on my body with his ruby-red lips before he let me shower and gave me four twenties and told me to keep the change.

I had a pretty busy extracurricular activity schedule at school and on the baseball mound, but I did have Tuesday afternoons free, and Mr. Collins signed up for that time slot. He must have had quite a closet, because he was wearing a different set of lingerie each time—and a different shade of lipstick.

Tuesday’s must have been one of his set days with the gardener too, as he was always there, kneeling by the roses and giving me a little nod and smile when I mounted the porch stairs to Mr. Collins’s front door.

* * * *

I rather enjoyed the fucking with Mr. Collins, and it worried me that I did, but the money was too good to deny myself and put the brakes on this stuff. At $80 a week, my tin can in the storage shed was going to need company soon. I’d made it to late summer. One more year, my senior year, and I could just walk away from here—and with some serious cash in my pocket. I’d put it all behind me, or so I thought.

I was getting old enough now to accept that I was just fooling myself. I began to become obsessed with the women’s lingerie—and wondering about it in connection with my nights with Tyler. I have no idea what caused me to do it, but one afternoon, when rain had wiped out a baseball practice and Tyler wouldn’t be home for hours, I stole into the master bedroom and started browsing through the drawers in my mother’s bureau. Tyler had done nothing about getting rid of her clothes.

I found her intimate lingerie in one of the lower drawers and I took a pair of black lace panties back to my bedroom and stripped and put them on and walked around the house for a half hour. It didn’t give me quite the thrill I thought it might, but just the idea of how I wanted it to make me feel made me hard.

And then Tyler went four nights without visiting my bedroom. I didn’t think he was doing this on purpose at the time, but now I think he did. Now I think he wanted me to take that last step. The first two nights I luxuriated in a full night’s sleep. The third night I couldn’t sleep and kept looking at my door, waiting for it to open and for Tyler to slip into the room and into my bed. On the four night I was in a stew, wondering what was wrong, why he wasn’t coming.

On the fifth night I could take it no longer. I padded out of bed, stripped off my sleeping shorts, and slipped on the black lace panties I’d purloined from my mother’s drawer.

Tyler was awake, on his back, no doubt waiting for me—although I didn’t know it at the time. I climbed onto the bed and straddled his pelvis. He laughed and pulled my face down to his and kissed me deeply on the mouth. I could feel his cock come alive. He moved his hands over my bare torso as we kissed and then down to my hips, and I felt the jerk in his cock and heard the low gasp when he learned I was wearing lace panties. He let me know he enjoyed that a lot—but he didn’t enjoy it so much that it prevented him from gripping the flimsy material covering my buttocks on both sides and rending it apart with a low ripping sound and then settling my channel on his cock through the slit he’d made.

He laid there, providing the ramrod, and smiling up into my face as I did all of the work, riding his cock in undulating waves. When he had shot his load up into me, he laughed his ultimate victory over me, the fulfillment of my conditioning.

Later, in my own room again, I couldn’t sleep. I had come in the panties in Tyler’s room and he’d kept them as a trophy, so I was in my sleeping shorts once more.

It had already rained once and then stopped, and I could hear the splatter of precursory rain drops once again on the window. They were promising quite a storm tonight.

I liked watching storms, and Tyler’s laugh at the conclusion of our sex had awakened me to what he had conditioned me to do—that final step of me coming to him, wanting it, and willing to do all of the work to get it. This depressed me, and for the first time I wondered if staying around to complete high school was going to be the end of it—whether I could break away from Tyler even after that. And, even more depressing, I was beginning to doubt if the high school diploma was the real reason I was staying around—whether I wasn’t completely under Tyler’s spell now.

I couldn’t sleep, so I got out of bed and took a Coke from the refrigerator and walked out onto the front porch, just in my sleeping shorts, to welcome the coming storm and to try to force my racing brain to be lost in watching the thunder and lightning show.

I had finished the Coke and gotten tired of waiting for the storm to arrive. I turned to go back into the house, but I was grabbed from behind and tossed out into the yard. I landed on the wet grass and someone was on my back, his knee in the small of my back, and my hands were pulled behind me and being tied off. A burlap sack was pulled over my head and I was roughly pulled up and frog marched across the yard, tossed into the back seat of a car, and, after doors slammed, the car was on the move.

I have no idea how long we drove; I was too stunned by the sudden assault to keep any sort of track, but the car eventually stopped after a particularly bumpy ride at the last. I could hear the pattering of rain on the metal roof. The storm was starting. I heard a door open at the front of the car—and slam shut—and then one of the doors to the rear seat opened, and I almost tumbled out of the car. Strong hands grabbed me, though, and lift and tossed me toward the other side of the car. Someone was in the back seat with me. His chest was pressing in on mine—he was bare-chested, so I knew it was a man, and heavy muscled and slick with sweat. I heard and felt the ripping of my sleeping shorts—and heavy breathing. Whoever it was was too agitated to just pull my pants off. I was wedged, facing up, in the back corner of the seat. The seat was wide and plush, I figured some older model car—something American and from the 60s, maybe.

Rough hands were forcing my thighs apart and raising my legs, and the man was between my legs, and I screamed as a cock far thicker than either Tyler’s or Mr. Collins’s split me and forced itself deep inside my channel and I was being furiously fucked. He bit into my nipple and I cried out in pain again. I began to sneeze from the dustiness of the sack over my head. I tried to suppress it, thinking, “No, please don’t take the sack off, please don’t take the sack off”—knowing that if he did I would see what he looked like. And if he didn’t care if I knew what he looked like, then . . .

I couldn’t suppress the sneezing, though, and also began to cough. And the sack was drawn off my head.

It was Mr. Collins’s gardener.

“Why?” I cried out.

He backhanded me across the face and growled, “Shut the fuck up.”

And I turned my head toward the window in the passenger door I was wedged up against and watched the storm roll over us. There was thunder and lightning aplenty, and it seemed like each clap of thunder and flash of lightning was accompanied by a ramrod splitting me asunder. Each time the thunder clapped, I lurched at the thrust of his cock inside me, each time thinking he couldn’t go further down inside me, widen my channel with his monster tool any wider, but, with each thunder clap, he did.

He fucked me with intense purpose and abandon, and I moaned and groaned at how much fuller and more intense his taking of me was than Tyler’s and Collins’s fuckings were. He wanted me and drilled me in ways they hadn’t done, moving deep inside me, relentlessly fucking, making me writhe and whimper and cry out, afraid of what came after this, and then, because he was at it so long and so deep, afraid that this was the last of me—fucked to death. I had ejaculated a long time before he exploded and fell on top of me, sweaty and panting. Holding me tight, his breathing becoming less ragged but his cock coming back to life inside me the longer he held me there.

The second fucking, in consort with the abating of the thunderstorm into a gentle rain, was slower, more methodic and longer, with his hands now searching my body more, as if assuring himself that I actually was here, that the snatch and furious fuck that went before were real, not just one of the longing wet dreams that had driven him to do this.

When he was finished, he covered my head with the sack again and went over the front seat back into the driver’s position while I whimpered, exhausted and taken as neither Tyler nor Mr. Collins had ever done with me.

We drove on for a half hour or more, and I sensed when we turned off asphalt and onto gravel and then, eventually onto dirt—probably mud now. The last quarter of a mile or more was on jarringly rough road.

I was bundled out of the car, across uneven dirt, and up onto a wooden porch—which I discern because I was barefooted, and then through a door which was closed behind us. I heard two bolts being thrown on the door and the scrape of a key in a lock. The sack was jerked off my head again.

He had prepared for me. This wasn’t a casual snatch. We were standing in a log cabin that was about twenty feet square. The windows were all shuttered from at least the inside. There was a double bed in one corner and chains were welded to the wall above the headboard. At the loose end of the chains were wrist clamps, and this was where the gardener herded me—over to the bed, where he pushed me down on my belly. He untied my binding and turned me over on my back on the bed and forcing my wrists into the wrist clamps. The chains attached to the walls were short, and I couldn’t move my hands below my shoulders as I lay on the bed.

The gardener stripped off his wet jeans and his briefs and came down on the bed, forcing his knees between my thighs and sliding them under my buttocks. Then he thrust his cock inside my channel again, and fucked me for a third time—long and hard, with animalistic noises like he’d been building up to do this for months and hadn’t had sex in the meantime.

He said nothing to me, didn’t answer my whimpered questions or respond to my pleadings. If he hadn’t told me to shut up in the car in half-decent English, I would have thought there was a language barrier between us. There certainly wasn’t any other barrier between us.

He got out of the bed and padded around turning off lights. I had only a brief opportunity to see what was there, while he was doing so. Just one room. A small kitchenette area over on the front wall by the door we’d come through. This bed was in one back corner and a raised tin square about three foot square was in the other back corner. A shower head was on the wall above this. A toilet was set in the wall at one side of the open shower square and a white porcelain sink on the other. Thus, the room was completely exposed. There was an old couch with the stuffing coming out. A small desk against the front wall, on the other side of the door from the kitchenette—with a laptop computer on it—a round wood table with three mismatched straight chairs in the center of the room, and an overstuffed chair that didn’t match the couch.

Just this one bed. When he’d turned out the lights, he came back to the bed and stretched beside me and almost instantly started to snore. It took me longer to go to sleep, and shortly after that, he was waking me again, turning me on my belly—with my chained arms crossed above me—and straddling my hips and fucking me again.

When I woke in the morning, he’d changed the chains. They were longer now, enough so that I could get out of the bed and stand and walk maybe three feet from the bed. There was a hunk of bread and a cup of cold coffee on the nightstand next to the bed and two tin bowls on the floor below that. One was about a third filled with water and there was a sponge floating in it. The other was empty and had a half of roll of toilet paper in it. I could pretty much tell what both of those bowls were for.

The gardener was pissing in the toilet on the other side of the room. He was still naked, as, of course, was I. I listened as he emptied his bladder in a long, steady stream going on for almost a minute.

I wolfed down the bread and drank the coffee as the gardener moved to the sink and brushed his teeth and shaved. He still looked like an Hispanic to me. But he had a well-worked body, muscles bulging on muscles, and his cock and balls were hanging heavy. He was taking side glances at me as I sat on the edge of the bed and chewed on the bread, and I could see that he was getting hard again.

So, I wasn’t surprised when he put his razor down when he’d only half shaved and came over and grabbed for my legs while I sat on the bed. I slapped at his hands as best I could and told him no as emphatically as I was able, but he just stunned me again with a backhanded slap across my face that snapped my head to one side, and roughly grabbed my legs, tipping me back on the bed, and crouched been my thighs and fucked me to his ejaculation.

When he was finished with me, he just left me there, my heels dug into the corners of the bed and my legs spread and trembling, and me moaning softly, and went back to his shaving. He took a shower, dressed in his gardening work clothes, and was gone for the rest of the day.

The first thing he did when he returned to the cabin that night was fuck me again. He obviously had been building up to this and looking forward to it for some time. After that, he usually didn’t do it more than once a day, but he never got tired of doing it.

When the first weekend came up, he brought out some red lace panties he had been keeping hidden somewhere, put a slit up the middle of them in back with a knife, and forced them over my legs. He then sat on the edge of the bed, forced me onto his lap and cock—through the slit in the panties—with me facing away from him and stroked my cock through the material of the panties until we both had come. He hung the torn panties with my cum in them on the bedpost, where they remained for a week. I now knew that he’d been peeping on me at Mr. Collins—and probably at my own house too while Tyler was fucking me.

And I now also knew what had prompted this elaborate scheme.

I stayed with Julio—for after the first few weeks I ascertained at least that much about him, that his name was Julio—for thirteen months. I knew it was thirteen months, because he had a calendar hanging above the desk and he delighted in marking off the days. He delighted even more in the first few weeks he held me captive in marking off each time he fucked me. And there were more of the latter marks than the former.

Slowly, over the initial months, he lengthened my chains in stages of trust. The longest addition, permitting me full access to the cabin so that I then could shower in the corner stall too and go to the toilet properly and have access to food and drink was the night I woke him up and straddled his cock and fucked myself on him. That was a watershed of him believing I wanted him now and that he’d won me over.

He took the shutters off the windows soon after that, and I discovered we were in the deep woods, with a clearing for a power line not far in front of the cabin and railroad tracks in back. I’d already ascertained that a train ran by somewhere near at three set times a day, as it was about the only sound of life outside the cabin I’d heard for two months at that point. It didn’t escape my notice either that the train ran slow in this section of the forest.

By that time I’d figured I was here for good—or at least until something drastic happened. No one had come for me; there was no hint that anyone was looking for me. And I thought that figured. I was over eighteen. The school system couldn’t touch me if I’d decided just to drop out. And Tyler wouldn’t come looking for me; he would just have figured that I’d had enough and had cleared out that night I disappeared. I had screamed obscenities at him the night I’d left—mad, frustrated, and angry that he’d tricked me into coming to his room on my own for the fuck and begging for the fuck—and taking all responsibility for it. Tyler would neither wonder at me leaving that night nor want anyone to look into my disappearance too closely.

So, I was on my own. And seeing the effect of initiating the fuck on Julio—which I had tried as an experiment—had given me hope of being able to work on his vanity. I was making use now of what Tyler had taught me in his conditioning—he had taught me to move from one frame of mind to another just by gradual reconditioning. In Julio’s case the method could still be sex, which Julio was obsessed with, but the goal would be developing a level of trust that would, I hoped, eventually set me free.

I made him believe I couldn’t get enough of his cock now—and I admitted even to myself that it was, indeed, a very nice cock. I went after him and gave him master head, something he’d never had done before, and more often than not I was initiating the sex—and complimenting him on what a great lover he was. I asked him to bring more lacy and silky panties, and we repeated the fetish that he seemed to enjoy so much.

Increasingly, he was giving me little freedoms and favors here and there. And I was showing appreciation for them and doing my best to convince him that I was here by choice now.

Then, purposely, I went into a blue funk. He, of course, asked me why, noticing that my end of the lovemaking had become lethargic. I told him I was bored—and wanted to use the Internet. He said that wasn’t possible. I cried and pouted and told him that I wanted to study—that I could complete my high school via the Internet by taking GED—general education diploma—classes on line. He told me he couldn’t really trust me alone on the Internet, and I said, he could use the keyboard and I’d just sit there and do the class work.

He wanted good sex again, so he gave in to me. I started working on a GED on line to complete my last year of high school—thinking that if nothing else in life I could try to fulfill the promise I’d made to my mother. And, in turn, I gave Julio great sex again.

After a month of acting as intermediary for my studies, Julio got bored and let me do the classes myself. I was careful to stick to only that on the Internet, though, as he tested me several times to make sure that was all I was doing. And I gave Julio really great sex, thinking of inventive positions that he’d never even dreamed of before.

I had him convinced in the first eight months that I couldn’t live without him, that all of the police in the state couldn’t close in on the cabin and pry me from his bed.

The chains came off completely. But I was still naked. Julio had never permitted me to wear a stitch of clothes. That was one hedge on me not going anywhere. He had locks on the doors of the drawers and closet he used for his clothes and he kept them all secure.

For a couple of more months he still locked me in the cabin and shuttered the windows, using the outside shutters, when he went to work. I gave him no reason to think I’d even thought about trying to escape, and I always had my legs open for him, begging for it, when he came home.

He was the world’s greatest stud. I couldn’t go five hours without a cocking by him and by him only. I made him believe that.

I had complete freedom of the cabin and its environs for a full month during which he laid many a scheme to catch any sign that I’d tried to leave him.

At the end of that month, I completely finished my online GED work. I went to a virtual graduation ceremony, without inviting Julio to it or telling him that I had finished the work—and had a graduation certificate waiting for me on line for whenever I wanted to download it.

The next day, a Tuesday, while Julio presumably was pruning Mr. Collins’s roses, I put on trousers and a T-shirt of Julio’s that I had kept out of the wash and Julio hadn’t noticed were missing when he’d locked his clothes away, dug the pair of old boots out from under the bed that Julio had thought he’d taken to the dump with other trash, and held my breath until I heard the whistle of the train somewhere down the track, where it blew its whistle three times a day at almost exactly the same time.

Nina was barely conscious as she felt herself being carefully lifted from the car. She was desperately trying to remember what had happened and how she got there as she felt his hands cradle around her limp body, holding her against his chest. Her mind was a jumbled mess of racing thoughts, as she struggled to reassemble the images from that night. But the thought at the forefront of her mind was who was carrying her and where was she?

He transferred the weight of her body onto his left arm, as he opened the door to the house. He was careful entering the doorway, as to not hit her head against the frame. He could hear her starting to stir; she was waking. He marched up the stairs to the far bedroom. He gently laid her down on the bed. He took a moment to admire her simple beauty, before he moved to her, and began to remove her clothes.

There, she was naked. It was an image he had only dreamed about until now. And here she was, finally his. Movement was coming to her lifeless body, and he knew she’d be fully awake soon. He quickly moved to her side once more and took each of her wrists in his hands and raised them up towards the head of the bed. He fastened each wrist in the restraints and tugged on them slightly, checking to make sure she was secure. And then, he waited, ever so patiently as her eyes began to flutter open, focusing in on his face.

Recognition was settling in. She knew him, though not well, but she recognized his face. He worked just the next hall over from her office. He was quiet and shy. She always thought he looked so sad. When she’d pass him in the hallway, she’d offer a polite smile. Who was he, and why was he doing this to her?

He ran his fingers down the side of her face ever so softly; it was as if he was touching her for the very first time. He continued to trace the curves of her body, down her side past her breast, to her hip and around her buttocks. She jumped at his touch. Her heart was racing, pounding in her chest. She wanted to scream; she knew she should. But she couldn’t. Something was stopping her. He ran his hand across her stomach. What was he going to do to her?

Her breathing was uneven, and she began to take in quicker, shallower breaths. She could feel the wet streaks down the sides of her face as tears formed in her eyes and then spilled overflowingly down her cheeks. She looked into his eyes again, and they looked troubled, worried. He took his finger and wiped the tears off her face. He then took his hand and cupped the right side of her face in his palm, and ran his thumb across her cheekbone. It was like he could sense her fear, and it saddened him.

He leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead. As he started to move his head downward, he stopped just for a second and gazed into her eyes. Then he moved to her mouth and kissed her lips. His kiss was deliberate, and almost rough. He was letting her know she was his. Emotions began to overwhelm Nina, as she processed what was taking place. But the one thing that caught her most off guard, was that a part of her, liked it.


Ryan knew what she wanted; what she wanted but would never say out loud. They were her fantasies, her innermost secrets. He had known them for months, but tonight was the night they would come true.

He recalled the first time he noticed her. Sure he had seen her around the office floor, or in the elevator, but that wasn’t it. He had been working late trying to reconfigure a system error he had encountered when running a routine diagnostic. It could have waited until Monday, but he had an expense report due & a video-conference that day, and he figured he might as well fix the problem now, and come in late Monday morning. That’s when he heard her voice. He had thought everyone had gone home for the weekend, but when he peeked out into the hallway, he could see the light to her office still on.

I wish Cynthia had given this to me sooner. I was hoping to stop by the hospital on my way home to see Dante, but it’s too late now. I’ll go by in the morning. He’s in a coma after all…

He was wondering what she was working on so late, and wondered why it couldn’t wait until Monday. And who was this Dante person in the hospital? He figured he’d stopped by her office to see if she needed anything, when he heard her again…

Ugh! This isn’t even my client! Robert needs to keep better track of his files. Why do I do this? This should be his problem, not mine. Well, technically, it isn’t mine; it IS his. But I know he’ll come strolling in late Monday morning, and with the contract meeting Monday if this report isn’t filed in time, we’ll lose this client…

Ryan started to laugh to himself as he listened to her rambling on, debating with herself out loud when… he nearly fell against the wall, holding his breath. It wasn’t possible. No. He forced himself to peek around the corner once more. He could hear her rambling on through her thoughts, but her lips were not moving! He could hear her clear as glass, but her mouth was shut. It was impossible. He dashed back to his office, gasping. He was hearing her thoughts…

The rest of the weekend he couldn’t sleep. He replayed every moment of that late evening in his head. He had to have been dreaming. He was working late, and was tired. Dreaming was the only explanation.

Monday morning he got to work early, before most people had arrived. He was on edge; he had to see her. He tested his theory out on those who started to stroll into the office. He watched them intently as they strode to their cubicles. Nothing. Not a sound. He went back to his chair and started to roam through his email.

Okay. So I’ll just quickly go over Robert’s files once more. And then I’ll put the finishing touches on mine. Then I’ll send Cynthia these edits… WHAT?! Oh gosh! The meeting has been moved up to 9 AM. Ugh. There’s not enough time! And I haven’t even gone over the Covington account since Thursday…

Ryan had run to his doorway just as she passed by catching the last bits of her strained thoughts. He took in a deep breath, and sighed silently to himself. Her mouth never uttered a word.


For the next 6 months, Ryan watched her. His eyes mesmerized by her. She was 5′ 7”, with brown hair that had natural auburn highlights weaving through it. The length fell down her back, a couple inches past her shoulders. She was small for her size, maybe only weighing around 115 lbs. She had breasts that were just the right size, he thought, not too big and not too small. Her small frame suited her. Her pale skin had a hint of bronze to it, and she had these deep brown eyes that he loved to try and catch a glimpse of. He had to know the reasoning behind this mystery. He had to know everything about her.

At work he tried to leave her be, for most of what was on her mind was her work. It bothered him that she seemed to take on the work of others in the office who didn’t seem to be as compelled to complete their tasks as she did. People like Robert, who chose to do the bare minimum of their job and leave the rest behind for others to finish; and by others, Nina. Ryan figured that at least 5 of the last 12 clients the company landed contracts with in the past year, was all do to Nina finishing the files for those such as Robert. He wondered what would have happened had she just left Robert’s mess for Robert to finish cleaning up. He decided to stop listening to her for a while, because such things angered him. It was what entered her mind when she left the office that interested him.

Almost every night Nina went to the hospital to visit Dante, who Ryan found out to be her brother. He was in a coma due to a climbing accident, and had been for nearly 8 months now. Ryan admired the devotion to her brother even though he was not conscious to appreciate it. She’d stay at least 2 hours usually, talking to him, telling him about her day (well, she’d omit the parts about how she basically kept the company in its good standings due to her taking on the work of others, but nonetheless…), or reading him a few chapters from one of the classics. She was a good sister. When she was with Dante, most of her thoughts swelled around memories of them growing up as children. Ryan liked these; it gave him insight to who she was. What he found most interesting of all, is that after the death of her parents when she was 19, she got a full-time job interning at a law firm, while she continued to attend college, and took custody of then, 14 year old Dante. Between their inheritance and her job, she was able to support herself and her brother until Dante was old enough to take care of himself. She graduated at 23 and has been working with the company for the last 4 years; she was now 28.

After she left from the hospital, Ryan would follow her home. He climbed up into the tree to the side of her apartment and watched her through the windows. He watched her cook herself a simple dinner and then head to the shower. Then she’d crawl into bed, usually with a book, and read for a while until she turned the lights out and went to bed. Sometimes, Nina would leave the window open and this is what Ryan waited for. With the window open he could hear her mind at work. She’d run through the day, checking to make sure she didn’t forget anything that needed to be done the next morning. She thought about Dante, and Ryan could sense her sadness. And finally her thoughts started to drift into dreams. It was here Ryan started to explore her secrets. Soon Ryan would climb down from the tree and leave her to sleep. It was hard for him to do, for he grew to care for her. He longed to do something for her to bring her happiness. For now, he would head home and reflect on all he had learned.


It was like he knew her every thought, the way he anticipated her every secret need. His gentle touch set her at ease, almost blocking out the fear trying to rage inside of her. His tender eyes looked at her with sincerity; she wanted to trust him. He continued to glide his hands over her naked body; caressing her, as if he was trying to assure himself she was real. Soon he lowered his head just above her left breast and slowly took her nipple into his mouth. He lightly sucked on her, massaging her with his tongue, while his hands moved to her hips. She gasped when his hands moved to the small of her back just above her buttocks, and then slowly ran down under her backside. He moved his mouth to her right nipple and started to suck and taste her with his tongue as his hands now slid down her bottom and rested just underneath, on the backs of her thighs.

All that could escape from her mouth was a barely audible whisper, “please.” He stopped and looked up at her. He wished that in that instance he could make her understand that this was all for her. But words could not convey what was going to take place. He had to just show her. She would thank him in the end. She had to, he thought.

He moved his lips next to her ear and whispered to her, “Shh. Just relax. I am not going to hurt you.” She sucked down a sob, and tilted her face towards the ceiling to force the tears back into her eyes.

Ryan reached his left hand up to her hands bound securely above her head. He cupped her fingers in his, and then slowly dragged his fingertips down the side of her right arm to just underneath her right breast. He then took his hand and carefully tilted her chin back down to meet him, and kissed her again. This kiss was not as rough as before, still passionate, but she could feel tenderness in it this time. She could feel his breath on her face, and it had a sweet scent to it. She tried to focus on what it was in an attempt to try and settle her mind a little.

She was distracted but a moment, before she could feel his hands behind her shoulders, sliding down her back. His mouth was kissing a trail down her sternum, to her bellybutton, and then stopped just at her pubic hairline. She didn’t like hair down there, so she was clean and shaven. It wasn’t for anyone, for she had never been touched there before. She was a virgin, and he knew it.

Her mind knew where this was going, and her heart started racing again. She tugged on the restraints that bound her wrists, and her legs started to squirm. “Shhh.” He whispered again, “Just relax.”

Darting his eyes from where he was about to go, up to her eyes and then back down again, he concealed the slight smirk on his face. He had watched her lips utter, “No, please,” but in her mind she was picturing what he was about to do, and in her mind he heard her sigh, “yes.”

Ryan positioned his mouth just in front of her clitoris, and moved in slowly, as to not startle her too much, as he softly guided his tongue against her. He moved his hands to her hips once more as she arched her back and drew in a deep breath. For several minutes he pleasured her, massaging her clit with his tongue, sucking on her ever so gently. She could feel herself growing sticky & wet, dripping from her vagina, and she started to cry a little from shame and embarrassment. Her body was betraying her, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She arched her back again, as his tongue went to work, and she could hear the moans starting to escape from her mouth.

His mouth worked harder at her clit as her moans grew louder and more frequent. He then, without moving his mouth from her, shifted his position a little, and she could feel him slide a finger into her pussy. His finger was gliding in and out of her, touching her sensitive skin. She didn’t understand her body, and was overwhelmed by all the new sensations that she screamed out ending in almost a screech, “AHHHHH-HHMM!” She was now panting, and she felt like she was sitting in slime. What had just happened?

Ryan moved away from her and walked into the bathroom. She found herself fighting back her dissatisfaction that he had walked away from her in this state. But then the fear returned as she saw him enter the room again, wearing just a towel around his waist. He climbed back onto the bed, and removed the towel from his waist. He moved to her legs, and climbed between them as he pulled them apart. Everything inside her was telling her to fight back! To kick and scream, and try to get away, but she was petrified, unable to move. She felt him place each of her legs up and over his shoulders as he leaned towards her. He lifted her bottom just enough to slide the towel underneath her. He finally grabbed a condom and slipped it onto his penis, now erect and ready to work.

He inched closer to her, and positioned himself. He spread her legs a little further apart, and she could feel the tip of his manhood at the entrance to her virginity. He took his hands and placed them up on her knees, and ran them down her thighs. Then he leaned himself forward a little, and she could feel him start to enter her.

“Please.” She pleaded. But he seemed to ignore her as he again ran his hands down her thighs once more as he continued to insert his penis further into her vagina. Her lubricant aided him as he slowly slid into her. He didn’t want to hurt her anymore than he had to. He knew being her first time there would be some pain, but he promised he would still be gentle.

She could feel him widen her the deeper in he went. She thought for sure her heart would beat out of her chest. She let out a whimper of pain as he stretched her more. She didn’t think she could take much more, “how big was he?” she thought to herself. And then, with one final thrust, he was all the way inside her. She yelped in pain, and begged him to pull back out of her. But again he ignored her pleas. Instead, he patiently remained still, allowing her to adjust to this new fullness she was experiencing. He spoke to her kindly, telling her to take deep breaths, and to try to relax. With one hand he supported himself against her, and with the other he went to work messaging her clit once again.

Nina took in a couple deep breaths, trying to calm her nerves, and to relax. She felt his hand move to her clit, and started to feel that sensation of desperation and pleasure begin to consume her again. Distracted by his stimulation, she was able to relax her vaginal muscles around his penis. As he felt her relax, he knew it was his cue to move again. And slowly at first, in rhythm with the fingers on her clit, he thrust in and out of her.

Nina was afraid of the pain when he started to move his body again, but to her surprise, mixed with the pain was a new pleasure, and she reluctantly welcomed it. Soon the pain was subsiding, and there were only the pleasurable sensations. Her hips began to move in sequence with his thrusts. Moans were escaping from Nina’s mouth again, and Ryan took the cue and initiated moving faster and harder. Between his hand and his penis, Nina could not hold herself back any longer, and her cries grew louder. She wasn’t sure what it was that she needed or wanted, but as her body continued to move in time with his, she needed something.

“OH MY GOSH, OH NO OH!” Nina cried. “PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE, I need, I need, UHN UHN UHN!”

Ryan knew what she needed. She needed release, and she was on the brink of her first big orgasm. He didn’t want her suffering any longer, so he moved faster and harder in and out of her, until she finally reached her climax.

“OH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” Nina screamed, as she arched her back and pulled down against the restraints. Ryan felt her legs lock against him as her vagina convulsed around his manhood deep inside her. The feeling was sensational and he felt a sense of great pride knowing he had given her such pleasure. He started to ease up on his thrusting and slowed his fingers on her clit as she came down from her climax. When he felt her body go limp and relax again, he pulled out of her and crawled up to cradle her body in his arms. He released her hands from the restraints, and turned her body onto her side. He allowed her hands to relax and just held her in his arms as her breathing slowed. He stroked her face and smiled down at her, kindly.

He could see that she was exhausted. He still had plans for her, still had places on her body to explore, but that could wait. He wanted her to rest a little. So he lifted her up off the bed just enough to pull the covers back and then placed her back down underneath them. He pulled the blankets up around her, kissed her forehead, and let her drift off to sleep. Once he was sure she was out, he climbed off the bed, threw on some sweat pants & a sweatshirt, and headed out of the room. Just before he closed the door, he turned back and whispered to her, “Sleep well my beautiful Nina. For I have more planned for you in the morning.”


Nina wasn’t sure what it was that woke her, and she almost was annoyed that it had. She felt so warm and comfortable in the bed that she didn’t wish to be awake just yet. She went to stretch her arms & legs, and let out a whimpering, “OW.” Her body ached, and her head spun. All that had taken place last night was still a jumble in her head. She remembered stopping by the diner last night after she had gone to see Dante because she was too tired to make dinner. She had opted to enjoy a beer with her food and wondered if that had turned out to be not such a good idea. She remembered paying the bill, and then walking to her car parked just off to the side of the back lot. She had almost made it to her car when she had reach in her bag to take out her keys, and had dropped them to the ground. She bent down to pick them up, but when she stood, she felt light-headed and faint. She couldn’t remember actually making it to her car, but she must have, right? She was home in her bed. She opened her eyes to welcome the sunshine, and suddenly had a sinking feeling feel her stomach. This was not her bed, and this was not her room. She shot up to a sitting position in the bed, and quickly regretted it. She felt a pair of gentle but firm hands on her back and shoulders guiding her back down on to the bed. She rolled back towards him so she could see his face. As she made eye contact, recognition hit her and the images, emotions and feelings from last night, with him, flashed through her mind. It was real. Last night really happened.

Ryan brushed a strand of hair from her face as he took in the look of confusion and anger on her face. “What did you do to me last night?” she demanded, a stern look across her face.

“Nothing you had never thought about before,” he responded, as a coy smirk appeared on his mouth.

“I never asked, thought or wanted you to drug, kidnap, and rape me!” she yelled back.

“You never thought or asked out loud. But you have thought about it, in fact you’ve dreamt about it. I only brought your dreams to life. And I intend to bring some others to life as well, later on…” Ryan let the rest of that thought trail out as he turned back to Nina’s face growing with rage. She obviously didn’t believe he was doing this in her best interest, and that hurt him a little.

She could see a glint of disappointment in his eyes as he looked at her, but she dismissed it and continued with her retort. “How would YOU know what I dream about, huh? And what gives you the right to carry them out anyway? They’re MY dreams!”

Although he could clearly see she was angry, he could also see her replaying the scenes from last night in her mind, and as she reexamined her moments of climax, her pulse quickened. This gave him the edge he needed. “Tell me then, can you say with 100% certainty that you did not enjoy anything from last night? Not one moment? Can you tell me that no part about last night you would want to relive? Do you regret everything that happened to you last night?”

Nina couldn’t believe what he was saying to her. Did he honestly expect her to say that she enjoyed what he did to her last night? And again, the moment of him inside of her as she was thrusting in unison with him as he stroked her clitoris, bringing her to orgasm entered her mind. She could feel herself getting damp down there. Her breathing sped, and she had to fight to regain her composure. She couldn’t let him know that last night was amazing. That last night she felt free for the first time in a long time. She couldn’t let him know that she longed for him to touch her…

“No!” she screamed inside her head.

Ryan could hardly hide the smile that crept over his face.

She looked at him at first with a terror that he may have heard everything that just ran through her mind. But she quickly dismissed that thought… he couldn’t know what she was thinking, how silly of her.

Before she could go back to being angry with him, he yanked the blankets off from her, and tossed a robe over. Suddenly his mood was light and playful as he said to her, “put that on and come down for breakfast. I know you are hungry.” And with that he exited from the room laughing to himself.


Reluctantly, Nina donned on the robe and went downstairs. She could smell the aroma of food in the air when she pulled open the door. And she had to admit she was starving. She took her steps carefully as she came down the stairs. She was still sore from last night. She walked over to the table. She could see he had replaced one of the chairs at the table with a padded more comfortable chair. She assumed it was for him, but was taken aback, almost touched, when he motioned for her to sit in the chair.

There was juice set out on the table, apple-raspberry, her favorite. There was hot cereal, a bowl of mixed fresh fruit, hot scones with sweet cream & jam, and some hot tea. She could hardly believe it. This was a typical breakfast for her perhaps, but not for him. He sat down across from her, gave her a soft smile, and then ushered her to eat. She was reluctant at first, but she could tell her stomach was about to growl and quickly tossed a piece of fruit into her mouth. They ate in silence, every once in a while he would try to hide a smile or a laugh. It was like there was some inside joke going on that only he was in on. But the food was delicious, and she ate until she felt full.

When she was finished, she looked back towards the stairs for a moment, and then jerked her head back to the table when she heard him get up. “You can go take a shower or a bath and relax if you’d like while I clean up here.” He spoke to her so kindly. She could sense a bit of concern in his voice, and she wondered what it was for. Nina nodded to him, and then got up from the table and headed back up the stairs.

With each painful step she took, she was grateful when she reached the top. She dashed back into the room. She first ran to the window and looked out. Forest. There was nothing around that she could see, aside from trees. Great. If I tried to make a run for it, I’d probably end up tripping and falling into a ditch. She looked around for a phone, but couldn’t even find a phone jack in the room. And no phones. For a guy that works between our department and the IT department, you’d think he’d be a little more technologically up to date. She half expected him to have touch screen videophones in every room. Either that or flat screens & blue-ray.

She decided to concede for the moment, and to go relieve her aching muscles. She went into the bathroom to draw a bath. She looked under the sink to find some bubble bath solution. Why in the world does he have this in here? She wondered. Who cares. She poured some of the soap into the bath water and watched it suds. When the bath was about half full, she dipped her toe in to test the temperature. Perfect. She stepped into the bathtub and laid down in the water, and let herself just forget about it all for a few minutes.

“You just about done in there?” Ryan asked popping his head in through the door.

Startled back to reality, Nina eked out an, “I think s-so. How long have I been in here?”

“About 30 minutes,” Ryan teased.

Hmmm. She thought.


He came in a grabbed a towel off the rack for her, and held it out for her. She gave him a look, and then sighed. She stood up out of the water, stepped out of the tub and into the towel, and his waiting arms. He wrapped her in the towel, drew her to him, and kissed her forehead. He leaned into the tub and pulled up the drain. As the water escaped from the tub, he turned back to her and led her back into the bedroom, and towards the bed. As she entered, she saw something strange hanging on the post. It was a large hot water bottle bag with a tube hanging out the bottom of it. She clenched her fists around the towel afraid of what was about to happen next.

Ryan guided her back onto the bed and had her lay on the towel on her left side, with her right leg brought up to her chest just a little. “I told you I had some plans for you today. And they are about to begin. I know you are frightened, but you don’t need to be. This is not going to hurt you. You might even find it pleasurable after a while. Just try to relax, and take in the sensations you feel. Remember to breathe.”

And with that, she felt Ryan come up behind her and spread her butt cheeks open with one of his hands. She reached back instinctively to try and stop him, but he caught her in mid-air. “If you are gonna fight me on this, I will restrain your hands like I did last night. I think I have proven I am not going to harm you. Just trust me on this, and don’t fight me, okay?”

Nina thought about it for a second, and then answered sharply, “Fine.” She felt his hand return to her bottom and spread her again, exposing her anus to him. She felt embarrassed and ashamed that she was letting him touch her again, and then she felt the cool gel on her. She felt his finger carefully and gently rub the gel onto her anus. Very slowly she felt him start to push some of the gel into her. Then she felt the tip of his finger enter her, and she jumped a little. “You’re okay, just try to relax. I’ll go slow.” She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes. She grabbed a near-by pillow and held it against her chest.

Ryan gingerly moved his finger in and out of her, each time pushing a little more of the lubricated goo into her orifice. Soon he pushed his way past her sphincter and into her anal canal. He continued to move in and out of her, and rotated his finger as well, being sure to coat all of her with the lubricant evenly.

Nina clutched the pillow tighter and tighter to her as she felt him insert his finger further into her anus. The feeling was uncomfortable, but not painful. She just wanted him to hurry up and do whatever it was he was doing and to pull his finger out of her. And soon she got her wish and she felt his finger finally exit her anus all the way. She took in another deep breath and opened her eyes, as she eased her death grip on the pillow. But her relief was short lived when she heard the next words come from his mouth.

