Premonitions

Chapter 14

       ** As one might expect, things didn't go well after that.  It's not that we didn't try.  She continued working, which took her out of the house several nights a week.  I think her traveling provided relief for both of us.  Our relationship was awkward.  We were polite to each other, perhaps overly so.  I continued to sleep in a spare bedroom with Reddi; she slept in our bedroom with Freddi.  Sex was non existent, for that matter neither was any other physical contact.  She also continued going to Mint Hill for two nights every few weeks.  That only hardened my resolve.  How can I forgive her for fucking someone else if she doesn't even admit that she's doing it?  Or even stop?

       I found some work; small jobs, never anything of real substance.  That work was long gone.  There were a few people with cash who needed things done.  Just not enough to amount to a regular living.

       I came back from visiting a potential job site to find that she had left.  Not everything she had was gone; just a lot of it.  Also Freddi. It was a tough next few days.  She had already ripped my heart out; now she had stomped that sucker flat.  The GPS log eventually showed her cars’ location as being at the usual Mint Hill address.

       After that I started monitoring her G-mail account.  I could have been doing that all along, but I hadn't.  It seemed even more like spying than monitoring her travel locations.  She exchanged e-mail with her new “roomy” only it didn't seem to be what I expected.  No romantic love notes, just primarily scheduling and housekeeping stuff. 

       I called several times; it rolled over to voice mail.  I e-mailed as well; no response.  I finally did get a response, one that puzzled me.  She was distraught over my rejection of her; that she hadn't been unfaithful; was I being unfaithful to her?  Was that why I had broken her heart by my accusations? 

       WTF??? She's living in another guy's house, had been staying with him overnight for months and couldn't understand my reaction?  Maybe it's a guy thing.  But unless I have a miraculous overnight gender transformation and wake up female, I don't think I'm going to figure this one out. **

       Carol drove to Mint Hill in tears.  She couldn't stand the rejection any longer.  Maybe getting away for a while would help.  Robert had graciously agreed to allow her the use of the guest bedroom for as long as she needed it.  He was even okay with her bringing Freddi.  He had warned her that he had his Rottweiler living with him full time now, he only “parked" him with friends when he had to be gone overnight.  Ralph was a good dog, extremely well trained.  He would introduce them when she arrived.

       Robert was standing in his driveway when she drove up.  When she had finished parking he opened the door for her and helped her out.

       “Hey, babe, I'm sorry all this came about,” he lied with a sympathetic expression. He held her in a brotherly style embrace while she cried and sagged into his shoulder.  “Let me help you.”

       “Thanks. I'm really beat.”  She replied.

       He started getting her things out of the car, Carol grabbed the cat carrier containing Freddi and the makeshift litter box fashioned from a cardboard box and garbage bag.  The transfer began.  Ralph was a nice dog, though Freddi didn't concur. Carol got settled into the room she was used to and sat down at the kitchen table to figure out what her next move was.

       “How can I help?”  Robert asked, joining her at the table.  He put a beer down in front of her and sat down with one for himself.

       “Thanks.  I don't know.”  She looked up at him.  “David's just been so...so distant.  He won't say anything.  I know he loves me...”  Tears formed and rolled down her cheeks.  Robert got up and found her a box of tissues.  Things were going even better than he had expected.  He had her living here now; possession is 9/10's of ownership.  Robert didn't push things.  He knew better than to try to shove his way into her heart.  She was lonely, though.  And he was gracious.  He wouldn't even use the GHB laced water for her CPAP machine for a while.  He wanted to use that sparingly.  He wanted to own her psyche, not just steal her pussy.

       "He thinks I've been unfaithful to him."  She said.

       "And you haven't."  He stated.

       "NO!  I haven't slept with anyone but him."  She exclaimed.  Robert mused over this one.  Technically, she was correct.  She hadn't "slept."  Been fucked, yes.  Unconsciously and undoubtedly.  He had enjoyed it, too.

       "Maybe he's been sleeping around on you and is trying to turn it around on you."  Robert offered. Carol looked stunned.

       "That's not an unusual situation.  Guy starts having an affair, then accuses his wife of doing the same thing.  It puts her on the defensive.  She doesn't suspect a thing."

       "Damn."  Was all she could say.  She stared out the window for a long while.  Then she looked at Robert.  Her eyes glared.

       "The son of a bitch.  SON OF A BITCH!."  Carol eyes began to water once more.  "I ...I can't...that's hard to believe. That...that just doesn't fit.  That's not him.  I don't think...I don't..."  She held her hands in her head and just wept silently.

Chapter 15

       

       ** I indulged myself that weekend; allowed my self discipline to slip and resorted to music and alcohol.  I'm not into country music, though that might seem appropriate for the occasion.  I turned to blues and old ballads: Clapton, Guy, B.B. King, Dave Mason, Amanda McBroom.  At one point even (blush) Streisand.  Bourbon, even very good bourbon, is a one way drink.  No returns.  Please.  It will also punish you for over indulgence.  It was not a pretty weekend. 

       By noon on Monday I was almost sober, almost awake, expecting to survive and remembering why I had stopped doing that years before.  Once in a while a refresher course is necessary to reinforce the determination.  Discipline, turn on!  While I had been "enjoying" the weekend I had also had the time and perspective to think a bit about constructive things.  I found that at some time I had started a list of things to do.  I added to the list "Stop getting drunk".  On the list I also found "security cameras."  That seemed like a good idea so I started researching.  For $250 I could get a system with 4 cameras and dvr, including a 500 gig hard drive; I could monitor it by computer or even telephone.  It would even send me an e-mail if it detected motion around my house.  Neat. 

       Another was: "who is that guy?"  I called my PI buddy to find out.  I explained the situation.  His reply:

       "I was wondering how long it would take."  His voice was quiet, supportive. "I did some checking a few weeks ago.  I started some contacts doing some quiet snooping.  This is not a nice guy."  He paused.  "You might want to come by and talk a few minutes."  So, off I went. 

       "He's from Connecticut. Family has money from the insurance business.  He doesn't have a record...because the family has money.  He does, however have a past.  The family was able to keep it quiet, but apparently he has been something of a predator.  Started in high school.  He likes to control people, especially women.  He's pretty smooth.  Things got out of hand for him when he discovered that people are easier to control if you can get them to take the right drugs."  Mark, the PI, opened a manila folder on his desk and turned it around for me to see.  A small head shot taken some years before was at the top of a sheet of personal information.

       "Apparently he had picked up a young woman who was predisposed to taking party drugs anyway.  He introduced her to his style of "custom pharmaceuticals".  They carried on for several months.  He's into the whips and chains thing, apparently so was she.  After a while, though, she began to see that the only thing in it for her was pain, sex and drugs.  Which, in the short run was fine.  When she wanted to be with her friends or family, go shopping, hang out with the girls...you know, normal stuff she might expect to do, he chains her up in a spare bedroom while he's out.  He claimed it was for her own protection...that she got crazy from the drugs on occasion and could be harmful to herself.  That part may have had an element of truth.  Of course, he was supplying the drugs that were making her crazy.  She didn't have money; and did have a history of doing stupid stuff while on drugs. With enough green lubrication and a promise for him to go far away everything sorta dissolved."  Mark paused, letting me digest this.  "He's not stupid.  Dangerous - absolutely.  There's no telling what his plans are for Carol, but I doubt that she has any clue about what's coming down the pike."  I looked at the notes in the folder, some faxes from his contacts up north.  There was a bio on him, including schools, awards, newspaper stories from his society exposure as a younger man.  I was impressed by how complete it was.

       "You've put a bunch of time and money into this.  I had no idea.  I don't know if I have the kind of money available to pay for this kind of investigation."  I said.

       "Well...actually not too much.  I have friends; they owed me a few favors.  Most of this is available online, you just have to know where to look.  I have to pay subscriptions to some of the outfits that provide the info, so the incremental costs aren't all that much.  I saw this coming from a long way off."  He mouth formed a small smile.  "It's not that different from what I went through, in some regards."  He looked out the window, then looked back.  "She thought I was fooling around with a client's wife. I wasn't, though could have.  Hell, anyone could have.  I think she was just looking for an excuse.  We had grown apart together." He looked wistfully out the window again.  "Anyway..." he looked at me, "Anyway, we've been shooting buddies, and former jarheads.  I thought that you'd be needing some help, maybe a friend who's got some experience on this road.  I figured you might appreciate a map of the potholes and bumps.  We'll figure something out."  Now my eyes began to fog up a bit.

