Premonitions

Snark

                       pre·mo·ni·tion:

                       1. a feeling of anticipation of or anxiety

                          over a future event;

                       2. a forewarning.

       It was around 11:00 am on a Monday when Carol noticed the e-mail alert icon in the bottom right corner of her computer monitor. When she opened it, she noted that it came from the VP of Sales and Marketing, the subject line "The Show".  Her hands trembled a bit as she opened the message; as she started reading she hopped up and down on her chair, gave a fist pump and in a loud whisper said:

       "YES!"

       The message read

       From:  Charles Lawton <clawton@orstinepharma.com>

         To:  ctiffton@orstinepharma.com

         Re:  The Show

       Dear Ms Tiffton,

       I am delighted to invite you to attend and participate with Team Orstine at the annual National Pharmaceutical Manufacturer's Show and Training Expo, to be held this year in Orlando, FL. from February 2 until February 9. Your excellent performance in promotion and physician detail work has earned you a position on the team, which as you may be aware, includes an all expenses paid trip as well as participating in both the Orstine Pharma Banquet and the NPM closing banquet.  We thank you and hope you will be able to join us in Orlando!

       Since Orlando is home to many entertaining venues, Orstine Pharma has partnered with some of them to provide relaxation and diversions during those times when formal activities are not planned.  You will receive information from as many as wish to extend special pricing or events; it is your choice to participate or to choose your own leisure itinerary.

       It's off to the Show!

Regards,

Charles Lawton

VP Sales & Marketing

Orstine Pharma.

       Carol was ecstatic.  This was her first opportunity to go to a national show, a prized honor for anyone in the company.  This trip meant that she had fulfilled a long list of criteria for drug detailing and promoting the company's new line of specialty pharmaceutical products. She felt elated for another reason, too.  Her successful change from a retail pharmacist to a drug detail representative wasn't just a fluke; she really could do the job and do it well. She couldn't wait to tell David, her husband.

       She bounced and wiggled, thinking about how much fun Orlando would be in February rather than staying home in Raleigh, NC. Another e-mail notice caught her attention, so she calmed down, expecting work to intrude on her personal party.  She clicked the e-mail client and brought up the page.  This one, however, wasn't about work, but something completely different.

       From:  Mistress Danielle  <TheMistress@forcedrelaxation.com>

         To:  ctiffton@orstinepharma.com

         Re:  Special discounts

       Dear Ms Tiffton:

       I wish to invite you to take advantage of special discounts and bonuses being offered to those attending the show in Orlando this February.  If you are unaware of my services, please follow the link to ForcedRelaxation.com and learn about my special brand of diversion and mental stimulation.  I can guarantee you a break from the mental rigors and stresses of business life.  When you are in my care, nothing will intrude upon your single focus.  Everything else vanishes and you are whisked away to a completely different realm.

       For appointments and special services, please call the number listed at the bottom of this message.

       I look forward to fulfilling all your personal fantasies.

Painful pleasures to you,

Mistress Danielle.

       This was certainly a surprising message!  She opened a web browser and typed in the link address given, but a "Page Not Found" error message popped up. That didn't surprise her.  The company firewall prevented most, if not all, non business relevant web sites from loading.  She would try at home to see what it was.  The fact that it made it through the spam e-mail firewall was reassurance that "Forced Relaxation" had been vetted and cleared by corporate.

       What Carol didn't know was that the message, though real, wasn't from one of the company arranged venues; rather it was sent to a select list of females who were invited to the Show.  One of her fellow employees had obtained a list of invitees and went through it searching for ones that he thought might be possibly interested in Mistress Danielle's little dungeon.  He copied the e-mail he had received from Forced Relaxation, loaded it into a computer at an unused cubical and spoofed the e-mail system to allow transmission.  If anyone questioned the e-mail, it would not be traceable to him.  Along with the Pharmaceutical show, a bondage expo was also scheduled for Orlando that week. As a long time B&D aficionado, he planned on using his invite to the company shindig to get in a little kinky R&R, and hoped to snare a cohort or two as well.

       Carol floated through the rest of the day.  She filed her reports, set up the week's itinerary and all the other corporate bullshit that was required. She wanted to see David's face when she told him, rather than to call or text him.  She was also curious about "Forced Relaxations". 

       Orstine Pharma is headquartered in the Research Triangle Park, located between Raleigh, Durham and Chapel Hill, NC.  Many other pharmaceutical companies have headquarters, research or manufacturing facilities there. Carol was recruited to detail a specific family of new drugs that had recently been given the FDA green light.  The Orstine management decided to try a method pioneered by Eli Lilly & Company of hiring registered pharmacists as detail reps.  It was a costly move, since pharmacists are in great demand and short supply, but they nevertheless went forward with the plan, hiring Carol and several more RPh's that they felt had potential to jumpstart the acceptance with the specialists that would prescribe the products. So far Carol had proven their idea was valid.