“Okay, I am going to give you an enema now. I’ve lubricated your anus so the nozzle will go in easily. Once I have inserted it into you, I’ll release the clamp and you’ll feel warm water start to flood into your rectum. We’ll start off with a pint or two and see how you do. Then we’ll go from there. You ready?” That was all the warning she had before she felt him spread her backside open again to insert the nozzle.

Nina barely had time to process all he had just said to her. She felt the nozzle press against her anus. Her instinct was to clench herself shut at the feeling. She heard him laugh a little before he spoke to her. “It’s okay, it won’t hurt, I promise. Just relax. Try pushing out like you are going to the bathroom. It’ll open your sphincter and will help the nozzle insert easier and faster.” She couldn’t believe this was about to happen. But, she did as he asked, and pushed out like she was going to the bathroom, and she felt him tenderly push the nozzle into her. It slid in effortlessly due to the lube he had put in her. And she could feel it sitting up inside her. She didn’t like the feeling. It was hard, and uncomfortable, and it made her feel full. She wanted it out. And then she heard the clamp “pop” and shortly after that, the water started to fill her.

“Ohhhh.” Nina closed her eyes again, and pulled the pillow closer to her. The water was filling her so fast, and the sensation was overwhelming to her. The warm water felt nice, but then there was a little cramping and she let out a groan.

She felt him come sit beside her. He placed one hand on the small of her lower back and the other on her abdomen. He alternated massaging her back and her abdomen to help relieve the pain of the cramping and fullness. She could hear his voice speaking softly to her, telling her that she was doing great, and that it was almost over. She didn’t think she could take any more water, when she heard him say, “Okay that’s enough for this one.” He helped her up off the bed and guided her to the toilet so she could expel the water. He closed the door behind her so she would have some privacy.

When she was finished she opened the door and came back into the bedroom. She was horrified to see him gesturing her to come lay back down on the bed again. Oh no, I can’t do this again… she thought. He smiled at her, and reached for her hand. “You can do this. We’ve got to clean the soap out from the last enema. Now lie down, this time on your stomach.”

Nina did as he asked, and lay down on the bed, on her stomach. She felt him spread her cheeks again, and he massaged a little bit more of the lubricant into her. Then she felt him go to insert the nozzle, and again she push out to help the nozzle ease in. “Good girl,” she heard him say to her. Once the nozzle was in place, she heard him release the clamp again, and felt the water come rushing into her. It felt like the water was coming in faster this time, and the cramping started again. He massaged her back and reached under her to massage her belly. Her breathing started to speed up as she fought to take in deep slow breathes. The feeling of overwhelming fullness came over her again, and she didn’t think she could take much more. And once again, just after the thoughts of her turning into a human geyser entered her mind, he was clamping the hose off, pulling the nozzle out and helping her off the bed and to the toilet.

As Nina returned from the bathroom, a look of defeat entered her face as she saw that there was going to be yet another enema. “You took almost 2 pints this time. This is the last one, I promise.”

She slowly walked back over to him, and climbed onto the bed. This time, he positioned her on her knees, and then bent her at her waist down onto her elbows, so her bottom was up in the air, and already spreading for him. She felt ridiculous. Better get used to this position, Ryan secretly thought to himself.

He pushed her knees apart a little further, and then went to her bottom. He pulled her cheeks apart and massaged a little more lube into her. He then went to insert the nozzle. The water came gushing into her, and Nina let out some groans at the experience. She could feel the water diving deeper and deeper into her. Her abdomen was starting to distend, and she grew anxious. “You’re okay, love,” he said to her. He massaged her butt cheeks, and her back, and her abdomen until all 2.5 pints of water had filled her. Nina waited for him to remove the nozzle and then help her off the bed to the bathroom, but instead, after he removed the nozzle, she felt something else shoved into her. It was thick, and sort of round she thought. And it was much bigger than the nozzle or his finger had been. She had no time to protest before she felt it pushed passed her sphincter and into her anal cavity. She felt herself fall forward onto her arms a little, as she let out a scream, “AYEE!”

He reached under her to catch her, and lifted her up, and rolled her onto her back to face him. “I have inserted a butt plug into you to help you retain the water for a few minutes. This enema is larger and has gone further up into your bowels. It needs time to work. It’s cleaning out anything lingering. Just try to hold this in for as long as you can.”

Anything lingering? Gross, Nina thought to herself as he said that. She caught him holding back a smirk. I swear he hears me…

She laid there in his arms for what seemed like an eternity, trying not to think about the building pressure inside her. It had only been about 10 minutes, but he finally helped her up and to the toilet. He helped her remove the plug from her anus, and the water came gushing from her. Her body was shaking from the torrents pouring from her. This time he didn’t leave her alone in the bathroom. He stayed by her rubbing her shoulders, arms, and thighs. She felt embarrassed that he was still in the room, but she was far more grateful that she was finally able to get all of this out of her. When she had emptied herself, he handed her a wet cloth to clean herself with. He then helped her from the toilet, and back onto the bed. Nina lay on the bed worn out from the enemas. She had hoped that he was done with her for the day, and that she could rest. But when she felt him come to her, she knew, he was not done with her quite yet.


Ryan crawled up behind her, and whispered in her hear, “My beautiful Nina. Now is when I make more of your dreams, come true…”

“What if I don’t want any more of them to come true?” She whined. Ryan chuckled a little before he answered her. “But you don’t really mean that, Nina. Give in to me, Nina. You know you want to.”

“Noooooooo, I don’t want to!” She protested. “I want you to leave me alone!”

And then she felt his hands on her again. His lips were moving up and down her neck. His left hand reached around her to caress her breasts, while his right hand moved down to her clit and began to rub her. She tried to struggle against him as his lips moved to her nipples and began to lick and suck them. He had adjusted his hand so that his thumb was on her clit while his fingers were moving in and out of her pussy.

Nina’s body was betraying her. Her anger was being overcome by the sexual pleasures she was feeling. She let out a half-hearted, “Stop,” before a moan escaped from her lips.

Then suddenly he pulled himself from her and stared down at her, trying to be serious. “Really, Nina? Okay, I’ll stop.” She looked up at him puzzled. Her breathing was labored, almost to panting, and her pussy was dripping, her heart was racing… she was so confused about what she wanted that all she could do was scream, “RAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” She dropped her hands to her sides, and nearly started crying. No, I don’t want you to stop. I want you to keep going, I want to feel you. I, I need you. I shouldn’t, but… she thought silently to herself.

And then she felt his hands on her once again. He took her body and moved her into the position he wanted. Nina was too overwhelmed and defeated to fight him; she wasn’t even sure about what he was doing. He moved her back onto her knees, and spread them apart like before. He bent her at her waist and eased her down on to her elbows, turning her head to rest on the pillow. He took the lubricant bottle and squirted it onto his finger. And from there, he moved his finger back to her anus. She felt him massage her private place again. She welcomed the sensation. He pushed his finger into her, and he could feel her relaxing this time, allowing him to enter her more easily. He rubbed the lube all around inside of her, in and out, first one finger, and then two. He could feel her sphincter accepting his fingers and then closing around them. He could hear her quietly moaning into the pillow. She was embarrassed by how good this was feeling. She felt him remove his fingers from her, leaving her with a feeling of emptiness. She gave him a whine alerting him of her disapproval.

“Haha, don’t worry, you’ll be filled again… just hold on one moment.” He responded to her. Ryan took the lubricant once more and squeezed some of the gel onto his erection. He was sure to coat himself on his whole shaft. He didn’t want to risk hurting her. He positioned himself behind her, guiding the head to her opening. She could feel him start to push into her. She pushed back both with her hips, but also pushing out opening her sphincter for him. He slowly started to slide into her, carefully.

She could feel him stretching her, he felt huge. She wanted to cry out from the pain, but she also wanted to feel him inside her. She pushed out with her anal muscles and she pushed back against him with her hips. Ryan felt her muscles open to him inside her, and with that he advanced himself into her a little further. He was about half way in her, when he told her to just hold on and relax a minute. He could sense her anxiety, hear her breathing turn into a pant, and hear her thoughts both crying out in pain & begging for him. He needed her to relax her body. So he held his position, and rubbed her back, buttocks & thighs. When he felt her body ease up its tension, and her inner muscles release, he eased himself in a little more. He was almost there.

“Nina, when I tell you to, take a deep breath, and push back against me.” Ryan coached her, knowing he was just one good thrust away from being fully inside of her. “Ready? Now! Push Nina!” Nina took a deep breath in, and pushed back against him, opening herself the best she could. Ryan thrust one good thrust into her, and with that he slid the final inch into her.

“Good job, Nina. I’m all the way inside you now. Just rest a moment, and keep breathing.” He said to her, trying to calm all the racing emotions and thoughts rushing through her.

“You are so big, so big inside me. I don’t know if I can take any more. It hurts, it hurts feeling you stretch me, but, but, I don’t think I want you to…stop. I just, I just…” she couldn’t finish her sentence. Her body started to shake. “Breathe NINA!” Ryan called to her, as he rubbed his hands over her back.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

My unsolicited sequel to DamonX’s story Danielle’s Revenge.

DamonX is an excellent writer. Unfortunately his plots are extremely aggravating. In the case of Danielle’s Revenge, a new bride takes exception to her husband being with one of her friends before they were even engaged. She sets out for revenge, in a disgusting over the top fashion. It’s a perfect case of unreasonable escalation.

In my mind, the escalation would likely continue. The level of disrespect, humiliation and torture were enough to ensure no reconciliation. The new bride turns out to be truly psychotic.

She’s bound him, and made him watch her have sex with a stranger, acting like a total slut, and doing all the things she’d never do with her own husband, with ‘Ramon’. She rubs his face in it, then leaves him bound and gagged, at the end of the story. At least at the end of DamonX’s version.

I believe there’s more to be said here… Fair warning, this is a really cruel and ugly one.

There are too damn many intriguing stories that are never completed. If I find a story that’s been left hanging for too long, I’ll give you my idea of an ending. Fair warning though, I don’t write about total wimps. May not be BTB, all nuclear and shit, but no voluntary cucks, or whiny simpering wimps.

I don’t want to step on too many toes, and hijacking an author’s work is not what I’m intending. It’s just that so many authors start up and then disappear. They do comeback, so I’m not going to jump on a story after a few months of inactivity. So here’s what I’ve made as my own criteria for completing a story.

1) Writer has not submitted anything in over 2 years

2) The story has not been added to in at least 3 years

3) Story comments indicating a desire for the story to continue

4) Interesting enough premise to make it worth while to continue


Irritating enough that it makes me want to respond

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

After wallowing in my misery and shock, I started to come to my senses.

I’d married a psychopath. No two ways about it. Sure, I’d had sex one time, nearly two years ago, with Michelle, before Danielle and I had even been engaged. We had been on the outs at the time, and I was considering moving on. Michelle made sure I knew she was available.

I guess the only real mistake is that they were such close friends. Other than that, I can’t see anything wrong with what I did. I never did anything with Michelle since then, and made sure she knew, years ago, that although I enjoyed being with her, it would never happen again. I’d never done anything inappropriate since.

And this ways my new bride’s idea of payback?

My hands were tied together, as were my feet. I was still leaning against the wall where she’d left me. The stench of their adultery hung over me, a miasma of treachery. My head ached from whatever she’d given me. The lousy bitch.

It wasn’t easy, but I managed to crawl my way into the bathroom. Trust me, being tied up with your hands behind your back, and gagged is a pain. It must have been a good half-hour later before I’d managed to get my hands untied, using only a toenail clipper. The paucity of blood on the floor was a miracle. They ached fiercely as the circulation returned to them.

I was going to get revenge. No doubt about it. I ached for it. Could think of nothing else. I was going to start by documenting what she’d done. I went down to the station and reported an assault. I’d been tied up and drugged. I wasn’t sure who’d done it, I told them. I suspected my wife, but God only knows why. I woke up in my bedroom. At their suggestion I went down to the local Doc-in-a-box, and had a full blood workup done. I told them I’d been drugged unconscious. I’d receive the toxicology report in a few days.

When I got home, my loving wife had still not returned. I started to wonder if her parting ‘Goodbye dear’ was meant to be final.

I hoped not. How would I get my payback if it was?

I made a few preparations, my anger building. Turned out I had plenty of time. She didn’t return until almost 5:00 am. The lights were off downstairs as she’d left them, the light in the bedroom still on. I was sitting in the dark, waiting. Replaying her betrayal over and over again, in my mind. Every last detail as clear as if it was happening again. By the time she arrived I’ll readily admit, I was partially unhinged. Furious.

She closed the door quietly behind her, and I could see she was moving gingerly. I almost laughed out loud at that. If she was sore now, we’d see how she was before too long.

Danielle didn’t turn on the lights, she didn’t call out. I was wondering if she was having second thoughts. Too late for that, you evil bitch.

She walked down the hall carefully, and I got to my feet and followed quietly behind her. I was only a couple of steps away when she turned into the bedroom. “Honey?” She called out nervously, when she didn’t see me.

Honey? Like I’d ever let the loathsome bitch use any term of endearment with me again.

I pushed her roughly into the room, slamming her onto the bed. She squealed and struggled, but I had 80 lbs on her. I had her hands and feet zip-tied within a few seconds, and I reached under her skirt and ripped her panties off. I shoved them in her mouth, and duct-taped them in place. I wasn’t gentle.

She was obviously terrified, when I rolled her onto her side.

“So you’re a whore, are you?” I smirked. “Good job choice. Consider me your pimp, you heartless cunt.”

It took a little over an hour to get to the summer cabin. I drove her car, meticulously obeying the speed limit. She rode in the trunk. I figured I could use one of the dirt-bikes that we left up there to get home.

The small, three room building had been winterized, and was isolated enough for me not to have to worry about neighbors. At the last minute, I had a change in plans. Mr. and Mrs. Thompson had the cabin half a mile from ours. They rarely used it in the summer, and never in the winter. As with most of our neighbors, I had a key to their place for emergencies. This was an emergency if ever there was one.

There were a lot of advantages to using their place. They had solar power, so any electric use would be minimal. They had a garage, her car wouldn’t be sitting out in the open. If anyone wanted to investigate her disappearance, they’d find out about our family cabin easily enough, it might be risky leaving her there. No reason to investigate the Thompson’s. They were retired Snowbirds. They headed to Florida every winter. They wouldn’t use the cabin for many months. They were paranoid of their belongings, and never rented or loaned the place out.

It seemed ideal, for my purposes.

The cabin was cold, but I started up the propane heater. I looked around, and figured it would do for now.

I dragged my dear sweet wife out back of the cabin, and hosed her down. She didn’t seem to like it much, I’m sure the water was uncomfortably cold, it was, after all, mid September. She struggled a little when I tore her slutting clothing off of her, showing a bit more cooperation when I took out my knife to cut the last remnants away. I pressed the hose nozzle up her cheating cunt, and against her ass, rinsing her off good. Have to keep your property in good shape, you know.

She was still bound up tight, and her hands and feet were looking red. I didn’t want her to lose them. What a pain that would be.

I cut her hands free, and watched her eyes tear up, as the circulation started up again. I leaned over her face grinning. “Not so fun is it?” I looped the chain around her neck, tightly. Way too tight for her to wriggle out of it. Snapped it shut with a padlock. She reached up to pull the duct tape off of her mouth, and I backhanded her, hard. “Don’t touch.”

I never had hit a woman in my life, but I guess I had no such compunctions when it comes to vicious, cheating, whore wives.

The chain wrapped around one of the cabin’s central posts. A 10″ wide natural log that wasn’t going anywhere. I wasn’t cruel, I gave her about a foot of loose chain to move around, and cleared everything away from the center of the room.

I removed her ankle ties, and wrapped a second, thinner chain around her ankle, locked it in place, and attached that one to the post as well. Gave her a few feet of slack. She could lay down if she wanted. Not much else. The bitch wasn’t going anywhere.

I made her sit down, and then ripped the duct-tape from her face, and yanked the soiled panties from her mouth. “Ramone. I want to know everything about him.”

“What… what are you doing!” she seemed torn between anger and fear. I was going to make sure fear won out. I slapped her again, then, what the hell, I slapped her a half-dozen more times just to get some of my fury out.

I grabbed a fistful of hair and shook her. “Ramone. Everything. Where he lives, where he works, how you met him.”

“Please, honey,” she sobbed, “don’t…”

The next backhand was hard enough to bounce her head off the post, and leave her dazed, her split lip bleeding.

“You stupid cunt!” I snapped. I returned with my industrial sized container of over-sized zip-ties. She didn’t struggle much as I bound her wrist and ankles once again. Duct-taped her mouth good, wrapping it around her head three times.

“I’m going to give you some time to think about it. Maybe I’ll be back.”

I shut off the heater, and turned at the door. “Yes, I’ve seen what a whore you are. Thank you for the wakeup call.” She looked at me, tears streaming down her face. “Goodbye dear.”

~ * ~ * ~

I had a plan, to go along with my blinding anger. I was patient. I called around, talking to her parents and friends. Told them what she’d done to me. Said she’d left with her unnamed lover, who I’d never seen before. Said goodbye and drove off. I hadn’t heard from her since.

“I don’t know what to do,” I cried my crocodile tears. “I love her so much. If she would come home, I’m sure we could get past her indiscretion.”

I talked to the police, but they told me there was nothing they could do. Not for 48 hours, and not much even then. “No signs of foul play. She probably realized she’d overreacted and can’t face you. Give her some time.”

Some of the friends and family questioned my version of whatever happened. I showed them the photos of my bindings, the damage to my wrists, the police and toxicology reports. I guess they were convincing.

Several purchases were made. Not locally, as far from home as I could reasonably manage. Cash. Call me paranoid. I considered it being careful.

The second day of sitting in her own filth, without food or water, in that cold room, tied to that post, she cracked. When I uncovered her mouth, she gave it to me, in detail. I had everything I needed to know about the asshole. I rewarded her. Took her outside and hosed her down. Let her drink from the hose. Gave her a bucket, sponge and some Lysol, allowing her to clean up her space.

She was still fucking gorgeous. Seeing her on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor, her naked ass waving, I’d had enough. I pulled my pants down, straddled her hips, and fucked her ass raw. She’d given it to him willingly enough. Her husband deserved at least as much. It was difficult getting in her, and she whined and sobbed a lot. Tough shit. He-he. No pun intended.

When I was done, I left her there, crying. I got an empty mason jar and stood in front of her, waving it. “Two bucks. You earned it, my little whore. When you’ve paid off my investment in you, I’ll set you free.”

I had given her the entrance mat to sit on, and tossed her a rough wool blanket. “Take care of my investment,” I told her.

“Feed me?” she begged piteously.

“We’ll see. Depends on how true you were about loverboy. If there’s even one lie, you’re not going to like the results.”

She changed her story. Not a lot, but enough to piss me off. I paid her another two bucks and pounded her tight ass again. I left her there.

~ * ~ * ~

Revenge is exhausting. Keeping all the lie’s straight, switching emotions. Dealing with the home, the friends, the neighbors, the family. Working, and taking off to my little hideout as often as possible. Making plans, and following through.

She had another 18 dollars in her jar, and had lost at least 10 pounds when I dragged loverboy Ramone into the cabin, unconscious. He was chained much more thoroughly to the second post. Neck, hands behind his back and behind the post. On his knees, his ankles chained to the sturdy wood. I cut his clothing off, leaving a few nicks and scratches in my wake.

By this time, Danielle knew better than to speak. I removed her gag, and she looked up at me piteously. I tossed her the water bottle, and she drank gratefully.

“Speak if you want to,” I told her.

“I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do…”

I shook my head. “You’re doing fine. $20 already. Only another $11,460 to go.”

Ramone was angry when he came to. Not much he could do about it. He stayed tied up, and I said nothing. Hit him and kicked him when he was in reach. Didn’t feed him, didn’t water him. Left him in his filth.

I fucked her a lot. Always in her cheating ass. By this time she was practically asking for it, turning her ass toward me as soon as I’d show up. I’d pay her, then water and feed her after a good fucking. Nothing substantial but it was better than starving. No fucking, no feeding. Piss me off, and there was no watering.

After just a couple of days without care, Ramone was close to done. Hanging from his chains, not even looking up. He didn’t moan or groan when I hit him. I’d just spent another $4 and pulled my cock out of Danielle’s ass, wiping it in her hair. I walked over to her lover. Ripped the duct tape from his mouth, and saw a hint of life. I got a pitcher of water and started pouring it over his head. He shuddered then turned his head upward, desperately seeking the life giving fluid.

Alright, maybe I’m a little mean. I moved the spout around, making him chase it, laughing at him. Then I poured the remaining water directly over his mouth, overfilling it. Fast, so he could only drink a fraction of it, the rest going to waste. When it was empty I backhanded him with my full strength, snapping his head around. “Last time you’ll ever fuck another man’s wife.” I laughed, “Or any woman, for that matter.”

Thirty seconds with the duct tape, and he was taken care of. I returned to my wife, and untied her chains from the post, holding them like a leash. “Clean up.”

I’d given her a pot for her personal needs, and she quickly cleaned it out while I sat back and watched, playing out the chain as needed. She knelt in front of the under-sink counter, waiting.

“Yes, you may.”

She opened it and got out the cleanser, and Lysol. Got the bucket and brushed and cleaned her area. She looked over at the other post.

“Clean his area.”

She nodded, and set to work. “Don’t touch him,” I warned her.

She did what she could. I stood and filled the pitcher with water and diluted bleach and poured it over his lower body. A second pitcher rinsed him off, and I left her to the cleaning.

She was behaving well. I was absurdly proud of her ability to adjust to her new circumstances. “Let’s bathe you,” I told her.

Danielle seemed happy with the hose down. I guess being clean was better than being cold. She looked good, naked and clean. I bent her over the rail and pounded her ass. It was getting scrawny. I’d have to feed her a little better. Didn’t like a bony ass. I rinsed her ass out again, and gave her butt a slap. “You’re getting better at that. I may even have to raise your wages.”

She shocked me by turning and hugging me around the waist. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

I pulled her head back by the hair. “Not as sorry as you’re going to be, you cheating whore.”

Nope. ‘Sorry’ wasn’t going to cut it.

~ * ~ * ~

Ramone was wasting away. I gave him enough water to keep him alive. Barely. Fed him a crust of bread every now and then. That was it. He developed a cough, hacking, so I hooded him to keep it down. Developed some rashes but I didn’t really care. He should be happy I left him alive.

I don’t know what it was that pissed me off. I guess I had some anger issues. I usually slapped or kicked him when he was in reach. One day, I beat the hell out of him. No particular reason, I just felt he needed it. I felt better afterward. I even took a shower and washed off the blood and sweat.

Danielle was desperate to please me that day. I laid on the little rug I’d given her, and let her ride my cock with her ass. I guess I was getting soft. Lately I’d been allowing her to suck me to hardness, slobbering all over my cock before sticking it up her butt. We both knew she was cheating, lubing me up like that, but the truth was it felt better that way.

She was wearing only her neck chain. I had bandaged up her ankle; the chain had started chafing her. She still looked good to me. Sad, isn’t it?

She got me off, then took me in her mouth and slowly, surprisingly gently, pleasured me until I was hard again. She looked up at me piteously, with the gaze that I knew was pleading. “What?”

“How can I pleasure you?” she asked. “Ride you again? On my knees, on my belly? How do you want me?”

“Finish me with your mouth, whore.”

She smiled and did as I required. She was the best she’d ever been, sucking my balls, rimming me, taking me deep in her mouth. She was wild and wanton, then loving and repentant. I rose up on my knees and fucked her face hard, forcing my way down her throat, ignoring her gagging. Fist in her hair, I pumped her face until I was ready. “Finish me,” I growled.

She stroked me hard, sucking me, until I erupted between her lips. She sucked me dry, then showed me her reward. She swallowed, then laid down on my waist, licking and sucking my spent cock. “Thank you,” she whispered softly.

“Five. That was worth five bucks,” I told her. A compliment.

She looked up at me smiling. “Someday I hope to be worth more. For you.”

I smacked her. Not too hard, just to make a point. “Did I say you could talk?”

She shook her head, and went back to playing with me. Surprisingly, she eventually got me hard again. I was a little irritated that I was getting soft with her. I put her on her belly, and fucked her ass hard, driving her into the floor. It disturbed me that she came for me twice. This wasn’t supposed to be a reward.

So I spanked her for it. Put her over my lap and blistered her bottom, long and hard. She was crying after the first few minutes, and lying limp and helpless when my hand stung too much to continue. That was better.

I did remember to drop $9 in her jar. Five for the blowjob, and the regular $2 for each load in her whoring ass. I deposited a $10 bill and made change.

~ * ~ * ~

“Merry Christmas, Danielle,” I told her, opening the bag.

She looked up at me. “Permission to speak?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Is it really Christmas?”

“December 25th.”

She nodded, and tears rolled down her face. “I would have bought you something,” she said softly.

I grinned. “Maybe we’ll think of something you can give me.”

“Anything,” she said softly.

I pulled out the first of her gifts. Bracelets and cuffs. Soft leather interior, external metal bands which locked closed. Custom made and expensive. She giggled and put them on, while I brought out a wrapped gift. I handed it to her, and she opened it up eagerly. It was the matching collar, with an inscription. “His Whore.” She stroked the material, and felt her neck where the heavy chain hung. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “Put it on me?”

I removed the chain, and massaged the redness around her neck. I slid the collar around her neck, and snapped it shut. It looked good on her.

“Can I… Can I see it?”

I was feeling indulgent. It was Christmas after all. I took her to the bathroom, the first time she’d been in it since the place became her new home. Nearly three months. She turned her head in front of the mirror, examining the collar. I watched her hands move up to her hair, brushing it back, and the tears started again. “I look horrible!”

I moved behind her, and took her in my arms. “You’re beautiful. You’ve always been beautiful. An evil, despicable cheating whore who disgusts me, but fucking gorgeous.”

“Stay here,” I said. I returned a minute later with another of her gifts. I gave her the simple dollar store brush and she cried out in joy, snatching it from my hands, and attacking her rat’s nest.

After only a moment, she stopped and turned to me. “Let me prepare myself for you. You deserve better than this.”

I nodded.

She looked over at the bath. “May I?”

I glared at her.

She lowered her head. “It’s not for me, I swear. For you. Let me do my best for you. For Christmas. My gift.”

I nodded. “Not too long.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, and with a smile, closed the door on me.

Ramone’s eyes followed me around so I hooded him again. I hated him watching me. I put the food in the oven to keep it warm, and waited her return. I wasn’t disappointed. She was as beautiful as the day I met her. Maybe more so. She’d finally lost those last few pounds she was always complaining about. Her hair was long, and smooth. She was practically glowing. She approached me on her knees. “Merry Christmas, Honey,” she said. I saw she was nervous. I never let her use any terms of endearment. That little ‘Honey’ was taking a big chance.

“Merry Christmas, my little whore,” I told her.

I accepted her gift, letting her suck me to release. She was getting good. Practice, I guess. I caressed her soft shiny hair. I should have given her a brush earlier.

I still used the second erection on her cheating ass. Bent her over the table, and took her hard. “Don’t mistake me,” I growled. “You’re still nothing but a cheating evil whore. I didn’t deserve that.” I was surprised by my own words. I’d never brought up anything about that night. Not the reasons, not my feelings, not anything.

She moaned underneath me crying. “I know,” she whined. “I’m sorry, baby. Sorry. Punish me.”

“One time!” I screamed at her. “Once! Before we were even engaged. You and I weren’t even talking, remember! One time, and it wasn’t even good. I hate you, you lousy, no good cheating whore! How could you?”

I guess she figured that meant she could speak. “She was bragging about getting you. Telling all the girls. Saying all the nasty things you did. I… I was mortified. I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

“SHUT UP!” I screamed, and slapped her on the side of the head.

I fucked her. Fucked her hard, fighting the tears that refused to stop. Spilling over and splashing on her ass. “Whore,” I’d sob. “Cheating cunt.”

I exploded inside of her, and collapsed, my full weight driving her into the table. “I hate you,” I cried. “Hate you.”

She pulled my arms around her body, drawing them in tightly, making me hug her. “I know, I know,” she cried softly. “I love you too. I’m sorry.”

I chained her to the pole. I needed some air. It was half an hour before I returned, back in control. She was sitting anxiously, obviously nervous, but silent.

I waltzed over to Ramone, ripped his hood off and kicked him in the gut. “Merry Christmas, Asshole,” I sneered. He looked up at me in fear. Any anger or resistance had faded long since.

Dinner was nice. I’d picked up a roast chicken, and had mashed potatoes, rolls, creamed corn, and green beans. I let her sit near me, while we ate together. She was quiet, but tentatively reached out to touch me every now and then. Pressed her leg against mine. She sipped her one cup of wine like she wanted it to last forever.

Blame it on the wine. The full belly. How good she looked. I went to the car and brought out the last of her presents. A large, dark brown alpaca fur rug, soft and luxurious. I laid it out in front of her column, and drew her down onto it. She rolled in it, giggling. “It’s incredible,” she said. “So soft. I didn’t think anything could be so soft.”

“Merry Christmas, Danielle,” I whispered.

She rolled into my arms, cuddling, kissing me. Not the lips. I’d never let those whoring cock-sucking lips touch mine. She had me hard, and was lying on top of me. I don’t know what I was thinking. I swore to myself I’d never do it, but there I was, balls deep in her cheating pussy.

She hugged me, crying. “Don’t just lie there,” I growled.

I made her do the work. Watched her ride my hard cock, rocking back and forth, sliding up and down it. She squealed when she came on it the first time, and I slapped her ass. “Impertinent whore,” I reminded her. “This is for my pleasure, not yours.”

My words were ineffective. We spent hours there. She got me off twice, and had numerous orgasms of her own. After half a dozen, I was getting irritated. “Damn it! Enough. This is for me. You come again and I’ll tan your ass.”

She whimpered and kept fucking me. She sat upright, fucking me steadily, a nice easy motion. Her moans had started again. She looked down at me, her eyes begging. “Please, honey,” she gasped. “Let me come for you?”


She kept going, her body trembling, legs shaking. She was fighting it, hopelessly. “Please!” she whined. “Please!”

“Come, you cheating whore,” I growled, grabbing her hips and thrusting into her hard.

She screamed out, coming so hard she forced my cock out of her. She gasped, and hurried to squeeze me back in. She laid on me, gasping, and kissed my neck. “Incredible,” she moaned.

When she stopped shaking, she sat back up and rose up off my cock. She adjusted herself and slipped me into her ass. She smiled and went back to work, fucking me.

I got a nice little ass come from her, only after she pleaded for her release. By then, I was done. I needed to come. She kissed my chin, “Come in your whore’s ass, baby. Fill me up.”

When I groaned my release into her, she climbed off my cock and sucked me clean. I didn’t have another one in me, and I laid there, holding her. She sighed after a while, grabbed her chain and locked it to her new collar. “Thank you for a wonderful Christmas. I know I didn’t deserve it. Thank you.” She laid back on the rug, stretching out. I played with her soft, warm body a while, rubbing her breasts, teasing her nipples.

I hadn’t forgotten about our other guest. I stripped his gag off, and unlocked his hands from around the post. He groaned as he drew his arms forward. I placed a sports bottle in his hands. He drank thirstily.

“Taste good? I gave you three good loads of my cum in there.” I had topped it off with water.

“Thank you, Sir,” he managed, his voice coming out soft and hoarse.

Any other response would have earned him a beating. I guess even slimy bastards can learn. I picked some of the last of the chicken off the bone, and put it on the half roll that Danielle had left. I gave it to him, and watched him cram it in his mouth.

I dragged Danielle over by her chain. Made her straddle him, inches away. I lifted her legs, showing him her reddened, well used pussy and ass. “Was it worth it, asshole? Fucking another man’s wife?”

He shook his head, turning his face away.

“Look at it!” I screamed at him, grabbing him by the hair. “You made a fucking whore out of her. Look at it you asshole!”

He looked up, miserably. “I… I’m sorry. She came on to me,” he whined.

That earned him a punch to the temple, and a kick to the ribs. I grabbed Danielle by the hair. “You want him now? I bet you’d love to fuck him again, wouldn’t you. You loved his cock, remember? You gonna lick his asshole now? Suck his cum off his body?”

She shook her head, crying. “No, baby. Nobody but you.”

“You’re a whore. You’ll do what I say. Now suck him!”

She dropped to her knees. Ten minutes later we all knew she was wasting her time. He wouldn’t get hard no matter what. I pulled on her chain hard, yanking her backward off of him, landing splayed out on her back, gasping. “You useless whore. Go rinse your disgusting mouth out, and return to your bed.”

She crawled to the sink, and spent several minutes doing just that. She even added soap to the water, gagging as she spit out the frothy water.

I pulled up her rug, rolled it and put it to the side. She didn’t deserve it. I did leave her the old rug. Locked her back in place. “God damned, whore,” I growled, snapping the lock shut.

Ramone was gagged again, and his chains checked. A kick to the balls was his final Christmas gift.

~ * ~ * ~

At home, it was a trying time. Everybody was worried about ‘poor’ Danielle. I was invited to dinner at the in-laws. Her friends stopped by, consoling me. Michelle, the architect of our issues offered an intimate consolation. Like I’d ever have anything to do with her again.

Work was going surprisingly well. I’d received a promotion and sizable Christmas bonus. I used half of the bonus to get myself a holiday gift. A used ATV four wheeler. I had plans.

I cut a path out behind our cabin, and rented an excavator. Dug a nice little pit. Well, maybe not that little. A post hole digger dug out the holes for the retaining posts and a simple chainsaw wood mill gave me most of the materials I needed. I’d purchased a book at a used bookstore on how to build a $50 underground house book. My Christmas vacation was spent putting in the poly plastic, installing the logs for the walls and retaining walls. All the basics.

It was hard work. I’d take several breaks a day. Danielle would feed me, and get my rocks off. She was curious as to what I was up to, but smart enough to shut up about it. Ramone was Ramone. Quiet, sullen and terrified. I even found myself sleeping over, to get the most out of my days.

The interior of the new shelter was only about 10 feet across, but more than 24 feet deep. Well ventilated, with numerous baffles to keep the critters out, and with plenty of drainage, built at the top of the decline at the back of the property.

It’s amazing what you can do working 14-16 hours a day for a solid week. It didn’t cost $50. More like $1500. Mostly in plastic, pipes and the concrete floor.

A used ATV front bucket ran me $400 but I couldn’t have managed the job without it. With a couple of chains and a second winch, I could move the logs in place, or push dirt around. It was like having two more people to help me. By New Years Day, I had the roof in place, sodded over, and the entrance was complete. The shell was done, now it just needed finishing on the interior.

New Year’s Eve I didn’t feel like I had a lot to celebrate. Nevertheless, I had a surprise for my wife. I cleaned up, and and entered the cabin a little after dark. I gave her a bag, and pointed to the bathroom. “New Year’s Eve. Get ready.”

I heard her crying only minutes later. She stuck her head out the door. “Please, Baby, don’t make me…”

“Shut the fuck up, whore, and get dressed,” I snapped.

I hadn’t watered Ramone for a couple of days. I tried to water him every day, but sometimes I forgot. Sometimes I couldn’t make it to the cabin, pretending to be human back home. I cut a slice in the duct tape over his mouth, stuck the sports bottle straw through the hole, and squeezed. He sucked thirstily until it was near empty. I pulled it out, and slapped a new piece of duct-tape in place. My good deed for the day.

She took longer than I would have preferred, but still looked good when she emerged. She had brushed out her hair, and put on her holiday clothes. The little white lace bra and panties that she had worn on our honeymoon just a few months ago. She also had on the thigh high stockings and high heels she had worn. Her hair was done up the same, and she was wearing the earrings her mother had given her as a wedding present.

She stood before me shaking. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“You look beautiful, you fucking whore,” I said. I had stripped down to nothing but a pair of shorts. I pulled her over to the door roughly, and did something I swore I wouldn’t. Stuck my tongue halfway down her throat. Reached down and grabbed her ass.

She lowered her head, crying, then reached out and grabbed my bulge. Perfect. She remembered.

She took me by the hand, sobbing, and pulled me along. She laid down next to Ramone, spreading her legs for me. “Ok, Baby, let’s do it,” she whimpered.

“Ok Baby, do your thing,” I corrected her. I remembered every word, every movement, every look of hers. I turned her head to face Ramone, roughly. “Get it right!”

“Ok baby, do your thing,” she cried, shivering when I kissed the inside of her thigh. I moved up her thighs, and pulled her hand over between her legs, making her rub herself.

“Oh my God, his mouth feels so good,” I whispered in a stage voice.

“Oh my God. His mouth feels go good,” she croaked, the words catching in her cheating, whoring throat.

It took us over an hour, and a lot of prompting on my part. She never stopped crying, not once. Pissed me off. She was supposed to be excited. I ended up having to smack her around a little. It helped, and she pretended, which was all I could really ask for. Obviously, I couldn’t excite her like her lover. Faithless bitch.

When our reenactment was over, and she was displaying her dripping asshole to dickhead, I yanked her away. “Who’s whore are you?” I asked, seething.

“Yours baby. Only yours. I was stupid, and angry, not thinking straight. Forgive me, baby,” she whined.

I laughed. “Forgive you? Are you fucking kidding?”

She dropped to her knees, hugging my thighs. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“Sure, you’re sorry now,” I snapped.

“I was sorry that night. I came back to beg forgiveness. I went too far. Way too far. I was going to do the same as her. Same as Michelle. I don’t know why I couldn’t stop.”

“Because you’re a whore!” I screamed in her face.

“Your whore, baby. Only for you. Never again with anyone else, I swear.”

“Unless I tell you to.”

“Whatever you want. I’m your whore.”

I grabbed her bra and tore at it viciously. The material didn’t separate easily and I was throwing her around the floor, trying to get it off. When it finally shredded, I yanked at her panties, knocking her to the floor, my foot on her back, pulling, stretching and finally ripping her honeymoon undergarments off.

I was panting, breathing hard, as I tore her stockings off, ripping her high heels off her feet and throwing them at the door. I grabbed her earrings, yanking at them. They came free, with one of her ears bleeding. I threw them on the floor, grinding them into the wood, under my heel. Not the smartest thing I ever did, since I was barefoot, and now bleeding more than her.