       "Thanks....thanks.  You're right...this isn't a nice road so far and it looks like it's going to go to shit.  Now what?"  I asked.

       "That's for you to decide, of course.  I take it that you do want her back; if she'll come back?"  I nodded.  "It will likely take a while.  He may have changed his style; or she may actually enjoy his games.  At least for a while."  He said.

       "She's..." I thought for a moment. "She's the type that will go along with a lot, not one to try push her way into things.  But once she decides to do something...or not do something - then that red headed temperament comes out.  She doesn't have a short fuse, but will make a big boom when the fuse burns out."  He nodded. Then he said:

       "In the meantime, get your shit together.  There's no point just sitting around the house moping and choking the chicken.  Whether you want to get into the sack with anyone is up to you....but you better get out among people.  Get your life back.  'Cause if you dwell on this guy you'll end up going down there and wasting some ammo.  He's not worth it.  Whether she is or not remains to be seen, but it's much too expensive to find out."  He was right.

       "What about the GPS tracker?"  I asked.

       "By all means keep using it. Download the locations, file them with any notes and keep them in a secure area.  I guarantee that you'll need them some day."  He answered.  We stood up.

       "Thanks, Mark.  I owe you. Big time...and I mean BIG time."  We shook hands and I headed out the door.

       That evening I called some friends of ours that we knew well.  I told them a little about what had happened and they invited me over the following night.  They were a fun couple; we had been to Lake Jordan with them a few times, they shared a place up on Lake Gaston with another couple where we had visited with them as well.

       

       "Come in.  Come here."  Nanci met at the door and gave me a hug.  I returned the hug, placing my cheek against the top of her head.  Her husband, Mike, didn't mind; it wasn't anything but friendship.  After we broke the hug I shook his hand and he gave me a guy kind of hug, clapping me on the shoulder.

       "I think we need a drink."  He said.  I didn't argue.  He got me a beer and we went into the den.

       "Sit down.  Now...tell me what happened."  Nanci said.

       I told them the story, leaving out the GPS details as well as the information that Mark, the PI, had given me.  I simply said that I had solid evidence that she had been staying at the guy's house.  As a diversion I reminded them that I still had friends and family living in the area - quite true, of course.  I wondered if or when she might talk to them, if so, I wanted part of that to get back to her, but not all of the details. I had been friends with them longer than Carol had, but she was somewhat close to Nanci so it was possible that there could be some communication.  They also played in the local bondage scene, so I was curious whether or not they knew the guy.

       "Not by that name, no." Mike said.  "We might recognize him if we saw him; he could have been to a munch around here, but that's all.  There's no telling what his online name is.  He might be a member of Fetlife in Charlotte...probably is.  You might look on that site to see if he has an identifiable photo online." 

       "Fetlife?"  I asked.

       "Yep."  Nanci answered. "It's an interesting forum.  If you can find him there, you might be able to figure out his kinks." She grinned at me.  "You might be able to find someone who likes yours, too."

       "ME, kinky?"  I grinned back at her.  "I'm not kinky.  A little bent, maybe, but no kinks."  They laughed.  "Okay, no major kinks. I'm just a spectator."  Nanci looked away, then back.

       "Maybe that's the problem."  She offered.  I nodded, slowly.

       "Yeah.  I know.  We've discussed it.  She wants to play rougher and I do too.  It just makes bad chemistry when we've tried."  I said. I explained a little bit of the problem.

       "Practice. That's what you need. Confidence. Determination.  Mainly practice."  She laughed again.

       "Great.  I need practice whipping my wife.  Now that's a switch."  They groaned.  "I mean, some guys get into trouble FOR beating their wife.  Mine leaves me for NOT doing it."

       "Why don't you come with us to a local munch and meet a few people. It can't hurt."  Nanci said.        

       "Okay.  What's a munch?"  I asked.

       "It's just an informal get together of some kindred people.  Everyone is into bondage play, some more into the dominant and submissive lifestyle than others.  A few Master-slave couples might show up.  The one coming up is pretty small.  A larger meeting is scheduled for later.  This one actually will be as much as a planning get together as anything.  But you can meet people.  That might be a good thing."  She said. I nodded again, agreeing.

       "I've heard that before, lately.  Something to redirect my attention.  When is it and where?" I asked.

       "It's in two weeks.  Why don't you just come with us.  We can discuss it on the way there and see what you think on the way back."

       So we went to the munch.  Like she said, it was low key; lunch and an interesting afternoon with new friends I hadn't met yet. There were a few women I found to be more interesting than others.  I mentioned this to Nanci on the way home.

       "Which ones in particular?"  She asked.

       "Well...there is a brunette, I think her name is Barbara, and a blonde,  Allyson.  They were unattached.  They seemed to be friendly to me, too."  I answered.

       "Hmmm.  Barbara is a sub; she's been separated from her last master for several months.  I think she's starting to miss the action.  Why don't you ask her out?"  Nanci said.

       "I guess I've been out of the dating arena too long.  I didn’t get her phone number.  I don't even know where she lives."  I replied.

       "Okay.  So I'll invite both of you over to the house next Saturday night.  I'll check to see if she's interested and let you know.  How does that sound?" She asked.

       "Great!  If she can't make it, then maybe you could call Allyson?"  I asked.  She laughed.

       "Fine. I'll see who I can get.  I'll let her know you're interested in a little "practice" as well."  She giggled at that, too.

       So Barbara and I got together with Mike and Nanci.  And she was quite keen on helping me "practice".  Enough that she came over the next day and brought some of her toys.  Since I didn't really have a play room per se, just the cuffs and similar lighter duty toys that Carol and I had used, her collection was a lot more complete than mine.  And that was just the few she brought.  Since I didn't have a way to suspend her or even stretch her out that much, we jury rigged a door to work. 

       Barbara is smaller than Carol, though she also has nice boobs.  Her dark hair reaches to her shoulders, a pretty face with intense hazel eyes and long lashes.  While she is a submissive, she has no use for anyone to doesn't take charge and command respect.  As a novice I have a long way to go to become a master, but willingness is not a shortcoming.  She stripped down to her bikini panties and I attached her to the door, her back a fresh canvas for me to decorate. She suggested that I start out with a medium weight leather flogger first.

       "It's easy enough to get started with.  I'll show you a few things after you've had a chance to swing it a bit." She said.

       I started out pretty easy, not knowing how much force to use.

       "You can go harder than that."  She said after a half dozen strokes.  I picked up the velocity a bit, but after the next 6 she said,

       "Are you going to hit me or just tickle me all day? Ever heard of follow through?"  I stepped more behind her rather than beside her so that the lashes could carry past her and swung again.  With that I increased both my backswing and follow through.  Her back was starting to turn pink. After another 15 or so strokes she said:

       "I don't want to bring up a sore subject, but if that's all you've got, maybe I can see why you're alone."  I stopped for a moment and looked at her.  I was a bit peeved. She looked over her shoulder at me and grinned.

       "Pretend that you're hitting your soon to be ex-wife.  Like you're delivering a message."  She looked back toward the door and snickered.  I didn't allow myself the luxury of anger at the remark; I knew she was trying to get me a bit riled. I just considered what message I'd like to deliver to Carol.  This time I put my shoulder in it rather than just my arm. The next stroke caused her to rise up on her toes.  As did the following stroke that I delivered before she could ease back down on her feet. The third stroke make her gasp.  I waited for her to relax a bit before the next stroke.  That one made her hiss as well as rise.

       "Yeah, Baby! I think you've got it!"  She exclaimed.  The fact that she wasn't screaming and trying to tear the door off the hinges surprised me.  I gave her 20 more a little bit lighter than the hardest I'd given her, working down her ass to her thighs and back up. I still wasn't sure that I wasn't causing serious damage.  I stopped and waited for her breathing to slow down to normal.  She glistened from perspiration.

       "How was that?"  I asked.

       "That's what I was hoping for.  Now more just like that."  She said and turned around to face me.  I must have looked surprised (I was) because she grinned at me.