       Carol drove out of the RTP heading toward southern Wake County. The area had exploded in the past two decades and traffic was terrible as usual.  She thought about the trip, the Show and the prospect of getting out of NC for a week in the middle of the winter.  Husbands were also invited, but they had to pay their own way which included half of the room rate.  At $450.00 per night, that didn't sound very easy.

       Carol went into the house, setting down her laptop and handbag, searching for her husband - me.  She found me on the patio, listening to the radio and reading a magazine; a cold beer within easy reach.

       "HEY BABE!" She almost yelled. "Guess where I'm going?"  She bounced on her toes as she tugged at my arm.  I rose out of the chair to put my arms around her.

       "Out to pick up pizza?" I answered. "You know we can have it delivered."

       The response caught her off guard and she stopped, shook her head and grinned up at me.

       "No, silly. I'M GOING TO FLORIDA!" She gasped.

       "That's a long way to go for pizza." I replied.  "It'll be cold by the time you get back.  Let's call out for delivery."

       "NO, dummy."  She said, giving my abdomen a sharp punch. "I've been invited to the Show!  In February.  A week in Orlando while North Carolina is freezing!"

       "Do I get to go?" I asked.

       She calmed down now.  "Well...yes you can go.  Spouses are invited too.  But we have to pay your expenses.  The company will only pay mine."

       "How much?" I asked.

       "Air fare.  The rooms are $450 per night, so half that.  Plus food and incidentals."  She replied.

       "Hmmf." I answered. "That's pretty tough right now.  I've certainly got the time...just not much money."

       Things ARE tight.  I'm a residential contractor specializing in mid-priced custom homes and additions.  Ever since September of 2007 the construction business has been in free fall.  It came to light later that the same week that the Collateralized Debt Obligations or CDO's that represented the bundled up subprime mortgage bonds so cavalierly scattered out by BOA, Chase and other big commercial banks floated up like turds in a cesspool was the same week that the phones quit ringing.  Actually the turds could be turned into methane and fertilizer.  The CDO's were so much toilet paper.  I can't sell a house with the banks practically giving them away.  And people are scared to commit to a major remodel job with their 401k's melting like a snowman on an asphalt parking lot. Like I said, I've got the time.  Just no money.  What I have saved I sure couldn't afford to blow on a trip to Orlando, wintertime or not.

       "They expect all qualifiers to go.  And it's the first show I’ve qualified for since I've been on board.  Not many people qualify so quickly."  She said.

       "OK.  So go enjoy sunny Orlando while I freeze my ass off here in frozen NC." I said, without much enthusiasm.

       "You don't want me to go. Do you?"  She said, quietly. It was more a statement than a question.

       "No, I do want you to go.  It's an honor. And a great chance to participate on a different level. And get out of the cold for a week.  You'll have a great time.  Bring me back an orange.  Or maybe a grapefruit." I answered.  But the truth was, I didn't want her to go.  When she started to tell me about it I had a premonition.  I hate premonitions.

Chapter 2

       Carol looked up the link to "Forced Relaxation" while chewing on a piece of celebratory pizza.  It certainly didn't look like the type of entertainment that the company would have arranged for their employees. She was looking at her laptop while I sat across the table.  Mistress Danielle presented her dungeon and most of her toys.  Some were described as "inappropriate" for unrestricted viewing. Her clients and favored guests could get access to a more private part of the site where they could book appointments and describe preferences. The site offered sessions from mild to wild...and wilder.  She certainly seemed to have a wide variety of "relaxation techniques" to choose from. 

       

       Carol wondered how many of the Orstine upper management partook of her services.  Out of curiosity she wrote down the number so she could maybe get some more information.  She and David liked to spice things up in the bedroom; bondage and teasing were standard fare in their love making.  This looked to be a bit more involved than any thing they had done before; in fact more than they had ever discussed.  She decided to speak to the Mistress before she mentioned this to David.  This might disappoint him even more.  After dinner she slipped up next to him as he was cleaning up the dishes and put her arms around him.

       

       "Take me to bed. Tie me up and tease me." She asked then stretched up and gave my ear a thorough tongue slurping. She traced her tongue down my neck and reached around to see if her attentions were causing a bulge in my jeans.  Remarkably, they were!

       I was a bit surprised, though very pleasantly.  She doesn't initiate it very often (or at least as often as I would like) so I take every opportunity I can.

       I turned and took her into my arms. "I'll tease AND please you. Or...at least please me.  You'll at least get teased." I smiled at her. 

       "I'll be ready in just a minute."  She said and turned toward the bedroom. I swatted her cute little butt as she stepped away and she jumped.  She turned her head and stuck out her tongue at me and moved into the bedroom.  I put some music on – Sade and Seal- for ambiance.

       She came out of the bathroom smiling and naked.  Her copper colored hair fell to just above her shoulders, her wonderful c -almost D- boobs standing high, nipples crinkled and sticking out like pencil erasers. She's 5'8 to my 6'1, with long legs that reach up to a tight, magnificent butt.  Her waist is small which accentuates her boobs and butt.  But it's her face that really turns heads.  She was a "late bloomer", an ugly duckling in high school, too tall and gangly.  Her high cheek bones and narrow chin didn't seem to be matched to each other.  By the time she got to the university the different parts and pieces seemed to come together into a breath taking package. 