“You fucking worthless cunt. Our honeymoon clothes? You had to destroy everything, didn’t you!”

She lay sprawled on the floor, crying despondently.

“Get up, you filthy whore.”

She stood shakily, hands at her side, head bowed. “Clean up this mess.”

She did as told, putting the remains of her cheating apparel in a bag by the door. She scrubbed the blood off the floor, and even bandaged my foot and her ear. At midnight, I wished her a Happy New Year, and let her suck my dick.

~ * ~ * ~

January 22nd. I entered the cabin, and went to my wife. She had gotten on her knees immediately, awaiting me. I had a bag for her. She opened it, and found a little makeup packet. Not much, lipstick, blush, eyeliner, perfume. “Light on the perfume, I like the way you smell,” I told her.

She hugged me around the waist. I gave her another package which she tore open eagerly. She gasped, shaking out the t-shirt. It read “His Whore”. She looked up at me. “May I?”

“It’s yours, isn’t it.” I unclipped her neck chain.

She pulled it on over her head. The first article of clothing she’d worn in four months, other than that New Year’s debacle.

A third package had some more grooming items. A battery operated shaver, some soap, and cheap shampoo. She hugged them. “You were starting to look a little too European,” I teased.

She had tears in her eyes, when I lifted her to her feet, hugging her. “Happy Birthday, Danielle.”

Dinner was another special one, Italian, one of her favorites. Accompanied by a bottle of Chianti. It was her birthday, so I used all of her holes during the celebration. Even paid her double for them. Maybe it was the wine. She was in another of her orgasmic moods. I had to threaten her a couple of times, even deliver a short spanking, during which I made her count off her years. I left her in a quivering heap on her Alpaca fur rug. She was hugging her shirt to her chest, like it was gold.

I watered Ramone. He wasn’t looking good. Skin and bones, suppurating wounds on his wrists and ankles. His hair was lifeless and falling out. Gave him some juice mixed in with his water. A few calories every now and then. Damn that asshole pissed me off. He looked up at me, and I spat on him. Fucking disrespect me! He flinched as I stood and pissed on him. I aimed for his face, and he barely moved out of the way. Who’s the wimp now, mother fucker? I leaned down and faced him, only inches away. “Tell your husband you want me to come in your ass,” I reminded him of his treacherous words.

He whimpered, curling up as much as he could.

I went over and kicked my whore awake. She scrambled up as I pulled her across the floor by her hair. I kicked him onto his side, almost dislocating his shoulder. “Doesn’t he have a nice ass? Look how firm and sexy it is?” I growled, kicking his ugly rear. “You’d do anything he wanted, wouldn’t you, whore?”

She shivered, clinging to my leg. “No baby, he disgusts me. I love only you.”

“Don’t you want to lick his asshole again? Why don’t you stick your tongue up his ass? You loved that didn’t you, whore. Loved humiliating me.”

She started in with the stupid crying. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Lick him. Lick his ass, just like you love to do, for your beautiful lover.” I threw her forward, kicking her in his direction. She moved slowly, pleading, begging.

“Remember, whore? You’d do it for him. Never for me, you promised. No, you wouldn’t do it for your husband. Only for your new stud, you fucking whore. Now lick him!” I pushed her the last few inches with my foot in her ass.

“Lick him until he’s hard. Do it, whore!”

She was only at it for a few seconds before she turned and threw up. All that fancy dinner, gone to waste. I kicked her. “Go on. He’s not hard yet.”

She tried, and got the dry heaves, then went back again. After a few minutes I dragged her outside. It was cold out, we’d had our second snowfall, and it was a couple of inches deep. I hosed her down, curled up, trembling. “Get in there and clean up your mess, whore.”

She was slow, and shivering hard, but she did a decent job of it. Took her way longer than it should have. I chained her to her post, and threw her old rug on top of her.

“Happy Birthday, you evil cheating whore.”

I still wasn’t done with Ramone. I had a birthday gift for him, as well. A few minutes research had provided the information I needed, and a day trip to an ag-store in a town a short distance away had provided the materials. $20 but worth it, in my humble opinion.

I had been nervous about Ramone’s resistance, but he offered up none. I attached the green band to the Jeffers castrating tool, squeezed the handles and watched it stretch open wide. Only a few seconds to loop it around his balls, and release. He grunted when the powerful band snapped shut, and whimpered. I liked that sound.

I was confused about how long it would take. Some sites said that within 24 hours, the job would be accomplished, if not sooner. One said you could just leave the band on, and that it would fall off, balls and all, in about three weeks.

Time was certainly not an issue.

~ * ~ * ~

I recognized part of my problem was the asshole. Seeing him would set me off sometimes. I had to do something with him. Three weeks later I did.

It was a Friday. I strolled into the cabin, and she got to her knees expectantly.

I ignored her, and went right to the asshole. Removed his chains and duct-taped his ankles and wrists again, the sound of the tape streaming off the roll, loud and comforting. Checked that his jewels had blackened but certainly hadn’t fallen off. Too bad about that, I’d been thinking about keeping them in a jar at work. I covered his mouth, picked him up easily and threw him over my shoulder. He couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds. I’d need a bath afterward.

“Say goodbye to your lover, whore,” I said standing in front of her.

“He was a mistake. Not my lover,” she said softly.

“What did you say to me, last time you left with him?”

She lowered her head. “Goodbye, dear.”

“Much better.” I turned and left, closing the door behind me. He fit easily in my trunk. I drove the ATV up onto the trailer, and headed out.

I’d spent a few days with maps, finding the most remote location possible. It took me half a day to drive there, then another three hours of him bumping along, wrapped up in a blanket on the front rack of my Arctic Cat 650, like a trophy. When my GPS said I had arrived I got off, and rolled him to the ground.

I put the bag next to him. “If I ever see you again. I’ll skin you alive.” I pulled his face around by the hair, making him look into my eyes. “I mean that literally. Filleting knives and pliers. I will skin you, and make the whore a shirt out of your hide. That and a nice set of coasters.” I put the mini-survival tin in front of him. An Altoids can, it had enough to survive. Maybe. The bag had $10 worth of clothing from goodwill. Shoes, socks, shirt and pants. He had the blanket he was wrapped in. The tin had water purification tablets, water bag, fishing gear, some matches, flint and steel, compass, commando wire saw, antibiotic and band-aids. A couple of X-Acto knife blades, several yards of nylon string. Some sewing needles, a Fresnel magnifier, a couple of feet of aluminum foil. Even a SpyderCo folding knife. No whistle or signaling mirror. I didn’t want to make it too easy for him. He certainly had enough to survive. He didn’t seem like the rugged outdoors type to me. I didn’t give him much of a chance. Still something was better than nothing.

No fingerprints on anything, just in case. I bought the kit complete, and removed the signaling items, and added the knife. Pretty generous of me.

He was lying there stunned, still tied up. He could open the tin, get out the knife and free himself. Find shelter and food. He could make it. It was up to him. More of a chance than the bastard gave my marriage.

I hopped on the ATV and headed home.

It was after midnight when I got there, and I was exhausted. I walked over to her and freed her collar. “Service me, whore.”

She sucked me hard, then had me lie down while she rode my cock. Up her ass, of course. I wasn’t feeling generous. She hadn’t spoken a word to me. When she’d gotten me off, she laid on me, hugging me. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“I know,” I said, stroking her hair. She whined a little when I snapped her cuffs together behind her back, but I freed her leg chain, leaving her attached to the post only by the one around her neck. Reeled in the slack to give her a couple of feet. I saw the nervous anxiousness in her eyes, and calmed her.

“Relax,” I whispered.

She tried to, stretching out on her rug. I retrieved the blanket from the bedroom, laid down beside her and covered us up. Pulled her in close and held her while she cried softly. “He’s no longer part of your life,” I whispered.

She whimpered, “Permission to speak?”


“I’m frightened for you. Did you… finish him?”

“No. I released him. Far away, in the middle of nowhere, with enough to survive. I don’t envy his chances.”

“What… what if he comes back?”

“Then I’ll finish him.”


“It’s a chance I had to take. Tomorrow you will make sure no evidence remains of his ever having been here. Understand?”

She nodded, and cuddled in closer. “Use me?” she pleaded softly.

I was tired, but feeling a little compassion for my whore. She was alone again, and frightened. I could feel her trembling. I guess I was becoming an old softy. I sat up and stuck my cock in her mouth, allowing her to get me hard. It was cute to see her wriggling around on that rug, hands behind her, doing her best. It wasn’t bad. I toyed with her, reaching between her legs, driving her a little crazy. She was soaking wet, but would get no relief from me there. I wasn’t feeling that generous. Brought her near the edge several times, gasping for release. Her mouth work was getting sloppy, but I gave her some slack, I was being unusually hard on her pussy.

When I felt in danger of coming, I flipped her over on her belly, climbed behind her, and started working my way into her ass. Always a little difficult the first time, her spittle provided enough lubrication to make it possible.

I pinned her down with my weight, straddling her ass, her legs pressed together. Fucked her cheating ass for an eternity. Sometimes fiercely, then with an easy rocking motion while I rested. I didn’t punish her for her orgasms. I understood this was a difficult time for her.

Like I said, I guess I’m getting soft. I kissed her tender neck, inhaling her natural fragrance. “We won’t talk of him again.”

She whimpered, nodding.

“We’re entering a new phase now, my little whore. Just you and me.”

She grunted as I stabbed into her hard, thrusting her hips back to meet me.

She groaned and all resistance left her body. I pounded her tight hole, until I managed my own release. I thought she was out of it, but she wiggled underneath me. “Please, let me clean you. No mess in our bed.”

Our bed. That was laughable. But I could tell she was earnest. I laid down with my crotch in front of her face, and allowed her to do as she wanted. She did a lot more than clean, and I chuckled as I started to firm up in her mouth. She looked up at me, and I saw the mischief in her eyes.

“Are you trying to make me punish that sweet ass again?”

In response, she took me down her throat, pushing her face against my belly. I laughed, put her on her side, and reentered her ass. She opened her legs for me, looping the top one back, over mine. I held her in my arms, her head resting on my bicep, and played with her, a nice leisurely fuck, no urgency. Teased her a little, reaching down and playing with her pussy to make her wriggle against my cock. She’d been a lousy wife, but she was turning into a helluva whore.

She was feeling incredibly playful. Her hands were still cuffed behind her back, and she was trying to tickle me with her fingers. I swatted her butt. “Behave, whore.”

She giggled, wiggling her hips trying to force me deeper. Her fingers were caressing, no longer tickling, and she turned her head, kissing and nibbling on the arm she was resting on.

I relaxed, pulling her back against me, relaxed, my cock buried inside her. I felt her soft fingers gently caressing, running through my pubic hair. I held her, buried in that soft rug, her ass clenching around my cock, teasing me, while my free hand played with her tit. Still full and succulent, even after the weight she’d lost.

“Stay with me,” she whispered. “Please.”

I should have slapped her, but the exhaustion and sexual contentedness, had my body betraying me. I pumped her ass a few times, settling in nice and deep. Kissed her soft shoulder. Tugged our cover up over us. “Sweet little whore,” I mumbled, and held her until I no longer was aware of anything.

~ * ~ * ~

I woke to her body pressed against mine, her breath a gentle breeze against my neck. She had turned in the night, facing me. Strange, how she could look so innocent, asleep, when the soul of a harlot inhabited her sexy body. I reached behind her, and freed her wrists, hearing a soft whimper escape her lips. I pulled them around me, and lifted her body onto mine, holding her while trying to re-capture that magic time between asleep and awake.

She was wiggling, snuggling in, and I had to smack her rump a couple of times to get her to settle down. “Behave,” I whispered.

I was dozing off, and was a little irritated to find her riding my cock, in her damn cheating pussy, when I woke. She was kissing my neck, her hands gliding across my body. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” she breathed into my ear.

I spanked her bottom, and thrust into her. “Ornery little whore.”

She giggled. “Your whore, Rick. Only yours. Forever.”

I let her fuck me. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Danielle.”

When she’d won her reward, I got up, and released a few feet of slack in her neck chain. Put her on her knees and had her clean me. “We’ve got a very busy day today,” I told her.

When I was content with the job she’d done, I went out to the car and retrieved the keys.

Ok, maybe I was paranoid. I never kept the keys on me, or in the house, if I slept over. I returned, unlocked her collar, and the other half dozen locks I used, leaving them available. “Start cleaning his area. Be thorough. Use bleach.”

I returned to the car and left the keys under the seat. Returned with the hasp and sanders.

The posts were rough hewn logs, nearly a foot in diameter. I set to work eradicating the markings of the chains, sanding them until they were smooth. The wood coloring was different, but in time it would change. I rubbed some Murphy’s oil into it, to remove that fresh cut look.

She was still scrubbing and cleaning, occasionally peeking over her shoulder and wigging that butt, trying to entice me. I’d swat her every now and then. “Evil little whore.”

When I started to give her post the same treatment, I caught her watching me nervously. “Permission to speak?” she asked.

“No. Keep cleaning.”

She hung her head, and did as I required.

I went outside and pulled the ATV up, parking it. I returned to the house, and rolled up her alpaca fur rug, tied it, and took it out to the ATV. She was watching me, and I saw tears roll down her cheeks.

“Clean everything,” I told her, gesturing toward her place, the kitchen area, the bathroom. “Immaculate. If there’s any evidence at all of our stay, I’ll beat you within an inch of your life. Maybe beyond that.”

She nodded, and returned to her knees, her shoulders slumped in misery.

I went out back and replaced the propane tanks, leaving them full. It wouldn’t be very neighborly of me to use theirs and not take care of it. My biggest concern was her vehicle. I couldn’t leave it where it was permanently. I’d have to do something about it soon, but I wasn’t sure what. So many little issues.

I had her take a break for lunch, took her outside and hosed her down. It was still damned cold out, but she accepted it well. She was surprised when I handed her a large towel.

“Don’t need you messing up the house,” I explained gruffly.

She dried herself quickly, and followed me into the house. I nodded toward the table. “Sit.”

She did, and I opened up the cooler, removing the cold-cuts and made us a couple of hearty sandwiches. We ate together, and I even let her have a sip of my Coke. “You may speak,” I said.

She looked into my eyes. “We’re leaving.” It wasn’t a question.

I nodded.

“Are… are you going to release me?”

I reached out and grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

She nodded back.

“No, my little whore. I thought you understood. I won’t let you go until I’ve recouped my investment in you.” I went and retrieved her mason jars. I pulled out my wallet and did some quick calculation. Put a $20 in the emptiest one. “For last night. Plus a tip.” I glared at her. “I’m not paying you for that sneaky way you jumped my bones this morning,” I softened my tone, “even if it was pretty damn good.”

I dumped the jars out and counted out her earnings for the last five months. “Nearly $500 you’ve earned. Still a far cry from the nearly $12 grand you owe me. No, I won’t be releasing you for quite a while.”

“What’s going to happen then?” she asked.

“It’s a surprise. You’ll know by the end of the day, alright?”

She nodded, and I could tell she was a little calmer.

It was late afternoon, before the house was where I thought it should be. I’d be hard pressed to notice any changes, other than it was cleaner than normal after being empty six months. “Get dressed,” I told her.

She retrieved her little folded shirt, which she was only allowed to wear when I was away. She had torn away the collar and sleeves, making a cute little sheath. I watched her pull it up over her legs, and up her body, slithering into it. I’d never seen her put it on while chained. She adjusted it, flipping her hair back. She looked ravishing, and it was only with the greatest restraint that I didn’t.

“Anything left?” I asked.

She shook her head, and I took her hand and led her out of her home for the last several months.

It was cold out, and I picked her up in my arms, and set her on the backseat of the ATV. Wrapped her blanket over her shoulders. I climbed in front of her, and drove off. The place was as if we’d never been there, except that damned car in the garage.

It was a good 20 minutes on the ATV, and she was clinging to me, shivering hard. “Just a little longer,” I assured her.

I parked, and she looked around nervously. I couldn’t blame her, you couldn’t see the entrance until you walked up on it. Once the plantings had taken you wouldn’t even be able to see anything until you’d navigated the thorny entrance.

I lifted her in my arms, holding her shivering body close. I carried her down the entrance steps into the small shelter. It was only 8 feet square, a bench on one side, the other two walls covered with shelves and survival rations.

“Your new home,” I teased.

She looked around anxiously. It was claustrophobic. “Here?” she squealed, even forgetting to ask permission to speak.

I laughed, and reached into the shelf, pulling the latch and easing the counter-weighted section open inward. I scooped her into my arms, and carried her inside.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Danielle,” I said, as she struggled out of my arms to look around.

“For me?”

“For you.”

It wasn’t huge, about 10′ by 20′ and only seven feet tall. It was all wood, log walls and ceiling, wood plank flooring, with a few rugs. Table, chairs, couch, even a bed, built from logs. I’d denuded a lot of the BLM lands behind us, of the best, straightest trees. Six weeks just to get the interior to this point, after getting the shell of it put down in a little more than one week.

“Have a look around, while I get your stuff,” I told her.

I retrieved her rug and blanket from the ATV. That and her chains.

The furniture was bolted down. I had made cushions for the couch, but the chairs were bare wood. She was walking around touching everything, sitting on the couch, the chairs.

The biggest issue was power. There was a 30′ cliff off the back of the property. Great for drainage. It was only about 50′ feet from the back of the bunker. It faced mostly south, and I’d hung a pair of solar panels off of it, and wired it back to the bunker. The batteries were in the front section. It generated some power, but not a lot. One ran the 9 CF Sun Frost ultra-efficient refrigerator. The other provided the lighting and fans.

The 20 gallon propane tank ran the single burner and the on-demand water heater for the shower. Water was a problem.

“You have to be careful with the water. We only have a 250 gallon tank, and I haven’t drilled a well yet. Money’s kind of tight. I hope to have it done within a month.

She came over and knelt in front of me. “Permission to speak?”

I nodded.

“You did all this for me?”

“Who else would I do it for?”

She scooted forward and hugged my legs. Didn’t say anything, just hung on until I thought I was going to fall over. I pulled her to her feet. “Come on, I’ll give you the tour, show you how some of the stuff works.”

Once we’d completed that, I rolled out her rug. “Where do you want it?”

She walked over to the bed, and gestured in front of it. “Would here be OK?” she asked.

“It’s your place, Danielle.”

“Here,” she said.

I laid it out and as I stood, she took my hand, she sank down to the rug, tugging at me. “Please?”

We broke in the place nicely. I had her on the floor, on the couch, on the bed, even on the table. I was sore and worn out before I was done with her. She was glowing, laying on her rug, beautifully naked.

“Do you like it?” I asked, sitting beside her, caressing her body.

“Like it? It’s wonderful. I can’t believe you did this for me. It must have been a lot of work.”

“Broke ground just before Christmas. I wish I could have completed more of the interior. It was time to move, and I figured it was at least livable.”

She cuddled into me. “Livable? It’s fantastic. Thank you, Rick.” She buried her head into my neck. “I’m sorry I messed things up.”

“I know.” I kissed her forehead. “C’mon. We need to go above ground.” At the entrance, I wrapped her in my coat, and carried her to the ATV seat. I handed her the burner cell-phone. “Call your Mom. Let her know you’re alright.”

She stared at me, stunned. “But what do I say?”

“You ran off with loverboy. You’re doing fine. You just wanted to let them know that you’re alive and kicking. You’ll call them later. Keep it short.”

“Can… can I talk to Dad, too?”

I nodded. “If you can be a good girl, we’ll try to make it a regular thing, Ok?”

She threw her arms around my neck and hugged me. Kissed me on the lips. I almost slapped her, turning my face away angrily. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Just call ‘em,” I snapped.

She did. It took longer than I wanted. She cried a lot, apologizing for taking so long. She was fine, traveling. She didn’t know when she’d come back, if ever.

“I know, Mom. I know I hurt him. I’m sorry, it was the biggest mistake of my life.”

“… I don’t know. I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me. I can only hope and pray that maybe, someday, in time.”

“… Not yet. It’s not time yet. I don’t know when, but not now.”

“… I love you too. Both of you. I’m sorry I put you through this, but I think about you all the time.”

“… I’ll try. I’ll call when I can. Give everyone my love,” she said softly, pulling the phone from her ear and passing it to me.

I pulled her into my lap and let her cry her heart out. I held her slender naked body in my arms, my coat all that covered her. I didn’t think she’d ever stop sobbing, so I stood and carried her back into her home, laying her on the bed.

I laid down and held her. She slowly regained her composure, clinging to me desperately. “Will I ever see them again?” she whispered.


~ * ~ * ~

My home in town was a shell. I rarely stayed there any more. My entire weekends were spent in our bunker. I’d arrive home as early as possible on a Friday, and unlock the place. Front doors, then the hidden rear access panel. She’d wait for me on her knees at the entrance, with a cold beer. I’d let her open my pants and pleasure me before I sat down and we talked about our days.

Hers were spent reading, exercising, and knitting. That and keeping her home clean. She would never scold me, but if I forgot to take my shoes off at the entrance, she’d pout for hours.

She loved her alpaca fur rug, and I purchased her a matching bedspread, and small entrance rug. She only used the entrance rug to greet me, then she’d hang it on the wall as a display, next to the entrance.

I’d finally decided to take her vehicle and park it in storage, two states away. I had her fill out the papers, and prepaid six months storage. A covered space was provided, and I removed the plates to delay any vehicle identification. Took the bus back, and felt I’d done as much as I could.

It was another month before I felt I could afford to dig the well. I rented the gear, cost me over $2 grand for three days. The good news was we knew the ground water wasn’t deep. The original cabin well was barely 120′ down. Ours was 170′ but that still wasn’t bad. The pump was well camouflaged underground. Danielle was ecstatic, and we probably burned through half a tank of propane, while I used her under the hot running water. I was glad I’d invested as much energy as I did in the drainage.

I was nervous as the summer visitors started using their properties. I used a variety of trails to get to our place, and the vines and thorns planted around the perimeter were likely to detour the curious. By mid June, I was feeling confident. I’d seen no indication of anyone around the back of the property, as I’d suspected. I’d sometimes spy on the cabin when my family came up. They lived more than two hours away and their visits were infrequent, but when they did, it was usually for a week at a time. I’d always been the most frequent user.

By July, we spent much of the weekend days above ground. She had begged and pleaded, and I’d folded, eventually buying her yet another alpaca fur rug. This one she’d carefully tacked a heavy woolen blanket to the back, providing another six inches of coverage all around. She liked to bring her blanket up during the day. There was a clearing above our bunker, which got a mixture of sun and shade. She’d place the rug in the shade, and tend the small vegetable gardens she’d finagled her way into planting.

I wasn’t happy about that part. Hiding the presence of the bunker was one of my key goals. She argued, successfully I might add, that the dense brush and labyrinthine thorn and vines enclosed the whole area. If anyone got past that, they’d see the entrance anyway. The gardens made it seem like there was less to hide.

She tended her plants diligently, wearing nothing but her straw hat. Oh yeah, I got her one of those too. I couldn’t resist using her occasionally, when I wasn’t working on one of my projects. The latest was a small gazebo, which I thought was really pushing the boundaries.

“But once it’s covered with the vines, it’ll be virtually invisible!” she pleaded. Of course, I was balls deep in her ass, while she bounced on my lap, when she made her request.

She clung to me, purring. “I’m such a bad wife, baby, making all these requests. Punish me, Rick. Punish me good.”

It wasn’t all fun and games. I still got pissed. A lot less once I’d gotten rid of the presence of Ramone, the constant reminder of her heinous betrayal and treachery. When I did blow my cool, I’d pull out her chains, and anchor her to the ceiling ring. Spank her whoring ass, fuck it dry, and take her clothes and things away. For three days once, when she said she wanted to go to her sister’s wedding, and wouldn’t let it go.

I once bound her feet and hands, no cuffs, but using the cruel zip-ties. Duct-taped her mouth, and threw her out in the grass. Raped her ass raw a couple of times, and left her there, while I went and ran some errands. Brought back some food and ate it in front of her, before fucking her cheating whoring ass again. I used my belt on her, for the first time. I didn’t retrieve her until dawn, and she was shaking uncontrollably.

It took me a while to remove the ticks, and treat the chigger bites. She was curled in the shower basin, sobbing. I had no sympathy for her.

“You mention the bastard’s name again, and I will release you. Just like I did him.”

She’d had the gall to ask me if I’d heard anything about Ramone. I hadn’t, and doubted I ever would. But she should have known better than to ask. Wondering about him! Reminding me of what a whore she’d been.

Two more days on the chain, had her docile and properly repentant. When I released her, I bathed her and brushed her hair.

“Never mention him again, Dani,” I whispered. “I can’t take it.”

She turned and hugged me. “I don’t give a fuck about him, I’m worried that some day they might come looking for you. I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

I held her, and let her cry, then finished cleaning her up. I’d made steaks for us, and opened a bottle of wine. “Happy Anniversary, Danielle.”


I nodded. “July 29th.”

She scrambled out of her chair, and started searching under the bed. I knew what it was. I allowed her no secrets. I pretended I didn’t.

“Happy Anniversary, my love,” she whispered, handing the bundle to me.

I opened it up, and shook out the hand-knit sweater inside. It had a matching cap. I examined it, critically. I was surprised she could make anything that nice and intricate. “It’s beautiful, Danielle.”

“Try it on,” she pleaded.

It fit well, and I modeled it for her. She looked absurdly happy. I wore it during dinner, careful not to mess it up. I think she was pleased. I brought out the chunk of our wedding cake I’d brought from the home freezer, and waited patiently for the tears to stop. We shared the small piece feeding each other.

While she cleaned the dishes, I retrieved the last of her gifts from the ATV. “Don’t peek,” I told her, while I drove six screws into the wall.

“Alright, you can look.”

It was our wedding picture, framed in the same rough wood as the rest of our retreat, which I’d screwed directly into the wall. She came up beside me, and I felt her hand slip into mine. We stood quietly, looking at the image of our promises to each other, which had gone so far astray.

“Punish me, husband?” she asked softly.

“Proudly, wife.”

I punished her mouth, and her cheating ass hard. Then I took her to bed, and we punished each other, slowly, gently and at great length. Again sometime during the night. And the next morning. I didn’t even turn away when she kissed me. It was our anniversary after all.

~ * ~ * ~

She was nervous when I arrived home. She should be. It was our other anniversary. One year since her jealous insanity and overreaction destroyed our lives. I’d had a hard day. My workload in the office tended to ebb and flow. Things were hectic, and I had a hard time keeping my mind focused on what mattered.

My boss called me in to his office. “You have to ease up,” he told me.

“Ease up, how?”

“You’re working yourself into the ground. You’ve been a bear these last couple of days. I understand. I do, I remember how you were when she left you a year ago. A year ago tomorrow, isn’t it?”

I nodded.

He was sympathetic. “You seemed to be recovering in the last few months, but yesterday and today have been ugly. Everyone’s walking around on eggshells. Take a couple of days off, alright? On us. Comp time. Try to relax, unwind. Make it a long weekend, and try to come in refreshed next Monday.”

“Alright. I’m sorry if I’ve been a bear, I haven’t even noticed. It must be subconscious.”

“I understand. We need you at your best. Come back and give it to us next week. Have a great weekend if you can.”

“I’ll try.”

I wasn’t in the best of moods, that evil day on my mind. As I walked into our underground home, she was waiting for me, naked on her knees, her little blowjob rug laid out nice and neat. The table was set for dinner. She handed me my beer, and started her traditional greeting.

I was tempted to tear into her, but I struggled to keep my tongue in check. She was good, she always was nowadays, and had me feeding her after a few minutes of diligent effort.

She stood, hugged me, and took me by the hand. I let her lead me to the couch where I sat, under her encouragement. She laid across my lap, firm naked butt raised. She reached under the edge of the couch, and started passing things to me. My slipper. Her hair brush. The kitchen spatula. A tree branch, denuded. Another with the bark intact. A belt. She was shaking when she whispered. “Permission to speak?”

It surprised me. I hadn’t been insisting on that since we’d moved into her place. “Speak.”

“Punish me. Truly, not with pleasure. Punish me for being an evil whore. It was one time, but one time too many. Punish me, my husband.”

I’m not a good man. I’ve never claimed I was. I was angry, an anger which I thought had mostly dissipated, but not completely, I guess. I started with my hand. One at a time I tried all of her suggestions, at least a half dozen strokes with each. She screamed and kicked her legs, tried to cover up. Her sweet little ass was red and covered with welts. Bleeding from a few different places. The tree branch with the bark on it turned out to be truly vicious. I gave her 10 with that one. It snapped in half on the last stroke.

She was well broken when I finished with her. I carried her limp body to the bed, washed her bottom carefully, applying a little Neosporin where I’d broken the skin. I lotioned up her bottom, caressing it. I had to admit, it was a source of great pleasure, and it hurt me to damage it.

“Every year,” she whispered. “I need you to remind me ever year.”

I lubed up my cock, and entered her ass as gently as I could. She groaned, and then cried while I punished her our traditional way. When I was finished, I held her in my arms, and kissed her face.

“Thank you for making it better,” she said softly, hugging me close.

I nodded, caressing her back.

“I’m afraid Rick,” she said.

“Your punishment is done,” I told her.

“No, I have something I have to tell you. I’m afraid you’ll be angry.”

“I won’t know until I hear it,” I explained.

“I… I think I’m pregnant.”

The words hit me hard. I had restrained from using her pussy much the first six or seven months, only a half-dozen times altogether. That had changed a little once we’d moved into the bunker. A lot on our true anniversary. “Are you sure?”

“I should probably take a test. Pretty sure. I’ve missed two periods. Some morning sickness. I… I think it was our anniversary.”

I smiled. “Quite the night as I recall.”

“You’re not angry?”

“You’re my wife, you should carry my children.”

“I’ll need things. Prenatal vitamins. I should see a doctor.”

“You want to keep it, if it’s true?”

“More than anything.”

I kissed her. That cheating, whoring, cock-sucking mouth that had betrayed me. I kissed her and rubbed her belly. “What’s for dinner?”

She smiled. “Burgers and chips. Nothing fancy. Not really a day for celebration.”

“The day I learn I may be a father?”

The bitch was consistent. Give her an inch, she’ll take a mile. She kissed me. Deeply, and damn it, I didn’t stop her.

“Let’s wait for the pregnancy test to celebrate.”

~ * ~ * ~

The next morning she was poking me to get up. “You’re going to be late.”

“I’m not going in today,” I told her, rolling over and pulling her onto me.

“Why not?”

“I need an excuse to spend time with my little whore?”

She let me use her, and shared a shower with me. “I need to run some errands. Need anything?”

“Pregnancy test,” she said grinning.

“On the list, anything else?”

She blushed, embarrassed. “What?”

“I have a craving.”


She nodded.


“Fried chicken. Spicy, preferably Popeyes.”

“Popeyes! That’s 30 minutes away!”

She pouted. “If you go to the Wal-Mart there, you can pick up everything. Please, Rick? Please? I haven’t had fried chicken in, God, well, before we got married! Almost a year and a half.”

“The diner has good chicken,” I told her.

She looked up at me with her big sad eyes. A look she hadn’t tried on me in a long, long time. “It’s not me, it’s the baby. The baby wants it.”

Almost two hours later, I was looking at the two positive pregnancy readings, while she devoured her fourth piece of chicken.

I was trying to figure out what to do. I’d certainly painted myself in a corner. My own fault. How could I forget, what we did was how babies were made. I could have put her on the pill, used condoms, a diaphragm, something.

She was watching me, as I ate the two wings. She’d already polished off both breasts and the thighs. She was eyeing my drumsticks.

“You’re mad, aren’t you?” she said sadly.

“No. I’m not. Just thinking.”

She glanced at my drumsticks again, then climbed off her chair. She wiped her face and hands, then grabbed my arm. “Come, celebrate being a Daddy.”

She headed for the bed, but stopped and dragged me down to her old fur rug. Pulled my t-shirt and shorts off. She was energetic and loving, all kisses and hugs while she fucked my brains out. I had to be careful of her butt, so she stayed on top, and I let her do the work.

“Do you think I’ll be a good mother?” she asked, during our down time before round two.

“I think you can be anything you want to be, Danielle.”

“I… I want to tell my Mom,” she said, before returning to sucking me back to life.

“By the end of the weekend. Let me think on it.”

“You can share your thoughts with me,” she said softly.

“Not yet.”

The next morning, I was the one chasing her out of bed. I got my first experience of her morning sickness, but half an hour later she was polishing off the drumsticks from the day before. I saw it now. She had a glow to her. Her breasts were glorious, her skin almost shining with life. She caught me looking at her, and grinned. “Punish me?”

I laughed, and pressed her over the table, taking her from behind. “Why do I think it’s not the punishment it once was.”

“But it is, Rick! I’m a naughty girl, and I need my man to keep me on the straight and narrow.”

I spanked her bruised bottom, and she shrieked in surprise.

She was rocking with my strokes, and her hands reached back and stopped me. “In my ass, Rick. I need you in my ass. Remind me what a fool I was for ever denying it to you. My ass is yours, baby. Now and for always.”

I acceded to her demands, and moved my cock to the other hole. She purred as I entered her. “Pound it baby. Pound your whore. Rape my ass and fill me with your hot cum.”

I had mixed feelings when I heard her words. She never talked dirty to me. She hadn’t before her escapade, and hadn’t since. Only to him. But now she was saying them to me. I believe she was trying to make a statement.

“You like that, you slut? Fucking that dirty ass?”

“God yes. Stretching my filthy butt-hole, filling me, making me take it. I want your cum, baby. Your hot cum in my ass. In my pussy. All over me. I want to be your filthy cum-slut whore.”

She looked back at me, and I saw a mix of nervousness and excitement. “You are my cum-slut whore. You don’t get a choice. Mine, and only mine.”

She nodded, gasping. “Always. Only yours. Anything you want.”

“No shit,” I growled, slapping her reddened cheeks a few times.

I was surprised when she came hard from it. “God, you are such a slut, Danielle. Coming from an ass fucking, and having your tortured bottom spanked?”

She whimpered sweetly as I pounded her harder, the table shifting underneath us. Came for me again as I exploded inside her, painting her bowels.

I pulled out of her, and pulled her to her knees. She looked up at me nervously. “Baby?”

I glared at her. She reached forward, touching my cock softly. “While I’m pregnant, would it be Ok, if I cleaned you first, after you’ve been in my butt? For safety’s sake?”

God, this pregnancy thing was going to be a pain. “Alright.”

She hurried off and returned with a warm wet face cloth. She cleaned me carefully, then gave me a short sucking. “Perfect,” she announced.

“Go shower,” I told her.

When she returned I had her surprise from the car. “Open it.”

She opened the bag, and looked at me in shock, uncomprehending. “Get dressed. We’re going out.”

She eagerly dressed herself in the clothing, hesitating at the panties. “I don’t want this. I need to always be available to you.”

I laughed. “Put them on. I’ll rip them off if I want.”

She finished getting dressed, then disappeared to the bathroom, and finished up. She was stunning when she appeared.

“God, Danielle, you’ve never been more beautiful.”

She smiled, and slid into my arms. “Where are you taking me?”

“Any cravings?”

She blushed. “Pizza and ice cream?”


“One at a time is fine.”

In the pizza restaurant, she insisted on sitting beside me. She had refused to remove her collar. Nothing I could say would make her change her mind. I threatened to beat her. “Whip me, but be careful of the baby, alright?” She got her way.

She stacked two slices, and was halfway done with them. I’d barely started on mine. “I’m taking you home,” I said.

“Of course. After we eat. I love being punished on a full belly.”

“No, Danielle. Our other home, in town.”

She looked up nervously. “Why? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, but you’re going to have our baby. It’s time for you to reappear. You’ll be repentant, I’ll be forgiving. We’ll work out our differences. I’ll be the wimp that raises another man’s son. We’ll keep a low profile, and slowly reconnect with our families.”

“Is that what you want?” she asked, stacking her next two slices.

“Save room for ice-cream,” I reminded her. She nodded.

“We’ll have to come up with a story,” I said.

“That’s easy,” she said. “You don’t have to be the one to come up with anything. You’ve been the loyal, faithful husband, waiting for his selfish, adulterous wife to return. I’ll tell them of my adventures, my mistakes, my realization that I had ruined the best thing in the world, and the torturous task of telling them what happened, and how hard it was to find the courage to come home.”

She wiped her mouth, and started eating my crusts. “But you’re not raising another man’s child. Not my husband.”

“They’re going to know you’re pregnant.”

“I’ll tell them we’ve been in contact. I begged you to meet me a few weeks ago. You did, and we got together. We’ve been negotiating my return for a month.”

“They’ll want to know why you didn’t call. Why I didn’t say anything.”

“I wouldn’t until the deal was done. Once I’d agreed to your demands concerning our reconciliation, it was Ok. We can call them this weekend.”

“What demands?”

“Oh, you’ll have a lot sweetie. Absolute faithfulness, for one. Complete availability to your carnal desires. A DNA test for the child. You’ll make me wear your collar, to show everyone who I belong to.”

“I’m not making you wear a collar, Danielle.”

“The hell you aren’t!” she snapped. “I will or I won’t go.”

“You’ll do whatever the hell I tell you,” I growled.

She snuggled up close. “Please, baby. It makes me feel safe. We can get another one, maybe a little less ostentatious, but I want your collar. Don’t deny me this. Anything else, but not this.”

“Small, and no inscription.”

“The inscription can be on the inside, Honey.”

I surrendered. “Ice cream?”

“Baskin Robbins, World Class Chocolate.”

~ * ~ * ~

We turned our little world on its ear that Saturday. She was horrified at the state of the place. Her sister and mother came over, and I tried to keep out of their way. A few hours into it her mom cornered me.

“I understand Rick, but you could have called me. I would have kept it a secret.”

“She insisted. I couldn’t chance messing things up.”

She hugged me. “Thank you. I know it will be difficult. You ever need a friendly ear, or shoulder to lean on, you can call me.”

I gave her a squeeze. “I know.”

She looked up at me, grinning. “Some, uh, surprising conditions. Not that she doesn’t deserve them. I still don’t understand what she could have been thinking.”