       "Don't stop now.  They won't break.  Just don't hit my face."  She said. 

       "Close your eyes."  I told her; she did.  I gave a smooth, fast swing across her belly, paused for a few seconds then followed with one a bit higher. The lashes were starting to get wet, which only enhanced the effect.

       "Hmmmm."  Was her response.  So I aimed across her boobs and gave her one a little harder than the first two.

       "SSSSS."  She hissed. "Like that. YES!"  She got three more like that.  She didn't say any more so I started a slow, steady rhythm, working down her front to her thighs again and finished with five across her boobs, then stopped.  She opened her eyes, but didn't seem to see me all that well.  It wasn't from tears, either. 

       "More?" I asked.  She nodded.  I gave her 10 more, a bit harder than the the last few, waiting several seconds between swings.  She closed her eyes again while I swung, breathing deeply and shuddering once. I quit and put down the flogger.  She was now hanging as much as standing so I took her off the door and helped her to recline on the couch.  She finally looked up at me, not really seeing me. 

       "I've missed that."  She said dreamily.  I admit, I was astonished.

       I moved to the kitchen to find us a beverage; by the time I returned she was curled up under a throw, eyes half open, a slight smile on her face.  I sat on the coffee table and watched her.  Slowly she returned to this universe.  She shifted to sit up a bit and I offered her a glass of iced tea. She sat up straighter and took the glass.

       "You may have some potential after all."  She said and smiled. "Now you just need to work on your technique.  Ever use a crop?  Or a cane?"  I just shook my head. "You can learn.  You can practice on me."  Her smile widened.  I would, indeed, practice on her if she wanted me too.  I just had to get my head wrapped around what I was doing.

       "You're alright?"

       "Fine.  Never better.  Actually a lot better than an hour ago.  Endorphins are addictive, you know."

       "I know that adrenaline is addictive.  I've never tried endorphins, at least like that.  I may pass on this one.  I'll help you get your fix, though."  She winked at me.

       "You might have something else to fix as well."

         That was the first of many interesting afternoons and evenings we had.  **

Chapter 16

       Carol settled into life in Mint Hill.  When going back to the office she stayed in a local hotel; that had a strange feeling, staying in a hotel when her real home was just a few miles away.  Bondage and whipping sessions changed to weekends, more intense since she didn't have to worry about a husband seeing marks.  She still had to be able to function and besides, she wasn't a true masochist.  Being striped almost to bleeding wasn't her idea of fun.  Light marks and reddened skin, however were enough to get her turned on.  Predictably, the battery powered friends became insufficient.  After a month of intense b&d sessions followed by celibacy interrupted only by fingers and toys, Carol was wound tight as a drum.  One notable Saturday night after a long evening of whip tickling, switching and light caning spiced with endorphins and a custom variation of drugs added to the water bottle that Robert had held to her lips, Carol succumbed to the total effects. 

       

       Robert fastened her wrists in suspension cuffs attached to the end of a 4 ft long trapeze bar hanging from the floor joists above.  Her ankles her attached to a long spreader bar, forcing her to rise up onto the balls of her feet. The combination insured that she would be quite stretched.  She was nude, her lovely breasts, flattened from the stretch, rising and falling slightly with her breathing.  Robert held a bottle of “energy water” to her lips.

       “I don't want you to get dehydrated tonight.” He said. “I'm going to see just how big a puddle you can make tonight.”  She blushed at that.

       “I can't help it!”  She replied, looking embarrassed.

       “I know...that's why I'm going to encourage it...to see how much you can drip.  I want the whole basement to smell like your pussy within an hour.”

       The water included a cocktail of his own devise; hydrocodone, mmda, caffeine. He wanted her to be awake, slightly numbed and horny as hell.  He planned to have some fun that ordinarily she might find too painful.  The cocktail would help him achieve his ends.  He was glad now that he had had the opportunity to practice on that cunt back in Connecticut.  She enjoyed being his guinea pig and he was happy to experiment on her. Until her shopping addiction kicked in.  Slut.

       He started on her back, using a 2 ft long dog whip with a double split end.  He swept it back and forth, painting pink lines from her shoulders to the middle of her thighs. He took his time, being gentle until the cocktail kicked in.  The pink lines merged into a solid pink palette with a few darker stripes mixed in.  He exchanged the whip for a thin cane and added to the stripes.  Robert like the swishing of the cane; the sharp “snick” as it made contact. The stripes started at the top of her butt and laddered down her ass cheeks.  As he reached the underside of her cheeks he measured his strokes carefully.  This was a tender spot; he wanted to savor the target, watching as the flesh indented, her legs twitching as the impact registered on her brain.  The hidden video camera, mounted just above floor level, was feeding the image back to his hard drive; he could enjoy this evening many, many more nights to come.

       He moved to her front, the camera hidden between the floor joists focused on her breasts.  He began painting again, this time using a light flogger.  He started at her armpits, wind milling the strands around, being careful to avoid most of her breasts.  The pink glow spread down to the middle of her thighs, completely covering her creamy skin. Her breasts and pussy stood out untouched, looking like she had lain too long in the sun wearing a very skimpy bikini.  Next came what looked like a skinny chop stick, flexible enough to bend back and snap forward on the smooth white flesh of her breasts. By now the cocktail was in full bloom.  Her body was glistening with perspiration, drool from her pussy hung in strings stretching almost to her knees.  Several puddles were forming into a small pool on the floor; the thick, glistening goo dripping slowly from the spreader bar.  He gave her another drink, this time just water.  He didn't want her completely stoned, just intensely buzzed. 

       Robert stopped his assault on her breasts and sucked on her right nipple.  She sucked air through her teeth.

       “MMMmmph.”  She gasped.  She watched him; he looked into her eyes as he carefully chewed on the nipple.  His teeth tugged at the nub, the stretched flesh fighting his efforts.  He moved to the other one, his eyes never leaving hers, grinning as his mouth left the right one and captured the left one. He finished teasing her and picked up a pair of nipple clamps.  She gasped again as the clamps pinched the swollen nipples.

       He stepped back and looked her over, walking around, surveying the results of his efforts thus far.  He returned to her front and stepped close.  His hand cupped her pussy, gathering a palmful of her juice.  He spread it around her pussy, then bending slightly, rubbed it up the crack of her ass and across her ass cheeks.  He spread the rest across her lower belly and upper thighs.  The basement was indeed full of her aroma.

       Robert knelt before her, looking up into her eyes.  She watched as he extended his tongue and flicked twice very gently across her clit.  She jerked, the sensation feeling like an electric shock.

       “Oh! Oh!” Was all she could manage.  He licked up her labia, one side then the other.  His tongue dipped lower, spreading her lips even farther apart, tugging at the flesh with his teeth, pulling her pussy open and releasing another waterfall of her juice. He picked up a large vibrator, turned it on low and slowly introduced it to her opening.  It slipped in without resistance, even though its' girth was substantial.  She felt like she could accommodate a horse, in fact she  would welcome one.

       He only gave her a few minutes of teasing; then he put it down and picked up the flogger once more.  He wind milled the flogger all over her pussy and then stepped behind her and attacked her ass crack.  He returned to her front, grabbed her head and kissed her deeply.  His tongue filled her mouth.  She thought he was trying to reach her tonsils; she hoped he would.

       Robert released her and helped her down from the trapeze.  He guided her to a covered and well padded bondage table as large as a double bed.  He kissed her gently and massaged a reddened and swollen breast.  She returned the kiss, the effects of all the stimulation generating a volcano starting its' eruption between her legs.  Robert slipped his hand down to her soaking cunt, massaging the copious fluid emissions around her thighs and across her pussy.  She arched up to his hand and wrapped her arms around his back.  This was the moment Robert had planned and prepared for. 

       Carol turned toward him, lifting her leg and drawing her knee up to allow complete access to her pussy and ass.  His fingers explored her wetness, stirring the juices, stretching her labia and pulling the hood back from her engorged clit.  He rubbed her asshole, and slipped first one, then two fingers in up to the second knuckle, his thumb stirring her juicy hole.  Carol squirmed and writhed, trembling as the volcano continued to erupt, her personal lava running down her crack to the fabric beneath them.  Robert pulled his only garment - bikini shorts - off, and dropped them to the floor.  He knelt above, presenting his cock to her mouth while pressing the heel of his hand down above her mons, fingers gliding around but not touching her flaming hot clit.