       I went into the bathroom to do a quick cleanup.  After washing and teeth brushing I joined her.  She was spread eagled on our bed with a small hard pillow under her hips, waiting for me to begin.  That was always the difficult part - not immediately jumping on her and ravishing her like a starved dog on a porterhouse steak. I retrieved the toy bag from the closet shelf and rummaged around for the leather cuffs.  She won't let me use my Smith & Wesson handcuffs; something about the metal scares her.  But leather is fine. I put the cuffs on the wrist and ankle closest to me, then reached between the mattress and bed frame to pull out the spring clips attached to nylon line stored there. I clipped her wrist and ankle, walked around to the other side of the bed and duplicated the action. She was spread in an "X", snug but not stretched.  She wasn't going anywhere soon.  I pulled a blindfold out of the night stand drawer and slipped it on her. 

       Carol loves the anticipation without knowing where or what is going to happen. I retrieved a box of teasing toys from the closet and picked up a feather.  I drew it around her chin, then her ears, tracing the lines and edges of her face.  A quick spin around her nostrils got her to snorting and shaking her head.  When I put the feather back to her nose she turned away to get it away, presenting me with her ear.  She apparently wanted me to tickle her ear, so I obliged her.  That produced a shaking with that ear being scrubbed against the pillow, so I treated the other ear.

       "NNNNN"  she moaned.

       

       "OK. Change of location." I told her, and then began tracing the feather around her shoulders, underarms and neck.  I picked up a standard style vibrator, turned it on low and placed it between her labia, standing it on its base. I continued brushing the feather gently across her chest, sweeping it in close circles around each areola and nipple.  I glided it down to her tummy, then down between her legs to her upper thighs.  I ignored her pussy and continued down her legs to her ankle, then started on her feet then her toes.  After a few minutes with her pedal extremities I slowly drew the feather up to her pussy.  I swapped the feather for a small soft brush and then "painted" her labia around the vibrator.

       

        I stopped the vibrator and switched it for a G spot stimulator - an angled, oval headed vibe on a slim shaft. I lubed it up, turned the switch to medium and slipped it inside her pussy. This gave me an opportunity to play with her clit, so I painted it for a while.  I checked her breathing and the position of her hands and fingers while I kept teasing her as a barometer of her orgasmic pressure.  I wanted her to keep building, but not cum.  When I noticed her opening and clinching her fists, I decided it's time to let things simmer.  I turned the vibe down to low and got up on the bed with her.  I reached out and gently turned her face towards me and slid up so I can put my cock against her lips.  They instantly opened and drew it in, licking and sucking. She started bobbing her head very slowly, drawing my cock a little deeper each time, until she reached the gagging point. She stopped, swallowed, and started again, going not quite so deep.  I pinched her nipples, one then the other while she's sucking me. 

       It gets to be time to stop before I blow it.  I pulled out and begin on her nipples with an old fashioned device - a scalp massager.  If you've never seen one, they look like a small oval, chrome turbine with tightly wound springs slung underneath.  It slips over the back of the hand, when turned on the vibrations are transmitted through the hand to the surface the hand is touching. They were used by barbers back when going to the barbershop was the male equivalent to a short spa visit - shave, shampoo, shoe shine, scalp massage and hair cut.  I found mine in a thrift shop; no one knew what it was.  I turned it on and Carol jumped.  She knew that sound and it scared her a little - the vibrations from that thing are strong!  I touched the base of her right breast and slowly spiraled up to the areola and circled it.  I repeated the same thing on her left side, without actually touching either nipple. I slowly brought my finger down and lightly touched her right nipple with my finger nail.  I watched her bite her lips together.  I slowly scratched the nipple then lifted my finger.  She thought she knew what was next, but I fooled her.  Instead of touching her left nipple I shifted slightly.  The moving of the noise -it's loud - would alert her to where I was going so I moved quickly and touched her clit then withdrew.  She arched her back and I pinched her left nipple.  This got her to squirming around so I pinched the other one then reached back and pinched her clit.  Then I cupped her Mons with my quaking hand and pressed firmly.

       She started gasping so I stopped and turned off the vibrator. She was breathing hard and her pussy was swollen, the lips parted and her pussy drool was dripping down to her asshole.  The meal was cooked, time to dine. I tucked a hand towel between her ass and the pillow and crawled between her legs. I love to eat pussy.  And hers is the most delicious I've ever tasted.  OK, I'm slightly biased.  It's still delicious. I repeat the motions I made earlier with my tongue, licking around her labia, washing her entire Mons, occasionally licking through the slit.  I dipped a little deeper and deeper until I found that spring that was flowing from within. I covered it with my mouth, dug in with my tongue and sucked all the nectar into my mouth.  The only thing stopping me from doing this for hours is that the position is hell on my neck.  She's not going anywhere until I'm finished, anyway.  I lick her asshole, another favorite spot, and then a deep lick from the pucker, through the spring and up to the clit.  I repeat this a few times then target the clit.  Then its suck, lick, tickle, lick slowly, suck, and repeat.  I vary the order and occasionally move down for another taste of dew. By this time she's flowing pretty well, her asshole is soaked, and the towel is getting there.  My neck starts cramping, so it's time to move things along (sigh.)  I concentrated on her clit and it doesn't take long before she started humping my face, squirming and moaning.  At last she came, rising straight upon her heels and shoulders, dropped then arched again. I took a final swipe at her clit and she said loudly "No MORE!"