She left me to wonder what was being said, while the vacuum ran, the washer and dryer worked incessantly, and dinner was cooked.

Her sister Teri was looking cute and disheveled. She surprised the shit out of me by flopping in my lap, while I was sitting on the couch. “You’re a better man than I am.”

I reached up and shook her breasts. “No kidding.”

She looked at me stunned, and I felt myself blushing. I guess the casual sex for the last year may have screwed up my social graces. I was waiting to be read the riot act, and she slowly grinned, then reached down and grabbed my balls. “Quite a set you’ve grown. I guess you had to, to deal with her shit.”

Constructive criticism welcome!

I don’t condone this but its just a fantasy piece.



Laura heard her phone buzz.

It read; I’m back in town.

She new what that meant. What it always meant. Why did she always go crawling back to him? She never knew. Something always felt right with him even during their complicated relationship. He left over a year ago to pursue his dreams and escape reality. She was left feeling rejected and alone. She dated around to find a replacement but no one struck her fancy. Laura felt numb when she dressed herself. It was late and she just threw on some sweats. She grabbed her things and darted out the door. She was met with a brisk cool that chilled her slightly. She turned on her car and off she went.

The drive was short, he only lived around the corner. It was a convenient relationship due to their proximity. She turned off the car and sat there for a moment. Why was she so drawn to him, easily manipulated and played? She shook it off and went inside. The door was left unlocked and she just walked on in like countless times before. She was met with him sitting on his couch playing a video game like countless times before. She took her spot next to him and made herself at home. He hadn’t changed minus his hair cut. He had a well muscled body, something he maintained regularly at the gym. He was tall, with light brown hair and piercing blue eyes outlined in thick eye lashes. He was everything she found attractive in a man, strong, dominating but kind. She would do anything he told her to do and he knew it.

“How have you been?” asked Joe, pausing the game to look at her. He took in her form. She lost some weight since last time, she looked more toned. It caused his cock to stir. Her hair was tied loosely and some strands fell out. She threw on some sweats and a shirt and hoodie which was left open. She didn’t wear a bra and that excited him. She had dark brown hair that she died lighter, something he didn’t approve of. He loved her natural hair color and the shine it had. She had brown almond eyes that eyed him curiously.

“Surviving.” Laura admitted.

“Come here.” Joe demanded softly. He held his hand out. Laura didn’t move. Joe’s smile turned to a disappointing scowl. “You know I’ll just make you anyways.” Laura knew that and crawled over to him willingly. Joe’s smile returned. She rested her head on his chest and he wrapped his arm loosely around her. He danced his fingers over her body and it caused her to shiver.

“Why are you back in town?” asked Laura.

“Because I can be.” Joe said vaguely. Laura looked up at him and shot him a look. She could always get him to talk. “I don’t know what I’m doing with my life. Everyone I meet is stupid. I just want to have amazing sex, fall in love and be done with it all.”

“Don’t we all.” Laura chuckled.

“Will you sleep with me?” asked Joe.

“Of course I will, you know that.”

“No, I mean sleep in the actual sense, just in my arms, all night.” said Joe. Laura was surprised, she thought he just wanted his rocks off tonight.

“You know I will.” said Laura.

“See! That’s all I want!” Joe exclaimed. Laura moved back and glared at him.

“So I’m just some back up plan? Come to me when the world butt fucks you?” Laura said heatedly.

“What? What are you talking about? You’ve been the main plan ever since I met you.” Joe admitted.

“What?” Laura said in disbelief. “What do you mean the main plan?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter. You keep putting out for strangers.” Joe retorted.

“You’ve slept with twice as many people as I have. I don’t want to hear it.” Laura barked.

“Oh yeah? Maybe I have but then why did I stop sleeping around the moment I met you?”

“You did?” Laura said surprised.

“Pft. You didn’t even notice. Too busy playing your boy toys.” He had her there. She never noticed he stopped sleeping around and she was always observant. Why?

“I wasn’t going to wait around and pine away for you. I wanted to go steady, I tried to push you in that direction. You never showed any hint of wanting that. You flat out told me you didn’t want that. Eventually I accepted we were just fuck buddies.” Laura rose, she really didn’t like the new direction their talk was going. He hurt her, she didn’t want to relive it. She made her way for the door when Joe grabbed her arm and yanked her back. She fell into his strong arms and chest, her own arms trapped in his firm embrace. His expression was strained, he looked angry, hurt and disappointed all at the same time.

“I never pursued it because you would just come in, get off and go. It was pretty sad Laura.”

“I did that because I assumed that’s what you wanted!” Laura said angrily. All those feelings she successfully buried were bubbling to the surface again. He pressed his forehead to hers, his eyes closed, calming his breathing. He relaxed his grip. Laura slipped out of his hold, grabbed her keys and left. She could feel his eyes boring into her back, burning into her. But she remained strong and kept up her pace to her car.

The cool air hit her like sweet relief. It was getting pretty heated back there. She slipped into her car and sat there reflecting. What the hell just happened? Her head fell back on the head rest. She banged her head on it softly. “Shit, Shit, Shit!” Laura exclaimed. She finally calmed down enough to drive home. She cranked up the a.c. to keep her sanity in check. The cool air was a rough contrast to her warm cheeks. Laura pulled into her driveway and finally relaxed. She let herself in and flopped on her bed, her arm covering her eyes.

Her phone did it’s little ring to alert her of an update. Joe just went from single to in a relationship! That son of a bitch! He didn’t even wait a day to hop on the next bitch that came along! Laura was fuming. She threw her phone and silently thanked it landed in her reading chair. She angrily paced her floor. She stalked over to where her phone was and texted her best friend. She needed a wild night out to forget him and that’s exactly what she intended to do.



“I’m coming!” Laura shouted.

*Knock Knock Knock* Ding-Dong!

“Shit! I said I’m coming!” Laura bellowed. She ran to her door and opened it. There was her best friend Mary, dressed and ready to go. Mary was an attractive girl, she knew how to have a good time but she also had a level head. It was probably why they were such good friends. Tonight Mary was dressed in a body hugging red dress. It was ruched all over with thin spaghetti straps that strained to keep her perky dd’s up. Accentuated with black pumps, gold jewelry and thick eyeliner to surround her big brown eyes, Mary looked like a dime. Her wavy brown hair flowed to the small of her back which accentuated her curvy figure. She wasn’t thin but she wasn’t heavy either.

Proud of her friend’s ability to clean up they trotted out the door and ready to go.

“So, I have a surprise for you!” Mary said excitedly in the cab. They were headed over to the cities hottest club.

“Oh god, what is it. ” Laura said dreadfully.

“No, No! I set up a double date for us!” Mary beamed.

“You did what!” Laura said exasperated while punching her best friend in the arm.

“You know Troy! I’ve been talking to him for awhile and I let it slip that you wanted to go out because of drama with Joe and he offered to meet us there with his buddy Sam! C’mon Laura! I want you to meet Troy and have some fun tonight with Sam! Loosen up!” Mary persuaded.

“I thought it was just going to be the two of us tonight!” Laura said childishly.

“It’ll be fun! Besides, it’s better when a man dotes on you and doesn’t let you spend a dime!” Mary said ruefully with a wicked smile. Laura nodded her head in agreement, half smiling, still unhappy about it but willing to have some fun tonight.

The cab pulled up and Mary hopped out and practically dragged Laura behind her. They got in line, which was surprisingly not that bad tonight. Mary texted Troy that they were here.

“So what does Sam look like?” Laura said with great difficulty. Mary beamed and clapped her hands in excitement.

“He’s a cutie-pie! He’s a little above average height, maybe 5’10″, tanned, muscled and double brown.” That was their code for brown hair and brown eyes. Laura relaxed, he didn’t sound all that bad. She was only 5’3″ so he was still taller than her by some. All of a sudden Mary squealed and took off. Laura winced and watched Mary run into the arms of a decent looking guy. He was the tallest of the two but not by much. He had blonde hair and green eyes, muscled, tanned with straight teeth. His hair was cut short but you could tell it was naturally curly. He welcomed Mary into his arms and he twirled her around in the air. Laura smiled at their display and felt a twinge of envy at the same time. They looked cute together.

Laura finally looked at Sam. He was definitely handsome. Straight nose and face. Short tousled brown hair. He had straight teeth and a cute smile as he observed his friend and his girl. He looked fit and tan. He wore a modern black sports coat, a gray button down with the top few buttons left undone and black slacks. He finally looked over to where Laura stood and his smiled fell from his face. She noticed and instantly cast her eyes downwards. She silently cursed herself, he didn’t find her attractive at all! Oh, the humiliation! Sam instantly realized his mistake. He hurried over to Laura to make things right.

“Laura?” Sam said softly while lightly holding her arm. Laura looked up, ready to fake the night at her best friend’s expense.

“You must be Sam. Nice to meet you.” Laura said cooly and mildly annoyed. “Let’s just get this over with for those two over there.” With that she turned away to check the status of the line. They were almost inside. Sam stood there, slightly shocked and stinging from her detachment. The lovebirds finally joined them laughing giddily and displaying too much childish affection. Laura instantly changed her demeanor, she smiled and matched her friends energy. She stood closer to Sam and started making idle chat with him.

“So what do you do Sam?” Laura asked. Taken aback by her quick change of demeanor he hesitated to answer. Under the scrutiny of Troy and Mary he finally found his words.

“I, uh, I’m a journalist.” Sam finally spurted out. Laura looked impressed, or maybe was pretending to be.

“For who?”

“The main news channel here in the city.” Sam said more evenly. Laura smiled and nodded.

“Yay! We’re finally next!” Mary said excitedly. With that the group entered the dark club. The music was loud, colorful lights played across the room and the room smelled of sweat and arousal. “You two find us a booth, Troy and I will grab us all drinks!” Mary yelled but barely being heard. Sam understood and grabbed Laura’s hand to lead her away in search of a booth. Mary winked at Troy, they were going to take their time getting the drinks.

When they were far enough away from the lovebirds Laura tried to drop the charade and get her hand out of Sam’s but he only squeezed tighter. He passed the booth area and headed for the bathrooms. Laura’s stomach dropped and she started to resist more. What the hell was this sick bastard up to?! Sam felt her tug back and he whirled around. He wrapped his arm around her slim waist and urged her to go into the handicap bathroom. He flicked the lights on and locked the door behind him. Laura stared at him nervously while standing as far away from his as possible.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Laura said borderline hysterical.

“Listen. You got the wrong impression! I was just surprised when I first saw you!” Sam said urgently.

“You don’t have to explain or put it nicely Sam. I’m not dense. I’m not your type. It happens.” Laura said darkly.

“No, No, No! It’s just that Troy didn’t do you justice in his description. I was expecting some dull girl but I was completely shocked to see you!” Laura just narrowed her eyes skeptically. “I honestly wasn’t expecting to have such a striking woman meet me here tonight.” Sam said softly. He soaked in her form. She was short and curvy in all the right places. He boobs looked big on her small frame but he guessed they were borderline c cup. They were a good perky handful and anything more than that was a waste in Sam’s eyes. They pushed together for a tempting display of cleavage in her form fitting black dress. Her waist narrowed perfectly and her hips flared enough to create the perfect hourglass figure. She was toned and fit. She had glowing olive skin and her almond brown eyes were highly expressive. Her pretty face framed by dark brown hair that was straight as a pin but swept up in an intentional messy bun. He caught a quick glimpse of her pert ass, it was round and firm but looked soft and jiggly. He frankly had to fight his forming hard on to remain polite.

Laura saw Sam’s unashamed survey of her body. His half hooded eyes of lust and semi hard on was all she needed to believe he was telling the truth. She blushed and looked away while inadvertently trying to cover her form with her arms. Getting nervous of what would happen next she walked towards where Sam stood. His eyes widened and he sucked in a breathe of air anticipating a move but she only reached behind him to unlock the door and open it slightly. Disappointed but relieved Sam got out of the way so she could open it fully and they could slip out. He glanced at her swaying ass as she left the room and stifled a groan. He flicked off the lights, readjusted his hard on and wrapped his arm around his date’s waist. Her skin was so soft he wished it was pressed up against his naked body as they rolled around his bed doing unspeakable things.

Sam led them back to the booth section but they had to fight their way through the sea of people on the dance floor. Laura walked in front of him while holding his hand so they wouldn’t separate. The song changed and the crowd frenzied in excitement. Bodies jumped around and bumped into the pair repeatedly. A man knocked into Laura causing her to bump back into Sam. He caught her in his strong arms and she could feel his muscled body on her back. It caused her to shiver at the mental image of what he’d look like shirtless. She gasped when she felt his hard on press into the small of her back. It was thick and she guessed it was around 7 inches. Sam wrapped his arms tightly around Laura and whispered into her ear. “We could just dance, we are at a club after all.” Laura could feel the smile in his voice. He turned her around and pressed her into him again. His leg went in between her legs and hers did the same. He held the nape of her neck while his fingers intertwined into her soft hair, holding her to gaze into his eyes as they ground into each other.

Laura’s breathing was ragged, she could feel her arousal get the better of her. He smelled so good and felt even better pressed into her. He was a well dressed man, handsome with a career. What more could a girl ask for?! An image of Joe flashed in her head and she shook it off. She could see his disapproval of her behavior and it made her hotter. All of a sudden a white light flashed and momentarily blinded the pair.

“Look at these two lovebirds!” Mary squealed while holding her smart phone. She instantly uploaded it to her page, captioning it as “Girl’s Night Out!”. Troy was right behind her, grinding into Mary’s plump behind. “Thought you two were gunna find us a booth!” Mary teased while trying to yell louder than the blaring music. “Here, we got you your drinks!” Laura nodded in appreciation and downed hers in a few gulps. Sam smiled wickedly and followed suit. They threw the plastic cups over their shoulders and continued dancing. Mary and Troy danced near them, caught in their own chemistry.

The group danced through multiple songs. Laura was certainly feeling buzzed and being so close to Sam was temptation. She was getting increasingly more brazen as the night went on. Brushing her hand on Sam’s hard on, nipping at his ear and licking the side of his neck. It was driving Sam mad and he loved it. He grabbed her ass and pulled her in tight to claim her mouth with a fiery kiss. Their tongues danced and she groaned into his mouth. She melted into him, his hand holding the back of her head and her hair entwined in his fingers. He felt her pert nipples press into his strong chest and he could strongly smell her desire. Laura broke off the kiss and slurred, “Bathroom!” Sam just laughed.

“Meet me at the bar when you’re done, I’ll order us another round.” Sam winked. He watched her slice through the crowd, her body flush with a sheen of sweat and her ass begging to be squeezed. He smiled to himself and headed towards the bar. Little did the pair know they were being watched. Joe downed his whiskey and made his way to the bathroom. His opportunity was here. He was fuming at the sight of Laura dry humping the shit out of that bastard.

Laura splashed some cool water on her chest and on the back of her neck. She was flush and hot and needed water desperately. She looked in the mirror and smiled. Her messy bun looked even messier, she was glistening with sweat but she still looked good. She admired her tight form and her nice display of cleavage. She touched up her make up before heading back out to find Sam. She was humming to herself when she bumped into a large figure.

“Oof!” Before Laura could even apologize she saw Joe and her heart skipped a beat.

“Hey sweetie. Fancy meeting you here.” Joe said darkly and surprisingly calm.

“Oh. Hey Joe. Uhh. What’s up.” Laura asked nervously. She tried circling around him so she could back up into the crowd and lose him if need be. She knew how he was.

“Oh, you know. Just watching my girl dry hump the shit out of some son of a bitch.” Joe said all too evenly. Laura’s stomach flipped. He looked absolutely predatory and dangerous. His calm demeanor was frightening because she knew he was anything but.

“I-I’m not your girl Joe! How they hell did you find me?!” Laura said defiantly.

“The hell you are!” Joe barked causing Laura to cower slightly. “Funny thing about smart phones sweetie is that they are only as smart as its owner.” He showed her the picture Mary uploaded on her page, her and Sam in a tight embrace battling with their tongues. Laura felt her jaw practically hit the floor. She shook her head no.

“Funny, I change my status to in a relationship for you and here you go and do this.” Joe said tsking with disappointment.

“What?!” Laura said completely surprised.

“You’re mine, Laura.” Joe said menacingly. With that he grabbed her wrist and dragged her to the emergency exit by the bathrooms. They flew out the door as cool air hit their warm bodies. Joe pressed Laura up against the alley wall, the sound of the muffled music still present.

“What the hell do you-” Laura was cut off. Joe brought his lips crashing down onto her soft pouty ones. She groaned in denial and tried to escape it but his firm grasp on the back of her neck held her still.

“You’re mine Laura. No one else can have you.” Joe whispered harshly in her ear. The words made Laura tingle and she felt her stomach clench. His hard stare into her wide eyes held her paralyzed. All she could do was nod ever so slightly. She knew in her heart his words rang true but her gut told her to run. Joe smiled, glad she accepted it and understood. He loosened his grip and Laura made her escape. She ran to the street and saw the nightclub’s entrance in sight. She opened her mouth to scream but a strong hand cut off her voice and covered her mouth. Mere muffles sounded which the loud music, that seeped through the walls, covered.

“Bad mistake sweetie.” Joe growled in her ear. Laura felt a stray tear run from her cheek. He grabbed her hip hard and yanked her back to feel his raging dick pulse in his pants. Laura’s heart dropped once she realized his intentions. Her struggles intensified when she spotted Sam emerge from the club looking confused. He saw Laura struggling with a man in the shadows and ran towards her.

She was racing down the sidewalk to catch the last train. Single-mindedly, she thought nothing of crossing the chasm of alley mouth.

She was snatched into the alley by a hand that snapped out of the ink. Before she could scream, she was enveloped and a meaty hand capped her mouth.

The heat of his breath chugged over her shoulder and obliquely across her cheek. She struggled against the anaconda-like constriction of the arm wrapped across her chest and around her arms. She was immersed in darkness.

“Ssshhh. Don’t struggle. You’re mine now… In my world, you keep what you catch.”

The gravely voice spurred her into a frenzy of foot-stomping, shin-kicking, and writhing. The words had been delivered so calmly and precisely.

The attacker expertly slid his hairy forearm over her mouth stifling her screams as he moved from covering her mouth to catching her neck in his arm’s crook.

The muscles flexed catching her arteries and windpipe in a vice. She tried to scream and tried to tear at any flesh her pinned arms could reach. Her nails snapped off with no effect. The man, if it was a man, didn’t react to pain. She felt herself blacking out.


She awoke bound nude to a cot. The only light was faint candle glow. It looked and smelled like a wine cellar with all the casks removed. Her normally flawlessly smooth skin was covered in goose-bumps.

The silence was interrupted when he walked out of the darkness into the candlelight.

She could only see the lower half of his dark robes and the knife in his hand.

“Please don’t.”

He moved closer, extending the knife towards her sole. She pulled the foot away, but the slack bindings cinched agonizingly tight until they felt like they would slice through her skin.

In reaction to the pain, she involuntarily extended the leg out toward the knife point. Before the foot reached the dagger, the bindings bit her flesh once more. He withdrew the knife and returned it to a sheath. It had all been a demonstration of the futility of struggle.

“Please let me go, I won’t tell anyone.” came the teary-eyed imploration.

He leaned in to lightly run a hand over her thigh. His face came into view.

She screamed ear-piercingly.

He recoiled into the darkness.

He’d been wearing a grotesque crow mask; at least, she prayed it was a mask. Leaving, he snuffed the candle. The faint ether of light faded to black behind him. She only heard the high-pitched tone that one sometimes hears in the complete absence of sound. The walls were thick, and perhaps far underground. Cringing, she thought she felt tiny feet scurrying across her naked body.


It felt like an eternity was dripping away. Eventually, she drifted in and out of sleep. She always wondered for how long she had slept; suspecting it was never long. She wanted to track time, but time did not seem to exist – any more than light or sound – in her catacomb.

With the cool air and passing of time, she needed to pee so badly.

She repetitively called out, “I’ve got to pee.”

Eventually he strode in, sans robes, his flaccid dangle swaying rhythmically with each step. He had something in his hand – a bedpan and a cloth. She trembled.

She couldn’t help but stare. His body was lean and sinewy- fit but, at once, knotty and grotesque. She tried to stifle her sobs, to not give him the satisfaction. When he started to loosen one of her leg bindings, she expected an impending rape, but he just positioned the bedpan.

Despite her painfully full bladder, she could not immediately unclench and urinate.

When finally she finished, he set the pan aside and wiped her crudely with the cloth as if cleaning a spill from a stovetop. She tried to move away from the violating hand, but was bitten by her bindings.

He completely loosened the binding on her leg and extracted it. He began to gently massage away the pins and needles. She tried to kick him. He slipped the kick, and jabbed a thumb deep into the acupressure point he was working. It felt like he had driven a railroad spike into her.

His defense was agonizing, but not brutal. In one of the many contradictions screaming through her brain, she feared his calm. It meant that he would not be easily manipulated.

She had wondered if they might triangulate on her cell-phone, but now knew it would not be the case.

For all this man’s heinous vices, rashness and stupidity were not among them. The phone was still in the alley, she resigned herself to it.

One by one he massaged out her limbs methodically and then rubbed lotion over her skin – never lingering.

She tried to talk to him, but he remained silent.


Time passed; she never knew how much. With nothing to do but reflect, she experienced all manner of maddening and conflicting thoughts and emotions. She began to despise herself for being so weepy, but she couldn’t stop. Part of her mind implored her to be strong. Soon they would find her.

Periodically, he came in to care for and feed her- always wearing a different primitive gruesome mask.

She found it progressively harder to catch the crazy thoughts and to rebuke herself for them.

“No, she didn’t do anything to deserve this.”

“No, she would not rather that he talked to her than that she be free.”


She awoke one day to find the bindings gone. Had it been a week? A few days?

She heard the lumber drop hollowly and cacophonously – the door was being unbarred.

She attacked her captor with berserk fury, but he was prepared. He captured her limbs and soon had her pinned on her stomach on the ground.

After he tended to her abrasions, he did not enter her chamber again for several days. He left a bucket, and would occasionally push food and water through a small doggy-door.

Every time he dropped something off, she begged for him to enter.


She heard a sound outside the door, and once more implored, “I’ll be good…”

The 2X4 came off the door.

The man entered with a steaming bucket of water and a small bag in one hand, and a lantern in the other. A big fluffy white towel was folded under the lantern arm. He set the lantern down in the middle of the room and set the bucket and bag down by the drain in the floor.

“Take your bucket down to the end of the hall and set it down inside the door, then come back. Don’t dawdle or your water will get cold.” It was the first thing he had said to her since her abduction.

She carried the foul-smelling bucket carefully as directed. She set it down and paused looking at the door.

“Was this a test?” The thought ran through her mind. Three days ago she would have bolted out the door without question, but now she was terrified of being left alone in the dark for weeks or months as a punishment. What was on the other side of that door? A forest? A stairwell? Times Square? She didn’t know. Was it even unlocked? Would an alarm sound? All these thoughts swept through her mind before she turned and headed back toward her cell. She was angry with herself for not trying to escape, but she couldn’t make herself do it.

“That’s a good girl. Now clean up.” He said.

The rational part of her found the patronizing comment revolting, but another part of her (a part she never knew to exist before) felt comforted and pleased by it.

The bag contained a washcloth, soap, and shampoo. The hot washcloth on her face was nirvana.

“Turn this way.” The man said in response to her subconsciously modest position facing the wall with her back toward him.

She couldn’t see the man’s expression through the tribal African mask he wore, but she could tell by the tent forming in his robe that he was becoming aroused by watching her soap up and rinse off her svelte body. The hot water felt so good. She didn’t let his ogling stop her from a much needed thorough bath.

“I find the sight of you bathing rather erotic. I hope you won’t mind if I touch myself.” The man said flipping his robe up over his engorged member. He began to stroke himself lightly as he watched the show being put on. He was not going at it fast and white-knuckled, but, rather, in a light sensual manner.

She felt violated as she looked over at the man stroking his chubby while she squatted and cleaned between her legs, and she worried that she was about to experience the rape she had long been expecting.

While the warm water and cleanliness made her feel like person anew, she did start to chill almost immediately once she stopped rinsing.

The man moved toward her unfolding the towel. He wrapped it around her and then began to dry her starting with her brunette locks and working downward. Again, he was methodical but never lingered gratuitously on her private parts in a groping manner.

She didn’t know what made her do it, but she touched the member that touched her leg. First it was like an accidental touch of her fingertips and then she wrapped her hand around it. For a moment he continued to towel her dry, but, when she began to stroke, he stopped and removed her hand.

“You have an important day ahead.” He said, and then left her with the towel wrapped about her torso.


“Why did you do it? Touch it?” She asked herself.

“To feel as though I control something in my runaway world.” She responded.

She knew she should be worried about feeling the need to speak the words aloud, but she couldn’t help it. She needed to hear a human voice, and even to feel as though she were interacting in dialogue – even if it was truly monologue.

There was one recurring question that she did not speak aloud. It was odd how the exact same words could take on very different meanings with differing contexts. The question she couldn’t bring herself to say aloud was, “Why hasn’t he raped me?”

In the beginning, this horrific curiosity was considered in the context of “what does he want from me, and, if it’s not sex, what could it be?” She then always had to push the horrific alternatives from her mind. Rape would be a dreadful trauma (there was a time she couldn’t imagine worse), but it was a known quantity. The anxiety of uncertainty was killing her. Her stomach churned and roiled with it. Just recently, however, the question took on the new and disturbing context of “is there something wrong with me?”

She was undergoing some transformation that she couldn’t even begin to understand – or was she?


In a few hours the man returned.

“A great many mysteries will be unlocked over the next several hours. The first thing you should know is that you weren’t abducted at random. On the contrary, your abduction was the denouement of an extensive search and observation. You were found to be the most promising among a select pool of candidates. In short, I found you exceptional.” He said and took her by the hand.

He led her out of her cell and down the hall toward the door that she had earlier contemplated fleeing through. His left arm held the lantern out ahead of him, and his right was stretched out behind holding her hand firmly as she walked at arms length behind.

The door opened to the foot of a stairway. The stairway was lit, and he snuffed out the lantern and left it on a shelf there. Then he guided her up the stairs. The stairs opened into a large impressive kitchen with marble countertops and restaurant-grade appliances. It was so unlike the musty dank cellar she had called home for some unknown time. It was pristinely clean and sanitary.

They crossed into a dinning room in which a table had already been set, and steaming bowls of soup set out. It smelled so good, and she involuntarily salivated. She had been fed mostly cold table scraps since her abduction.

“There is someone you must meet.” The man gestured for her to turn.

A woman was walking into the dinning room. She was nude like the captive, but was not trembling and seemed well acclimated to her surroundings. She was several years older than the captive, but was quite attractive woman. In contrast, she was blond with a short hairstyle, and was more buxom than the new captive – though still tone.

“Meet B. B this is C.” He said making the introduction.

It took her a moment to realize that she was C.

B looked C up and down, and even walked around behind her.

“She’s a nervous little mouse, but I think you made a wise choice. We’ll see anyway.” B. said.

“You just don’t remember what you were like at this stage.” The man said, and then added, “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

They sat down at the table with the man at the head and the two women to either side of him.

“May I?” B said.

The man nodded and said, “Yes. I guess it’s time.”

B got up and slowly eased the mask off the man’s face.

C expected some sort of deformed, scarred, or burned face, but was relieved and curious to see that it was perfectly fine face. It had a chiseled handsomeness to it even. Some might find it a little gaunt or with a little too prominent bone structure. He was by no stretch pretty. It was a definitively masculine face. What preoccupied C, however, was how familiar the face seemed, but yet she could not place it. It was as if the man had appeared in her dreams, but that couldn’t be it.

B leaned over and the man tilted up his face upward to receive a kiss while taking B’s face between his palms gently.

After C finished watching B return to her seat, trying to figure out what the relationship between her two dinner companions was – and what role she was supposed to play in all this, she bowed her head reflectively with her hands in her lap.

“Extraordinary.” B said in an apparently surprised ejaculation.

C looked up and saw that the man was holding his palm extended toward B and casting a stern rebuking glance upon the blond woman.

B then quietly averted her eyes downward as well. B had just so expected C to ravenously tuck into the food, and was pleasantly surprised by the refined behavior. It was not the religiosity of it. It didn’t matter to B if C was saying Christian grace, practicing Buddhist mindfulness, or was a conscientious atheist. It was the fact that the young woman was in control of herself in a way that few were. After all C had gone through, she was not victim to base impulse. It was so hard, such a long and challenging process, to find a suitable candidate. One had to find a woman who was strong enough to bend to this life without breaking, but yet, deep down, had a longing to bend to it. She had to be smart and have a longing to know herself – even if it was painful at times, but yet be someone who had a void of which they could not make sense.

The bisque was other-worldly, and C realized how much more she appreciated it than she had any other food she had ever placed in her mouth. Despite the fact that her mind was a carousel that alternated between thoughts of the woman seated across from her and the view out the window over B’s shoulder, C savored the flavors. She knew virtually nothing about B, but yet she seemed to have a strong mixed gut reaction to her – as she did toward the man, though the nature of that ambiguity was different. The feelings were mixed in an odd love – hate sort of way. She found B stirred some sort of ire in her, but simultaneously C had a type of affinity for, or kinship toward, B. Some siblings had this kind of relationship, and C found it odd that she should feel this way toward a lady she didn’t really know. The woman had made a patronizing comment, but C’s dislike of her was more than that. Jealousy? Surely, that was ridiculous.

The view out the window gave C’s mind to thoughts of escape, and she considered the landscape. There was not much to garner from the view. There was a lush bucolic gradual rise that seemed to meet a backdrop of low hanging medium-gray clouds. More immediately, she noted that there were tightly spaced bars upon the windows.

When they had all finished the soup course, C was directed to bus the man’s dishes as well as her own while B cleared her own plate. B showed C around the kitchen, and gave C the man’s main course as well as C’s own plate. C was to serve the man and then could sit down to her own food. B took her own plate. This process was repeated through the remainder of the courses.


After the meal the man excused himself and retired to his study to read.

C was left alone with B, and they cleared the table and cleaned up together.

“What am I doing here? Why did he kidnap me?” C asked B.

“It’s not my place to answer such questions without his permission, but, by the end of the evening, things will clearer.” B responded as she brushed a stray lock of hair out of C’s face.

“Who are you?”

“I am B.”

“Are you a captive like me?”

B gave the smile of one looking at an endearingly naïve soul. She wasn’t sure how to answer this question. “I am very much like you in many ways, but I don’t consider myself a captive.”

“Is there an ‘A’; are we some sort of harem or collection?” C asked.

“There was an A, but she… she didn’t make it.

“No. We are not a harem. Master is not the kind to collect. He would, no doubt, say that collections were for those caught up in the avarice of desire, and rather one should simplify one’s life such that one can see and experience the beauty and innate perfection inherent in those special things that we choose to take into our lives.

“This may seem a contradiction, given that there are two of us standing here, but, for now, you’ll have to trust that your role here will become clear.” B explained ambiguously.

“I’m… I’m really scared here… Will you, please, please, help me to escape?” C said, her eyes welling up.

B stepped to C and embraced the younger woman. As soon as she did so, C returned the embrace and was wracked by a fit of sobbing. C so needed the human contact – the contact of a confidant that she could unload her tsunami of built up emotion upon. C clutched at B as though the elder woman were a life-preserver in a rolling ocean.

“Trust me, girl, this will all be alright. I can’t offer you that assistance, and right now you may think me a vile and despicable monster for it, but someday I think you’ll see it differently. There will be traumas ahead, no doubt, but you are strong enough to handle them, and I’ll be there to help you as long as I can.”


After C had cried herself out and they finished the clean-up chores, B decided to try a heart-to-heart with the girl. “Tonight is going to be hard on you – physically and emotionally. You are going to want to flee. I know this. I remember how it was. I know it’s hard to accept what I’m saying, but don’t give in to it. Nothing good will come of it. I know this is all scary and demoralizing. If you just give this a chance, hard as that may be, you’ll never see that awful cellar again. You’ll never be alone again.” B said looking C in the eye with her hands on the girl’s shoulders.

B took C by the hand and led her through the house. The house was not huge and was sparsely furnished and decorated with the exception of the study that they passed. It was floor to ceiling with books. However, the goods and decorations that were there were all high-quality and showed impressive taste. The Master had left the study by the time the two women passed by.

They found him in the bedroom lying on the bed nude. He was reading Gibbon’s “Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire”. The two women just stood quietly waiting for several minutes before the Master put a bookmark where he left off, and set the book aside on the end table. B guided C toward the bed, and the younger woman could hear her heartbeat pound.

When C nervously refused to walk further, B grabbed her by the hair and pulled her forward. It was such a change from the sweet woman who had consoled her. B struggled to remain on her feet until she was pushed roughly over onto the bed.

“Don’t embarrass me. It’s time for you to do your chores.” B hissed as she pushed the younger woman’s cheek against the man’s flaccid snake.

61. Moving Forward

The Gulfstream jet rolled slowly down the runway, towards the hangar, that was its home. The women on board were tired and talked out. They had seen so many beautiful gowns, on their two-day shopping trip; they could not understand why it was not successful. However, for one reason or another, neither future bride had come away with a gown. Fiona was the closest to buying a gown. She found the perfect style, however it was six sizes too large. She was willing to try anything to get that gown, in her size. However, the boutique only had that one, and no amount of alteration would make it look great on her.

Now, the men were searching the internet to find a store that had one in her size. So far, their search had been fruitless, but they would have one more chance, when Piker Temple would called the home office of T.E.I., in Lyon, France, the manufacturer of the dress, in the morning. It was a last ditch effort, but it was worth a try. As Bob said to Dycke, when they had seen the girls off, at the airport, “Dycke, we have to find that dress. I do not want to be on the same planet with Fiona, when you tell her that the dress is not available.”

Dycke said, “Me? You want me to tell her. You are out of your freaking mind. She will kill the person who tells her she cannot have that dress.”

“Well Dycke, we have two choices in that case. First, if you have any doubts about getting married at eighteen years old, we can have Payne tell her.”

“Not one chance in Hell, Bob. I feel about Payne, as you feel about Fiona. My wedding is on, Bob. However, most of the time, I can beat Payne, when we fight, and I do not come away with bruises, over my body.”

“That was very funny, Dycke, but that only leaves us with option number two: We both leave the planet, and we recall Marti, and have her tell Fiona.”

“Bob, I like option number two, however I like it for more than one reason.”

Bob asked, “Should I ask what the second reason is, or should I let it go.”

Dycke replied, “Why not call the women and tell them we are going to get something to eat, and I will discuss it with you there.”

Bob called Fiona only to find out that they were having dinner, because they were hungry, and they were tired of waiting for them to return.

Bob and Dycke stopped at a local eatery, and settled down to discuss Dycke’s latest problem.

“Bob, there can be absolutely no slip-ups about what I am going to tell you, like the one you did yesterday, about starting a family.”

“Dycke, you actually thought that was a slip-up? I planned that down to the moment I would say the words.”

Dycke laughed, “Why did you do that to her? Did you see how embarrassed Fiona became, when the other women started in on her?”

“It was exactly what I wanted to happen, Dycke. Now she can relax and let nature take its course. If she gets pregnant, she does not have to hide it from anybody, because everyone is expecting the news. She will not be as wired as she is, most of the time, while she is on a protective detail, guarding you.”

“Bob, I am going to make you a promise here and now. The day she gets pregnant, she is being moved from protective detail, to U.S.C. to get her Doctorate in Finance. Afterwards, she works with Piker and Art Shell, in the office. You will be part of their protection detail, as baby sitter. I do not expect you to leave the baby at home, alone.”

“Dycke, Fiona always tells me that you are too good to be true. Now, I believe it, too. Can I ask you a favor, before we begin on your problem?”

“Sure Bob, what do you need? If I can do it, is yours.”

“Can you start Fiona’s schooling, in September? I want her mind clear of her former duties, and only thinking of what she has ahead her.”

“Consider it done, Bob. She will get her letter of acceptance into the doctoral program, in the next few weeks.”

“I will not ask you how you are going to do that, without her signature, and the other prerequisites, needed for approval. However, thank you very much, Dycke. If there is anything that I can do for you, just ask me, and it is yours.”

“Bob, I wish you had not said that just now, because I’m going to tell you for something that may have already put us in danger. You know about T.E.I. and their connection to Fiona’s dress. Piker and I did some research, on the company, and it looked like, it was a takeover prospect. I own twenty-three percent of the company. For three hundred and sixty million dollars, I could buy enough equity interest to own fifty-one percent of the company. Effectively, I would own it, because no one is able to make any decisions, without my approval. Everywhere I look all I get is “Information Not Available at this time.” As I thought about it, I began to wonder if this was a front company, with connections to some sort of organized crime. If it is, and I go after this company, I could put everyone I love in danger. If it is not, and I let this opportunity pass by, I turn out to be a business idiot. Piker believes that there are only four or five other investors, who could own a large block of stock. Since I own nearly a quarter of the company already, no one could have a larger portion of investment, in T.E.I., than me.

I called my Uncle Turnquest, and told him the story. He is going to look into this company, through his European contacts. He has many of them. At one time, in your past, you had connections, inside the U.S. Government. I do not want you to put yourself in danger. I can let this deal go by, and not have any second thoughts. However, if you can get any information, about this company, it would make my decision a great deal easier.

Bob smiled and said, “I worked for the CIA, Dycke. Everyone knows it, and it was a long time ago.” Bob did not say anything else, but he nodded his head at Dycke, in an indication that he would do something, about the situation.

They both became quiet, as their server approached, and took their dinner order. Suddenly, neither of them was very hungry and they ordered very light meals.

Monday morning, a limousine took Payne, Fiona, Dycke, and Bob from Atlanta to Marietta, Georgia. It was a short, twenty-mile ride, however, when you enter the Gulfstream complex, it was like stepping into the future of aviation. Every aircraft was state of the art, and in various phases of completion. A security vehicle led them to the office complex, where Sandra Nicholson greeted them. After being signed in, photographed, and issued ID badges, she brought them into the maintenance hangar, where their G5 was located. She asked Dycke if the aircraft was going to be based in the United States. Dycke said that he was unsure. His attorney would contact her, and give her that information.