       Her mouth engulfed him, he threw his head back, and galaxies swirled across his closed eyelids.  She licked the head of his cock then sealed her lips around the shaft and sucked him hard and deep into her mouth.  He moaned; intelligible sound unavailable to his brain or lips.  She continued her oral massage, withdrawing and re-plunging his tool down to her gagging point.  Her mind was lost in the sensations of his fingers maddeningly teasing her clit and her tongue enjoying his texture and taste.  She had never taken illegal drugs; this was as close to a perfect introduction as could be experienced.  The pleasure from her body added to the pleasure from the drug sent her to a universe she had no idea even existed.  The irony of the effects of the MMDA was that while it enhanced the libido, acting as an aphrodisiac, it also delayed the orgasm, making that final release an elusive goal that kept slipping beyond reach.  Robert couldn't know exactly how stimulation much was required to get her over the edge.  He had sampled the drug as well, one of his favorite paths to pleasure, so he knew that he would require more stimulation than if he were straight.  He was already getting far more stimulation than was required to get him off normally.  Even the drug wasn't going to slow the first time that much.  After a few more minutes he grasped her head and forced himself deeper into her mouth, his pulsing cock blasting his cum into her throat.  He ignored her struggles to breath, that wasn't his concern at that point.  Finally he released her and she was able to get a few breaths around his cock. He didn't move away; he continued to hold her head, though without as much force.  She relaxed and the fog from the drug seemed to cause the memory of suffocation to slip to another part of her brain. Robert began lightly massaging and pinching a nipple, this brought her attention back to the cock in her mouth.  She lathed the flesh with her tongue, slipping the softened, though not completely deflated cock, as far into her mouth as was comfortable.

       Robert turned around, putting his knees on either side of her head and knelt to capture her clit with his lips.  He sucked the swollen nub with his lips and enveloped as much of her as he could with his mouth.  She arched up to deliver more of herself to him.  His mouth became her path to the grail of her climax.  When he slipped his hand around her hip and pushed two fingers into her anus, her volcano exploded.  Mount St. Helens was a just mild disturbance compared to the nova that burst in her mind and body.  Her mind sailed the void between galaxies, her body floated on a cloud of vibrating energy.

       Robert stroked her face gently, grinning as she lay unconscious.  "BINGO!"  He thought to himself.  She had taken the bait, he had hooked her firmly.  Now he had to gently play his line and reel her in.  He had to careful, he didn't have the resources behind him this time.  His father had all but disowned him after the last fiasco.  A lot of money and personal favors were burned to get him out of trouble.  DUI or possession could be understood and swept away, but illegal imprisonment of a female along with forced sodomy tended to get people's nose out of joint.  He couldn't afford another slip up.

Chapter 17

       

       ** I continued to track Carol's movements by GPS, they stayed consistent with her normal work schedule.  I did some house cleaning; a small bedroom used for storage became a playroom.  Items that I thought Carol may want sometime went into boxes stored in the "barn" I had built as a shop and storage shed, as did some things I didn't want to discard.  A few trips to the landfill and local thrift shops took care of a bunch of stuff I had wanted to get rid of for a while anyway.  There was room for a vertical X frame, a suspension frame, spanking bench and a bondage bed.  I know how to build properly; they were all very substantial and not unattractive.  A wall cabinet hid the striking instruments and a spare chest of drawers the cuffs and other gear.  Most of the supplies came from material I had saved from completed jobs; Barbara contributed to the toy collection. A hammock style swing hung from the suspension frame.  Life wasn't great, but it was improving. 

       After few weeks I began to receive photos by e-mail.  The sender used an unidentifiable name and non-traceable web based e-mail server.  The photos were of Carol.  Her face was never shown, but her hair and body I would recognize anywhere.  She was always bound; face turned away or hidden by a hood.  At first she was clothed, at least tee shirt and shorts or panties.  Reddened skin and wet clothing indicated the photos were taken during or after a play session.  I saved them, though it wouldn't be easy to prove that they were her.  I got just a few pix per week.  I continued to check her e-mail, but nothing indicating any photos was ever mentioned.  Perhaps she was unaware of them.  After another month the female subject was nude.  It had to be Carol, but still her face wasn't visible. 

       Barbara continued to visit.  I still wasn't close to being considered a "Master"; I didn't know if I wanted the responsibility of maintaining a full time sub.  I was her master when she came over and for weekends on occasion.  It seemed to be enough for her for the time being.  I found out that I was quite fortunate to find someone patient enough to help me learn without becoming frustrated by my inexperience. I pretended that I was a drill instructor and that she was a new recruit; it seemed to work.  Not all DI's are sadistic bastards (at least, that's what I have heard; you couldn't prove it by me) but my imitation was good enough.

       The flogger and short carriage whip were her favorites, she didn't like the cane often but it added a different spice.  I spent far more time online "researching" BDSM activities and viewing forums. My latent interest came out and Barbara was only too happy to invigorate my development.  Her hunger for harsh play increased, apparently her addiction to endorphins had only grown.

       Inverted suspension became a favored position.  So on a Saturday afternoon I hung her from the frame and spread her legs far enough apart to stretch her crotch; this increased the strain on her thigh and calf muscles.  With her wrists manacled to her waist and dental blocks stretching her jaw against a leather hood tethered to the bottom of the frame, her pussy made a fetching target.  I first teased it lightly with a mini-flogger style pussy whip then moved up to a light whippy switch.  Once the labia started glowing pink, alligator clips with dull teeth clipped to each lip and connected around her legs by elastic cord revealed her saturated core.  This also served to make her clit stand up, straining out of its' hood.  Her hungry hole received a heavy dildo that bore down on her cervix.   A butt plug and a magic wand suspended to barely touch her clit completed that portion of her torment.

       I then sat down on a stool and used a short buggy whip with suede ends to flick across her belly and breasts.  Every few minutes I would roll forward and slide my cock into her convenient mouth, then return to painting her body with the whip.  I worked around to her back, standing to include her thighs, ass and belly just below her pussy.  Then back to her mouth.  I added rubber bands to the base of each breast, and traded the buggy whip for a single tail with a thin, stiff end. This left an interesting pattern of marks on the pink background.  After the breasts became swollen, angry red balls, it became time for the thin fiberglass cane.  She had twitched and twisted around up to that point, but when the cane made contact for the first time I could tell it was having a serious effect.  The frame was rigid enough for me to do pull-ups (I used it for this) without it moving.  Her jerks made it squeak!  Six strokes on each side were enough.  I then stood and started aiming for the inside of her thighs.  From the middle of her thigh I worked around each leg, moving down to the junction. I removed the wand to have a better shot at her clit.  I tapped the labia, trapping each against the dildo still pressing against her cervix.  I pinched her clit between my thumb and forefinger, tugging it away from its’ hood.  She has a delightfully prominent clit; when she becomes extremely aroused it stands out, pink and demanding.  I kissed it lightly, teasing, not allowing her to approach release. I flicked it with my finger, from one side to the other, aggravating it. After a few minutes it looked angry.  I blew across it, she trembled.

       I took her down and bent her over the spanking bench.  Her ankles were clipped to the legs of the bench, hood tethered down as well.  Her pussy was now empty but I left the clips stretching her labia apart.  As her pussy dripped a puddle onto the floor I removed her butt plug and replaced it with my cock.   Unfortunately it didn't take me long enough to finish.  I freed her from the bench and removed the hood and dental blocks.  Then I tossed her up on the bed, wrists still attached to her waist belt and attacked her clit with my tongue.  She came quicker than I had.

       We were sharing lust, certainly not love.  We made no promises, had no illusions.  We became close, of course.  I wasn’t yet ready to abandon all hope, though hope was fading **

Chapter 18

       Robert continued his program of occasional surreptitious drug administration.  He didn't need to dose her CPAP machine anymore, she had moved into his bedroom.  Ralph accepted Freddi, Freddi continued to decline the friendship.  Ralph was a neutered male, trained for personal and property protection.  He had a friendly temperament as long as he perceived that Robert wasn't in any danger.  Soon Carol was added to his list of protected individuals.  That made it necessary to keep him restrained during play time. If Robert "encouraged" Carol to kneel in front of him, sucking his cock with her hands cuffed behind her while he watched tv, Ralph became distraught. The back yard with a privacy fence then became his domain.