       She isn't multi-orgasmic and after the first one, especially if it's a big one, her clit is just too sensitive to touch.  That's fine because I had something else to do.  I unclipped her ankles then her wrists, pulled up closer and sunk my cock into her lava hot erupting pussy.  She grabbed me and pulled her legs up around my waist to pull me deeper. I thrust and pound like I'm trying to shove my whole body inside her.  Which is exactly what I want to do.  It doesn't take me long to finish, the whole experience is almost as arousing to me to tease her as it is for her to be teased. I slumped on her briefly then lifted up on my elbows. 

       "Thank you." I whispered into her ear.

       "MMMM…Thank YOU!"  She answered. And in a few seconds I roll over, hold her close to me and relax.

Chapter 3.

       The following day Carol gave the Mistress Danielle a call.  A low breathy voice answered

       "Hello. This is your Mistress." The way she said "your mistress" left no doubt that she was in charge.

       "Hello...this is Carol Tiffton, you sent me an e-mail about show specials and bonuses.  I visited your website and would like a little more information." Carol responded.

       The Mistress didn't recognize the name, but her e-mails frequently get forwarded so she assumed that this was the case.

       "It's nice to speak with you Carol.  What kind of information would you like?"  She asked.

       "Well...I don't really know where to begin...I'm coming down to Orlando in February...I...Uh my husband and I like to play in the bedroom...but your e-mail kinda got me interested in something more." Carol answered.

       "Is your husband coming as well?"  Danielle asked.

       "No, just me.  It's a business trip and we can't afford for him to come with me." She said.

This was a bit puzzling to the Mistress but she pressed ahead.  "What type of activities are you interested in trying?"  She asked.

       "I...I don't really know, that's why I'm calling.  Do you have a "starter" session, or an experimental session to see what I might like or dislike?"  Carol inquired.

       "Hmmm.  Well, the easiest thing to do is to go to the private area and look at the questionnaire.  If you book a first session, I can give you a password and that might answer a lot of your questions."  Danielle told her.

       Carol thought for a second then asked "How much do the sessions cost?"

       She told her then added, “But since you mentioned the show special I'm giving a 50% discount to show visitors."  She said.

       Now it was Carol's turn to be puzzled.  Would a dominatrix get that much business from visitors to a pharmaceutical manufacturer's show?  "Well...I had no idea what these...types of services cost.  That's as much as a shrink costs!"  She exclaimed.

       Danielle laughed. "Yes, I know.  I'm a licensed psychologist. I closed my practice over fighting with insurance companies and co-pay problems and all the hassle.  Now I have a cash business, I make a ton more money than before and I think I really have a better success rate helping people with their problems than I did in practice!"

       Carol was startled at this news.  She had devoted her life to the medical field, now this woman had left it to run a dungeon!  AND makes more money doing it!

       "OK...so that’s what the first visit costs?"  Carol asked.

       "Yes. And depending on when you schedule if I have some flexibility I can work with you if you want to extend it.  Of course even if you hate it within the first ten minutes, it's still the basic charge.  But I can always give advice for the rest of the time if you don't like the first experience."

       Carol asked "So I suppose for appointment purposes you take debit or credit cards?"

       "Certainly.  And I have a discrete billing name so that it doesn't draw attention."  Danielle informed her.  That wasn't a problem, Carol and David paid their own personal card bills so he wouldn't see it.

       "OK.  Two hours.  Is that Wednesday afternoon at 2:00 pm available?"  Carol asked.

       "Let me see, it should be.  I'm usually pretty slow during the afternoon in the middle of the week.  Yes, it's available. If you like I can pencil in another hour and if you give me your phone number I can call you if I get a request for the time of the extra hour.  I won't process this until 48 hours before the appointment, so if you have to cancel please give me a call before then.  Remember - no refunds once it's billed.  That's one thing I learned in practice" She said lightly.  What's that number?"

       Carol gave her the necessary billing information, her cell phone number and got the access password to the site.  Danielle told her that the password was client specific and that she tracked the visits to the reserved area by client. 

       Carol told her "I travel over the central portion of North Carolina, so I won't always be logging in from the same city.  Is that a problem?"

       "Not now that you've told me.  How about dropping me an e-mail when you visit away from home so I know that no one has "borrowed" your pass code?"  The Mistress requested.