Ms. Nicholson advised them that they could not enter the aircraft because of the work that was being done. However, she said it was being outfitted with a new glass cockpit, and every top-of-the-line instrument package that was offered for the flight deck. The only items we need to complete this aircraft are for you to decorate the interior. For that, we need to go back to the office complex, and the design studio. We have, nearly everything you can think of for the interior of the aircraft, and if you need something we do not have, we will get it.

Payne looked at Fiona and said, “I think I am going to a good time here.”

Fiona replied, “Why not have a good time? You are spending Turnquest’s money, not Dycke’s money. You do not have to be frugal, because he has, nearly, as much money, as Dycke.”

Walking into the design studio was like a child walking into Willie Wonka’s Chocolate Factory for the first time. Sandra put her arm out to stop Dycke and Bob from walking too close behind the girls. When Fiona and Payne stepped into the room, they, immediately, stopped.

Sandra looked at Dycke and Bob and said, “When a woman walks into the room, this happens every time. Men knock over their wives going in there, more times than you can possibly imagine. It was decided, that we would block any man, following a woman into the room, five feet before the door. It has saved many arguments from occurring, and many pairs of stockings.”

Bob replied, “If you knew anything, about my intended, you would know you stopped an outright brawl, from occurring.”

Payne looked over the room and said, “Where the hell do you start?”

Sandra replied, “The very first thing you do, is to decide on your color palette.” She took Payne over to a large portfolio of pictures and sat down beside her.

Bob whispered to Dycke, “Do you think we could get out of here, peacefully. I have to make a phone call, about the gown. I have a suspicion that they will be here, for a very long time.”

Dycke said, “The only thing that can happen, is they tell us we cannot leave. However, five dollars will get you a hundred, that they tell us to get lost.”

Bob replied, “I will take that bet.”

“Oh ye of little faith.”

Dycke said, “Payne, Sandra, would it be possible for Bob, and I to use two computers to search for a wedding dress, for Fiona, while they are in here. We do not have to leave the building or anything. We have much to do, and time is of the essence.”

Payne replied, “I do not need you here, if Ms. Nicholson can set you up with some computers, you are free to go.”

Bob handed Dycke a five Dollar bill and asked, “Do you ever lose?”

“Not very often, Bob.”

Sandra said, “Let me call my secretary and she will set everything up for you. When it is ready she will come and get you.”

Dycke said, “Sandra, thank you very much.”

Thirty minutes later, both men were sitting at computers looking for information. Bob took out his cell phone and hit a speed dial number on his cell phone.

Angus McFarland answered the phone at the Lotus Blossom, and said, “Bob, I do not deliver at lunchtime.”

Bob replied, “If I ordered it now, it would get here by dinner time, because I am in Atlanta.”

McFarland replied, “No civilized person lives or visits Georgia.”

“Angus, you have never called me civilized before. Does that mean that you have upgraded my position, on the evolutionary tree, above chimpanzees?”

Angus replied, “Well, neither of you have tails.”

“Thank you for the compliment Angus. I would like to order something that is off, the menu. However, I was hoping that you may remember the recipe.”

“If I made it before, I can make it again. What do you need my good friend?”

“Do you remember, when we were in Washington, and we ate at that fancy Mandarin restaurant down by the mall. They made us a dish you said was bitter and you could make it much better. I believe they charged us eight ninety-seven. I thought your mind had gone foggy, that day.”

Angus replied, “My mind has never gone foggy.”

Bob said, “I tasted it here in Atlanta. I am going to send you the recipe the cook gave me. I would like your opinion on it. Dycke raved about it. Would you get that for us soonest and let me know?”

Angus laughed, again and said, “It may take me a while to duplicate the recipe. Then I have to cook it. I will call you when it is ready.”

“You are the best there is Angus, and never forget it.”

“I do not care what you say, flatterer. You must pay your tab when you are here.”

“Eat something Angus your blood sugar must be getting low. I always pay my check and leave a big tip, for those bare breasted beauties of yours.”

As soon as he hung up the phone, Bob sent Angus a text, “Red*/* T.E.I. Lyon, Fr.”

While Bob was talking with Angus, Dycke talked with Piker. Piker had called T.E.I., and had tried, in a roundabout way, to find out about the company’s dress making hierarchy, with no results. In order to avoid suspicion, he then went into the story about Fiona’s dress, and was connected with the company’s warehouse facility.

The operations manager, at the warehouse, was very helpful. He checked his computer and saw three dresses, with the exact codes; Piker gave him. The dresses were due to be shipped out, soon.

He told Piker, “The only way he could have one of the dresses, was to have it picked up and altered, at their Paris store, prior to Friday morning. He needed a decision and a fifteen hundred dollar deposit, to hold the dress, by 2 PM Eastern time, which is 6 P.M. Paris time.”

Piker took his direct phone number, and said he would get back to him shortly.

Dycke relayed this message to Bob, and Bob said, “I guess Fiona and I will be going to Paris.”

Dycke said to Bob, “Should I stand in front of you, when you tell her you found the dress, to prevent permanent injury?”

“No, it will not be necessary. I will stand behind one of the displays, and whichever way she goes, I will run the opposite way.”

Bob and Dycke walked, quietly, back into the design studio, and took up defensive positions. Bob called out, “Fiona, I have some news for you.”

Fiona, Payne, and Sandra turned to look at Bob. He said to Fiona, “You must promise to take this news calmly. No hysterics, no yelling, no throwing of objects, you must act like a grown woman. Do you agree?”

Fiona replied, “Bob if you do not spit it out, I am going to break your neck.”

“Piker just got off the phone, with the maker of your dress, in Paris. You have a decision to make before two o’clock this afternoon. We have to call T.E.I. back and say yes, and give them a Fifteen hundred dollar deposit, if you want them to hold one of the three dresses, that are left in the world, that are in your size.”

All eyes were on Fiona, waiting for her reaction. Fiona finally said, “It is fine, Bob. Where are they sending the dress, to Atlanta or to Charleston?”

Bob replied, “I forgot that part. If you want the dress, you have to go to their store, in Paris, to have it altered and bring it home.”

Fiona was no longer quiet. She became excited. She started dancing with Payne and Sandra. She was screaming, and yelling, “Paris,” as if she had never been there before.

After a few moments, she realized she had not kissed Bob, and thanked him. She turned, looked at him, and ran towards him.

Bob took evasive action, and moved in the opposite direction.

Fiona yelled at him, “Get over here, you wimp.”

Bob replied, “My body has not healed, from the last set of bruises you gave me.”

Fiona said, “I promise, I will be gentle.”

“Fiona, if you hurt me, there will be no Paris.”

Fiona approached him and asked, “When should we leave?”

“Ask me tomorrow, and I will let you know.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed the top of his head,

to remind him, how much taller she was, then him.

Payne asked her, “If you are finished with him, can we get back to work on my airplane?”

Fiona said, “Absolutely, but I am far from finished with him.”

Dycke called Piker and told him to reserve the dress, and put down the deposit for it. Then he went to Sandra and asked her if Gulfstream rented aircraft.

Sandra said, “Seeing that we are in the process of revamping your G5, we can loan you a G5 at no charge. Of course, you have to pay for costs involved.” She then asked him when he would want to leave.

Dycke said, “Give me a few hours, and I can give you the particulars, you will need.” Then Dycke started issuing orders. “Fiona, call your mother, tell her to pack a bag and get ready to fly to Paris. Bob, take Fiona shopping. She cannot go to Paris wearing what she considers clothes. She always seems to be dressed for battle. Payne, get your nose out of the book, pick your color palette and I will do the rest. Call your mother and get her back here on the jet. Have your mother, call my mother, and ask her if she wants to go along. Dycke thought to himself for a moment, “What a stupid question that was.” This goes for their agents, as well. Does anybody have any questions?”

No one said a word. They had never heard Dycke speak so forcefully, prior to this moment. Even Payne, who had seen Dycke, as emotional as he could be, had never heard this tone of voice.

Dycke’s said, “Seeing that no questions have been raised, I have one. Fiona, do we need special permits to carry automatic weapons, in France?”

Fiona said, “Yes, however, Marti can take care of that easily enough.”

Dycke looked around the room and said, “Good.” He waited another moment and asked, “Why is everyone still looking at me and not doing anything?”

In seconds, the room burst into action. Dycke went to Sandra and said, “A Tuesday, 5 PM departure, will get them into Paris at what time?”

Sandra laughed at him and said, “Dycke I only build them. I do not fly them. Let’s go inside and I will check the computer and get you some accurate information.”

They walked to her office and she plugged the information into her computer and added the projected weather, and winds aloft into the figures, and told Dycke that the flight time, between Marietta and Paris, was a little over eight hours.

“Can you configure the G5 to sleep 10?”

“No, Dycke, they can recline comfortably. The only aircraft we have that can sleep 10 is the 650.”

“Can I rent one, lease one, trade in the G5, and buy by the 650? Just give me an option, because I have to have, well rested people, when they get the Paris. Fiona is going to come home, with a wedding dress. I hope that Payne will find something there she loves, as much as Fiona loves, her dress.”

“Dycke let me see what I can work out and I will be with you in about one hour.”

As he returned to the showroom, everyone seemed calm, and relaxed.

Dycke started asking questions, “Fiona, did you call your mother and tell her what to do?”

Fiona replied, “Yes Dycke. The only thing I could not tell my mom was the name of the hotel, where we will be staying.”

Dycke responded, “Call her back and tell her, that is her job. She is to find a 5 Star Hotel and book rooms for as many people, as needed. If people want to double up, fine. Normally, when we go out of the country, we will get four adjoining suites overseas. Payne and I, in one, Marti and Gaby will be to our left, Milton and Jack will be to our right. Depending where you decide our egress point is Fiona and Bob will be on that side. Fiona, I do not know what you want me to do with your mom. Should I put her on a separate floor, with an agent, for her safety? Do you want her in a two-bedroom suite, with you and Bob? We can put her in a suite, across the hall from us, if you think that works. Tell me what you think is best for her, and it is done.”

Fiona looked at Bob and said, “I told you working for him was going to be a pain in the ass. He asks hard questions, and expects an immediate answer.” Fiona looked at Bob, with doe eyes, batted her eyelashes, and said, “What do you think, dear?”

Bob looked around the room and said, “This is the first time she has asked my opinion, about anything, and it involves her mother. I think I need a shovel to start digging my own grave.”

The room burst into laughter. Fiona hit him on the shoulder, lovingly, but still there would be another bruise there, in the morning.

Bob looked at Fiona, “Dear, purely from a tactical point of view, if fireworks start, the last place I would want your mother to be, is in a room, the bad guys may have seen us exit. They may go in to set up a trap, upon our return, and find your mother there, defenseless. I believe the best place for your mother to be, would be across the hall, with her own agent, staying out of the fray.”

Fiona smiled at Bob and kissed him. “Bob that is a brilliant idea, I am amazed, I did not think of it first.”

“Dear, you probably said it in your sleep, and I overheard it.”

Fiona looked around the room and said, “You see, even Bob knew I had something to do with it.”

The room burst into laughter, again.

Dycke continued, “This trip is different, however, because I will not be going with you. My presence would be useless and a distraction. I am sending Bob, because he will get to meet his new mother-in-law, for the first time. Otherwise, he would be staying here with me. I believe the setup should be the same: Payne and the two mothers sharing one suite, Frankie and Gabby to their left, Bob and Fiona, to their right, and Fiona’s mother, Alvena, and Joey, across the h. Use the flight crew, as the additional buffer, on the egress side. Any questions?”

Payne yelled, “Is there any possibility that I can get some help over here?”

Dycke looked at Payne and said, “How many colors on their in the rainbow?”

Payne yelled back at him and said, “A lot!”

Dycke said, “You have ten minutes to pick one, as your color palette. After that time, the interior of your plane is going to be forest green.”

Payne screeched, “You would not do that to me.”

Dycke walked over to one of the fabric boards, picked up a piece of green leather, and handed it to Payne. He said, “If they make leather any darker than this is, I will get that, just for you. I will have them paint the exterior of the aircraft this color, also. You have ten minutes starting now.”

Payne looked at Dycke and said, “You are not getting any, until after the wedding.”

Dycke looked at her and said, “Okay,” and walked away, saying nine and one half minutes.

Payne looked around and said, “Someone, help me!”

Sandra came to Payne’s rescue. She told her that the interior of the aircraft is not like the interior of the home. It has to be utilitarian. You do not want it to be pink or yellow. Light blue is very calming, for the external surfaces, and carpeting that will brighten up the flooring using a blue and pink tone, if she wished. She pulled out a book and showed her several aircraft designs with blue interiors and Payne agreed to use the light blue on the fuselage, and a light rust color, for the chairs, just as she had seen in another photo.

Sandra told Payne that she would take care of the carpeting and the fixtures for the bathroom, and that she would be well pleased. She promised Payne, while she was flying to Paris, she would have Dycke signing papers for every nut and bolt that was going in to the G5 upgrade. He was going to be signing papers, until his fingers cramped. This time, it was time for Payne to grin.

Dycke came over to Payne and said, “Your time is up.”

“I am having Sandra add one more upgrade to my aircraft. They are installing pylons for heat seeking missiles. One day my airplane will be behind yours, and one missile will accidently fire. Sandra will trace it to an electrical malfunction, and I will be a wealthy, merry widow. That will be my last practical joke, on Dycke Schneider.”

“Can we go back to the hotel room now, so I can start plucking hairs, one by one?”

Payne replied, “Okay, but no sex.”

Dycke looked at her and said, “I waited eighteen years, I can wait two months.”

“You bastard and I am not talking about your mother.”

62. What Men Do, When Their Women Are Away? They Work.

The G650 lifted gracefully into the air and turned northeast using global positioning satellites to guide it to Paris. As they were advised to do, the women had dressed in very comfortable clothing and upon reaching cruising altitude, of 51,000 feet, the lights were turned off and everyone went to sleep, for the eight and half hour flight to Paris. They would touch down at 8:15a.m.Paris local time.

Three minutes after the G650, a G5 lifted off, for a one-hour ride, to Charleston. While the women were going to Paris to spend money, the men were going to be at home, earning it.

Chad Schneider could not have been happier, with this turn of events, except of course, if the dress was in Hong Kong. The two contract deadlines his company had coming due were critical and the potential income from both of them was enormous. He hoped the girls stayed in Paris through the week, so he could get this done, with the other men and women on his staff.

Piker Temple and Art Shell were up to their ears in research papers, looking into the inner workings of T.E.I. The company looked solid; however, finding out about its corporate structure was near impossible. Regardless of whom they asked, or what favors they called in, the answer was always the same, “Information not available.”

Dycke’s uncle, Turnquest, called him at six o’clock, as he promised. He only spoke for a short time and said, “Dycke, from what I have learned so far, get ready to write a very large check. I still have to verify a few things, with a few very highly placed individuals, but if they verify what I have already found out this company is as good as you think it is.”

Dycke thanked his uncle and relayed his message to Piker and Art.

Thursday morning, Angus called Dycke and asked, “Why is Bob not answering his phone? Did Fiona break both his arms?”

Dycke laughed at Angus and said, “No Angus, Bob did not get that lucky. He is on his way to Paris, surrounded by nine women, to buy Fiona a wedding dress.”

Angus roared with laughter. “He probably wishes he was in jail again.”

“He has said that many times, in the last few weeks, Angus”

“He asked me for some information about a company called T.E.I., do you know about this?”

“Yes, Angus, he asked you about this company, for me. I am thinking about buying it but I could not find anything out about the management. I could not ferret out any of the names in the corporate structure. Did you?”

“Yes Dycke I was, and there is a reason no one could find out anything about them. They are former top-level spies, like Bob and I. Not low-level readers or intermediate level scouts. They are the cream of the crop. They are the managers, the deep cover agents, and several former heads of agencies. The company is solid. No one messes with it, because of the people in it. Therefore, my boy, if you have the chance to purchase enough stock to own it, my advice to you is ‘buy it.’ Then, sit back and enjoy the profits these people will bring in for you.”

“Thank you very much, Angus. I appreciate what you done for me. I will make sure, Bob gets in touch, with you soon. Both of you will enjoy a share in those profits.”

Dycke hung up and immediately called his uncle on the scrambler. When Turnquest joined him, Dycke told him what he had learned and asked his opinion.

Turnquest said, “I can report I have just verified this same information. Our Fiona, will even recognize the head of their operation, when we meet him.”

Dycke thought for one second and said, “When are we going to meet him, uncle?”

“At your wedding, Dycke; I am being invited, correct?”

Dycke laughed and said, “Uncle, we have reserved the entire second row for you and your bevy of beauties.”

“That is very kind of you, Dycke. However, I will only be requiring four seats. Our new associate and I will require one each and one each for our escorts.

“Uncle, thank you very much, for your hard work. As soon as the invitations are printed, the first four will be sent to you.”

“Thank you, Dycke, we shall talk again soon.”

Dycke hung up and called his father-in-law. Piker picked up his office phone, and said, “Go-ahead Dycke.”

“Dad, do whatever you have to do and get me 50.1% or more of T.E.I. stock or options as soon as possible.”

“Dycke, you know who you are dealing with now. Are you sure you can handle yourself against those people?”

“I do not think that would be a problem. They are business people now and they work out in the real world, not the underworld of espionage. I have three people on my team, who can help me, if I need any help.”

“Remind me never to play poker with you, chess neither. You are going to write a check for three hundred and fifty million dollars on a hunch about people, and a wedding dress. Where do you get these brass balls, son?”

“Dad, remember, I have read everything from Plato’s “Republic” to today’s New Republic. The best part is I remember most of what I have read, and I can put it to good use. If my uncle and Angus McFarland are correct, T.E.I. is a dream waiting to happen.”"I hope you are right Dycke. I would not want to be playing poker against you, if you are bluffing.”

“How about we play chess, dad, you said you can play?”

“Yes, I do. However, I can only play the last week in August and the first week in September. The remainder of my year is booked.”

“Very funny dad, I will tell Payne you said that, and ask her if she would prefer, if I played chess with you, or get her pregnant. I cannot imagine what her answer would be?”

Takeover rumors started floating around the money markets around the globe, but no one could find out what funds were backing it or what company was the target. Fund Managers denied any involvement, and Hedge Managers said the company was too small to warrant their time.

Everyone in the T.E.I.’s hierarchy declared ignorance of the situation, and stated that they had not traded any of their shares. The titular head of T.E.I. said to the group, “We are being approached, by an unknown source. Use all your assets to find out who, and what they might want, and do not act, without my authority.”

Lord Whitbred put down the phone, and called an associate in London. He asked her if anyone had been making inquiries about his company. He was surprised, when the answer came back quickly, in the positive. Now all he had to do was follow the money, back to the person, asking for information. He did not have to worry about doing that, because his phone rang, and his secretary said to him the “New Majority Owner of T.E.I. was on the phone, and wished to speak to him.”

Lord Whitbred picked up the phone and asked, “Who is this?”

“Seeing that I possibly own enough equity in the company, at this moment, to control it, I believe it is my right to ask you that question.”

“I see we are getting off on the wrong foot.”

“If that is the way you would like it, I will call a Board of Directors meeting, Monday morning, in Charleston, South Carolina, at 10a.m., at which time the old board will be dismissed and a new board will be put in place. It really is a shame. I like spies, old ones, and new ones. I have quite a few of them working for me. I would like to have continued that relationship for many years into the future.”

“How did you get my phone number?”

“A gentleman I know runs an oriental restaurant called, ‘The Lotus Blossom.’ He gave it to me.”

Lord Whitbread laughed and said, “How is Angus these days?”

“I do not know what he looked like when you knew him, however, I would say that he is a little larger than life, now.”

“My name is Lord Jeffrey Whitbred. I will be looking forward to meeting you one day.” A light on his desk started to flash and he asked, “May I interrupt this conversation, for one moment please?”

His phone called to London had already borne fruit, and his contact told him the questions came from Switzerland and a retired lawyer, Turnquest Schneider. He picked up the line again and said, “May I assume I am talking to Turnquest Schneider?”

“Close Lord Whitbred, but not correct. Turnquest is my uncle. My name is Dycke Schneider. That is spelled D-Y-C-K-E, the Dutch spelling. If your company did not make a very special wedding dress, I would never have realized I owned twenty-three percent of T.E.I. already, and this conversation would not be taking place. However, one of my dearest friends needed that dress, in a size 8. In order to find one, we had to call the manufacturer. We found the initials T.E.I. on a wedding gown in Atlanta. My future father-in-law did some investigating and saw the company as a possible acquisition target. I made that offer this afternoon, and we received enough positive response that I nowown at least fifty-one percent of the company. I hope in the future we can become great business partners and friends.”

“Dycke, if all you needed was a wedding dress, you could have called me, and I would have had one made for your friend, and given it to her for free. It would have saved you a ton of money.”

“What fun would that have been, Lord Whitbred. We would never have had this conversation, and a chance to meet?”

“Dycke, I am going to ask you a very impolite question, but I have to a feeling about you, which I very rarely get. Please do not be offended when I ask you for your age.”

“I am not offended Lord Whitbred. I am eighteen years old. I graduated high school this past February.”

“Oh, bugger! I knew it. I have had the opportunity to deal with several of your sort, and they always wind up breaking my heart, in one way or another.”

“Lord Whitbred, I am not going to marry you, I am just going into business with you. Hopefully, you will continue to run the operation, as you have done in the past, with little or no input from me.”

“I am glad to hear that last part, Dycke. However, my previous remark was guided towards several of my former staff members. Some started with me, at ages younger than you, and served their country brilliantly, only to lose their lives, or be mustered out of the service, by shortsighted bureaucrats, whose only thought was the bottom line.”

“Sir, now it is my turn to ask an embarrassing question. Did you ever induct a fourteen-year-old girl, into MI 6?”


“Lord Whitbred, how would you like to give a bride away?”

“Dycke, I have not seen or heard from Fiona, in over nine years. Why would she want me to give her away?”

“Sir, as you know, her father, and brother were killed in the Falklands. When we talk about her early life, the only man she talks about is you. Everyone else in her life is either a fellow agent or someone she spied on. Somehow, every conversation we have about those days ends up having two names in it: Marti’s and ‘his lordship.’ I did not put that together, until just now. I will have to clear it, with her future husband, Bob Short, but I think it would be absolutely, the icing on the cake for her, if you would agree to do it.”

“Dycke, it would be my honor. Where is she now?”

“Sir, she should be halfway across the Atlantic Ocean, on her way to Paris. She has a fitting scheduled at your Paris store, this afternoon. The dress is supposed to be there waiting for her. My future bride, along with our mothers, Bob, and their security agents will be there, with them.”

“Dycke, she is going to be in for an awful letdown. The dress is going to be irreparable.”

“Sir, do you remember what happens when Fiona becomes upset?”

“Yes Dycke, I am quite familiar with her reactions. I bred them into her, and I have the team of women that can control her every breathing moment, when she is in this salon. I will have my people set up cameras to capture it on film for posterity.”

“Do you think they can get my bride into a dress, also?”

“They will not leave Paris, without wedding dresses being made for them, Dycke. There will be dresses for the mothers and for the bridesmaids, including all of the security females.”

“Sir, it took Bob five hours to get Fiona to buy one dress to wear to Paris. It would take a battalion, of your S.A.S. people, to get Marti into a dress.”

“What did you do Dycke, go into the retirement files of MI 6, and see who was available?”

Dycke laughed and said, “No sir, Fiona and Marti came as a package deal from my great uncle. When he passed away, I inherited his entire security force, and I am extremely happy that I did.”

“Dycke, is Marti there?”

“Yes sir, she is in the outer office.”

“Call her into the room and give her the phone, but do not tell her who is on this end. Be sure that you are not around, when she gets off the phone. She may be perturbed with you, for letting her be caught off-guard.”

“Sir, Marti has a very long memory. The last time I did something like this to her, she ran me fourteen miles. She will kill me this time.”

“Dycke, it will be good for your character.”

“Sir, as Marti often says to me, when she is teaching me self-defense, ‘this is going to hurt me, a lot more than it is going to hurt you.’”

“Get her on the phone Dycke, and get out of that building.”

Dycke put the phone on hold and walked out of the office. He went to each person individually, told him or her to take out their cell phones, and be prepared to take some pictures of Marti, when she goes into the office. He walked over to Piker’s desk, and said that his phone conversation had gone well. The former head of T.E.I. wanted to speak to Marti, about some security arrangements for their group.

Marti reached for the phone, but Dycke stopped her and asked her to take the phone in the other office, because he had to speak with Piker. When Marti was a few feet outside of Piker’s office, Dycke’s said, “Dad put your phone on speaker, take your cellphone, and be prepared to take some pictures of Marti. From what I was told, this should be extraordinary.”

Marti picked up the phone and said, “Hello.”

“Is this Ferdina and Nicholas’ little girl, Martina Theresa Innocent?”

“Yes, and who the bloody hell is this?”

“Then stand at attention, Sergeant Major, and do it now!”

Marti instantly reverted to her training, as a British soldier, when recognizing an order from a superior officer. She nearly dropped the phone.

“We have become weak Sergeant Major, haven’t we? This soft living is not doing your body any good. You could run only fourteen miles, with an eighteen-year-old boy. What happened, Sergeant Major, you cannot run any further? Sergeant Innocent, do they pay you, so much, in civilian life, that your wallet is holding your ass down? I am waiting for an answer Sergeant Major.”

After being berated for several minutes, Marti realized she was standing at attention. She turned around and saw everyone taking pictures of her, and laughing. Then she saw Dycke waving goodbye, and running out of the office, with Gracie at his side. It dawned on her, that she had been tricked. The person, on the other end of the phone, was about to catch hell.

Marti asked, “Who is this? No, who were you, because when I get my hands, around your throat you are going to die a slow death.”

“Martina, you must watch your temper. It always has the disadvantage of raising your blood pressure, and with your advancing age, we would hate to lose you.”

“Got you, you son of a bitch. Your blood pressure speech has just given your away, your Lordship. I am still going to find you, and kill you for the shit you just pulled. First, I am going to kill Dycke for allowing you to do this to me.”

“Martina, do you know how many pictures and stories I have about you, in our archives?”

“Your Lordship, do you remember your little tryst, with that secretary, in Kenya?”

“I am no longer in service to the crown, Martina.”

“I am no longer in your service, your Lordship.”

“Now that we have finished our little pissing contest, I am going to give you an order, and you are going to follow it to the letter. Is that understood Martina?”

“Yes, your Lordship.”

“You will go to a bridal salon, today Martina. You will be measured completely from head to toe, for a Maid of Honor dress. You will have pictures taken, by a professional photographer, while you are wearing various colors to see if we can make you look like a woman, and not like warrior. Do you understand?”

“I will ‘not’ wear a dress.”

“Martina, both your parents are still alive. I do suppose you would like to see them, again. I am not asking, I am telling you to get this done today. I have not had to hurt anyone, in a very long time. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, your Lordship. I will get it done, in the morning, right after I kill Dycke.”

“I’m sorry, Martina, you cannot hurt him. He owns fifty-one percent of my company. One word from him or his heirs, and I would lose everything. So be a good girl, run along, and play nice.”

“Yes, your Lordship.”

Marti hung up the phone gently, stood up straight and yelled, “Where is

that son of a bitch, I am going to kill him.”

Everyone in the office laughed, until laughing hurt. Finally, Piker told her that Dycke had gone home, to put on his running shoes, and was waiting for her there.

Marti grabbed her bag and started to leave, when Piker asked her, “Are you leaving me alone?”

She looked at him and said, “I thought you were finished for the day?

Piker smile at her and said, “No! Now that my wife is gone, I can try to catch up on the work that has been piling up on my desk. I may be here all night.”

Marti threw her bag down, on the chair, and started doing sit-ups. With each one she said, “I am going to enjoy killing him. I am going to enjoy killing him. I am going to enjoy killing him…”

When Dycke got home, he picked up his satellite phone and called Bob to give him aheads-up, for the upcoming day’s events. The attendant woke Bob up and escorted him to the flight deck, to take the call.

Bob put on the headset, and asked Dycke what was the problem.

Dycke said, “Bob, you are not to say a word, until I finish, because you will scare the pilot and wake up the women. There is enough trouble ahead, for both of us, as it is. The company, which I made an offer for today, the same company that makes the wedding dress, is run by Fiona’s former boss. He loves her like a daughter, and she regards him as a surrogate father. She is not to know this. She is not getting that wedding dress. When she gets there, the dress is going to be irreparable, and Fiona will throw a fit. I told him he was nuts, however, he told me to leave it to him and his people. They will take care of Fiona. He is even going to have it filmed at the salon for us to watch, later. He is going to have custom dresses made for Fiona, Payne, and Marti, as well as the mothers, all of the bridesmaids and female agents. You should have seen what he put Marti through tonight. I had everyone in the office, take pictures on their cell phones, to record the event. Before he told me to put Marti on the phone, he told me to leave the office, for my own safety. I could not believe it, until I saw what he had her do, so I had Gracie, at my side, while we watched. When Marti picked up the phone, he said a few pleasantries, and then in a commanding voice had her stand at attention. She stood there, for five minutes, before she realized what was going on and demanded to know to whom she was speaking. I do not know what their relationship was, but he ordered her to wear a dress to Fiona’s wedding. Marti flatly refused. At the end of the conversation, he said to her, that she was going to do exactly, as he said. She buckled and said okay. Marti would not buckle to a Mack truck, approaching her at sixty miles an hour. She said ‘yes’ to this person, in under ten minutes. Finally, since Fiona and this man, had such a close relationship, I asked him if he would ‘give her away’, at her wedding. He said he would be honored. I told him, I would have to clear it with you first, and I would let him know. I am finished Bob. You can speak, now.”

“Dycke, can I go back to sleep, now. You seem to have taken care of everything very well. I was going to stay out of the way in Paris, anyway. I understand there is a second Paris “Under-ground.” If I hear an explosion above ground, I will start making a third Paris, until you tell me it is all clear. Good night.”

Ch.62. Paris: A Shopping Paradise

As they checked into the hotel, Fiona heard a screeching voice that could only be one person: her mother. She turned around and her mother was charging at her, at the speed of light. Fiona braced herself for the impact, and hugged her mother, like a baby bear. There were tears in both their eyes. They talked frequently; however, they had not seen each other in five years.

Fiona asked her mother how it felt to be retired.

Alvena replied, “I am not retired. I work for your boss. Who do you think supplied these lovely rooms?”

“Yes mom. I am sure it was harrowing work. Your job description sounds extremely demanding, and the thought of traveling to those terrible places must be terrifying.”

“Where do you think you got your brains and toughness from Fiona? I have to beat the bushes, ahead of you, and make sure that the hotel rooms and dinner reservations are made, prior to your arrival.”

Fiona said, “Mom, don’t make me laugh in front of the people I am sworn to protect.”

Alvena replied, “Why, they do not know you have a sense of humor.”

The group that had been listening to this family reunion broke into laughter.

Alvena looked around and said, “Have you been putting on your mean act again?”

Fiona blushed, bright red, before Bob came to her rescue.

“Mrs. Brooks, I am Robert Short. We have spoken many times on the telephone, and it is my pleasure to meet you.”

Alvena took Bob by his arm, started walking towards the elevators with him. She said, “Bob, I have a million questions for you, but the first one is ‘How did you knock her panties off, and convince her to marry you.”‘

Fiona could not believe her ears. Her mother made many embarrassing remarks about her, while she was growing up. Now she had taken the man she was going to marry, and the first question she asked him was about ‘knocking her panties off.’ This was going to take some getting used to, and she would have to keep close tabs on her mother.

Fiona looked around and realized she was the only one remaining at the check in desk. Everyone else, followed her mother, and Bob, to the elevators, hanging on to her mother’s every word. She ran to catch up with them, not daring to let them get into an elevator, without her. There was no telling what damage her mother could do to her, on the way up to their rooms.

Alvena held court in Fiona’s suite, for an hour, before everyone went to his or her separate rooms, to rest. Fiona needed an aspirin, desperately, because her mother had told so many embarrassing stories, about her youth, she had a splitting headache. Bob had so much ammunition to use against her; she could never live it down. She lay down on the bed, with her mother, cuddling with her like a child, wondering if she should kill her now, or wait until after the wedding. They had been apart for so long, that the simple act of touching made Fiona realizes how much she had missed her mom’s presence, in her life. She vowed to herself, never to ever let that happen, again. She wondered how her mother had handled the separation. Alone, in an empty home, with a moderate income, which she augmented monthly, to be sure she wanted for nothing. Fiona wondered how lonely her mother must have been. She would apologize for her lack of thoughtfulness, later.

At 12:30 in the afternoon, their limousines let the women off, one street north of the T.E.I. salon and everyone knew they were in trouble, when Alletta asked Payne, “Darling, do you remember the check I ripped up, at your graduation? Would you happen to have another one on you?”

Payne said, “Motherrrrr!”

Everyone laughed and Alletta said, “I was only joking, sort of.”

Bacillica took Alletta’s arm and said to her, “One month, and fifty thousand dollars each. What would we have done, with the other twenty-nine days?”

That brought a very large smile to Alletta’s face, because she knew she was not alone. They were in a shopper’s paradise, and she was a ‘Master Shopper.’

Each store was a jewel, and each jewel was more precious than the one before it. When they reached the salon entrance, they were not impressed. It had a frontage of twenty feet, with one fairly nice gown on display, on each side of the doorway. They had hoped for much more. However, as long as Fiona’s dress was there, was properly fitted, and looked, as radiant as it did in Atlanta, everyone would be satisfied. They stepped inside the front door, into a dusty, medium-size waiting area and rang a bell to receive service. An elderly man, with a cloth tape measure and straight pins protruding from every piece of fabric on his body, asked how he might serve them.

In French, Fiona introduced herself saying, “I am Fiona Brooks. I have a one o’clock appointment, for a dress, with this lot and style number on reserve. I am here to be fitted, and for the dress to be altered.”

The elderly man said, “I must get the matron and she will take care of you, personally.”

A few moments passed by, when a stunning, fifty-ish year-old woman, impeccably dressed, came forward and greeted them. She asked if everyone spoke French or if English was preferred.

Payne said French was fine with her. Bacillica, Alletta, and Alvena preferred English.

The matron’s name was Suzette and she made everyone feel at home. She apologized for the dowdy entrance, but explained it kept many people away from the salon; they did not wish to serve. She said if they would follow her into the stage area, the fitting could begin.

Everyone and walked through a narrow entrance, into a near-perfect circular mirrored room, about sixty feet in diameter. It had raised runways, fitting platforms, heavily tufted chairs, couches, and tables. The lighting was dramatic and could be changed to fit the mood.

From offstage, arguing could be heard. Suzette excused herself, to see if she could find the reason for this dispute. Her voice could be heard joining the discord and it only got louder and louder. After what seemed like an eternity, ten women of varying ages, plus Suzette, brought Fiona’s dress out front. Not one face was happy, not one head was up.

Several of the women lifted Fiona’s dress off the table and Fiona smiled, because it was gorgeous, and she started to stand up.

Suzette motioned to her to sit back down, which Fiona did. They turned the dress around and the back of the gown was destroyed.

Fiona screamed, “Noooo!” She wanted to kill. She did not want to kill; she was going to kill, whoever was responsible for doing this to her dress. She stood up slowly, and walked to the dress and asked Suzette, who was responsible for the damage to the dress.

Suzette said to her, “That does not matter. You need a wedding dress and we are going to make you one, starting right now. Get undressed.”

Fiona said, “I want my dress.”

Suzette looked at her and said, menacingly, “I told you to get undressed and I mean, get undressed now.” Suzette looked over her right shoulder to the women who had brought out the destroyed dress and said, “Help her undress.”

Fiona was mobbed. She was naked in seconds, and she felt helpless for the first time in her life. She was roughed up and pulled up onto a fitting platform, and ordered to stand straight and stand still. There were tape measures everywhere: her arms, her neck, her legs, her waist, her hips, even her feet were measured. Nothing was left to chance.

No one except Marti, ordered Fiona around. Here, in France, 10 fragile, little women, in black dresses, armed only with straight pins and tape measures, handled Fiona, like a stray cat.

Payne could not get over the look on Fiona’s face. She had never seen her so confused. Fiona was always in charge, always three or four steps ahead of everyone else. Buying a wedding dress had her totally, out of her depth. She started laughing, until Suzette walked over to her, and said, “I understand you are getting married, also. When will that be happening?”

Payne said, “One week before Fiona’s wedding.”

“Oh, how wonderful, have you picked out your dress?”

“No, I just started looking.”

Suzette nodded and walked towards the back of the showroom and yelled, “Ladies.” Ten more women came out from the back of the showroom, and listened to Suzette.

Suzette turned and pointed a finger at Payne and sweetly said, “Come here, darling.”

Payne grabbed hold of her mother’s arms and said, “No, thank you.”

Suzette said to her staff, “She is shy. Undress her carefully, but undress her.”

Payne yelled, “Mom!”

Alletta looked at her daughter, smiled, and said, “Are you sure you do not have another check on you?”

Payne replied, “I will get you for this, mother.” Moments later, Payne was as naked as Fiona was, and suffering the same humiliation: being poked, prodded and measured, by people telling her to remain straight and still, every other second.

Suzette was pleasantly speaking with Bacillica and Bookman Alletta when she realized the time, and said if everyone were hungry, she would place an order.

They nodded their heads and Suzette made a call. This was pre-staged by Lord Whitbred and the call was just to verify the delivery time.

They did not deliver nibble food, or salads or grass-like substances or yogurts. They delivered hot food on Sterling Silver trays with bone china settings, and stainless steel silverware. There was foie gras with truffles, oysters, and quiche of every type, duck confit, and cassoulet as the main courses, with crispy baguettes for dipping into the delicious sauces. Dessert included crème Brule, chocolate mousee, and tarte tatim and tarte fruite. Of course, no French meal would be complete without champagne, red, and white wines.

When the setup for the buffet was complete, Fiona and Payne were handed two plain white gowns so they could cover up. They thought it was a little late for that, because all the men that had set up the buffet had already had an eye-full, and were now gone. They were about to join the line at the buffet when Suzette intercepted them and told them to sit down and she would serve them. They thought that was very kind of her, because the robes did not come with belts. They were wrong.