       Robert began suggesting to Carol that she consider a divorce.  After all, things weren't likely to improve with her now destroyed marriage.  She had begun opening herself to him and their relationship had started to replace her previous one.  Carol resisted for a while, then relented and called an attorney.  Robert decided that it was time to push a bit toward his goal.

       Robert wanted a slave; actually he wanted more than one, but he knew that acquiring one at a time would probably be the prudent course.  He also realized that he had to be careful in how he administered his "custom pharmaceuticals". Both of them were subject to unannounced drug tests; it was unlikely that one would be required unless some unusual behavior triggered it, plus he had been told that the designer drugs he was using wouldn't show up on a drug panel.  The metabolites they left behind weren't common enough for any tests to have been designed to catch them; but who trusted a drug dealer anyway?  On rare occasion he might burn a joint on the patio behind the privacy fence, but not in the house. He wanted to keep Carol in the dark about all of that.  He had few friends over; for that matter he had few friends.  He actually preferred his own company unless he was with Carol.  She was pleasant company and a great fuck.  He continually marveled at how well things had gone.

       His next idea seemed great at the time; implementation, not so good. 

       

       He had been teasing her back, ass and boobs with a soft flogger, her heat rising from her loins and breasts to her brain. He moved up against her, holding her body close.

       “I want to own you.”  He said. Her brain, stewing in her own endorphins and the small amount of drugs he had slipped her, foggily considered it.

       “I though you did already.” She replied.  “I sure can't get away.”  She tugged on the restraints to demonstrate.

       “I mean all the time.  I want you to wear some proof of it.”  Her eyes opened wide.

       “What do you mean?” She asked.

       “Have you ever read 'The Story of O'?” He asked.  She shook her head.

       “O submitted to her lover Stephen.  He branded her.”  This made her pull at the restraints even harder.

       “NO!  NO!”  She started twisting and squirming, trying to escape, but to no avail.

       “SHHH.  Calm down!”  He said into her ear, holding her firm.  “I didn't mean I wanted to brand you (though he really did want to.) But I do want you to  wear a symbol of our relationship.”

       “I won't wear a collar, I can't.  And I'm not your slave.”  Carol had calmed a bit, her mind had cleared slightly.

       “Okay.  But I am your Master, at least down here, aren't I?”  He asked her.

She considered this.

       “Kind of.  But only when we're playing games.  I'm not anybody's property.”

       “Well...how about a small tattoo...someplace that's not usually seen but that I can see.”

       “NOT my pussy.  Or my breasts.”  She declared. “I don't really like tattoos.”

       “I was thinking about the small of your back.  Just below the belt line.”

       “You mean a 'tramp stamp'?”  She asked.

       “No...not exactly that; but in that area, yeah.”  He started fondling her breast, pinching her nipple, tugging gently.  He continued his affections, exploring her body, arousing her then retreating.  He teased her clit with his tongue and teeth, rubbing and pressing at her asshole.  After what seemed like hours he shoved her over her edge.  As she hung in the cuffs, legs limp and shaking, he held her close again and whispered into her ear

       “Now, are you mine?”  She just moaned quietly and nodded.

       

        She wasn't especially keen on the idea, but in the heat of the moment, she had acquiesced.  He made the arrangements and on a Saturday afternoon after he had slipped her a little something to keep her subdued and manipulable, they visited a local shop. 

       Tattoo artists frequently get a bad rap in literature; it's only in the past 10 years or so that they have really become mainstream.  They are, however, like any other group of people, and every group has a least a few shady characters.  The one Robert selected ran a decent shop...it's just that he could be bought off.  They had decided on a small design to be drawn on the bottom of her back, just above her ass crack.  The typical “tramp stamp” location.  That was exactly what Robert intended for it to be.  The design was tasteful and a medium blue was selected.  A true “Carolina Blue” was a little too light but a darker “Duke Blue” was absolutely ruled out by Carol. It would be visible without screaming “look at me!” The location made it impossible for her to see it until it was finished and she could use a mirror; Robert hoped that the drug he had slipped her would be enough to keep her from getting too excited when she saw the result.  The small, neat script read “slut wife”.  Once she had read it Robert wished that he had just rendered her unconscious and carried her in.  She fumed all the way back to the house.  After the drugs wore off she was really pissed.

       “Look, I'll have him change it, okay?”  Robert offered.  He was as contrite as he could stand to be. “It needs to heal first, then we can have it changed.  If you want, it can be removed.  I'm sorry.  I don't know what I was thinking.”  That too, was a lie.

       “WHY?!!!  WHY did you tell him to do this?”  Carol screamed at him.  Okay, we're not married yet...I'm not divorced yet, but I'M NOT A SLUT!”

       For the next weeks she returned to sleeping in the other room, alone except for the cat. That night she wondered about the afternoon.  The memory was hazy, not sharp at all.  The tattoo experience was something completely new to her, how could she not remember it with laser sharp clarity.  She didn't really like tattoos.  How could she have agreed to this at all? She realized that something wasn't right.

       Freddi was another sore point between them.  Robert was a bit of a hypocrite.  He loved pussy, but didn't like cats.  He especially didn't like the smell of a dirty litter box – nobody does, not even cats – plus stepping on scattered litter with his bare feet made his skin crawl.  He frequently suggested that Freddi could be an inside/outside cat.  Carol had nothing to do with that.  Freddi had no front claws (we had discovered that one could have either cats or things, but not both.  Removing the front claws delayed the destruction of favored things for a while) and so couldn't defend himself.  Plus there were fleas and ticks and Feline Leukemia...no.  Absolutely not.  So when Carol started sleeping alone, Robert started to get edgy.

       Eventually things started to get back on track and the play time in the basement resumed.  But Carol wasn't quite the same as before.  She still enjoyed it but she had cooled toward Robert.

Chapter 19

       ** When FedEx dropped off the package I wasn't shocked, but still sorely disappointed.  The package bore the return address of a notable, almost notorious attorney in Charlotte.  He was famous both for his long blonde ponytail was well as the size of awards he secured for his clients.  He was also well known for being charming in front of a jury and an arrogant sob outside of court. That was okay.  I also knew an excellent attorney in Charlotte who was just as successful, if not more so.  I also had the GPS logs and the photos.  Things got even better when the anonymous e-mailer sent me a set of pix that showed her strapped to an X frame plus one with her strapped to a bench, the tattoo clearly showing. 

       “Gotcha!” I thought.  That would be an identifiable item.  There would be no way to deny that one.  I sent an e-mail to her work address titled “tattoo”.  The only message was “nice tat.”  Her response was terse and succinct:

       “Fuck you.”   I replied:

       “Yes. You have.”

       After I received the package (but before sending the e-mail about the tat) I checked the GPS on a Friday to make sure she was at the office.  Orstine maintains a secure campus, just like all of the pharmaceutical companies in the area, but the windshield decal got me past the security guards at the main gate.  Getting into the office was a different matter.  The receptionist informed me she was in a meeting. Of course.

       “I'll wait.”  I replied.

       “She says she will be in meetings all day.” The receptionist informed me.  I wasn't shocked by that, either.

       Barbara came over that night.  It was a good thing she was ready for an intense evening, because she got one.**

Chapter 20

       Carol had been thinking a lot about what had gone on over the last many months; it was over a year since she had gone to Orlando.  The trip to San Francisco had been fun, but she declined to go to any of the “exotic” places that Robert had suggested.  She didn't really trust him that much any more and certainly wasn't going to be put in a position where her tattoo could be seen.  That wasn't what she had told him, but certainly was the fact.  Her refusal to join him in visiting some of the most diverse scene establishments in the country kept him in a foul mood even after they had returned. 

       By happenstance, one Friday while she was in Raleigh she ran into Nanci at a shop they frequented.  Nanci was aware of the divorce proceedings and knew that they were being stalled for some reason.  They spoke briefly about things and then Nanci revealed that she had heard about the pending divorce.  Carol paused to reflect, then asked:

       “Do you know how long he was cheating on me before I left?”  This was a preemptive strike to establish her justification for leaving.