       "Sure I can do that.  Once I have a better idea I'll probably want to ask some more questions anyway." Carol answered.  They exchanged pleasantries and they hung up.  Carol sat in amazement at the whole thing.  She decided that David didn't need to know anything about it yet; she would surprise him when she got back home.

Chapter 4

       The holidays seemed to fly by; it seemed like February suddenly was there and Carol found herself in Orlando looking across a small table from Mistress Danielle.  They were seated just inside the door of the dungeon.  The walls were covered with a wide variety of instruments of “painful pleasure”; some looked more in the painful than pleasurable variety.  Closed cabinets and drawers hid more implements.  Furniture appropriate to an ancient torture chamber were strategically placed around the room, other pieces of more modern design and curious application were interspersed among them.  Carol recognized a rack, stocks, benches and a Spanish pony.  Crosses, posts and a pedestal with chains and manacles were also identifiable.  Some other things were a mystery.  She figured – rightly - that they would not be a mystery long.  Chains hung from various locations from the ceiling, there were many rings, hooks and other attachment points as well.

       “What do you think of my “office”?”  Danielle asked, as she watched Carol looking around.

       “I…I’m surprised, I guess.  Maybe I shouldn’t be, but it’s a lot more than I expected.”  Carol’s eyes continued to roam around the room. “I don’t have a clue about some of the things I see.”

       “You won’t experience all of them this time…but come back and we’ll make sure that you are intimately familiar with every single one.  VERY intimately familiar!”  Danielle laughed lightly.  She opened a folder and removed two stapled sheets of paper.  The results of the questions that Carol had answered on the website were printed with comments next to each one.

       Carol stared at the sheets and started to slide her chair back from the table, her eyes wide, her face turning pale.

       “I thought there wouldn’t be any identifying paperwork.”  Carol said, her voice quaking slightly.

       “RELAX!” Danielle said loudly, startling Carol. Then in a normal tone said, “There is nothing on this that has any identification.  Only a number that corresponds to your password.  And that list is secure and encrypted.  I just want to verify and to clarify some things.  It’s important to me that I understand all that you want and, more importantly, identify the things that you don’t REALLY want from the things that you just THINK you don’t want.”

       Carol looked confused, so Danielle continued.

       “Many people, especially at first, are afraid or apprehensive of trying things that could become extremely erotic for them. Or they aren’t interested in things that could be incredibly arousing.  The questions are designed to reveal things to me that might not be apparent to someone not trained to understand them.  But I still need to make sure that you understood what I asked and I understood what you answered.”

       Carol understood, but was quite surprised. “It sounds like you’re still practicing psychology. Are you?”

       Danielle smiled. “Almost.  Actually, I consider what I do as an extension of my old practice…it’s just that the treatments don’t quite meet the criteria of the DSM IV. Many of my clients respond quite well to the physical…treatments. And frequently quicker than the conventional way.  A whip, or a cane, or a crop seems to focus the attention more strongly than a verbal suggestion.”

       Carol thought for a moment, then said “All right.  Let’s start.”

       The Mistress went through the questionnaire.  Her hard limits were scat, watersports and sexual acts as well as using words like “slut” or “whore”.  Carol explained:

       “I have a… well, strained relationship with my parents.  When they found out that I wasn’t a virgin anymore, they didn’t accept it at all.  They blew up and we had falling out.  The names they called me hurt me.  They still do.”

       The Mistress considered this and replied “I can understand that.  Maybe that’s something we can take the sting out of.  You also show a dislike for any lesbian activities. How hard a limit do you have about that?”

       Carol said.  “I find it distasteful, that’s all.  I don’t have a problem with anyone being gay but I just don’t care to participate.  It’s not my thing.” 

       “OK.  I’m going to change.  I want your ass naked and kneeling in the middle of the room, head down, your hands behind your back.”  And she quickly left the room. 

       

       Carol barely had time to get undressed and into place before the Mistress returned.  Carol marveled that she could get changed into a leather bustier, garter belt with seamed stockings, high heeled knee high boots and silk snap crotch panties so quickly.  A riding crop was in her left hand, tapping against her boot.  She walked around, examining Carol’s body.

       “Knees apart!  Straighten your back!  Hands on your elbows!”  The Mistress barked her commands.  She reached out with the end of the crop, lifting Carol’s chin.  When Carol’s eyes met the Mistress’s, Danielle said quietly but sternly.  “Lower your eyes.  I want to look at your face.  You do not look at my face without permission.”  Instantly Carol dropped her gaze down to the boots in front of her.  The Mistress appraised the beautiful countenance before her.  Creamy, flawless skin, features perfectly balanced, eyes like emeralds. 

       “You are a lovely woman.  I shall enjoy enlightening you.”  The Mistress said gently.  She reached down and slipped a metal collar around her neck, securing it with a padlock and added a leash. She then stepped behind her and grasped her wrists and applied a pair of stainless steel handcuffs.  Carol shuddered, but said nothing.

       

       “Heel.”  The Mistress said and began to stroll around the dungeon.  She walked slowly enough for Carol to crawl and to get a look at the variety of implements and furnishings.  She stopped at a wooden “T” attached to the floor.  It was waist high and wrapped in leather.  Rings were inset in the floor three feet apart just in front of it.  She tugged at the leash. 