Suzette brought them to small plates containing four ounces of food each: Two ounces of quiche and two oysters. They each received a glass of sparkling water.

Payne was sure this was a joke. Fiona was ready to go for her gun.

Fiona asked, “What is the meaning of this?”

Suzette replied politely, “We are about to put fabric around your body. We cannot have you go all puffy, in your belly, with food and drink and get a proper fit. This evening, at dinner, you may have a proper meal. Tomorrow you must have breakfast before 7 AM, and eliminate before you come here for your next fitting. If you are unable to eliminate your meals, we will give you an enema and help you along. Your stomachs must be as flat, as they are now, and will be on the day of your wedding. We do not want your wedding dress to swim all over your body, on your wedding day, would we? Now, enjoy your snack.”

Fiona and Payne looked at the buffet line and hated everyone that was on it. Not only did the food look wonderful, but the aroma filled every inch of space and turned every taste bud on. Those little buds did not want quiche; they wanted cassoulet, and duck confit, with chocolate mousse and crème brûlée. They wanted a glass or two of the ‘heart healthy wine’ to keep that organ physic ally fit. Oysters may be good for the libido, but cassoulet is good for the stomach. Payne and Fiona were drooling, and the cameras caught it all.

With the exception of the aforementioned duo, everyone else had a hearty repast, which lasted for exactly, one hour. When that hour was up, Fiona and Payne were again escorted back to their platforms to be covered in fabric. From the back came bolts of Duchess Satin, Italian Satin, pure silk, silk and cotton organza, lace tulle, silk Gazar, and appliqué materials made of lace from Ireland and Kashmir for the crown and cape. No expense was to be spared and none was taken. Each material was in an eggshell color for Fiona, and bright white for Payne. Each bride loved her material and the material of the other bride, and they could not decide which they liked better. There was no bickering between the brides, but there was nearly a war between the twenty seamstresses, whom each accused the other of attempting to ruin the others fabrics. Suzette was again called in to referee the shouting match. Since Fiona had a headache, prior to coming here, she knew why her head was now ready to explode.

At 6 PM, after four hours of being told, “To stand straight and stand still,” it was, finally, closing time. The fabrics were picked out, not by the brides, but rather bride’s mothers, guests, Suzette, and her staff. The bride’s bodies contained marks made from pencils, pens, and markers, of every color of the rainbow. They were told not to wash them off, because they were needed for the fittings, which would occur the following days.

Fiona and Payne were so disappointed they nearly cried. They had both been looking forward to a long, hot soak in the whirlpools, in their rooms. Now they were told they could not even shower. Fiona told Payne she wanted to join Bob, in Moscow.

Payne laughed and said, “Do you think there is room for the three of us, in that cell?”

Alverna had planned a wonderful dinner party, for them at 8 PM, in a restaurant, near the hotel. Both Payne and Fiona wanted to skip dinner, but they were so hungry they would have eaten the room service menu. Off they went, with the other nine members of their group, to eat dinner and to try not to fall asleep while doing it.

Dinner was wonderful, and again, Alverna was the center of attention. The stories of Fiona’s childhood seemed endless, and the more stories, she related, the more Bob smiled at her. Her mother told stories that Fiona did not know she knew about. It turned out that Marti, her friend and mentor, could not seem to keep her mouth shut, when it came to her mother. Marti and she were going to have a very long discussion, about confidentiality, when they next met.

It seemed to Fiona, that her mother could speak perfect English, even with her mouth full of food. For two and one half hours of eating and drinking, her mother did not shut up. The applause and laughter received, after each, and every story, seemed like fodder for her memory. It brought to light the next story she told. She even told the story about the night Fiona lost her virginity. There was only one other person, besides her and the boy, who knew the details of that night, and Marti was going to catch a beating, when Fiona returned to the states.

Nine people at the table laughed at how red Fiona had become. They taunted her about staying out too long, in the English sun. She could do nothing about Bacillica, Alletta, and her mother, publicly, but her peers would hear from her, when they returned home. Buying this wedding dress turned out to the more problematic, than she thought it would be. She believed it would be fun, to be here in Paris, picking up her dress, and doing some shopping, with Bob and her mother at her side. It was turning out to be a nightmare.

When dinner was over, everyone started to get into the limousines, for the trip back to the hotel. Bob went to the trunk of one limousine, pulled out a travel case, and said to Fiona, “Why don’t we walk back, it is not that far, and we can walk off dinner.”

Fiona agreed, told the driver that she could leave, kissed her mother, and told her she would see her in the morning.

It was a partly cloudy evening, in Paris, but no one was looking up. Paris is called “The City of Lights” for its ground-based lighting, and from their position, Bob and Fiona could see the Left Bank of the River Seine, the Hippodrome, and the Eiffel Tower. After they passed over a small bridge, they walked down a side street, to a pair of double doors, with no name or address above it. Before he opened the doors, he looked at Fiona and said, “I love you very much, and I only know of two ways to calm you down. I am going to do both of them for you tonight, because I saw the look on your face at the hotel. I was so happy that you did not kill me, that I arranged for this room, to be available for us alone. I hope this helps you make it through the next few days of fittings.”

Bob opened one of the doors, and Fiona stepped inside to see a large training center. She shouted with glee as she ran in to the center of the matted area. She turned, looked at the bag, Bob had been pulling and said; “My clothes are in there?”

“Yes, but we could fight naked, if you want.”

“No, you are so short, I would have to use the Braille method to find you and you sweat so much, you would be too slippery to hold. I am going to beat you tonight, and bring our score even.”

“Dream on, sweetheart. As you said, I am so short, and slippery, you do not have a chance of pinning me. Why not get changed, so I can take two or three minutes, out of my busy day, and teach you another lesson, about males being superior to females.”

“I am so happy I had a lousy day. It will help me readjust your head and rethink your superior attitude.”

Bob opened the case, and they took out their outfits. They changed on the gym floor, not caring if anyone was looking at them. They walked to the center of the mats, bowed to each other, and Fiona said, “Ding.”

She did not do what he expected her to do. She did not charge him as she had done the last time they fought. She waited and looked for him to make the first move. They circled each other with their hands and arms in defensive positions and when Bob attacked, it was with his feet to her ankles.

It was a clean knockdown, and Fiona had not prepared for it. Bob was so quick, that her height and weight advantage, did not work for her, it worked for him. As her body hit the floor, face down, Bob’s body landed crosswise on her shoulders. He reached for a thigh, in an attempt to put her into a position that would cause her pain, and she would have to surrender.

Fiona had other ideas. She rolled to her left, taking Bob with her, and wound up with him beneath her while she was face up on top of him. He still had her in a superior position, but she was no longer in danger of a pin.

Bob attempted to reverse his position, but, this time, her height and weight, worked in her favor. He said, “Why did you have to be so damn tall.”

Fiona replied, while struggling to get out of his arm hold, “I am not tall, you are a midget.”



“That is for later, cunt.”

“You will have to prove that you are worthy of that privilege.”

Bob had adjusted his powerful legs, and flipped her, asshole over teakettle, and she wound up, with her face down, and him on her back. He said, “That has never been a problem for me, your attention span is so short, you probably do not remember what you had or dinner.”

Fiona responded, “I remember what I ate for dinner, however, I know what I will not be having for dessert.”

Bob spun around and sat on her ass. He had both of her arms, behind her back, and he pulled hard, making her arch and said to her, “I always loved the way you ate your dessert. If you stop eating it, I will send you to Moscow.”

“The way you go on and on about Moscow, I think it might be a very nice getaway.” Fiona bucked her hips wildly, rolled to the left, unseating Bob and forcing him to let go of her left arm. As soon as it was free, she hit his right shoulder and caused him to release her right arm. She bounced up, and moved away from him, waiting to see what he would do next.

Bob moved closer and attacked her legs, again. He dove headfirst between her thighs and grabbed them on his way through. He lifted Fiona’s body off the ground, and flipped himself backward landing Fiona on her back, with him on top of her. She grunted and groaned, in pain, as the wind was knocked out of her.

Bob was in no position to pin her, but he had caused her pain, and pain caused a loss of stamina. He rolled off her and took a defensive position, while Fiona moved away from him, but she stayed on the floor, watching him, and gathering her wits. She thought to herself, “These damn training lessons with Dycke are making him better, all the time. I am going to have to sharpen my skills to keep up with his, at least until he gets me pregnant.”

Bob saw the smile come on Fiona’s face. He said to her, “You are losing. What is there for you to smile about?”

Fiona smiled wider, and said to him, “You will have to get permission to fuck me, in order to find out, midget.”

“I keep telling you that is not a problem. However, I will not kick a person, who is already down.”

“Are you afraid of a little ‘Greco–Roman style wrestling, Bob?”

“Is that what you are calling the position you are in? The judges would disqualify you, before yelling ‘Fight’, for insulting the tradition, of their institutional style.”

“Well, Bob, if this is not correct, you should show me, the correct starting position.”

Bob relaxed and approached her, from the rear, and began adjusting her position to a true classical style. However, this adjustment forced him to place a hand between her legs and attempt to spread them and push the right leg rearward.

That was what Fiona was waiting for. She grabbed him by his wrist, pulled his arm through her legs, and rolled her body, trapping him underneath her, with his arm extended and vulnerable.

She yelled at him, “You dummy, I have you now. If you do not give up, I will break your fucking arm.”

“This is what I get for trusting you. You ask for help and take advantage of my good nature. You win this match, but you lose my respect for your talents. You could not win, legitimately, so you cheated. I accept this defeat; however, the next time you need someone to help you recover, from a stressful situation, you will have to take a pill, because I will not help.”

Fiona felt terrible. He was right, and she knew it. She let go of his arm and walked away, without saying a word. She took a towel from the suitcase, walked to the furthest corner of the gym, sat down, and started to cry.

Bob did not know if he had overreacted or not, but he did not go over to her. He wiped the sweat off his body, and changed into his civilian clothes. He watched Fiona, every second. He had never seen her, this distraught. He sat down and waited for her to make a decision on what to do.

He saw her stop crying, but her head remained down, and she did not come back for clothes. She sat there in misery, wondering if what she had done was worth the outcome. She knew that Bob’s rebuke was correct, but she had planned the move. She thought it would be taken as ajoke, not as an insult. She decided to talk with Bob about it, and see if they could come to an understanding, between them. This was their first big fight, and it had come at a terrible time. She was having her wedding dress made, and she may have insulted her fiancee so badly, he might wish to cancel their wedding. She stood up and walked towards Bob, to find that he was walking towards her. They met where the argument had started. She went directly towards the part of the conversation, she feared so much. She asked Bob if he hated her, for what she had done and wanted to cancel their wedding.

He said, “That thought never entered my mind, Fiona. I love you very much, and this was an argument over a principle I hold dear. This was not an argument about the values we both have. If you cheated, with another man, I would have thought about canceling our wedding.”

“Why did you say that you would never help me again?”

“Fiona, you are a very strong-willed woman. There is no situation, in this world, you could not handle. You could push the nuclear button and not give it a second thought. This stress and tension you feel, is self-inflicted, and that is why I said that I would not help you. You can handle it yourself, but you refuse to do so. You allow little things to take over your senses, instead of taking care of it yourself. That is why I said I would not help you.”

“I like your help, Bob. I have never had someone I can lean on, and trust in so many years, I have forgotten what it feels like. I do not want to lose that feeling, with you. Can you please forgive me, and forget we had this match, tonight?”

“This evening we took a long pleasant walk, and there is nothing to forgive you for Fiona. I love you so much.”

“Bob, I want is you, of you, without reservations. I love you, and I always will. I never thought I would say that to any man, because I was always stronger-willed than they were. All they wanted was to get into my pants. You wanted me. That was how, to quote my mother, ‘you knocked my panties off and convinced me to marry you.’ That woman will be the death of me, but you are the one that gave me life.”

“Fiona, I think we should go back to the hotel. I want to show you the other way, I know to calm you down.”

Fiona smiled and asked “Oh yeah, Bob? What way is that?”

“You will have to wait until we get to the hotel, to find out. It is an ancient recipe handed down, by word of mouth, generation to generation. I believe you will get the hang of it, very quickly.”

Fiona said, “I cannot imagine what recipe can be made in a room, without an oven, Bob. However, I trust you. I hope you will trust me, when I say I will do my best to learn ‘everything’ that was handed down ‘by word of mouth.’”

The next day, Suzette told Fiona and Payne to stand by the rear mirror of the showroom to have paper patterns attached to them. She turned, looked at Alletta and Bacillica smiled and said, “Ladies, strip and take your positions, please.”

Both mother’s, shook their heads vehemently, saying, “No!”

Payne cheered, “Go get them, Suzette!”

Alletta said, “Be quiet, thief.”

Bacillica looked at Alletta and said, “Thank God, my son is not here.”

Frankie pulled out her cell phone, and when Bacillica was naked, she yelled, “Mrs. Schneider, look over here.”

Frankie never called her that, so she turned completely and when she did Frankie yelled, “Smile!”

Bacillica yelled, “You did not do that to me, did you?”

Frankie said, “Of course, I did. I am sending the picture to Dycke, right now. Everyone had seen pictures of Alletta’s follies, in the hospital. Now, they will see you flaunting it, in Paris.”

Alletta laughed, while Payne, Fiona, and all of the agents, cheered and applauded. Frankie sent the picture to Chad, and not Dycke. The note attached said, “Your wife is getting ready for a day on the town. Clothing is optional in Paris. Frankie.”

It was shortly after 8 AM Eastern Daylight time, when Chad’s cell phone rang and indicated he was receiving a picture. He downloaded it, while he was eating his breakfast. When it appeared on his phone, the mouthful of coffee he had, sprayed all over the kitchen table. There was his wife, naked, staring at the camera. He read the caption, laughed and knew that his wife had been caught off-guard. He could see the mirrors in the background and he knew they were at the salon being fitted for their dresses. He attached a cable between his phone and his computer and transferred the picture to it. He would have a surprise, in his bedroom, when his wife returned home.

Three days of fittings, changes of patterns, not only for the dresses, but for petticoats, panties, bustiers, stockings, garters, shoes and every other item the brides, mothers, and agents were to wear or carry, on their wedding days, were argued, and fought over, to the most minute detail. Finally, on Saturday evening, Suzette said, “You may return to the States, whenever you like. All your gowns will be ready, and sent to you, by the 15th of August. Six of my seamstresses will accompany the gowns, to do the final adjustments, prior to Payne’s wedding. Afterwards, they will do the final adjustments on the gowns for Fiona’s wedding.

Both Payne and Fiona looked at her, with fear in their eyes. Fiona said, “We do not know what our gowns will look like. All we have seen our pieces of fabric and paper cutouts. What are we supposed to think, for the next seven, for eight weeks? Believe that you will come up with a gown we will love.”

Suzette said to them, “Beatrix, Diana, and Christina did.”

Fiona’s jaw dropped to the floor, and she did not say another word. She told Payne that they could leave now.

Payne wanted to say something to Fiona, but she followed her, out the front door. The entire ensemble followed them. When they were outside, Payne asked her, “Who was Suzette talking about that you were so satisfied, with her judgment.”

Fiona looked at everyone and said, “One is a queen, one was a princess, and the other has more money than God.”

63 A. Coming Home (Alletta)

Arrangements were made to have the Gulfstream ready for departure by 11 PM that evening, and that there would be eleven people, instead of ten returning to the United States. It would land in Charleston, before continuing on to Marietta.

Everyone except Payne had cleared customs, when she looked up at her mother and said, “Mom, look what I found in my purse! It must have been here all the time.” Payne held up her checkbook and showed it to her mother.

Alletta screamed, and tried to get back through Customs, the wrong way, but the guards stopped her. Frankie and Joey took hold of Alletta; however, she was still threatening her daughter, with the loss of life and limb.

The Customs agents asked Payne if she was sure she wanted to get on the same aircraft, as that maniac. She assured them everything was fine. “It is only my mother.”

When the plane landed in Charleston, there was still an icy feeling, between Alletta and Payne. Payne said to her mother, “I am tired of this shit. Every time you do not get your way, it is always about money. With you, it is always about money. You do not love anyone, or anything, more than you love money. I have signed this check. Take it, go to the bank, and take out every penny. I will not be coming home, ever again. I will stay with Dycke, until the wedding, and afterwards, we will buy an apartment, and live by ourselves. I will have someone get my things, out of your house, as soon as possible. You will not have to think about me, ever again. If you wish to come to my wedding, you can. If you do not want to, I will not miss you. Take your money and get the fuck out of here. Will someone please take me to Basilica’s house; I do not wish to be here anymore.

Alletta looked at her daughter, and started to cry. She had done the unthinkable; she had broken her daughter’s heart, over money. Now, her daughter hated her to the point, she did not wish to see her anymore. She stood there, among the others and collapsed to the ground. Her life was over, as far as she was concerned. If she did not get her daughter back, her life was not worth living. She got up, and ran after Payne and begged her to listen, but Payne’s heart was ice, just as Alletta’s heart was on the aircraft. She promised Payne that she would never mention money, again. She promised she would change her attitude, towards her. She promised her anything she wanted, but she could not live without her daughter, because she was her life, and without her, she might as well be dead.

Payne yelled at her, “You should have thought about that, before you ranted and raved, over the money. The money: Always the money. You did it with me, you do it with dad; you do it with everyone. I am tired of it. Dycke has more money than I ever imagined, and he never, ever mentions it. That is the difference between you, and a normal person. You are a psychologist. You of all people should know better. I do not know if I can ever forgive you, for what you have done. I am getting married in two months and I am furious with you. If people were not coming, from all over the world, to be at my wedding, I would cancel it and elope with Dycke. I know, dad, and Chad would lose a ton of money, because of it, but I would ask Dycke, if he would not mind reimbursing them, because it was not their fault. It was yours, totally and completely yours. I do not wish to be with you right now. I need to be with Dycke. I need to talk to a normal person. I need to calm down, before I punch a hole in a fucking wall.”

Bob called Dycke on his cell and advised him of the situation. Dycke asked where they were and where Payne was going. He told Bob not to let her go to his house. He told him that she needed “Scream Therapy,” and the best place for that was Fort Hamilton Park.

He said, “Bob, tie her up if you have to, but meet me on the north side of Fort Hamilton Park, by the statue in fifteen minutes. Bring two cars and leave me one. I do not know how long it will take her to calm down, but I will stay with her, until she does. Then I will take her to a hotel, and let her sleep. We will see what she feels like tomorrow.”

Bob indicated to Fiona and Gabby that he wanted to incapacitate Payne. They both nodded and moved to circle Payne.

Payne did not notice this movement, until it was too late. Bob threw her over his shoulder, and Payne screamed her objection. He put her in the back of a Humvee and got in with her. Fiona was in the driver’s seat and Bob told her where to go. Gabby was in the other vehicle, with Frankie and Joey. For the first time, two women were being guarded by only one agent, and he was driving the limousine.

Dycke was standing at the statue with Gracie, awaiting Payne’s arrival. He could only imagine the hell he was going to get when she arrived. She needed to scream, at the top of her lungs, and she might as well scream, at him, in this open area, rather than in the confines of their bedroom, at home. He had no idea what had started this argument, with her mother, but he was sure he would find out every detail, shortly.

The two Humvees rolled to a stop, less than twenty yards from the statue. Bob pushed Payne out the side door, unceremoniously, closed and locked it behind her. She screamed, and yelled profanities at him, until both vehicles drove away.

Dycke yelled to her, “You should scream at me. At least I will listen.”

Payne ran over to him, threw her arms around him, and cried. She said to him, “I need to talk to a normal person.”

“You are calling me normal? I feel insulted. No one has ever called me normal.”

“Dycke, you know what I mean. You have more money than you know what to do with, and you never talk about it. You do not flaunt it; you do not buy gaudy things. You are a normal person, and I love you for that reason.”

“Payne, I have two airplanes. That is anything but normal. I bought you a diamond ring, which is appraised at more than fourteen million dollars. That is not normal. I made an offer for controlling interest in a business last week, for three hundred forty five million dollars. That is not normal. The only normal thing I do is love you. That is what keeps me grounded. Without you, my life would be senseless. Without you, my life would have no purpose.”

Payne told Dycke the entire story. How she totally lost it, with her mother and had to get away from her, before she hit something.

Then she said, “Dycke, you know the right things to say to agirl, when she is down in the dumps. You make me feel like a million dollars, which is the amount of money, which started the argument with my mother.”

“Payne, my love, give it back to her, and I will give you ten million dollars as a wedding present. Give it back to her and I will give you one hundred million dollars as awedding present. Money is the root of all-evil. It caused you and the person, who loves you the most in the entire world, to have a vicious argument. You told her if she did not come to your wedding, you would not miss her. You lied, just to cut her heart out. If she did not show up, you would cry through the entire service, and you know it. You said many things to your mother that were true, but they were hurtful. They did not need to be said. This argument has to mended, quickly. I want you to go to the bank, with me tomorrow and withdraw every penny that is in that account, in cash. It may take them a while to get the funds, but they will have it by the end of the business day. Then, I want you to call your mother and father and invite them to my parent’s house for dinner, just like they invited my parents’ to yours. Play it cool at dinner, however, after dinner, tell your mother that you would like to give her a peace offering. Hand her a suitcase or travel case, whatever One Million Two Hundred and something dollars fits it in and let her open it. Tell her that it is now her money, every dime. You are no longer responsible for it. If she gives it back to you, the argument that started at the airport will continue and you no longer wish to see her, ever again. If she accepts it, you will try to forgive her, and try to forget that the argument ever occurred. The decision is up to her. You can have me in your life, if you keep your money; or you can give me back the money and never see me again. The decision is up to you.”

The limousine dropped Alletta off first and Steve’s Corvette was in the driveway. At least, she would not be alone. She walked into the house and heard Steve’s stereo blaring away and she went upstairs to say hello.

Steve looked at his mother and knew something was wrong. He said, “Mom, what happened?”

“Payne and I had a terrible fight, over money. It was my fault, all my fault. She never wants to see me, again. She told me if I did not show up at the wedding, it was all right with her. She said all I loved was my money. I loved it more than anything in this world. The way she put it, she was right. The way I acted, the way I argued with her, she was right. I disgraced myself in front of everyone, and I lost my daughter. I may never see her again, and I hate myself for it.” At that point, Alletta broke down and cried.

Steve went to his mother, held her in his arms, and tried to comfort her. It was a lost cause. He held her, and walked her into her bedroom. He laid her on her bed, covered her, and hoped she would fall asleep. He called his father and told him what had happened. Piker told him, he would be home shortly, and he was to keep a watchful eye, on his mother. Stay with her and keep her away from her medicines and wine. He did not know how to repair this rift, between mother and daughter.

63 B. Bacillica – I Forgot Something…

After the fiasco at the airport, and dropping off Alletta at home, Bacillica was ready to relax at home. As the limousine drove up in front of her house, she saw Chad’s car in the driveway. This was a weekday, which meant he should be at work. If he was not at work, he had to be sick, because he never took a day off, otherwise. He was a workaholic, and when she left, he had two deadlines approaching. He said they needed to be done, as soon as possible. The builders were going to be in town to see the plans by the twenty-fifth, and if they were not ready, he could lose the commission and the work. She opened the front door and called out his name. He yelled out he was in the bedroom, lying down.

As she had expected, he was ill. She asked if he needed anything, before she came upstairs.

He replied, “No, I have everything I need.”

Bacillica left her suitcases in the hall and climbed up the stairs to her bedroom. She opened the door to a darkened room, and Chad asked her to close the door. As soon as she complied, the lights in the room came on, and Bacillica screamed!

Chad laughed and laughed, as his wife screamed, “Nooooo!” He had taken the picture that Frankie sent him and photo-shopped it into poster size photographs of his naked wife. It was not one or two posters; they were all over the room and the ceiling. They were in the bathroom and the shower. Chad had been a very busy man, both at work and at home. Bacillica was beside herself. She was so engrossed looking at pictures of herself, she did not notice that her husband approached her, as naked as her pictures. When he reached her, and fondled her breasts, she was startled. She turned around, and saw him naked. She smiled and asked, “What has gotten into you?”

Chad said, “Let me see.” He took his wife to the bed, lay her down next to him, and pointed to the ceiling. He said, “I think it was that one.”

Bacillica said to him, “They are all the same.”

“When you are looking at your naked wife, on the ceiling, you can imagine all sorts of deviant things.”

“What kind of deviant things?”

“Get undressed and I will show you.”

“You used to love undressing me.”

“I can still do that, but that means you would have to be submissive to my every whim.”

“I can still do that.”

Chad straddled his wife’s hips and began unbuttoning her blouse, as he started telling her all the things that were about to happen to her.

She said, “Are you sure you remember how to do those remarkable things?”

“If I just explained them to you, I can do them to you.”

“Then stop talking and start doing, because I have forgotten what it feels like to have you inside me.”

Chad looked at his wife and asked, “Have I been that remiss in my home duties?”

“You have been very busy at work, and I try not to complain because you are always so tired when you get home. You work six and sometimes seven days a week and you make a wonderful life for me, and our children. It would be very unfair, for me, to complain that I miss one thing, when I have so much.”

“How long has it been since we have had sex?”

“Chad, let’s not talk about that now, let us just make love, and enjoy it. I do not want to upset you.”

“Cili, how long has it been?”

“It has been almost two years, Chad.”

“Oh my God and you have never said a word.”

“Chad, let’s not go there now, please. You were about to make love to me. If you get upset now, I will cry, because it will end before you start.”

“Cili, there is no way I would disappoint you now.” He continued undressing her until she was completely naked. He kissed her from the bottom of her feet up her thighs to the crown of her head and back to her lips and her eyes. He had ignored his wife and he did not think about it one time. He was so engrossed in his business; his libido had taken a vacation. If sex meant nothing to him, his wife and her feelings should have. He could not make it up to her in one evening or in one week, or in one month. He would try to make it up to her for the rest of his life, starting now. He bit her nipple and then and sucked on it until it peaked. His right hand went to her mound and placed a finger inside, searching for her clit. When her back arched, he knew he had found and he started pressing and rotating his finger around it. He moved his body lower so his mouth could enjoy the liquids her pussy had started to drip. He took her legs and put them over his shoulders, opening her center to him. He licked and probed around her opening as she writhe in pleasure, for the first time in a very long time. She did not believe in use of toys, because of her religion. She felt that it was just another way of cheating on her husband. She would not do that, because she loved Chad, wholeheartedly, and had since she was sixteen years old. He was her only boyfriend and he was the only person that had ever entered her body. She was even embarrassed to go to the gynecologist, who she made sure was a female. Chad continued using his tongue on her vagina, until Bacillica had her first orgasm. It was not a big one, but it was a start.

Chad turned her over and continued to lick her from clit to asshole. She shuddered for the first time, because he had never done that to her before. She looked over her shoulder at him and he grinned at her. She rested her head on the mattress as he continued his ministrations to her body. He continued to lick and probed her pussy, as his hands reached out, took one breast in each, and squeezed. Bacillica moaned as her pleasure increased and she started rocking her hips back and forth. The faster he licked, and the quicker he rotated her nipples, the louder her moans became. Chad knew she was close. He squeezed her nipples hard and removed his tongue from her pussy. He jammed his tongue, into her asshole, and she screamed and came, at that moment.

He let her rest, gave her something to drink, and wiped the sweat off her face. He kissed her and said, “I love you so very much. I will never let you down, again.”

Bacillica said, “I never doubted your love for one second, my love.”

He turned her over, picked up her thighs, raised them to her chest, and said, “Cili, put me in.”

Bacillica took hold of her husband’s dick, placed it at the entrance of her pussy, and pulled him into her, slowly. He was a big man, and it had been a very long time, so she asked him to go slow.

Chad said to her, as he slipped into her sheath, “Baby, you feel like a virgin, again.”

“Chad, thank God I do not have a hymen, otherwise, this would be a very short evening, like the first time was. Now give it to me, I want to feel it, I want to feel like a woman, again.”

Chad hoped he would not come too soon. He wanted to please his wife desperately. While holding her knees in the crooks of his arms, his fingers tortured her nipples. He kissed her face, her lips, and eyes, every time their faces were within reach.

Bacillica went orgasmic. Time after time, she shuddered, sighed, regrouped, and started over again.

Chad felt his balls tighten and pull up against his body. He tried to time his explosion with Basilica’s next orgasm, so he slowed his stroking and made it shorter. He watched his wife as she climbed the next mountain and when she crested it, he went into overdrive, bellowed

his arrival, and flooded his wife’s pussy with two years of store up semen.

Bacillica smiled up at her husband, told him that he was wonderful, and if he did not mind, could they do that again, sooner rather than later.

Chad told her he had been very selfish, and he had been a fool. He had to learn how to delegate more responsibility, to the other people in the office, and that tomorrow, he was going to put an advertisement in the Profession Section of the Internet and the Newspapers, for a Senior Architect to join his firm. He wanted to spend more time with his beautiful wife, and to travel with her, on his son’s private jet, to wherever she would like to go.

“Bacillica threw her arms around her husband and thanked him for everything he just told her. However, she knew that he might want to do it today, but he loved his work very much, and it might become too much of a change, for him to give it up.”

Chad said to her, “Cili, just watch me. After these two contracts are completed, I am going to take one month off. We are going on vacation. Do not tell me where we are going. Just ask Dycke if there is an aircraft available, and if not, we will take a commercial airliner to wherever you wish to go. Dycke gave us one million dollars to go on vacation. We will start using it now. How does that sound to you?”

“Chad, if you are serious, I am going to book nonrefundable tickets to where ever I want to go and pay for everything in advance so we cannot get our money back. Is that okay with you?”

“Cili, I will give you the date, at the end of this week, and then you can do what you want.”

Over the next several days, Chad made Bacillica happier than she had been in the past two years sexually. He fucked her, before he went to work in the morning, before dinner, and at bedtime. It was better than it was on their honeymoon, because she was very shy and he was very inexperienced. Now, their bodies were becoming reacquainted with one another, and it was wonderful for both of them. On their first night together, as he told her what he was going to do to her, while pointing at her picture on the ceiling, she only hoped that it would happen. Less than one week later, he had fulfilled each promise, and added some with which she had no knowledge. He had returned her to heaven many times over, and she loved him, even more for it.

There was only one minor problem….

64. The Beginning of the Change

On June 20th, eight parents went to the University of South Carolina Cancer Center to watch their daughter’s hair be shaved off their heads. They knew this had to be a joke, and they wanted to be there, when their daughters backed out. They were shocked to the core, when each of them walked out of the room, without a hair on their heads. Their children were, nearly, unrecognizable. The girls were in tears, because this was a traumatic experience for them. However, they had passed the first test, Marti had put in front of them. They would leave the next morning, for Fort Polk, and a trial by fire, they had not dreamed of, nor had ever been prepared.

On the other side of the ledger, their parents were extremely proud of them. The thought that their daughters, were selected for “Climbing High,” and received scholarships to Saint Bonaventure University, made them very proud. Now, they believed the way Dycke had described the way their daughters acted, while on Bermuda, had been a test, of their moral character, and that they had passed, with excellence. Attending a Catholic University, with strict codes of behavior, only reinforced their opinions. Demanding grades that would put them in the top five percent of the school, gave them the impression, Dycke was grooming them, for a position, within one of his companies. If their chests expanded with pride anymore, they would pop the buttons on their shirts and blouses.

Dycke decided to pull the security details, from his sisters, instead of adding more security agents for the four women, who were going to Fort Polk. Marti and eight women agents would do the actual training, and a four-man team would guard the barracks, where they would be staying, at night. He asked Marti not to advise him of the girl’s progress, because he did not want to weaken his resolve. He was not sure what their training would involve, and he did not know if he would be able to go through it, himself.

Marti smiled at him and said, “There is only one way to find out.”

Dycke said, “Thank you, Marti. However, I am a little busy now, and if I disappeared, for two months, Payne would kill me.”

Marti acknowledged that he was probably right, but she said, “There is always next time!”

The women deplaned at the Army base, in their T-shirts and shorts.

The Army men reacted with wolf whistles, shouts, and obscene gestures.

Marti turned towards the men and shouted, “As you were, gentlemen.”

All military men recognize an order, when they hear it. They stopped their improper behavior, and returned to what they had been doing, previously.

The group climbed into the bus, which was waiting for them, and went to a remote corner of this sprawling training facility. No one else was supposed to be in this area. However, Marti was not taking any chances. She sent out a scouting party, to check the perimeter, not only for personnel, but also for cameras and listening devices. They found no personnel, but hundreds of cameras and listening devices, which were supposed to be removed, prior to their arrival. She called the base commander, and informed him of this and he advised her that it would be taken care of immediately. It was, and after another sweep by her personnel, Marti was nearly satisfied, but still uneasy. She had a feeling big brother was still watching, and decided to change her training regimen, from out in the open areas, that were provided for them, into the forested areas surrounding the barracks. If they wanted to watch, she was going to make it as hard on them, as possible. She told trainees to get something to eat and rest, because hell began tomorrow.

At 12:01 AM, banging a garbage can lid, Marti, Gladys, Stephanie, Robin, and Marlene scared the crap out of the four sleeping beauties. They ordered them to get dressed and prepare for a three-mile run.

Jessica yelled, “Three! We can barely run one mile now.”

Robin said to Jessica, “Then, you will have to crawl, the rest of the way.”

Jessica replied, “Oh fuck.”

Robin laughed at her and said, “I guess you did not read the rules, on the barracks wall. It states that there is no cursing allowed. If you do, you get to scrub the floors. Congratulations, this should add two hours to your training, today.”

Jessica wanted to say something back at Robin, but nothing came out of her mouth, fearing she might break another rule.

Robin yelled at her, “Why are you not dressed?”

“I was talking to you.”

“You had better read the rules, missy. That is not an acceptable answer. Tomorrow, I expect you to be able to recite the rules from memory. Is that understood?”


“Yes, what?”

“Yes, mistress?”

Robin laughed and said, “No. This is not bondage or sadomasochism. This is the Army. You will answer, yes, ‘ma’am or yes sir.’”

Jessica replied “Yes, ma’am.” She was dressed thirty seconds later.

Marti instructed them in the proper manner of address and bearing when called to order and attention. Where and when to stand, when any of their instructors called them for inspection. They were to keep their lockers in pristine condition, and they were to memorize the rules and keep to them at all times. The rules, she kept saying, the rules, follow the rules. They are your best friend. Break them and you will suffer the consequences. Each of you has two personal trainers: one physical, one mental. Here on this base, I do not believe you will need a moral counselor. If you do, see me, and I will help you. You should not have the physical energy to think about sex, at the end of your day. If you do, we are not doing our jobs properly.

They had heard of Dante’s “Divine Comedy” and the ‘Nine Circles of Hell.’ What they did not know was inside each level, were sub levels, and what they had just experienced was just a tickle of what was to come.

At exactly 12:15 AM, the first run began. Each girl had her trainer by her side, correcting her posture, her stride, the way she bobbed her head, the way she did everything. After the first half-mile, Savannah and Annabella were crying and their trainers were screaming at them, louder than they were before, telling them to suck it up and keep running. Gail was in the lead, stone faced and Jessica was right behind her, trying to keep her legs moving. Gail and Jessica past, the one-mile mark, Savannah made it also, but Annabella started throwing up just past the three quarter mile mark and stopped with her instructor yelling at her and calling her a baby and ordering her to crawl the rest of the way in order to finish. She would not allow Annabella to quit under any circumstances and after five minutes of being on her knees, Annabella started stumbling forward, and proceeded towards the one-mile mark and beyond.

As they approached 1.5 miles, Savannah started to cramp, grabbed her leg, and screamed out in pain. Her trainer, Marlene, grabbed her leg, straightened it, and kneaded the muscle, until it relaxed. She took liniment, out of the first aid bag, put it all over her thigh muscle, and told Savannah to walk, which she did. After several moments, Marlene said, “Let’s jog” and as they were jogging, she watched Savannah’s leg muscles for signs of tremors and cramping. Seeing none, she told Savannah continue her run.

Savannah looked at Marlene and thought she was crazy.

Marlene stared back at her and said, “Move out, now.”

That was all the motivation Savannah needed and she increased her speed as much as she could.

Just before the two-mile mark, Gail was vomiting her guts out, and Stephanie was all over her. It is the kind of abuse every recruit goes through, when you join the military. An attempt to get you to work through the pain and be better than you think you are. However, while one’s body is acclimating itself to the rigors of this new life, it is learning to hate the person screaming in one’s face. After pulling herself together, Gail was able to continue and finished all three miles, after stopping twice more to give up what she had eaten, not only for dinner last evening, but for lunch, breakfast, and dinner the previous day.

Jessica wound up to be the luckiest of all. She had passed the two-mile mark and was running well. A rabbit ran across her path, and she tripped over it, flying head over tail, and landed on her back. Robin told her to lie still, not to move, not wishing to take any chances on a spinal injury. She called for a helicopter evacuation, to the base hospital to check for injuries. Jessica had so many orderlies, medics and male nurses working on her, one would have thought she was a movie star.

That is, until Marti arrived. Then, everyone scattered to the four winds. Jessica was still immobilized on a backboard, waiting for the technician who would do the MRI, on her spine. Marti asked her how she was feeling, and Jessica replied that she felt fine and did not know why everyone was so worried.

Marti replied, “The rules follow the rules.”

The MRI technician arrived and pulled the gurney, into the room, and gave Jessica a quick rundown of what was about to happen. He put the headphones on her, gave her the emergency button, if she became frightened and moved to her into position inside the doughnut hole. He told her this was going to take approximately 35 minutes and not to move.

Jessica had never heard anything so loud in her entire life. She thought if this were a party, the police would have closed it down. When it was finished, she had a headache and asked for an aspirin.

The tech asked her if she had the headache prior to going into the machine.

She said, “No, the machine gave her the headache.”

The tech said, “Good, otherwise I would have to put you back in, and scan your head for concussion.”

The radiologist looked over this can and pronounced Jessica healthy enough to go back with Marti and continue training.

Jessica said to Marti, “I told you so.”

Marti replied, “If I had let you train, and you had something wrong with your back, and it paralyzed you for life, what would you have said to me then.”

Jessica replied in Marty’s favorite tome, “The rules, follow the rules, they are your best friend.”

Marti looked at Jessica and said, “You are learning.”