       “Cheating?”  Nanci was incredulous.  “He never cheated that I know of.  He said that he found out that you were spending nights with some guy in Mint Hill.  He wasn't cheating.  He thought you were.  He's from Charlotte...still has friends and of course family there.  Apparently someone saw you.  From what he said he got regular reports when you were there.”  Nanci saw Carol go pale, her knees almost buckling.  She steadied herself on a counter and stared at Nanci then looked away, blushing.

       Carol was stunned.  HE KNEW!  That's why he had acted the way he did!  Why didn't he say anything?  She could have told him...what?  What COULD she have told him?  If someone saw her car at Robert's house in the evening and the following morning, or saw her driving in the area, what could she say that he would believe?  Now what? 

       “Nanci...I was staying with a friend.  But I wasn't sleeping with him.  Just staying at his house.  He works for Orstine, too.  I…” She saw skepticism in Nanci's eyes.

       “Perhaps if you had mentioned it and explained things earlier, things would have gone better.” Nanci said quietly.  “From his perceptive it sounded like you were having an affair.  And it almost destroyed him.  It was nice to see you.  I need to get back to work.  Call me, okay?”  And she left Carol leaning against the counter. 

       What could she do now?  She had started divorce proceedings, was living with someone she didn't love, at least not yet, and after the tattoo incident probably never could.  He had been acting odd since the trip to San Francisco, could he be doing things she should know about, but didn't?

       Her suspicions were confirmed when she came back early the following week, knowing he would still be out of town.  She searched the house, finally going through the bedroom.  Her search was rewarded when she pulled out the drawer second from the bottom in the bureau. There, sitting on the dust panel in the dead space behind the drawer she found several zip lock bags and two injection vials.  The bags were identified with a marker, one being “mmda +”, others with different letters and street names, including one marked “Roofies”.  The vials were imported versions of GHB without prescription labels. There was also a bag with syringes.  Syringes were so commonplace these days she wondered why he had hidden them.  They were useful for so many different things besides drugs.  Then she realized that she had never seen one anyplace in this house.  Perhaps he was paranoid about having any kind of syringe that could be mistaken for what he actually used them for.

       Now she was both mad and scared. What else had he done?  She put everything back exactly as she had found it and went into his home office.  He left the computer on, but it had timed out and needed a log-in.  She thought a few minutes and tried several passwords.  No luck.  30 Minutes later she was getting frustrated when she finally hit the jackpot.

       Rather than try to simply look through the directory she did a search on Carol.  Nothing of any consequence came up.  Then she tried .jpg.  Again, success. A series of folders buried deep inside a nondescript file revealed a folder labeled “cunt”.

       “Hmmmpf! That's real respectful.”  She thought.  Multiple folders labeled by date revealed photos taken of her in the dungeon.  Some were categorized under “sent”. 

       “Sent?  To whom?”  Then she remembered the e-mail from David and she went cold.  “Had these been sent to him?  Is this how he found out about the tattoo?”  Sure enough, a series of photos showing her tattoo was included.  But what really made her blood freeze was the series of video files.  She opened them up and discovered the first videos taken by the hidden cameras in the spare bedroom.  She watched herself as she writhed on the bed, covers hiding her body as she worked her vibrator against and into her pussy.  The one showing the first time he had fucked her while she was drugged really pissed her off.  He had removed the humidifier tank from the CPAP machine and taken it away, then returned and reinstalled it.  Then she watched as he brutally fucked her, cringing as he plunged and banged at her crotch.  She remembered the following morning that she had felt sore and abused but couldn't understand why.  The vials in the drawer suddenly made more sense. She started to panic, then forced herself to calm down. 

       “How many times had he drugged her?  What combinations had he used?  What had he used the day she got the tattoo?”  Many questions ran through her mind, all serving to increase her anger.  Finally she had had enough...too much, really.  But what was she going to do?  She went into the spare bedroom and looked around then up at the ceiling since the video perspective was from there.  The smoke detector!  She pulled the cover off to reveal not a smoke detector but a false cover over a small camera.  “Son of a BITCH!”  Now she needed a plan.  She put the cover back on the fake smoke detector and went into the den to think about what she would do next.

       She could go back home. She would have to explain everything.  Her explanations would be a LOT harder now than ever.  She had shacked up with a guy who turned out to be a controlling, drugging pervert. Granted, some of the things he did she really enjoyed.  But he was too dangerous to stay with for any length of time.  He didn't know that she had found him out, so she had a little time to decide what to do.  But she certainly wasn't going to let him touch her ever again.

       Robert knew something was seriously wrong as soon as he came into the house.  It wasn't anything she said.  In fact she hardly said anything.  No hug or kiss when he came in.  She didn't yell or even glare at him.  But she was certainly cool.  She was up early and went to the RTP office, then returned late in the evening.  He was even more suspicious when she slept in the other bedroom again.  She had just returned to his room the weekend before.  Now she was gone again.  It was enough to piss him off.

       “What's the matter?”  He had asked.  “What's wrong?  Did I say something?  Forget to put the toilet seat down?”  That was a pointed remark, because he didn't put the toilet seat down when he finished.  It was his house, damn it.  His toilet.  He was in control of things around there (he mistakenly thought,) he would leave it up if he chose to.  She did glare at him then.

       “Nothing's wrong.” She said.  The way she said it belied her words.                

       It was mid morning Saturday and he was looking forward to a fun afternoon.  But if she had an attitude, then that would screw up his plans.  It wasn't time for her period, so what the fuck was going on?  Maybe he could manage to slip her something to calm her down.  He really needed to whip her into a frenzy and fuck her silly.  He decided to slip out to the store; his beer inventory was low so that was a good excuse.  He needed to come up with a scenario.

       Carol was careful not to let him get close to anything that she might consume.  She drank only from a bottle that she had opened and never put it down, or water that she drew from the tap.  The afternoon was nothing like what Robert had planned.  As the afternoon became evening, Robert's attitude grew darker.  Freddi made the mistake of getting under his feet as he made his way to the kitchen to get another cold one. He picked the cat up and strode to door.  He opened it and flung him out onto the porch.  Ralph was startled by the sudden                     action, jumping up from his nap on the porch.

       “Get him!”  Robert growled at Ralph.  What Robert expected was for Ralph to chase Freddi across the yard.  But Ralph was quicker than he thought.  Ralph grabbed Freddi in his mouth as the cat ran by and began to shake him.

       “NO! NO!” Carol screamed as she ran for the door.  She got to the door

in time to hear the cat's shriek then the responding growl from Ralph.  She saw  Ralph's large head sling the cat around, then dropped him.  Ralph cocked his head and nudged Freddi as if he was wondering why the cat didn't get up and play. 

       “NO!” This time it was a wail.  Carol rushed out, fell to her knees and picked up the limp body.  Ralph had canceled all nine of his lives at once.  She knelt there, rocking back and forth, cradling the cat and sobbing.  Robert realized that he had, in fact, fucked up again.  Big Time.

       Carol had fled back to the bedroom, sobbing, the cooling body cradled in her arms.  Robert could hear her sobs and wails.  He waited until she quieted down and gently knocked on the door.

       “Carol?”  He asked.

       “GET THE FUCK AWAY!”  She screamed.  “LEAVE ME ALONE YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Robert slipped away without making a sound, realizing again that he had royally screwed up.  When he got up the next day, the door was still closed.  He knocked, but got no answer.  He looked around the house, even downstairs, but didn't find her.  He returned to the bedroom and opened the door.

       “Carol?”  He asked again, to no reply. Carol was gone.

       Her return trip was even more traumatic than when she had come to Mint Hill.  She was beginning to hate this trip.  She drove back toward Raleigh slowly, stopping several times to think and to cry.  Now what?  She didn't know what to say, how to say it.  Finally she found herself driving up the driveway, not remembering the trip at all.  She got out of the car and walked to the door.  Oddly, it was locked.  She inserted her key, but it didn't work. Confused, she pressed the doorbell button.