       “UP.” Carol stood and felt a hand pushing the back of her neck, bending her over the top of the beam.  The leash was secured to a ring on the middle of the support post.  The Mistress drew down a cable from a pulley mounted on the ceiling.  A clip on the end of the cable went around the link of the handcuffs; she lifted the cable back up and a spring retracted it onto a reel.  A sharp tug locked it like a seat belt retractor. Carol was stretched between the ring on the post and the pulley on the ceiling.  The Mistress picked a pair of cuffs from off of a nearby table and put them on Carol’s ankles.  She pulled them apart and locked them on to the floor rings.  This stretched her victim even more.  So far Carol had remained silent.

       “Let’s warm things up bit, shall we?”  The Mistress said, and picked up a suede flogger.  She draped the strands over the bare back then lifted the flogger and swung it lightly through the air and swept it across the skin.  Carol jumped, at least as much as she could.  She didn’t know what to expect.  The flogger stung only slightly, the next one and the next only warming the skin.  The strokes gathered speed and force.  The Mistress was flogging her flat, without follow through.  The ends wrapped around her side; as the force increased the ends began to sting her ribs.  Danielle stepped around to the other side and started stinging the ribs on the side opposite.  The strokes changed.  Rather than striking flat the flogger was swept across the back.  This sharpened the sensations.  After a dozen strokes a fine stranded leather flogger was chosen.  The sensations changed to a burn.

       “Mm…Mistress!  Please!  I forgot to tell you!  I can’t take any marks home.  My husband doesn’t know about this and I’d rather he not find whip marks.  I’m sorry!”  Carol had started to panic.

       “OH REALLY?”  The Mistress asked.  “Keeping secrets?  Not a very good practice in a marriage.”  She unclipped the ankle cuffs and untied the leash from the post.  She lifted Carol’s chin and said “Look at me.  What’s the deal?”

       Carol blushed.  “We play in the bedroom.  He ties me up.  Nothing very strenuous.  He tried spanking me once.  I think he liked it.  I wanted to.  But it brought back memories of my parents.  My mother would whip me with a belt.  She’s someone I love… or I’m supposed to.  How can you love someone when they’re hitting you? When you’re screaming in pain? But I wanted to try it again.  I don’t have to love you. You don’t threaten my love or my marriage.  But I don’t want to take whip marks home.  I was hoping to see if I could accept it. Maybe David and I can learn from it.”  Carol’s eyes were full of tears.

       “That is important information.  It certainly changes things.  Actually, it now gives us a goal as well as a new experience.  But withholding information that important deserves a punishment.  I won’t leave any lasting visible marks.  They will be gone by the time you get home. But I WILL leave you a few memories!”  The Mistress said.  She smiled at Carol for a second before her face turned stern.  A quick grab and the leash was pulled back down and secured; the ankles put back into the rings.

       The thin leather flogger was re-employed.  The Mistress started a fast windmilling, brushing it over Carol’s back.  Carol felt fire spread from her shoulders down to her ass, then down her thighs.  The flames spread back up to her shoulders. She gasped as an icy spray hit her back.  The ice water was mixed with aloe to sooth and speed healing. Danielle picked up a fiberglass cane and slipped a piece of rubber hose over it.  She swished it around, making an ominous swishing hum.  She held it against the top of Carol’s thighs and took her aim. A quick swing back, then forward and it splatted against the flesh just below the ass cheeks. 

       “Oooh.” Carol retorted.

       “Count.” Said the Mistress.

       Splat.  “Two.”

       “Three”.

       “Four”.

After five strokes Carol got another cold spritz.

       “That wasn't the punishment.  That was to help keep you focused.”  Carol was then released and made to crawl over to an open area in the middle of the room.  A spreader bar was lowered and Carol's wrists secured in suspension cuffs.  Another spreader kept her feet apart.  The Mistress stretched her until she was on the balls of her feet; next came a blindfold and ring gag.  The Mistress picked up both a flexible riding crop and a long feather.  Carol began to experience the contrasting sensations of tickling followed by a sharp slap; sometimes on the same area, other times on a different part of the body altogether.  The combination of physical extremes plus the tension of the stretching worked to start Carol's juices flowing. This did not escape her Mistress’s attention, indeed, she kept a close watch.  As her labia began to swell and moisten, Danielle began directing more attention on just her breasts and pussy.  This was a different version of slap and tickle but it had a similar effect.  Carol's fragrance was permeating the room, the inside of her thighs first glistened, then her pussy began to drool.  As the first drops hit the floor Danielle put away the crop and picked up a cordless vibrator that resembled a cordless toothbrush minus the scrubbers.  She very lightly touched around Carol's body, the sensations caused Carol to twitch with every touch.  She made strangled yelps as spasms shivered through her.

       Danielle stopped all the teasing and picked up a spray bottle that had been resting in a cooler full of ice.  A coarse spray caused a gasp and as much of a shriek as she could get past the gag.