Training had begun, and no one had died from it, yet! However, it was only the first morning and they had not met their educational instructors, yet.

65. The Shit Hits the Fan

Dycke did not expect this to happen so soon, but business demands popped up, from around the world, encroaching on every moment, of his time He spent more time working in the office with Piker, than he did seeing Payne. The office needed larger television screen so he could see the people who he was speaking with, from boardrooms around the world. He bought the best transmitting and receiving equipment, so they could see him just as clearly. His learning curve was amazing, but he needed more expertise at his side. He hired both professionals, and professors to get the best possible advice. The office, Piker once said was too large, was filling up with people, computers, and desks, rapidly. However, their computers were obsolete, by the time they were installed.

Dycke had Piker call the head of MIT’s Computer Department, to find out what they believed was the best, up and coming, computer system, on the civilian market. The professor told him that they were working with the University of Michigan, on a computer system that might be exactly what he wanted, but it was still in the testing stages. It was destined, initially, for General Motors, when it was certified, but it was nowhere near ready, for that yet. It was nearly as fast as the Cray 3 computer, used by the NSA and the military, but was one-half the size and would cost one-third as much.

Dycke was listening in on the conversation, asked if they had anyone, in the real world, to use as a guinea pig, for this computer.

The professor said, “No, we do not. No large corporation is willing to put their systems at jeopardy, with an uncertified computer.”

Dycke said, “You do now. How many years do you need to run this computer to get it certified? How large a space does it need, and all the other particulars to keep it going?”

He said, “The computer will need ten thousand square feet, a direct, and two back up supplies of electricity and enough cooling power to keep the room at sixty-six degrees, or less. However, we will pay for all of those expenses, including the personnel to keep watch on the computer, and maintain it, for the three years needed for certification. All you have to do is supply the space in the building, where you need it, and guarantee us three full years of use.”

Dycke said to the professor, “Send us the contract, and get ready to ship us the computer, as soon as you can. I will get us the room, even if I have to buy this building. Oh, do we get to keep it when the three year trial period is over?”

“We had not thought about that, but I am sure we can come to an equitable agreement.”

Dycke said, “Come up with one when you send us the contracts, okay.”

Piker looked at Dycke as if he was out of his mind. He said, “The computer can be down, as often as it is up. We cannot afford to be down that often.”

“Dad, think of it this way. This computer is more than four times faster, than what we have. Our computers will be running, at the same time as new computer. If the new computer goes down, only half the time, we are still fifty percent ahead of where we would normally be.”

“Dycke, you constantly amazed me. You thought of this, while we were on the phone, and I have not had a chance to digest the conversation. I cannot wait to see what you are going to be like, when you become an adult.”

“Are you sure you want to play chess with me?”

“I will only play you, during the last week in August, and the first week in September.”

“I have not told Payne that yet, but I will.”

The month of July seemed to speed by, with Payne running one way, and Dycke running the other. They had not shared one meal together, during that entire month. The only time they had to see to each other, was at night, in bed, which was not ‘too terrible a sacrifice’.

Dycke was tired from working. Payne was tired from shopping. However, they were not too tired to fuck, but Payne put one restriction on Dycke. He was no longer allowed to cum, in her pussy. She had gone to her gynecologist and had an examination and everything was in working order. They had discussed her cycle and she had come off her birth control pills. She wanted to get pregnant on, or after, their wedding day, but not before.

Dycke said, “I am sure we can find other areas to make my deposit.”

Payne laughed and said, “Show me.”

Dycke began by kissing Payne’s inner thighs, all the way up to her pubic bone, but missing her vagina, completely. He played with her nested curls and reminded her that one day he would have the pleasure of removing them. He kissed his way up her belly button that marked the halfway point to her breasts and stopped. He turned her over, set her up, on her knees, and positioned himself behind her.

Dycke loved this position, because it opened her flower to his tongue, and her juices were readily available to him. When her clit came out from under its protective hood, it was like a white beacon, in the middle of pink roses. The little nub begged for attention, and Dycke was happy to respond. He teased, tortured, nipped, and bit the sensitive piece of flesh, until Payne shuddered in orgasm, time, and time again. Tonight, however Dycke had other plans.

As soon as Payne was sufficiently lubricated, he inserted his dick as deeply as it would go, and pulled her back onto his lap. She was now seated on Dycke’s lap, wondering what came next.

“Dycke, what do we do now?”

“I sit here, and you use the kegel muscles of your vagina to get both of us to orgasm.”

“Did you read another book, Dycke?”

“No, I did not. I read this in a book, a long time ago. You were still in the hospital and I thought this would be one of the more restful ways for us to make love.”

“So, what am I supposed to do now?”

“You are supposed to use the muscles in your vagina to contract around my penis and bring both of us to mutual orgasms.”

“Dycke tonight is not the night for this. I need to get laid. I also need to read that book. I believe there is more to this then you have just told me. When you go to work tomorrow, I will go to the library. Do you happen to remember the name of the book, it was in?”

“Absolutely, Payne! I have it catalogued, in my computer.”

“It figures. Everything in your head is catalogued. Sometimes I think you do not need the computer.”

Payne lifted herself off Dycke, pushed him onto his back, and mounted him, again. She said to him, “I am going to pull the life-giving force out of you, but you cannot come in me. If you do, I will make you suck it out, and it will be the last time you see my pussy, until the night of the twenty-seventh. Is that understood?”

Dycke replied, “I have often thought I had the sucking capacity of a commercial vacuum cleaner. It might be aworthwhile experiment, to make a deposit deep into your womb, and test the hypothesis.”

“Dycke Schneider, if you get me pregnant, one day before our wedding, I will sue you for every penny you have, and you will never be allowed to fuck me in the ass, again.”

“Oh God, not that, anything but that. I would have to wait for you to lose another bet to get into that precious little hole of yours.”

“No Dycke, not even then. I will stop betting with you. I will become a bland, non-practical joke-playing homemaker. I will raise our child, but I will make sure that you are happy to go to work in the morning and look forward to delaying your return at night.”

“Payne, do you think Steve still has any of those condoms, we gave him?

“Dycke, you have to be kidding. We gave him one hundred condoms four months ago. More than likely, he has bought another three hundred by now.”

“Well, it was just a thought. Shall we continue, or has this discussion turned you off for this evening?”

“You may continue at your own peril. However, I had better cum, first.”

Dycke’s said, “If memory serves me correctly, you already did.”

Payne said, “That one does not count. We are starting from scratch. Begin again, and be good about it.”

Dycke said, “I thought I was going to wear the pants in this family.”

Payne replied, “Women let you think that until you put a ring on our fingers. After you say ‘I do’, you will not make another important decision, without asking our permission first.”

“Where is Bob? I want to know where that cell is in Moscow. I wonder if you need reservations.”

For some reason or another, Payne took objection to Dycke’s statement and attacked him, with her pillow. The laughing and screaming that went on for the next half-hour, in that bedroom, had the entire house laughing. They were unsure who hit the wall, and what came crashing down from them, but every once and again, Dycke or Payne would open the door and yell; “We are both fine, something fell. We will fix it in the morning.” Then, the screaming and yelling would continue.

Around midnight, Piker or Alletta would pound on the wall of the kid’s bedroom and begged them to quiet down so they could get some sleep.

Dycke would yell, “It is not my fault. She is out of control. She is very hormonal because she stopped taking her birth control pills. I just told her that you want to play chess the last week in August and the first week in September, instead of me getting her pregnant. This was her answer. I suggest you stay away from your daughter tomorrow morning, and for several mornings thereafter. You may be subjected to extreme bodily injury, otherwise.”

While, Dycke and Piker were working on corporate matters, and the wedding, their accountant, Art Shell, was given the task of getting the floor either above or below the one occupied by Piker’s offices. The building’s owner tried to play hardball, and get a rent much higher than the going rate, for the area. Art, being a former IRS agent, new every trick in the book these people tried to play. When this owner made a slip up, by offering the floor at a discounted rate, if a portion of the rent was paid in cash, Art pounced on him like a grizzly bear. He threatened him with IRS action. They would comb through his books, to look for other illegal actions, on every one of his properties, to see how many other businesses he had made the same deal and where he was hiding the cash. He would spend 15 to 25 years in jail and his buildings would be confiscated.

The owner shit his pants. He offered Art a, ten year, sweetheart deal on both floors of the building, but Art was not satisfied. He anticipated the growth of Dycke’s business and wanted a third-floor. The building’s owner buckled and gave in to Art’s demands. After the paperwork was signed, notarized and the first month’s payment, including the cash, were given to the owner, Art notified the IRS of the illegal activity. The building’s owner was arrested and prosecuted.

Piker and Chad were able to buy the building, at a foreclosure sale, for pennies on the dollar. They received a Balloon Loan from Dycke at One Percent Interest, payable in Sixty Years. Art received a large bonus, and a huge raise.

On the ninth of August, the computer from the University of Michigan arrived in seven huge vans. Dycke, and everyone in the office, wondered what they had purchased, that took up so much space. It turned out, the computer; cabling and hookups were in two van. Three vans contained the two battery backup systems, for the computers. The two remaining vans had the refrigeration units to keep the floor, where the computer would be, at sixty degrees. A swarm of technicians, Main Frame specialist, computer programmers, and engineers arrived in buses, to put the new computer together. Dycke was told it would take 3 to 5 days, to get the system up to speed. It took two weeks, and the bugs were still not out of the system. No one was surprised, and no one was aggravated, because the main computers on the fourth floor of the building functioned normally, slowly, but normally. Two things did work perfectly: The battery backups, and the refrigeration units. Anyone who braved getting off the elevators on the third floor wore winter clothing, in layers. Hats, scarves, sweaters, jackets and thermal underwear were the order of the day. Golf gloves were worn, because they were the only things programmers could use, and type on the keyboards. At first, it was a comedy of errors. If this system came up, it put that system down. If both systems worked, the entire system overheated and shut itself down. Programmers blamed the people on the main frame. The people working on the main frames blamed conflicting programs. The engineers took everything apart and started the process from the beginning. Everything was scrutinized and tested before it was put back in place. The problem was traced to a broken pin in a connecting cable on the Main Frame. It was no one’s fault, and it was everyone’s fault, for not testing the cables before setting up the computer system. Everyone was read the riot act, and lost a vacation day, for their stupidity.

When the computer came online, it ate up information like termites eat wood. It was voracious. It kept looking for things to do. On many stations at Dycke’s office, the ready lights kept flashing, indicating the computer was waiting for information to process. At the same time, the older computer was still attempting to catch up with the information that it normally processed daily. The new machine was a marvel to watch, until the red light invariably went on. Downtime was less than eight minutes and the glitch was traced back to the software, which always pleased the main-frame people. They joked around saying, “The highway is safe, but the zeros and ones keep driving off the road.” The first major test of the backup system came when Hurricane Edna roared out of the Gulf of Mexico, crossed over Georgia and the Carolinas, into the Atlantic Ocean, knocking out electrical power, along the way. Charleston was in the dark for six days. The M and M, as everyone now called the new supercomputer, worked the entire time, with only three minor shutdowns during that period. They were traced to software errors. Programmers were now beginning to wonder what was going on, within the computer. They had been over each line of code hundreds of times. Each line of code had been tested, on different computers, hundreds of times, and they had passed. The new computer had found a fault, where none should have been. Everyone was perplexed. A general meeting was called to brainstorm the problem. Dycke and Piker sat in, because this computer was handling their businesses information.

Nearly all of the talk was technical, but when things got heated programmers, Main Framer’s, technicians, professors, managers, and everyone else in the room only knew four letter words. Dycke started laughing and no one could figure out why, so they asked him why?

“How many years of education and expertise are in this room? We have about thirty-five people here. I would say we have about eight hundred years of education here and you are down to using the seven words that George Carlin said can never be used on television. You have to do better than that, gentlemen. I am going to raise this conversation to the level of Star Trek and Mister Spock, who said and I paraphrase, because I’m not absolutely sure of the wording ‘… If you have ruled out everything that is possible, then the impossible must be true.’”

Everyone at the table looked at Dycke like he was absolutely the dumbest person in the room. Education wise, he was, however, he was about to give them a lesson in thinking outside the box.

“If you have tested every line of code on an outside source and it comes back clean, it must be clean. If you put it into M & M and it says that there is something wrong with the code, M & M has to be wrong, not the other machines. Someone has deliberately set up a fault in the Main Frame. If this computer is not certified, who wins? Who loses? I can find out for you, if you would like, but I am sure, if you look around this room, you already know. The ‘Money Men’ never get their hands dirty. They make a killing, when the stock prices rise or falls or when a business fails, or loses a big customer, like General Motors. Check the main frame, without your main frame people, and you will find your bug. Your bug will lead you to the culprit. The culprit will lead you to the investor, who tried to make a fortune. We can do it that way or you can tell us who you are, help us trap the investor, with his hand in the cookie jar, and send him to jail. If you do this for us, we will keep you out of jail and gainfully employed. You have ten seconds, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four…

A woman stood up and said, “It was me.”

Her co-workers looked at her in total shock. Here was a smart, mousy, little woman that no one ever bothered with, and she had nearly ruined a seven billion dollar project. They could not understand why. When she was asked, her answer was simple, and to the point.

She looked at her boss and said “Money. He offered me a lot of money and I accepted his proposition. I have worked for you for 17 years. I am the smartest person on your staff, and I am the lowest paid. I have asked for a raise every year, and I have ever been given was cost of living. Everyone else on this staff has been given cost-of-living plus five and seven, nine percent raises, plus bonuses. I make design changes; it is my input at the staff meetings, that get things done faster, and better. They get raises and I do not. I got tired of being treated like trash. When the opportunity arose, I decided to get even with you, for your insults. Destroying your work was the best way I could do it. This machine is a marvel. However, it would never have seen the light of day, if I had anything to say about it.”

Her boss was stunned. He had no idea that she would ever stand up to him. She was correct in everything she said about herself. What she did, he would have done himself, if tables were turned.

He said to her, “Carolyn, I am truly sorry. I took advantage of you, because you were a woman, and I never thought you would stand up to me. I will make up every penny you should ever have made plus interest. I will make you the head of the Engineering Department, that is, if you want to stay. I will understand if you do not want to. I have done you a great disservice, over a great many years and I apologize.”

“I do not know if you are going to want me to stay, when I tell you who tried to put you out of business, Mister Phillips. It is your brother. He offered me ten million dollars to keep the computer from being certified. He knew if it did not pass certification and General Motors did not accept it. You would be forced into bankruptcy and he would be able to pick up the company and force you out. I was so angry with you; I agreed to go along with his plan.”

Dycke said, “This is now a matter for Mister Phillips. He could keep it within his family or I can help him put his brother in jail. Whatever you choose is fine with me.”

“Mister Schneider, whatever you can do to help me put my brother in jail would be appreciated. I would just like the opportunity to punch him in the nose before he goes.”

“I will have to confer with my attorney, before I can commit to that. However, I do not see too big a problem, because you are brothers.”

“Carolyn, if Mr. Phillips fails to live up to his promises, you can call me. My attorneys will make you the new owner of his company, when they are through with him.”

66. The Dinner

When Dycke told his mother to invite the Temples to dinner that evening, she balked. She said, “Dycke, I think we should do this on neutral territory.”

“Mom, invite them to dinner. If the house is burned down, I will build you a new one. However, I think I can straighten everything out, between Payne and her mother, this evening. If it does not go well, then we are no better, or worse off, than we were at the beginning. It is worth a try, because they are both miserable now.”

“I will do it, Dycke. I have the feeling that I should set up an adult table and a children’s table, just to be sure.”

“Will you still cut my meat for me?”

“Yes, sweetheart, I will cut your meat for you. I will even make a happy face in your mashed potatoes.”

“Thank you, mommy.”

Dycke called his bank at nine o’clock in the morning and told them the exact amount of cash he needed them to have on hand for him, that afternoon. When he arrived there, Payne hand the bank executives her check, which Dycke countersigned. The bank manager handed Dycke a briefcase, with the money in it, and told him to be careful.

Dycke turned around and started walking out towards the car, when Payne took him by the arm and said to him, “Aren’t you going to count it?”

“Payne, only normal people count it.” She punched him hard, on his shoulder, just to make sure he knew that she understood what he said. They returned to the limousine, where Bob, Fiona, Gabby, and Milton were waiting for them.

Dycke said, “Why don’t we go to Wendy’s for snack? I think I have enough money to cover it.”

Gabby said, “Why don’t we put the case in the trunk, for safekeeping?”

Payne looked at her and said, “Who would try to rob an armored limousine.”

As if answering her question, gunshots erupted from inside the bank.

Payne and Dycke were thrown into the car, while Gabby, Fiona, Bob, and Milton drew their weapons.

Two men in ski masks came running out of the bank. They saw the 4 agents pointing their weapons at them, and started moving back towards the bank. However, the bank guard now had his shotgun, and was standing at the door of the bank, yelling at them to drop the weapons and hit the floor.

The police were there moments later and took control of the situation.

While everyone was outside playing cops and robbers and making their statements, Dycke and Payne were inside the limousine, with the doors locked, playing I would show you mine, if you will show me yours. He was not allowed to come in her pussy, so sixty-nine had become one of Dycke’s favorite numbers.

Milton attempted to open the door to the limousine and realized it was locked. He yelled out, “Thank God you are rich. You are going to have so many kids; you could populate a town by yourselves.”

Payne yelled, “We are only practicing.”

Gabby laughed, “Considering how much you two practice, by the time you play for real, you two will be perfect.”

“No, not true! Only Steve would be perfect, in that case. He has been practicing, since he was thirteen, and he practices on anything in a skirt.”

Gabby replied, “What is Steve’s number?”

“He is taken. Sorry!”

“It is time for us to go home and get ready for dinner. The Temples are going be there, soon.”


When they arrived back at his house, they had fifteen minutes to get themselves ready for dinner. Dycke let Payne, go upstairs to start, while he explained to his father and mother what had delayed them.

His father laughed and said to him, “You cannot make this stuff up, Dycke. The bank robbers probably wish they had gotten there earlier, because there was more money in the briefcase, then there was in the bank.”

Dycke ran upstairs to change and bumped into Payne, naked as she walked out of the bathroom. He took a breast into his mouth, sucked on it, and for his attention, received a smack on his rump.

“What did you do that for?”

“I have to get dressed. My mother is coming over, and I am in a bad mood. I smacked you on your rump, so I could finish doing what I have to do.”

“Did you bring in the suitcase, from the car?”

“No, I thought you did. That is a man’s job.”

“You told me that there was no such thing as a man’s job and a woman’s job. You said we will all equal, in the eyes of God.”

“Yes, but when it comes to being a pack animal, that is a man’s job.”

“Let me get a pencil and a piece of paper. I am probably too dumb to remember that, so I will write it down.”

“Dycke, do not start with me, I am in a bad mood. If my mother says something wrong, before we get to the part with the money, we will never get to the part with the money.”

“If I have to put ice on your clit, to cool you down, we will get to the money part.

The doorbell rang downstairs and Dycke said, “I guess they are here. I will greet them and you can come down when you’re ready.”

“Dycke, it would be better if you put slacks on, unless of course, you want to impress my mother.”

“I am sorry about that; I guess I am a little bit nervous, also.”

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw Alletta and Piker standing there talking with his mom. The conversation seemed strained so he went over to try to lighten it up. Alletta did not want to stay. She did not want to upset Payne, any more than she already was, and thought that this meeting might be premature.

Dycke asked Alletta, “Do you love your daughter?”

“With all my heart, Dycke. I will die, without her in my life.

“Do you believe that I love you daughter and want nothing but the best for her?”

“Yes Dycke, I do.”

“Then mom, I would suggest that you come into the house, enjoy dinner, wait, and see what happens afterwards. Okay?”

“Okay Dycke.”

Everyone waited for Payne to come downstairs. She did not come. Dinner was ready and put on the table. Still Payne did not come. Bacillica said, “Let’s sit down and eat and she will join us soon.”

Dycke said, “You sit down, I am going to find out what is wrong. She was almost ready to come down, when I did. I will find out what is keeping her.”

Dycke went up to the room, knocked on the door, and walked in. He heard Payne pounding at the bathroom door and yelling. He went tothe door and saw the handle lying on the floor. He said to Payne, wait a moment. He went to the stairway and said “Dad.” He changed his mind and said, “Both dads, come up here, and laugh with me.”

By the time Piker and Chad got up there, Payne was yelling at Dycke, for not getting her out of the bathroom. They looked at the handle lying on the floor and both men laughed, hysterically.

Payne yelled at them. “What the hell is so funny? I have been locked in here for fifteen minutes pounding and yelling my brains out, and no one could hear me. Get me the hell out of here.”

Dycke said to her, “Payne, I know us mere men cannot do anything after we put a ring on a woman’s finger. As far as making a decision, after we say I do, we are done. However, if you could put your eyes in a position, where you can look through the opening where the handle came out, you could see the ‘widdle’ lever in the center. I am going to put my ‘widdle’ finger on that lever and just push it in a ‘widdle’ and watch what happens.

The door opened.

“You stood in the bathroom for fifteen minutes pounding on the door, yelling and screaming for three men to come up here and rescue you. All you needed to do was to use a ‘widdle’ finger, and a little pressure, to open the door. I am so happy that I do not have to make any big decisions. It would be too much for my ‘widdle’ mind to handle.”

Payne screamed at Dycke and said, “You are dead. I am going to kill you right here.”

Before she could move, Dycke closed the bathroom door and it latched again. She screamed like there was no tomorrow, while both fathers laughed and walked downstairs and explained what was going on upstairs.

Dycke said, “Do you think you can remember how to open this ‘widdle’ door, now.

Payne reached her finger into the hole, pressed on the latch, and opened the door. She looked at Dycke and said, “Our marriage is going to be such fun, if it lasts more than an hour. I am going to kill you right now, as she started chasing him down stairs.

As he passed the dining room Dycke said, “Payne will be passing by any second.”

Payne hit the bottom of the stairs and flew after him. As she passed the dining room, she said, “Hello everyone, I will be right back. Where are you, you prick.”

Alletta looked around the table and said, “She seems to be in a better mood, today.”

Piker said to her, “He has that effect on a lot of people, dear. You should see him, around the office.”

Dycke and Payne joined their parents at table, after a little screaming and yelling. Finally, they sat down to eat dinner with them. They did not join in on the conversation, but they did not put a damper on it, either.

When dinner was over, they went directly into the den and sat down to enjoy a glass of wine.

Payne left the room, and came back with the briefcase, handed it to her mother, and asked her to open it, but not to say one word, until she was finished.

Alletta opened the suitcase and inside was every penny of her money in cash. She looked at it, turned her eyes up towards Payne, and opened her mouth, but Payne stopped her, and said, “Do not speak.”

“Mother, you have two choices. You can keep the money and I will be in your life, again. I will try to forgive you, for what you have done. I cannot forget it but I will try to forgive you. On the other hand, you can give me back the money, and never seen me, or my children again. It is totally up to you. I have given up trying to reason with you. If you keep the money; I will be in your life, if you give it back to me, I am gone. Make up your mind, now.

Alletta was in shock. Her daughter had never spoken to her this way before. She was always polite and demure. This person was demanding and forthright. This person knew what she wanted and knew how to get it. This was a new, powerful woman. This was her daughter.

Alletta said to her. “Payne you cannot have my money.”

Payne said, “Good and if you call it ‘my money’ one more time, I’m going to kick you in the ass and give it to dad. It is called ‘the co-mingling of funds.’ It is not his money and your money. He does not work to support him and you do not work to support you. You work to support each other. Get used to it. When was the last time you took dad out to dinner or surprised him with weekend away? Think about it, mom”

“What has gotten into you, young lady?”


She smiled at her mother realizing the double entendre that could be made out of that word.

Alletta looked over at Dycke, very confused.

He said to her, “Do not look at me, she’s the one that came off the birth control pills. She is the one that is hormonal. I do not run around the house chasing her. She is the one running around the house chasing me. She does not give me one moment’s rest. Thank goodness your husband wants to play chess with me the last week in August and the first week in September.”

Payne yelled, “He wants to do what?”

“I told you dear, you remember. Your father and I are going to play tournament chess for fourteen straight days starting on the twenty fifth of August and running through the seventh of September. He tells me those are the only days he has available, for the entire year. So I had to take them.”

“Mother, how much insurance does dad have?”

“More than enough dear; more than enough.”

“Dad, there’s something under the limousine, I’d like you to see.”

“What would that be, my dear.”

“Your head, if you say that again to my husband.”

Piker laughed and said, “Dycke, you are right, my daughter is hormonal, and has not developed a sense of humor, yet.”

The doorbell rang and Bacillica went to answered it. There was a great commotion there and a lot of talking.

Dycke recognized the voices, said, “Oh fuck,” and dove behind the couch

Payne had no idea what was going on until Bacillica walked into the room, with two females and said, “Look, Chad, our daughters have come in early for the wedding.”

Everyone in the room stood up for the introductions to be made. After everyone met and had gone into the den to sit Bacillica realized that Dycke was not there. She looked at Payne and asked, “Where is he?”

Payne smiled and said, “When he heard his sisters’ voices, he dove behind the couch. Ambrosia and Maureen laughed, turned around, kneeled on the couch, and looked down to see their brother. He was not there.”

They asked Payne if she was sure that he went back there.

Payne said, “Absolutely, I saw him fly over it, and heard him land.”

Maureen said, “Well, that sneaky little bastard is not there now.”

From behind, Payne, a voice called out, “Do not talk about my mother that way.”

Payne and Bacillica laughed, but did not understand why Dycke had given his position away, to his sisters. Instantly, Maureen went to the area where Dycke’s voice came from, and found a tiny speaker instead.

Dycke’s said, “Mo, do you really think I’m that stupid. Besides, I could always outrun your fat ass.

Maureen was livid. She was five foot five and the one hundred and twenty pounds, soaking wet, and he called her fat. She would get even with him, as soon as she could find him.

Dycke said, “Bambi, I can smell you from here. Did you forget to take a bath and swim in your perfume?”

“Fuck you, Dycke! I still owe you from the last time you put chocolate pudding in Jonathan’s diaper. When I saw him eating it, I nearly had a stroke.”

Payne was enjoying this as well as, everyone else, in the room. The sisters had not started in on her, yet. However, Bacillica had warned her that they might do that, in an attempt to get back at Dycke. Payne decided to make a preemptive strike. She asked Maureen and Ambrosia if they would consider being part of the bridal party. She told them that they had dresses made for them, in their approximate sizes, hoping that they would say yes. However, knowing their problems, with their brother, she would understand if they would rather not be a part of the ceremony. Payne showed emotion on her face and in the way, she carried herself, while asking them, so both women took her requests as heartfelt, and said they would do it, only for her sake.

Bacillica was thrilled that the pieces to the puzzle of the wedding party were now in place, and the guest list was completed. Nearly all of the responses were back, for both weddings. The difference in the lists, were striking. Dycke and Payne’s list contained three hundred friends, relatives, and captains of industry. Bob and Fiona’s list had nearly as many people, but the invitations circulated through post office boxes, friends of friends of friends and through agencies of governments. Both friends, former friends, former enemies and current enemies, who were friends of Bob and Fiona, had been invited. The real trick, with these people, was allowing them into the country, and making sure that they left, after the wedding. Dycke put up a Fifty million dollar bond to cover any, and all costs, if the government lost track of any person they considered “A Threat to the National Security Interests of the United States.”

On August twelfth, thirteen people returned from Fort Pope, Louisiana. They were greeted at the Charleston airport by Fiona, Dycke, and Payne, not their parents. They were taken to Piker’s office for a debriefing. Marti and their trainers were given two weeks off, which they had earned, many times over.

Dycke opened the meeting, saying, “Just as in our first meeting, I want to assure you that there are no cameras or recording devices in this room. What you are going to say here stays with the seven of us. One at a time, I want you to explain what you learned, during the past two months, in three minutes or less. Annabella we will start with you and continue alphabetically.

“Where do I begin? I have never been in better shape than I am now. I was able to run the full twelve-mile course they set up for us on the last day. On the first day, I could not even get to the first mile before I started throwing up and cried. I never realized how badly I had treated my body, before I went to this camp. I may have looked good on the outside, but physically I was a disaster. The schoolwork was intensive. I took French for three years in high school and I came away with so little, I was a joke. I will not say I can speak it fluently now, but I can speak it and I can read it and write it properly. I no longer have to read French and translate it to English in my mind. It saves so much time on homework that it makes it fun to learn, and speak the language.

Payne decided to test her and spoke to her, in French. Annabella continued the conversation, in French, and they spoke for several minutes back and forth, grinning at one another as they spoke. When Payne was finished, she congratulated Annabella.

Annabella said the business courses were enlightening. She did not do well because she had never taken a business course before, but by the end of their time at the camp, she had finally figured out how to balance the books. She knew her debits and credits and could do her three column justifications. She needed more time, and more practice to become comfortable with them.

Gail was next, and she quoted Marti. I have never learned to hate a person quicker in my entire life that I did in this camp, and it was not my PT instructor, it was my education instructor. She said I was constantly lagging behind the others because I was lazy. She said that I was not motivated. I was not stupid, I just did not care, if I went to a brothel or not. She had seen the tapes and watched my face as I was fucking everybody there and I enjoyed everything I did, especially the facial. I may have made a face, because everyone else did, but I swallowed some semen, and licked my lips to taste some more. Therefore, a trip to Berlin, or Amsterdam, may be exactly what you want or indeed need to satisfy your curiosity. I argued with her, telling her I did not want that. She told me, if I did not want it, I had better get off my fat ass and start studying and improve my language and business skills, immediately. She would not let me see any of my test scores. She just kept ripping them up, with a disgusted look on her face. She used a red marker to grade my papers. Every time I would hand one in, and returned to my desk, she took out that marker, and started marking X’s, over the paper. When she was done, she would leer at me, shake her head, in disgust, tear up the paper, and throw it in the bin. Every morning, when we did PT, I ran harder, and punched the bags harder, because I saw her face, and I wanted to destroy her. Everything I did, I saw her face, and wanted to kill her. She was my motivation, every waking moment. When I got to the range, I wanted to do something to her, to hurt her. I have never felt like that in my entire life. When we did the exercise course on the final day, Jessica and I were in a dead-heat, until it came to the wrestling match. I pinned her in thirty seconds, because I saw Stephanie looking at me and smiling. After that, Jessica did not stand a chance. I went at her like a raging bull, picked her up, slammed her down on her back, and pinned her. I looked at Stephanie expecting to see her disappointment and she was standing there, smiling and applauding. I was so confused; I did not know what was going on. She came over to me and took me by my shoulders, congratulated me and hugged me. She took me over to the benches, and showed me her grade book. On nearly every business course, I received ninety-five percent or higher. On every German written test, again I scored ninety or better. When we conversed, in German, she constantly berated me for my poor enunciation. When I asked her why she marked all my papers with her red pen, looked at me with such hatred in her eyes, and said all those horrible things to me, she said, “You did not leave anything for me to do. I was bored out of my mind. I had to motivate you. It was the only way I could to help keep my sanity. It worked! You took it out on Jessica. Now, you leave here as the number one graduate, instead of the number two. Congratulations!”

Round Two. FIGH- err, Fuck! The perspectives should be a little better this round. But its still, different, like the first chapter. Hope you enjoy! And don’t forget about voting and comments, I like reading what people have to say about my stories.


Its been three days since I was kidnapped. Three days of the most mind-blowing sex I could never imagine in my past life. Three days since I’ve had anything to eat. This creature, this demon, my lover, has done horrible things to me, with me, and I can’t tell him no. He won’t touch me sexually without my permission, but he will bite me. He floods my blood with his venom, muting my powers which should have returned by now, and keeping a furnace boiling in my cunt. Its not sacred anyone, I’m not pure anymore, I belong to him; not yet my soul, but in body I am his… or should I say bodies. At first I thought it a coincidence. He spoke of trying to impregnate me like one of my Gleaming cousins. I was too consumed by the guilt and horror, and yes the satiation of desires I never knew I possessed, to really understand much less believe the quickening within me.

I’ve accepted this and far more than I would have believed of myself these last three days. My lover is a demon that I despise, he fills me beyond ecstasy each time he communes with my flesh, and his seed has sown itself swiftly and completely within me. I accept all these things because I must, but I do not accept living as his plaything, much less his brood mare. So I starve. Soon I won’t be able to keep up with his march, and hopefully, soon after I will die, and this abomination will end as my tainted soul goes to its judgment.

He shudders in front of me, and I echo his motion. I know what this means, soon he will halt our march and turn back to me. His now crimson eyes will coruscate with his lust and as he glares into my own, he will strip my armor from me once again. I will beg and plead with him at first, and later as well… My will shifts too easily under his influence, my body betrays my mind at his touch-

Suddenly choking, “Pretty must pay attention. One has not failed as a teacher this badly. Pretty needs more motivation, or does One’s Luna want some special attention paid to her ass?” His gauntleted hand throwing me to the ground after capturing me unawares. Coughing and trying to breathe once more I none the less plead with my lover, “No.. please Luna’s One… I will be good, Luna… Luna has learned from One well. One doesn’t need to waste Its essence anywhere but my pussy,” stripping off my armor willingly I try to entice my lover not to breach this new territory. My past life remembers talk about sex back there and how some felt only pain and discomfort, but others felt new savage joy and submission.

Seeing me bare my clothed flesh, One pauses as I even slide the thong from my pussy, opening and playing with my flower without needing another bite from his fangs. I sink three cum stained fingers inside, the cloth having soaked up the remnants of his pleasure. The squishing and plopping of my seeking hand giving me a sickening delight as I watch his eyes burn brighter at my wanton display. My spare hand frees a captive breast as I maul it while bringing my own nipple to my mouth to suckle and bite. Containing himself no longer his heavy plate falls from him like the lightest silk, breezing off of him to clatter to the ground behind him as he stalks closer to me. His resplendently marbled flesh exposed to my view, my traitorous body clenches with a quick orgasm while my thrusting fingers are imprisoned within. My self-disgust surpassed only by my awakening true lust. My knees arched up as my legs spread wide for his descent, he captures my hair in his hand and replaces an engorged nipple with his tongue in my mouth. Kissing me breathless, he lifts my hips higher as his more talented jaws lower and feed upon my unmolested breast. His tongue and fang and experience quickly carry me higher into the Sky, bringing me far up on the mountain range of this session’s rapture.

~ ~

Tasty’s flesh is so much sweeter now. The pretty gave herself openly to One this time, and One believes she should be rewarded. Burrowing Its fangs one pop at a time as One’s mouth is full of Luna’s wondrous breasts, a reward for both of them as One senses and controls her plunge to madness’s depths. Her attention solely focuses higher as her hips are lifted and bent farther, One craves the touch of Its former life. One’s offhand threat appealing more and more to Its mind while Its seed slips and slicks her unviolated lower passage. Drowning in the ocean of her lust, One presses Its ram at her dark gates while It continues to sink her deep beneath the waves of her passion. Rising from her breast, mouth dripping with her blood One stares into her eyes and speaks with Its cultivated voice, “May I fill and stretch your wondrous flesh with my-” Her body on fire from the extra dose of demon One left in her breast making Luna screech, “FUCK ME DAMN YOU!”

One smiles Its special smile and settles Itself more firmly against Its target, “As you wish, my beloved.” The veil of passion parting just enough at his smile for her to feel where One is aimed draws beautiful horror in a corner of her eyes. One presses slowly against its new home as Luna cannot help her outburst of lust. Yet, Its demon chorusing in her blood is still unable to distract her from the new sensation of her ass being defiled.

~ ~

Burning! So thick inside me. Make it stop, makeitstop makeitstop. So full, so hot. Too much, deeper please! Oh Goddess I’m cumming aga- “FUCK!” I writhe and scream for my demon. If I had any modesty, the shame of my orgasm from this heinous act would break the hold his eyes have over mine. Our stare continues. Some detached part of my mind marvels at how well One has trained me, mind and body going supernova yet I still give him that extra level with our gaze interlocked. My respite ends far too soon as I crash back inside my flesh. ‘His eyes BURN for me, for ME! I did this, I MAKE HIM SHINE!’ My hands dig furrows next to our joining, breaking and bleeding without care in my exaltation of our lovemaking. His mighty cock finally engulfed fully in my luscious ass. His expression and coos of delight more beautiful than the climax I just felt, bring tears to my eyes as I whimper in overloaded joy and contentment from his pleasure, “You did so well, baby. Such a good girl.” He leans down and kisses away my tears, cooing and shushing away my mewling as my battered flesh adjusts to its new occupant.

He rocks inside me so gently. Just like our first time together he’s so soft and sweet with me. The tenderness in these moments fragment my soul. He’s so big and powerful, yet he can treat me with such care I can’t lose myself in just feeling. He’s trying to make me love him, and I fear its working. My body already obeys him, and with the echo in my stomach, my heart is bending too. I just want to lose myself, I don’t want to have to think about what’s happening, I need him to fuck me, “Please. Please, harder baby. Please.” Demon that he is, he can see the cracks in my footing, always staring at my face, into my eyes, reading my soul. “Shhh. Its okay. Its okay Luna. This is all for you. Just feel. Just us, together,” tears spring anew at his words. I’m breaking and he’s holding the pieces so gingerly, reverently.

His eyes never let me forget what he is, but sometimes, when he’s like this… I just don’t care anymore. My hands cup his face and I bring him down for a kiss, like his pace it’s gentle and sweet. I taste myself in his mouth, my blood, my tears and my nectar. I soar with my pleasure, over and over with him like this. The breeze at each peak letting me float along until the next updraft raises me above the clouds while my body weeps for him. My eyes cry twin streams across my cheeks while my dew flows from the spring of our earlier love and glides with his own down my belly. He leans back to see our river of love as he continues his gentle thrusting into my now oh so ready derriere. I smile shyly at him as the evidence of my pleasure pours anew over my skin and that with the new emotion brewing deep in my eyes sets him off. He grabs my hair tightly as his whole body shudders, “So sweet. So right, so tight, so warm,” my thumb brushes over his lips as he showers my insides with his so hot cum, “So yours. One’s Luna, I am.” He keeps surging again and again inside me as more of my own juice squirts and trickles down my body.