Chapter 21

       ** I was enjoying the feel of Barbara's body, her cunt delightfully squeezing my cock when the doorbell rang.

       “Shit!”  Was all I could manage. “Who the fuck is that?”  I said.  I pulled on my underwear and a pair of jeans.  Barefooted I walked to the front door; no one was there.  The bell rang again, so I went to the back door.  Carol was standing there, tears running down her cheeks, eyes red.

       I opened the door.

       “Carol...” I started.  She looked at me and stepped toward me

       “Freddi's dead.  He k…killed him.”  She sobbed.  She looked pitiful, the first impulse I had was to hug her.  I stepped to do that, then stopped.  Things had changed.  She seemed confused by my not hugging her closely.

       “Come sit down.”  I took her hand and led her to the living room.  She looked around for her favorite chair.  I had rearranged the furniture, replaced some pieces to reflect my new life.  I led her over to her chair and she sat.  I sat down on the couch a few feet away.

       “What happened?”  I asked.  She started to answer, but a movement caught her eye.  She stared as Barbara, now wearing one of my shirts and nothing else as she walked into the room.  At least it was buttoned.  Barbara sat down next to me, her shoulder against mine.

       “This is Barbara.”  I motioned towards the brunette. “Barbara, this is Carol...my wife.”  As you might expect, I felt a bit awkward.

       “I'm sorry...I didn't know...I'll leave.”  Carol said and started to get up.

       “Stay.  Tell me what happened.” She looked uncomfortable, so was I;  Barbara, however, seemed cool. Carol looked at Barbara, then at me.  She looked down at her hands.  She looked up at me, her eyes glistened again.

       “Robert...the guy I've been...staying with...he sicced his dog on Freddi.  He killed him.” She had a hard time getting it out.  My eyes fogged up. I really did like the silly fellow.

       “When?”  I asked. 

       “Last night. It was all I could stand.  More than I could stand.”  She pursed her lips together. “I had to come here. I don't have anywhere else to go. I didn't mean to interrupt your life.”  She looked down again then back. “I've done enough of that already.”  I didn't say anything, just let her go on.  She looked at Barbara then at me.

       “I'm sorry.  I fucked up.  I...I was selfish.  I...wanted...”  She looked away then down at her hands again.  Tears fell on her fingers.  Her shoulders heaved and she sobbed.  I looked at Barbara and she nodded at Carol then pushed me gently toward her.  I moved over next to Carol's chair and put my arm around her shoulders.  She leaned against me for moment then leaned away.  She looked up at me, blinking her tears away.

       “I guess you've moved on.  I can't...blame you.”  She sniffed.  “I don't know why I thought you might be waiting for me.  I don't deserve you.”  Her eyes couldn't hold to mine, she looked down again.

       “Yeah...things are...different.”  I paused, then continued.  “This is still your home.  Legally, nothings changed.”  When I said that she stiffened a bit.

       “I'm sorry.  I thought you might...”  She stopped.  “No.  I didn't think you were cheating.  That's what Robert suggested.  Nanci told me that you knew I was spending the night at Robert's house.  When you stopped sleeping with me I didn't know what to think.  You didn't say anything; I hadn't told you.  I wasn't sleeping with him; not then.  I started to later...”  her voice trailed off.  “We were just playing games, he would tie me up.  It was different with him.  But he never touched me.  I shouldn't have.  I should have told you.  I didn't know how.  I'm so sorry.”  She held her face in her hands and cried some more.

       I got up and got us all some iced tea.  I needed to think, I needed to move around.  “Now what?”  was all I could I ask myself.  The skin on the back of my head between my ears felt too small, for some reason.  A slight pain throbbed over my right eye.

       We talked a bit, Barbara not saying anything.  After a while Barbara must have felt cool wearing just my shirt.  She got up and got dressed and brought me a light sweatshirt.  She bent down and kissed my cheek.

       “I'm going to go home.  I'm in the way right now, give me a call, okay?” She moved toward the door.  I grabbed her hand and held it.  She stopped for a second, looking into my eyes, then gently pulled her hand free and smiled at me.         “It's okay.  I'm just giving y'all some space.” She left.

       After Barbara had driven off Carol asked:

       “She's not living here?”  I shook my head.

       “Stays weekends, occasionally.  Some weeknights.  She's my...my play partner.”

       Carol looked puzzled. I stood up and offered her my hand; she rose and followed me.  I led her to the bedroom, now playroom.  She gasped when she saw the transformation.

       “Oh...shit.” She said.  She looked around at the furniture.  She opened the cabinet, then closed it, then did the same with the bureau. Carol looked up at me, her eyes narrowed slightly.

       “You've changed, haven't you?”  I nodded.

       “It was a timely co-incidence.  I met Barbara; she's into the scene.  She's been teaching me.”  I told her.

       “Who's swinging the whip?  You?  Or her?”  She asked.  I grinned.

       “Me.  I'm not the receiving type...at least not at the end of a whip.  Or cane. Or anything of that sort.  I'm a giving kind of guy.  I'm generous to a fault.” She laughed at that.  God, I had missed that laugh.  I led her back to the living room and closed the door behind us. 

       We talked a long time; cleared a lot of misunderstandings.  She was welcome to move back in.  But when I gave her a choice of bedrooms, she looked startled.

       “You...you still aren't going to sleep with me?”  She asked.

       “Not immediately.  I have a lot of thinking to do.  I've missed you terribly.  I have this big gaping hole in my chest where my heart used to be. I thought that it had almost started to heal...until today. I want you.  I want to hold you forever. But it terrifies me to think about actually doing it.”  I paused.  She began to tear up again.  So did I.  She put out her hand and I took it, but didn't get any closer than that.

       “It may take a while.”  I said.  She nodded.

       “Okay. You waited for me.  I can wait now.”  She smiled.  And I smiled with her.

       The next day Barbara called, then came over. 

       “How are you?”  She asked.

       “I don't know.  Confused. Torn.” I shrugged.

       “Let's talk.”  She said, I agreed.  We discussed a lot of things, where we were in our relationship, where it might go now.

       “We never really talked about us.”  She said.

       “No. I never had an idea. I care about you.  A lot.  A whole lot.  I never made promises...it was too early for me to think about that.”  She nodded, smiling.

       “I know.” She said. “I knew you were hurting...that things were too raw to consider anything permanent.  But I really had fun.” She smiled again.

       “I don't want the fun to stop.”  I said.  She looked at me quizzically.  “I don't know if I can start back with her, not after all she put me through.  That still hurts like hell, even though she came home.”

       “Hmmm.” She replied. “In that case, I don't know what to say.  I expected things to just pickup like they were before, but I think I can understand.  Once burned...”  I nodded.

       “Twice as shy, now.”  She left after a few more hours, with nothing resolved.  I had the feeling that all this might take a while to sort out. 

       

Chapter 22

       Carol went back to work; I went back to searching for work.  I started to specialize in kitchen remodels; that was something that seemed to have some possibility.  Barbara came over a few times while Carol was out of town.  Carol was aware of it, I made damn sure of that.  She didn't say anything about it though I thought that perhaps she was a bit jealous; not necessarily of Barbara, but that we were playing and she wasn't.

       I came home one Saturday around 11am to find the door standing open and a glass pane broken out.  Carol was gone, again.  I pulled up the security camera files; I had taken it off emergency notification status when someone was home.

       The video showed a man – Robert – pulling up to the house and parking.  He walked to the door, found it locked and went back to the car, returning with a tire tool.  He broke out the glass, reached in and unlocked the door.  Now, my doors have double cylinder deadbolt locks, which require a key from both sides.  I had specifically told Carol to keep BOTH sets of locks LOCKED when I wasn't home.  How DO you get a redhead to listen? SHIT!

       The inside camera showed Robert coming into the house and facing a mad Carol holding a cell phone.  He snatched the phone out of her hand, closed the connection, then suddenly struck Carol on the side of head with the hand holding the tire tool.  I couldn't tell if he used the tool or if was just in his hand.  Either way she went down like a sack of sand.  He knelt down and managed to get her onto his shoulder, then picked up the tire tool and put it in the hand holding Carol steady.  He pushed away from the floor, leaving a full palm and set of fingerprints on the hardwood floor, then staggered and steadied himself again, leaving another set of prints on the door casing.  He carried Carol out to his car, belted her in and tossed the tool into the back seat.  He closed her door, got in as well and drove off.  By the time stamp he must have been waiting for me to leave because he arrived shortly after I had left.  That meant that he had about an hour and a half head start. I saved the file and made a few quick photos of the broken glass.  I also picked up a few items I would need, then locked the door correctly as I left.