       “Not all punishments come from a whip.”  Danielle chuckled. She grabbed a hand towel and wiped off Carol's face and chest then gave her pussy a quick scrub; not enough to get her off but enough to remove the drool.

       Carol was heated up, the rest of the session seemed to move both in slow motion and a blur.  The X frame held her tight; wide rubber bands around perfect, large breasts made swollen, purple globes.  Sharp toothed clips with weights on turgid nipples made the globes point downward. A leather hood became a second scalp. Blind and deaf, a ball gag strained her jaw rendering her mute. Smell and touch was her world...a world of sharp points and burning stripes. The smell of her sweat mixed with her arousal.  Her pussy was painted with a flogger of fine wires, her ass spanked with vampire gloves. At one point, hooded and gagged, she crawled around the dungeon with a butt plug complete with tail swishing around her ass, pussy drool streaking the floor.  This was followed by a deep fucking from the Mistress's strap-on while bent over the horse.  Carol finally was allowed an orgasm.

        She found herself on her knees before the Mistress's throne.

       “Look around.”  Carol did so, blinking, trying to focus. “It looks like a monster snail has been wandering around.”  Carol cleared her eyes and looked again and blushed. Under the right circumstances Carol could be extremely emmissive, this had been a perfect circumstance.  Tracks from her secretions trailed around from her crawling.

       “If I had to guess, I'd say that you enjoyed this afternoon.”  Daneille said.

       Carol almost looked up, then caught herself.  “Yes, Mistress.  It has been very...”  she searched for the right word “entertaining.”  She had always been a proficient juicer, but this afternoon had turned on a faucet that she had never before experienced.

       Danielle was seated before her.  The phallus stood as a rampant spear projecting from her loins.  The condom shone with Carol's fluids.  The Mistress removed the condom and reached out with it toward Carol.

       “Open.”  Carol obeyed and the condom was stuck in her mouth.  After getting a taste of herself Danielle snapped her fingers and pointed to a trash can at the side of the chair. After Carol had spat the rubber wad into the can Danielle unbuckled the harness and sat it aside.  She spread her legs and framed her pussy with her hands.

       “You may approach on your knees and thank your Mistress.”  She said.  Carol hesitated and then crawled up to the chair.  The crotch of her Mistress's panties was soaked, her fragrance strong in Carol's nose.  She stared at the wet silk.

       “Look at me.”  Danielle said gently.  Carol looked up into her eyes. “I know it is a hard limit.  Just a quick kiss somewhere close is fine.” And she smiled. Carol smiled back then gently reached up to the snap crotch and opened the flap. She spread the labia back revealing an erect clitoris.  Carol gave a deep swipe of her tongue from the bottom of the dripping pussy to the top then latched onto the clit and began sucking and licking.  Danielle's eyes widened as she sat hard against the seat back.  Within ninety seconds she was filling Carol's mouth with her passion.

       Carol sat back on her knees.  “That was a first.  Maybe a last and only.  I think I know what you meant about not really knowing.”

       “I'm glad you were entertained.” Danielle replied with a smile.

       After they had cleaned up and dressed Danielle walked Carol back to the door.

       “If you're interested, there is a party Saturday afternoon before the big gala.”  Danielle told her.

       “What is the connection between a bondage party and a pharmaceutical manufacturer's convention?”  Carol asked.  Danielle looked confused.

       “What manufacturer's convention?”  Danielle asked. “The gala is for the national BondCon this weekend.  Isn't that why you're here?”

       “What's a bondcon?” Carol asked.  “I'm here for the National Association of Pharmaceutical Manufacturer's Show.  I'm a pharmaceutical detail rep. ” Realization began to come to Danielle's eyes. 

       “You're not here for the BondCon?”  Danielle asked?

       “I don't know what a BondCon is.” Carol answered.  “That's why I couldn't understand why I got your e-mail as part of the 'other activities' that my company included in the list of selected extras.”

       “Who do you work for?”  The Mistress asked.

       “Orstine Pharma.”  Carol replied.  Danielle had an idea, but to protect her clients she didn't reveal it.

       “Well...I don't know about a company list of activities.  But you're still invited to our party as my guest if you would like to go.  Saturday from noon to five or whenever. The big event starts around seven though people will be hanging around the show all afternoon, up until the big party starts.  Interested?”

       “Maybe.  I don't have any specific plans for that afternoon.  I don't have enough time to go to any of the theme parks.”

       “Fine.  Here is a ticket...unless you want two?”  Carol shook her head.

       “The details are on this sheet. If you want to play you can get a collar there, or just play it by ear. I wouldn't expect you to go as a Domme.”

       “How do I dress?  I certainly don't have anything to wear to a bondage convention.” Carol asked.

       “Just dress casual.  Sexy casual if you have it.”  Danielle answered.

       “It's just a lot of fun with others who like to play. See you there.”

       And Carol was off.