This round seemingly more intense than our usual, he can’t help the spasms of his body with each new gush, the heat in my bowels swelling thicker and hotter. Finally, he gains enough control to gasp and speak, “One is s- sorry. One couldn’t hel- help Itself. Its too familiar. One is so sorry.” The throbbing of our child pulses stronger as the heat builds inside me. He buries his head in my hair, still impaling my rump, still swelling my bowels with his cum, “Its okay. Its okay baby, Luna’s got you. Luna’s got One. Just fill me up like you always do baby.” A larger deluge of his essence erupts inside me before he can whisper, “Its not mine, Luna,” and another, “Its not One’s seed. One is so sorry.”


Hope you like it! Don’t forget to vote and comment!

Chapter Three – A Kept Man

Mrs. Eggleston’s basement was nice enough, but as a permanent home I wasn’t too thrilled with it. There was a washroom, a small kitchen with a fridge, microwave, sink and bar, a bedroom with a large queen-sized bed and a walk-in closet, all bordering the main sitting room with its leather furniture and large screen TV. In my investigations I poked my head into the walk-in closet and was amazed at the amount of leather, chains, and shackles I saw. It looked like the underworld of Mr. Dressup’s tickle trunk.

No windows, no cracks, not even a peephole to the outside world. My phone was somewhere outside, and Candy was definitely not hiding a phone under her skimpy bikini.

Candy was sitting wedged into one far corner of the big leather cough, her legs drawn up beneath her, staring at the TV which oddly wasn’t on.

“Candy?” I asked. “You okay?” She looked at me – sort of through me – and then went back to her silent meditation.

I don’t know how long it was, hours at least, but finally the basement door opened. I turned and looked as the long stiletto-heeled legs of Mrs. Eggleston descended the stairs. Each step was a steady, ominous click like the unstoppable pendulum of a death row clock. She was dressed in the same sheer white dress I remembered but my eyes stayed fixed on hers except to quickly glance past her and up the stairs to the door, which she had left open.

“Don’t even think about it,” Mrs. Eggleston said in a husky voice as a knowing smile curled one side of her mouth. She strode right up to me, stopping just inches from my face, filling my vision with her unending cleavage, her pale, creamy skin, and the burgeoning round edges of her chest which dramatically swept back into her narrow waist. Apple and peach perfume filled my nostrils and my heart started to thud faster.

She was imposing, especially so close to me, but panic was rising inside me and I knew there was no way I was going to stay still and meek while that door remained open at the top of the stairs. I had a sudden idea and quickly grabbed her in a bear hug, locking my left wrist into my right hand and pinning her arms at her sides.

“Candy!” I yelled, “Go for it! Run! Get help!”

Candy didn’t move. What the fuck was wrong with her?

A stiletto heel pressed against the top of my foot. Mrs. Eggleston didn’t stomp my bare foot, but she steadily increased the pressure until I felt the fragile bones on the top of my foot grind against her heel and bend alarmingly. My hands released automatically as the agony tore through my foot. I didn’t see how she did it, but suddenly I was spinning – everything except my wrist which stayed firmly gripped in her hand. Then I was bending forward, my hand high up behind me, and excruciating pain was shooting down my arm.

Candy still didn’t move. Mrs. Eggleston shoved me forward and I sprawled face-first onto the floor.

“You aren’t leaving until I let you, Donovan, so stay the fuck put. Be a good boy and I’ll let you go sooner.”

I turned over and glared back at her as I rubbed my wrist. “How fucking long do you think you can keep me here? People ask questions, you know! I have friends who will come looking for me. The police will have to investigate when no one can find me.”

She cocked her head sideways as she looked at me. “You don’t understand yet, Donovan. I will let you go, but I won’t be done with you. Neither will my friends.” She turned her head to the stairs. “Girls! Come on down and see your present!”

Shadows blocked that little rectanglar beacon of freedom at the top of the stairs and then I heard several feet clambering down.

The first woman was commandingly sexy. Heavy leather boots covered her ankles and skin tight faded blue jeans slicked up over her calves and taut thighs. Several ragged splits showed tantalizing glimpses of the smooth skin of her legs. The jeans stopped at an enormous skull-shaped belt buckle that rested several inches below her bellybutton. Her tanned, wide hips, flat belly, and narrow waist were all completely uncovered. A thin black t-shirt coated her ribs and stretched taughtly over her D-cup tits. Long, wavy black hair cascaded down her shoulders and framed an oval-shaped face with deeply-defined cheekbones and startling pale grey eyes. She strode directly to me, fierceness in all her movements, and stopped suddenly right in front of me.

She reached up and grabbed my chin, turning my head side to side as she inspected me with her peircing eyes. I smelled her then, a wonderful scent of leather and gasoline that made my pants tight.

“I’m Beth,” she said simply and then released my face, turned, and sauntered over to the couch.

The second woman was an absolute bombshell. Gleaming red high heels cradled her small and delicate feet. Sculpted calves and smooth, toned thighs were topped by a candy red miniskirt so short it served to invite more than to cover. The one-piece skirt sleeved over her body, as thin and revealing as paint as it burst out over her huge breasts, straining at the two hard nipples pointing through the cloth. Her platinum curls bobbed as she bounced over to me to kiss me on the cheek, her blue eyes glittering with the effervescence of the innately cheerful person. I smelled lavender.

“I’m Tiffani! I’m very pleased to meet you.” Tiffani turned to Mrs. Eggleston.

“He’s cute, Monica. A real good catch!” Tiffani wiggled over to the couch to sit beside Beth.

The last woman, who closed the door behind her, was a sculpted beauty. She wore slippers and as she padded down the stairs I saw that she wore a thin film of tight black yoga pants pressed over every dip and ridge of her muscular calves and quads. Her groin was perfectly displayed by the photographic material clinging to her nethers. Above her yoga pants I saw every abdominal muscle pressed between her ribs until her sports bra rudely covered her up. Her bra desperately tried to sedate the prodigous swelling of her chest but her cleavage still found an opening at the top. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a severe ponytail but she carried a genuine smile on her round face, a smile that also reflected in her huge brown eyes. She gave me a quick hug that included an experimental squeeze of my butt. As she leaned in close I smelled the sharp scent of her deodorant.

“Take a seat, Jen,” Mrs. Eggleston commanded, “no sampling the goods until later!”

Jen pulled away, releasing my ass. She sucked her lower lip into a pout and then flitted her eyes up to meet mine, transforming the pout into a seductive invitation as she let the soft flesh of her juicy lip pop out from between her teeth. Giggling, she turned to walk to the couch and my eyes were glued to her ass. The tight fabric hugged her perfect ass as surely as if she were naked and I was fascinated by the swell of muscle clearly defined in each cheek as she moved.

Mrs. Eggleston walked over to the bar and settled on a bar stool, turning away from the bar, crossing her legs and stretching her arms out to either side as she leaned back against the bar.

“Now, girls, this is Donovan, your meat. Donovan, these girls are my directors and they handle day-to-day operations in our organization, which, well, you might someday come to see what we do. Consider this an interview!” Tiffani and Jen giggled. Beth just stared at me, her eyes filled with intent.

Mrs. Eggleston continued. “You will perform for these ladies, Donovan. If you arouse them, they may take off a little clothing to encourage you. How far it all goes depends on your abilities.”

I looked at the couch with the four gorgeous ladies looking back at me. That didn’t actually sound that bad, I thought.

A frown crossed Mrs. Eggleston’s face. “Candy! What do you think you’re doing on the couch?”

Candy curled her legs up even closer to herself. “Mistress, I thought I could – “

“Of course not!” Mrs. Eggleston growled. She stood up. “Get over here.”

Candy slowly unfolded her legs and slinked over to Mrs. Eggleston, casting quick apologetic glances at the impassive women on the couch. There was a coldness in the room from all four women as they stared at Candy as she self conciously hiked up her tiny bikini bottom and stood before Mrs. Eggleston, avoiding her eyes.

Mrs. Eggleston leaned close. I was nearest and could here the menacing whisper.

“Candy, I told you to bring him down here. Who said you could fuck him? What made you think your rotten little pussy deserved such a wonderful cock? You wasted all his cum, you greedy little whore, and now my guests have to settle for seconds! Bend over!”

I expected Candy to hesitate but she quickly turned around and bent over, her bikini bottom stretching taught over her ass. Mrs. Eggleston drew her hand high and then brought it down hard on Candy’s ass. Candy yelped and closed her eyes. Mrs. Eggleston spanked her again and again – I lost count – maybe ten times. Candy wasn’t yelping anymore, rather she was licking her lips. The women on the couch were watching with rapt attention.

“Now,” Mrs. Eggleston commanded, “I want you to turn on the music for our dear performer, and bring us some drinks. When you have done that, you may sit on the couch. That is your reward for doing such a wonderful job in bringing our meat down into the trap.”

“Thank you mistress!” Candy literally bounded to her tasks, her livid red ass jiggling as she moved behind the bar. The music started playing. Deep, pulsating rythym and drums with electronic riffs floating over top. I realized it was my turn.

The ladies’ eyes swivelled in unison to me.

Actually, I’m good at dancing. Strangely enough it was one of my escapes when I found myself at parties and the girls were teasing a little too much. If I just stayed on the dance floor, letting the music penetrate my bones and urge my body to its own unthinking rythym, the tormentors would drift away to more responsive prey and my treacherous cock would subside.

Also, I had a certain dance that I practiced on my own, in deep, secret, Cold War level privacy. I’d never dreamed it would be used. At the time I practiced it I did it for myself, but always imagining just this scenario. Show time.

I let the deep bass soak into me and let my hips punctuate along with it. My shoulders twisted and my arms floated as if the notes of the melody were a wheat field and I was trailing over the tips of grass waving in the wind.

“My-oh-my! We’ve got ourselves a real performer!” I heard one of the ladies exclaim. I don’t know who. My eyes were closed. When I opened them I saw all four women on the couch riveted to me – rather, to my swim trunks. Beth hadn’t moved, still staring at me with those pale eyes. Jen’s legs were tightly crossed and her arms were crossed under her breasts, forcing the mounds of flesh to new heights beneath her chin.

Tiffani nearly made me fall over, though, as I saw her run one hand over her breast and then slowly circle her ardent nipple with one forefinger as she stared fixedly at my crotch. Her finger flicked the prominent nipple and I saw her body twitch as she bit the corner of her lower lip.

That was encouragement enough for me and I hooked my thumbs under the waistband of my swim trunks. Still swaying with the music, I pulled the swim trunks down, exposing my short pubic hair and then just the first two inches of my cock. I stopped there, returning my focus to the music.

“Woa! That’s thick!” I heard Jen exclaim. My cock was hardening with the knowledge that these gorgeous women were enraptured with my cock but the waistband of my swim trunks kept it pointing down.

When I opened my eyes again Jen had uncrossed her legs and was brazenly trailing her fingers up and down the distinct cameltoe of her pussylips tightly wrapped in her thin yoga pants. Encouraged, I pulled my suit down two more inches.

When I had eight inches of my cock exposed and still held in place by the swim trunks waistband it was hard to dance as my thighs were restricted by the swim trunks strapped across them. I decided to move within range of the girls to make up for the lack of dancing. I moved to the couch and stood in front of Jen. She had peeled her yoga pants down by now and was openly swirling her shaven pussylips with her fingers as she gazed at my tool. She reached up with her free hand and laid it flat on my chest. Slowly she let her had trail down my abs and then over my pubic hair. Her warm hand rested on my cock and she moved it down, stroking the exposed eight inches of my cock. As she passed the waistband and sought to stroke lower I pulled away.

Seeing Jen’s fingers dripping in her pussy juices made me pull the swimsuit down to ten inches. Just the very tip was hidden now, straining mightily against the waistband. From groin to almost my knees the area between my thighs was filled with thick, pulsing cock meat and the swim trunks wrapped around me still hid the end so it tantalized the ladies’ imagination to dream that it might continue on to the floor. I moved over to Tiffani.

Tiffani’s miniskirt had disappeared up over her waist. Her clean white thighs were spread as wide as possible, baring her neatly trimmed pussy with very fat lips. Like Jen, her fingers were working her pussy. She reached out to my waist and pulled me a little closer. I forgot the music. I forgot the room, the house, and Mrs. Eggleston as her little hand trailed over my hip and then down behind me, swooping over my buttocks and then cupping it solidly. As she squeezed me she leaned forward, planting a loving kiss on my shaft. Her tongue darted out to lick the sides of my cock.

I stumbled backwards to break free of Tiffani. I was determined to make it to Beth. I saw her and nearly choked. She had taken off her pants but rather than masterbate she had commended Candy to lie down on the couch with her head in Beth’s lap. Candy worked diligently at the mistress’ pussy, slurping and sucking loudly at the wet hole given her.

“Enough teasing, stud,” Beth said and reached out. She yanked on the swim trunks and my entire cock popped free, swinging like a diving board in front of her beautiful oval face. In one more moment Beth had the tip of my cock in her mouth and I gasped at the delicious sensation of her velvet tongue lapping my fat cock head.

Tiffani and Jen squawked and hurridly lifted themsleves off the couch to join Beth in sucking my member. Beth commanded the tip of my cock, trying to fit her whole mouth over it. Tiffani and Jen licked the side of my cock, leaving glistening saliva from their hot mouths all over my cock. I hungrily looked down Tiffani’s red top, mentally fondling her creamy breasts. I looked over to Jen and groaned at the sight of her taut ass as she bent low to suck on the side of my cock.

Tiffani finally grabbed Candy’s hair and cruelly pulled her away from Beth’s pussy. Candy yelped but stayed where she had fallen after Tiffani had shoved her. Beth looked annoyed but stopped when Tiffani grabbed my thick cock and pulled me right to the entrance of Beth’s pussy.

“Oh yes,” Beth said eagerly, her pale eyes focused on the sight of my long rod poised at her pussy entrance, “fuck me big boy”. I pushed my fat cockhead into her pussy and watched it push her lips aside like the blunt bow of an icebreaker forcing a new cleft in arctic ice. I pushed forward and the first six inches of my thick cock slid in with little resistance. Beth gasped, her hands reaching out to grab my waist to slow my intrusion. Her normally plump pussy lips were stretched taut against the long circumference of my shaft. I pushed again and fed another four inches into her, almost completely rooting myself in her hot and excruciatingly tight pussy.

I felt Beth’s pussy begin to quake around my cock as I reached the far depths of her pussy. It defended itself from my huge tool with floods of juice that ran back along my cock and down my balls where Tiffani promptly licked it up.

I began to stroke in and out of Beth steadily. Tiffani switched to sucking Beth’s clit, causing Beth to throw her head back and moan almost angrily. I saw Tiffani’s hand snake down between her own thighs and she moaned into Beth’s pussy as she played with herself. Her blond curls tickled my stomach with each stroke of my cock.

Jen laid back on the couch, watching me closely as I steadily stretched her friend’s pussy. Jen motioned to Candy, who immediately crawled over to Jen and planted her face between the woman’s legs. Jen’s eyes closed and her head went back as she grabbed Candy’s hair and forced the girl’s face harder against her pussy.

I looked up from the couch and noticed a mirror on the opposite wall. In the mirror I could see Mrs. Eggleston sitting at the bar. She had not moved. Despite the sweating, groaning, twisting pile of naked flesh on the couch before her she was not touching herself. She was completely expressionless, though she paid close attention to the scene. So close that she noticed me looking at her in the mirror.

Mrs. Eggleston locked eyes with me as I sank into her friend again and again. I was annoyed by her aloofness. With four steamy female bodies humping and licking all around me I found myself willing Mrs. Eggleston to move, to stand up and walk her perfectly proportioned ass, hips, and tits over to me and clamour for a taste of my cock just as the other women were. I wanted her hands to run over my body wonderingly, just as Beth’s were. I wanted her eyes to ask me to enter her with my huge meat and send her into wild orgasms. I wanted to give her that, and feel her gratefulness as I took her pussy.

When I finished off her friends, I decided, I would take her.

Just then Jen started screaming, twisting Candy’s hair cruelly as she came hard on the girl’s face. She stuck her thickly muscled legs out straight over Candy’s shoulders and they quivered in the rolling thunder of orgasm shooting through her body.

Jen’s orgasm seemed to inspire Tiffani, who burst a muffled yell straight into Beth’s crotch. A sudden spurt of wetness rolled from Beth’s pussy, spilling down her asscrack and onto the couch. Beth went still and I kept moving despite the painful feeling of Beth’s fingernails digging into my hips. Beth didn’t breathe for six whole strokes of my cock and then she finally broke. Her breath burst out of her and her tummy heaved as she came. Her pussy fired erratically around my cock, sucking my tool with a wave after wave of her orgasm and her breathing came in short, shallow wheezes synchronized with the pulses of her pussy.

Beth fell limp around me and I slowly reeled my eleven inches out of her. I turned around and sat down on the couch between Jen and the cum-dazed remains of Beth. Once again Candy was pushed aside as Jen hopped up and then straddled me, facing away from me. I had turned around so that I could stare directly at Mrs. Eggleston but I couldn’t help but stare at Jen’s exquisite ass and the lines of her toned muscles on her back and shoulders as she reached between her legs to grab my cock and aim me at her lowering pussy.

“Oh, fucking hell,” Jen gasped as her pussy struggled to stretch over my cockhead.

She twisted her hips, working herself around me to fit it inside. I felt a gush of hotness on the tip of my cock and then Jen was sliding down my meat. She stopped halfway down my cock, her flanks heaving as she bore the painful few moments it took for her pussy to fit me.

I slid my hands over the flare of her ass and up to her trim waist. I grabbed her and cruelly pulled her down all the way onto my cock.

“Shit!” She cried out, her fingers clenching on my thighs. I twisted a little bit beneath her so I could watch Mrs. Eggleston, who was still sitting at the bar. She hadn’t moved. Her expression hadn’t changed from that calculating poker face.

Jen heaved herself up and down my cock twice before she suddenly froze midway and started trembling. Her head fell forward and her hands tightened on my thighs again as she screamed. A flood of juice pulsed around my cock, leaking down my balls. Jen shook from head to toe, every muscle in her body quivering and rattling with each wave of her orgasm. I looked at Mrs. Eggleston as I pulled Jen back and rolled her to the side on the couch, her pussy making a wet sucking noise as my cock popped free.

I had a rough time last week and I didn’t really get much out of it… but… I can’t deny it was a thrill. When Thursday came around again I felt myself hurry to finish up my work and just seemed to get ready on autopilot.

I parked my car at Sydenham station a few blocks from the side ally to the bus depot and hid my keys behind the front bumper before I set off along the road in nothing other than my cotton boxer bodysuit clutching my $40 as instructed. I was looking toward the buildings that had the games in last week but I didn’t see any red arrow to guide me in this time.

I got to back of the empty bus depot. With no shoes and no watch, I was standing in the middle of the industrial area with no activity around, I wondered what time it was. It seemed like about I had waited about a quarter of an hour when I got their note, so around 7.20 – 7.30pm I guess… The note from the Valkyries was tied to the end of a water balloon that hit me in the back of the head. I thought I saw a small pink car drive off but wasn’t sure that was where it came from.

It had a shopping list that would just about cover the money I had been told to bring I thought:

Beer, cooking oil, flour, paper glue, toilet paper, poster paint, 3 trigger sprayers …etc just a bunch of ordinary stuff. I could get it all at a supermarket. Happy to be on another adventure and without a thought to how I was dressed I set off to the mini supermarket in the petrol station a four blocks up the highway.

I got progressively more cheers, whistles and car horns as I quickly walked along the dark footpath beside the highway, quite a sight I guess in the dying light of dusk for the shoppers driving home. I got the groceries first then crossed the road to the pub for beer at the bottle shop. I noticed the little red light of a DV camera. The woman standing on the corner was filming me as I walked into the bottle-o. On the way out she gestured me to walk to the well-lit car park behind the pub. The Lady with the camera walked me over to her little pink car and took my shopping bags. She gave me a Train ticket for the Gosford train to Hawkesberry River. I walked up to Sydenham station and got the train. It felt like more than hour on the train, but an excited feeling kept me going against growing nervousness.

When I got off the train at Hawkesberry river station the video camera Lady met me and walked me down to a small aluminum boat. Camera running while it dangled from a lanyard around her neck. We traveled across the water to a small park with a jetty a few hundred meters away. There were a dozen or so statues and stone sculptures in a grassy field between the train tracks and the river shore. There was no light except for the jetty, the half platform of the train station and the odd passing intercity train. None seemed to stop at the little station in front of the sculpture park. The station had no road access or even any buildings on it.

I was looking at the lights of the station when I felt a thin cloth hood cover the top of my head and face and two straws go up my nose. Without a word I was posed like a star jump and then mummy wrapped in toilet paper and sprayed all over with watery glue and sprinkled with flour. I could hear another boat arrive. There seemed to be a number of women’s voices. I could feel string being tied at limbs and joints and I was repositioned a few times while more glue, paper and I think clay was added. I was slowly loosing outside sound as the -people- set about mummifying my whole body. I was sat on a big rock, right elbow on left knee, right fingers tied up under my chin. After a few minuets the glue started to set and I could feel it pulling on my skin. I tried to say something but my mouth and jaw were shut tight, a toot sound came out my nose straws but was ignored. I could feel hands all over me and hear muffles voices, excited giggling and the ever-softening ‘sssh’ of spray bottles and bip-beep of digital camera snaps.

Another half an hour or so and I was completely immobilized. I could still feel the odd pressure here and there as more paper and clay were added and a brushing sound as layers were added to my head near my ears, but I couldn’t hear voices or much of any outside sounds at all. Suddenly all the activity stopped and I could hear the low chug of a large boat go past, or maybe a diesel train? Then nothing for a while and another train for sure this time. I started to get worried because I had to go to work the next morning and it was almost certainly past 11pm at this point. I heard a woman say.

“See you in a few hours boys.”

And shortly after than I heard very faint laughter and the boats leave.

I struggled to get free but I was stuck fast. I thought for an hour or so “They will be back any second to free me and see the look an my face.”

I don’t know how but I fell asleep for while and woke up to the feeling of cutting through my body cast. I got cheers as the hood came off my head and I stepped out of the body cast.

On the ground in the early morning light it looked like “The thinker”. My bodysuit had fused and ripped off with the cast the outline of my body was very clear. I was dazed and stark naked in the sculpture park as a train went past. It was just before sun rise and the video lady handed me a robe and a train ticket back to Sydenham. She packed up a few time laps cameras and other equipment into a big hard case before dropping me off at Brooklyn jetty.

I got home in just enough time to shower and get to work. I checked my email and their was an invitation to be a “Subject of the Valkyries””. The instructions began that afternoon.

To be continued…

Her scent reached him before he saw her. She was walking along the road laden with designer shopping bags, her laptop case slung carelessly across one shoulder – a slim, supple woman with perfectly bobbed fair hair. She seemed tall, slender, yet perfectly proportioned as she walked, no-flowed- around the corner towards the sunlit spot where he leant against the pillar, watching the world go by with his large, golden eyes.

He never knew what made him step forward and offer to help carry her bags. He’d never done anything like that before, but something about her forced him to say those four words. Four words which changed his life forever.

“Can I help you?”

She stopped. Her gaze didn’t exactly bore holes in him, but he knew she was examining every tiny morsel of his being –from the tip of his dark, auburn hair to the perfectly polished toes of his black leather shoes. His trousers were leather too, as was his jacket, worn carelessly over his perfectly laundered white cotton shirt.

He knew women were attracted to him. Why else would he have won the modelling contract with a top London fashion house when he was only seventeen? Even now, at the tender age of twenty two, when he juggled being in front of the camera with taking his own photo shoots and videos, he could hardly walk along crowded London streets without some woman or another fawning over him, offering him food, drink or themselves.

This was why he came to be lounging against a pillar on a Regency Street in a provincial Town where nobody knew him. The latest digital camera hung around his neck. He was taking abstract shots of the stone mullions on the houses, trying to catch the shapes where honey-coloured stone cast long shadows against the glass in the afternoon sun. Her scent made him stop and search for her presence. Now she was standing in front of him, as if her decision was made.

“Name,” she said in a tone which brooked no dissention.

“Keel,” he stammered, “Jonathan Keel.”

Her eyes flickered as if expecting him to say more, but there was no more to say. He was adopted. His foster parents told him he was left on their doorstep one winter’s night, only a few weeks old, together with a note asking that he be taken in and cared for until he was old enough to make his own way in the world. They were a childless couple in their early forties, isolated in their ways and their location, farming a smallholding up in the Lake District.

They didn’t hold much with the authorities – not since all their stock was culled during the foot and mouth epidemic – so they took him in and brought him up as their own. Until, that is, he started to grow and change. Everyone was glad when he moved to London. It meant there were no more questions. Questions for which there were no answers.

“Take these,” she said, holding a group of bags in his direction.

He took them from her. She didn’t wait to see if he would follow, she merely turned and walked on as if knowing he would be at her shoulder if she bothered to turn and look.

She led him down several side streets until the pavement turned to cobbles under their feet. A large silver car was parked in front of one of a wooden gateway. As they approached, a man leaped out from the driving seat and came towards them. He was wearing a dark suit and sunglasses, although the street was shaded now. His hair was cut short and starting to turn grey above his ears, but he was stockily built and his manner was one who brooked no dissention.

“My Lady,” he said, taking the rest of her bags from her and opening the back car door in one, fluid motion.

“We have a stray, Clay. His name is Keel and I’m taking him home.” She slid elegantly into the back seat of the car and he closed the door after her. Clay opened the boot and placed the packages carefully inside, motioning the lad to do likewise with the ones he was holding.

“Get in the front. The Lady says you are coming home.”

Keel opened his mouth, then shut it again. There seemed no point in arguing or trying to run. As he shut the car door and buckled the seat belt in around him, he realised he didn’t want to run. Whoever these people were, he wanted to know more about them.

It was a lengthy journey. The sun long gone by the time they reached the place called home. The lady spent the time working on her laptop or making terse phone calls on her mobile. He could not hear much of the conversations, but he heard the word “stray” several times. She seemed to be giving instructions for their arrival. Keel did not feel they concerned him in any way, so he leaned against the soft leather seat and fell asleep. He dreamed of cats.

When they reached their destination, a hot meal was served to them.

“You must be tired, Keel” Lady Eleuthemia said as the plates were being cleared away. “Go to your room now and sleep. We shall discuss your position in the morning.”

Keel found himself stammering his thanks for her hospitality. Part of him wanted to ask her why she was kidnapping him, but another part did not dare to risk her ire in case she told him to leave now, without finding out anything about who she was and what she wanted with him.

Saunh, the Lady’s partner, took him to his room and wished him a good night’s sleep. The room was small with ensuite facilities tucked behind the wardrobe, with a single bed beneath the large window. Keel was surprised to see bars across the glass, but he presumed such a large house had a problem with intruders. Keel went to leave his camera on the dressing table and his companion asked him about his interest in photographs and what his line of business might be. Keel did not like to say too much about his profession, but he mentioned the modelling and some of his video projects.

Saunh, nodded, “I thought I recognised you from posters in Melingham, some months ago.”

Keel was surprised to find he was very sleepy and soon found himself under the covers. It was well he did, rather than try to leave his room, for Saunh locked his door behind him.

In the morning, Keel was woken by Saunh and brought to a small living room off the main entrance hall.

Lady Eleuthemia was sitting on an elegant chair flanked on either side by two men. Keel recognised Clay and Saunh and the other two were introduced as Nuin, who specialised in ancient history and Gahd, who was in charge of the kitchens.

“They are all my housemales,” Lady Eleuthemia explained, although Keel did not understand the term she used. “You are standing before my House Council. We must decide what to do with you.”

“Do with me?” Keel was confused. “It was very kind of you to invite me to stay with you, Lady Eleuthemia, but I really don’t need your help. I have a job I love with good prospects. I own my own home in Woking. I’ve never asked anyone for help since I left the Lakes.”

“Better not to speak unless my Lady asks you, Keel,” Saunh advised. Keel opened his mouth, then shut it again. It unnerved him to be standing in the middle of the room when everyone else was seated. He wondered if he had done something wrong the previous night, had offended someone. It seemed such a strange thing to do to a guest.

“We are People, Keel,” Lady Eleuthemia continued as if no-one had spoken. “So are you. It is not permitted for a stray male to be allowed to live on his own without a contract. I take it you are not contracted?”

“I have a contract with my photographic agency and with the firm I’m making the next video for.”

“No,” Lady Eleuthemia shook her head, “you don’t understand the law. Why should you? You’ve never been taught. It’s a wonder you’ve done as well as you have, given the circumstances. I’m surprised you’ve not been in trouble with the apekin police. Have you not been arrested for hunting yet?”

“Hunting?” Keel was shocked. How did she know about the hunting. What else did she know?

“You do hunt every moon?”

He could only nod, his face ashen.

“It’s all right, Keel, we understand.” Saunh was trying to reassure him. “We all have to hunt when the moon is bright. It’s part of being one of the People. Only apekin have one form and do not feel the effects of the moon. We are much older than their race.”

“You all change?” Keel stammered.

“Of course. Changing to our older form when the moon is full is one of the first signs of a kit’s adolescence. You must be almost fully mature by now.”

“I’m twenty- two. The changing started when I was sixteen. I managed to hide it for a few months, but my foster parents were very glad when I left home, I think. I wasn’t their son any more, I was almost a monster in their midst.”

Lady Eleuthemia nodded sympathetically. “That’s often the way with apekin when they don’t understand. Now,” she said briskly, “what are we going to do with you?”

“Do with me?”

“You cannot continue to live on your own amongst the apekin, it’s too dangerous. I am happy for you to live here with us and my housemales are in agreement. You will continue with your employment and any money you earn will go into the house accounts.”

Keel began to protest, but Lady Eleuthemia dismissed them.

“Males are not allowed to manage their own money, it belongs to their alpha. You are not under formal contract to the House of Rohke, but if things go well you will be issued with a training contract. This will allow you to live here and continue with your work, but also be trained in the ways of the People. When you are deemed sufficiently mature, you will be placed for a house contract with a suitable alpha.

“I have no idea yet whether you will be eligible for breeding status. Saunh tells me you are fertile, so you will begin immediately on liquid galth to remove this problem. You will come to me every day for your dose and if I am not at home you will receive it from my mother, the Elder Mirelda.”

“Surely my fertility is my own business,” Keel protested. “I should choose what to do with my own body.” He saw the other men in the room wince.

Lady Eleuthemia’s voice was very soft and quiet, but her words chilled his soul. “You would rather I ripped out your testicles with my teeth to ensure your infertility?”

Keel shook his head vigorously, realising she meant every word.

“Good. Give Clay your address and he will go and fetch your belongings. Saunh will go with you to your work, until we can trust you as one of us. Nuin will instruct you in the lore of the People and I will be responsible for your training. Your position will be reviewed in a year and a day to discuss your progress.”

Keel bowed his head. Things were happening so fast. It seemed too good to be true there were others like him in the world. All his life he had wondered who he was and where he came from. Now he had a chance to find out. This amazing woman was offering him a home with his own people.

“You have my thanks, my Lady,” he stammered.

Lady Eleuthemia smiled. “Welcome to the House of Rohke, Keel”

During the next few days, Keel became part of the household. His belongings were moved into a large room on the third floor, looking out over fields as far as the eye could see. Those large items of furniture which could not be accommodated were placed in storage above the old stable block.

Keel’s bank accounts were closed and the money transferred to Eleuthemia. His flat was put up for sale and only his employers were given his new address. It all happened so fast, Keel’s head was whirling. He wondered if he should go to the police, tell them he had been abducted by a cult which was trying to indoctrinate him. He thought about trying to escape, but deep in his heart, he knew he belonged.

He was well fed and everyone, except Nuin, welcomed him into the household. He was given tasks to undertake and thanked for his contribution

Each day he knocked on the door of Eleuthemia’s private study to receive his dose of galth. At first, the sticky green liquid made him feel sick and lightheaded making it difficult to concentrate when he was at work. He was not allowed to travel to the photographic studio on his own. Sometimes Saunh went with him but when he was busy, Clay would drive him to the shoot and wait at the back of the studio until he was finished.

Both men had the ability to blend into the background, surprising Keel by appearing at his elbow when it was time to return home. They seemed genuinely interested in his work, asking for his thoughts and offering their own comments about how the day’s shoot had gone. Clay was surprised by the number of women who found excuses to spend time with Keel.

“Doesn’t it bother you having apekin pawing you like that?” he asked one evening when they were driving home.

“It’s always been the same,” Keel told him. “I don’t do anything to encourage them, but they all seem to want to tear my clothes off and ravage me senseless for some reason. It used to be really tiring trying to keep them all happy until I moved in with you. It’s a great relief having my body to myself now.”

He wondered why Clay gave him a strange glance, but the older man said nothing, turning his conversation to cars and the trip Eleuthemia was planning in the near future.

Some days later, Keel was called to Eleuthemia’s study

“Now, Keel. I am pleased with your attitude and your commitment to my family. Both Saunh and Clay have brought me excellent reports from your dalliance amongst the apekin. I have decided to offer you a training contract to give you a formal footing amongst my housemales.”

Keel was stunned. He did not understand exactly what her words meant, but he gathered enough to believe she was offering him the chance to join her housemales. To become part of her household. To belong to a family, a family of his own People.

He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“You will be branded to the House of Rohke, not a full brand because there may come a time when you are chosen by another alpha, but it will allow you to move freely amongst the People without question.” She raised her hand and he saw she was holding a collar of some sort, made of large leather rings, carefully tooled.

Keel felt a hand on each of his arms pushing him forward and downwards until he found himself kneeling in front of the alpha, his alpha.

Eleuthemia smiled. “It is a long time since I trained a young male,” she glanced upwards, “isn’t it Saunh.” The dark man hissed, his eyes black with remembrance. “I think I shall enjoy it.”

She placed the collar carefully around Keel’s neck, fastening it with a decisive snap.

“Report to the training room in four days time for your first session.”

“Yes, Lady, thank you, Lady.” Keel bowed his head, wishing he could think of something more eloquent to say. When he looked up, she was gone. He caught sight of her slender figure making her way up the main staircase accompanied by a very large black cat who was lashing his tail from side to side.

Three days later, Keel presented himself in Eleuthemia’s study. She was sitting at her desk wearing a simple white coverall, a long zip fastener closed just below her throat gland in the centre of her neck. She waved him in, pointing to the rug beside her feet.

Keel wondered why he did not even think of sitting on a chair, but instead sank gracefully to his knees beside her. Her hand reached out to stroke his hair and gently cup his face.

“You have never sought training from anyone else?” she asked him.

“No, Lady. I did not know there was anyone to ask to train me.”


She led him down the hallway to the training room. As she opened the door, light flooded the room reflecting from the stark whiteness of the interior. The walls and floor were padded in white cushions. There was no window to the outside, but ceiling mounted cameras hung in all four corners of the room, red lights showing they were recording everything which happened in this room.

Keel looked around, squinting slightly against the glare, his attention on the alpha beside him.

“Remove all your clothes,” she ordered. “Males are not allowed clothing in this room.”

If there was one thing Keel learned during his weeks in this household it was to comply swiftly with her instructions. He always found himself halfway to obeying before his mind has had a chance to register what it was she said.

He stripped off the shirt and loose trousers he was wearing. His feet were already bare as no-one wore shoes within the house. He stood, expectant, blinking in the bright light.

Eleuthemia smiled encouragingly as she walked around critically surveying his body.

“You’ve put on some muscle since you joined us, Keel.”

One part of him felt he should relax, as she was smiling, but he always felt apprehensive and excited when she inspected him.

“Yes, my Lady. I have been well cared for.”

“How many times have you hunted with the house pack?”

“Four times now, but I have been running when I can – around the grounds.”

“You have been wrestling with Sophie’s collared one?”

“Shade? Yes. He is too skilful for me, even though I am heavier than he is. He throws me every time but I am getting better. He says my grip is stronger now.”

“When you hunt, do you have any kills to your name?”

“I have been unsuccessful so far, but I am improving. There is so much to learn.”

“How do you like raw meat?”

Keel flushed with embarrassment. Her question made him realise how much he had changed since his arrival. For a whole week after his first hunt he was offered nothing but raw meat and water. He thought he would die of hunger until he forced himself to take the first mouthful.

“I did not want to taste it on the first kill,” he stammered, his voice almost a whisper. “I refused. Once it was explained to me why it was good for my body, I tried it and now, now I crave it. I cannot recall when I last ate fruit.”

He felt her hands stroke his shoulders, a feather touch, making him shiver; gooseflesh rippling across his skin, making his nipples erect. Her fingers lightly traced the scars where Sierra, one of the young females of Keel’s age had raked him with her claws when they were fooling around with each other one evening.

“You are very fortunate, you know,” she murmured, her voice very close to his ear, “Not many males your age can boast scarring by a young alpha as deeply as this.”

Keel swallowed nervously, not knowing how to respond.

“How did you feel when she opened you?”

“I felt a flash of pain, but it was followed by a swelling deep inside me, in my chest, and spreading down. I felt pride and very thankful.” He licked his lips, daring to look at her. “I would never have expected to feel like that.”

“And when she licked your blood, fed from you. How did that feel?”

His gaze dropped for a moment. “I felt lightheaded, honoured. I wanted that moment never to end.”

He saw her nod and knew she understood him completely.

“You are young and heal fast. These scars will soon be nothing. Would you wish them to fade?”

Keel shook his head.” Nothing lasts for ever but while the scars remain, I will wear them with pride. Afterwards, I will know their shape and size, here.” He touched his hand once to his temple and once to his heart. “Lady?”

He waited for her permission to continue speaking. “There was another thing I felt but I do not wish to overstep myself. It may be unseemly for me to mention this feeling.”

“You must tell me everything, little one, no matter how trivial. If I ever discover you have kept something from me and I find out another way, you will be punished.” He voice was calm without any hint of threat, but his heart raced. If he failed to comply with her rules, he would be punished. He dared not consider how great this punishment might be. He did not feel strong enough to cross her and find out.

Once more he licked dry lips. “When Sierra opened me, I felt- after the pain subsided -. very aroused. But she is young and that was wrong. I do not know why the hurt should make me feel like that. Later, when she fed, I .. I wished…I wished it were you who were feeding from me.”

September 2018
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