       I figured he would take her back to Mint Hill; I doubted that he knew I was aware of his address.  I doubted that he actually knew much about me at all.  I never told Carol about my military career.  I wasn't ashamed of it, not at all.  Neither were my commanders; they had gone so far as to pin a bunch of sparkly things to my uniform for my efforts. But a lot of it was classified, and most of it I really didn't want to remember.  I still had dreams that were unpleasant.  I just told her that I had been in military reconnaissance.  Absolutely true.

       When I got to Robert's house I parked at the street and walked up. An occasional bark from the back yard, followed by a “Shut up!” told me that they were outside.  The gate was in front of the patio area (thank you, Google Earth)  that was tucked into an open corner of the house. I went around the other way to keep the house between me and them.  A convenient a/c condenser made  a handy step to go over the fence.  I pulled on a pair of latex gloves and went over the fence, dropping down into the thick lawn on the other side.  I stayed low to look around.  I peeked around the corner, I could see them in profile, the dog was tied to a stake a few yards away.

       Robert was sitting in a rather nice patio chair, wearing a tee shirt and deck shoes, nothing more.  Carol was naked, on her knees, her hands cuffed behind her back.  Robert held her head with his hands, fucking his cock with her mouth.  I snapped a couple of photos with my cell phone, waited for Robert to close his eyes, then I eased over to them slowly. Robert didn't notice me until I was standing right in front them.  By the looks of Carol's back and ass he had worked her over with a crop, maybe a whip.  Her ass cheeks were striped; a few had cut the skin. The glaze of lubricant around her very red and swollen asshole indicated that he had tried her there first. Her eyes were vacant, like she wasn't there.  Drugged, I thought.  She had told me he liked to do that, though I already knew.  I stepped up to them and startled him.  He had a lopsided grin on his face; apparently he had tried some of his private stash as well.

       “I think she likes the taste of her ass,” he said, “I was about to call some friends for a little gang...”  He had pushed her away and started to rise when I reached behind me to the Kabar riding inside my belt in the small of my back.  That's usually where my cal 45 ACP alloy Colt Commander resided.  This day I thought that I might get carried away and do something I would regret.  A firearm has limited applications.  I could either threaten him or kill him.  A razor sharp blade, however left me with many options.  Besides, I wanted this to be personal.

       “No, no, don't bother to get up.”  He froze.  “In fact, sit down.  And put your arms on the chair.  Don't move.”  I wasn't being friendly.  He sat. “Where is the key to the cuffs?  I asked.  He nodded toward the top of the cooler sitting next to him.  The top also had a towel and a bottle of lubricant.  I held the blade on the tip of his nose and eased over and picked up the key; my eyes never left his.  I had to fumble a bit to uncuff Carol, but I wasn't going to give him a chance to move.  Fortunately my peripheral vision is pretty good.  Carol sat on the patio, idly watching, as if it were a movie.  I snapped a cuff on the arm of the chair and another on his wrist.  That would slow him down.

       “You don't know what you're doing.  She called me to come get her, she wanted to come...”  He started.

       “Shut the fuck up!”  I growled.  “I have a recording of your arrival on my security system.”  He grew a bit pale. “You tried the door, went back to your car for a tire tool.  You used it to break the glass.  In this state, that's a b and e.  Also Carol was home at the time.  That makes it 1st degree burglary.  That ups it from probation to 20 to life.  Plus you had a weapon.  That makes it home invasion.  Let's add another 10 years.  You assaulted her with the weapon in your hand. That's assault with a deadly weapon.  10 more. Then you kidnapped her while she was unconscious.  Now we're getting into the Federal jurisdiction area; say another 20 to life.  I just snapped a couple of shots of the both of you.  You were fucking her face while her hands were cuffed behind her.  Forcible rape and sodomy.  You ARE aware that North Carolina no longer has parole, aren't you? MY, my, we're starting to get into at least another lifetime here.  Too bad Freddi isn't around to lend you one of his.”  By this time he was white, his eyes darting back and forth, trying to figure out what he could do.  “Isn't that the way it went down?”

       He licked his now parched lips

       “Uhh...uhh... no! It...I...” he was starting to panic.  I decided to help his progress in that direction.  I slowly moved the blade down between his legs and flipped the edge over facing up and reached down and held the head of his cock with my other hand.  He suddenly realized I was wearing gloves.

       “NO! NO! You wouldn't...”  I did.  A quick move of my hand upward and his sausage was just another doggie treat.  I straightened and tossed it to Ralph.

       “Here you go boy!”  He caught it in the air, probably didn't taste it before he swallowed.

       “AARRRGGHH!”  Robert screamed as the pain registered in his brain.  I suspected that shock would take over pretty quickly.  I turned back to him and put the blade against his throat.

       “SHUT THE FUCK UP!”  I roared at him.  “One more sound and I'll do the same thing to the big head, too!”  He stifled another scream, moaning loudly, but not enough to draw attention from any distant neighbors.  That was one of the downsides to privacy.  I reached down and picked up the towel and wiped off the blade; he was holding on to his stump.  I opened the cooler and stuck the towel inside and scooped up a double handful of ice and gathered it into the towel.  I thrust it at his hands and said:

       “Hold this against it. The cold will help both the pain and the bleeding.”

       He was rocking back and forth; trembling, moaning and crying.  I got down into his face.  I'm going into the house to get Carol's clothing.  If you move before I get back I'll give ol' Ralph over there a banquet.  Understand?”  He just nodded, tears streaming from his red, bloodshot eyes.

       I stepped into the house looking for her clothes and a few other things as well.  I found her clothes, plus I found his computer.  I pulled the plug from the tower and smiled when I saw that the case was a tool free design.  I took the side off of the case and smiled again – the hard drive was in a screwless cage.  I gathered both the hard drive and an exterior drive on the desk and went back through the kitchen.  I spotted his cell phone on the cabinet so I grabbed that, too.  One last item – a plastic grocery bag – gave me something to carry the hardware in.  I stepped outside.  Robert hadn't moved, neither had Carol.  Her eyes were closed, she wavered around unsteadily.  I put the cell phone down on the stoop and stepped down to Carol.  I helped her to her feet and assisted her dressing; actually I did most of it.  Her lights were on, but she wasn't home. 

       “The cell phone's on the porch.”  I said to Robert and pointed.  He nodded. “Don't call for help until we get to the truck.  Capiche?”  He nodded.  “If you think about coming after me for cutting your dick off, ask yourself 'where's the evidence that I was ever here?' Then think about spending most of, if not all of, the rest of your life in prison without a pecker.  Man, you'll be some Bubba's bitch before you get out of county.  Oh, by the way, Wake County, where you'll be tried, has a tough ass DA.  The wuss DA in this district couldn't get me for trespass.”  He grimaced at both thoughts.  He knew I was right.

Chapter 23

       Carol slept all the way home.  I carried her into the house and started a bath.  She started coming around when she felt the warm water.  She looked up at me with slightly crossed eyes; the drug hadn't fully worn off.

       “Thank you.  Again.  You're my light knight... I mean white knight. Robert's an asshole.” 

       “Yes...but I don't think he'll be fucking anyone else again.”  She looked at me, confused.

       “What...what do you mean?  What did you do?  What happened?”  She asked.

       “Remember Lorena Bobbitt?”  I asked.  She looked more confused, then recognition kicked in.  The drug obviously was slowing her down.  Her eyes went wide open and she sat up.

       “YOU DIDN'T!”  She gasped.  I grinned at her.

       “Yep.  He’s known to his closest friends as “Stumpy” now.”

       “How?  What...”  She slumped back, unable to comprehend all that had happened while she was in her drug induced stupor.

       “I got everything he did here on the security system.  If he tries to retaliate in any way he's going to do hard time for a long time.” I held her hand.  “He's over. Now we have to figure us out.”

       “You said us.  Is there going to be an 'us'?”  I nodded.  Then I grinned at her.        

       “You're going to love Barbara.”

This is the end of this episode of Dave and Carol's saga.  But...they may be back.