Chapter 5        

       The next day was pretty much a waste of time for Carol.  The seminars and continuing education sessions were a background to the memories of the previous day.  She almost wished that she had a dvd of the session as a reminder of what she went through.  Almost.

       Then came the party.

       Carol arrived right on time.  The only thing that she felt comfortable wearing was a pale blue sleeveless silk/poly top with dark blue shorts and flats. She was among the first to arrive, but the room got busy quickly.  She followed signs to the room where another sign announced it as “invitation only”.  Carol presented her invitation at the table in front of the door and was asked to present her identification.  A waiver was presented, which confused her for a moment. The girl smiled and said

       “It's a requirement.  It releases the hotel from...problems.”  She signed and was offered a choice of a small red plastic collar or miniature crop. 

       “Do I have to take one?”  She asked?  The slave girl wearing a collar, cuffs on both wrists and both ankles all joined by chains to a locked belt; scanty halter and thong bikini bottoms replied:

       “No, they're simply to make others aware which way you play if you're alone. You can always take one now and put it away if you don't want to use it.  You do need to wear the bracelet, though.”  A plastic bracelet identifying her as a guest was fastened around her right wrist and two paper tokens were placed into her hand.  The slave opened the door for her and curtseyed as Carol went into the room.

       

       The lighting was subdued, but not dark. A token bar was set up next to the entrance. A limit of two alcoholic drinks, either beer or wine were allowed. A variety of dungeon appliances were set up around the room. Large signs in the colors described: RED BLUE(MAYDAY)YELLOW hung on the walls behind each station. Several people wearing tee shirts labeled DM wondered around. Behind each station a table was set up with paper towels and several spray bottles of disinfectant. A dais was at the end opposite the door.  Both an X frame and a suspension bar were set up with spotlights holding them in focus. A table held an assortment of chastising implements.  A collection of cuffs, hoods, gags, rolls of wide tape, blindfolds, rope and other toys completed the assembly.

       Carol wandered around; several groups of people formed who had either met at the recent activities or were getting re-acquainted from days or years past. Carol recognized one, much to her surprise.  He was another rep who worked for Orstine, based in Charlotte, she thought.  He spotted her and casually worked his way over to her.

       “I didn't know you were in the scene.”  He said, extending his hand.  “Robert Hazlith.  I work out of Orstine's Charlotte office.”  Carol took it, blushing furiously and looking around furtively. 

       “I...I'm not really in…what did you call it…'The Scene'? I got an e-mail for...an...alternative activity...and I got an invitation to this party.  I've never done anything like this...but I thought I'd see what it was like.  I don't think they do this in Raleigh.  OH!  Excuse me. I'm Carol Tiffton.”  She took his hand, shook it lightly and released it.

       “Oh, I'm sure you can find things similar in Raleigh.  In fact there was a munch there last November.  I missed it; but I might make the next one.”  Robert smiled at her. “Are you alone?”

       “Yes.  My husband stayed home. We couldn't afford for him to come this year. Maybe next year.  I think it's going to be in San Francisco.  We've never been there before.”

       “Too bad he couldn't make it.  Can I show you around?”

       Robert was wearing a black leather vest over a black silk tee shirt, black leather pants and black engineer's boots with silver toe and heel clips.  His physique revealed a lot of gym time.  His abs were hard, the shirt clung to them hinting at the definition. His hazel eyes shone out from under a shock of dusky blonde hair.  At 5'10, he wasn't a bad package at all.

       As they walked around he introduced her to a few acquaintances.  The Mistress arrived looking stunning in a long silver dress slit to her thigh. The dress displayed an impressive amount of her chest. A ruby pendent hung at the hollow of her cleavage. Her feet were encased in delicate black heels that had tiny straps that wrapped around her ankles and disappeared above the hem of the dress.  As an incongruous accessory a rawhide quirt hung by a knot from a loop on a solid silver belt. 

       “Good afternoon, Mistress Danielle.” Robert said as they approached the Domme.

       “Good afternoon Master Robert.” She replied. “And good afternoon to you, Carol.  I'm glad you could join us.”

       “Good afternoon, Mistress. This is quite an…” she looked around the room “interesting party.”

       Danielle laughed lightly.  “The party hasn't started yet. I do hope that it does get interesting. Did you meet here?”  She indicated the two of them.

       “Actually, we work together...well, at least for the same company.  We're here as a part of our work.”  Robert answered. “We're getting acquainted away from business.”

       “Play time is important!” Danielle said laughing. “All work and no play makes Carol a dull girl!  Right?”  She looked at Carol with a raised eyebrow.  Carol blushed a bright red.

       “R...right. I...it hasn't been dull so far this week.”  Was all she could stammer.

       “Robert, take good care of Carol.  She isn't used to a group like this. You should be protective as a responsible Dom always is.”  She laughed again.  “Have fun.  I need to get around the room.”  And she was away.

       “So…How do you know the Mistress?”  Robert asked Carol.

       “I...” She faltered, then blushed again and looked down.  She finally calmed and looked back up. “Her dungeon was listed as one of the activities from Orstine. Didn't you see it?”  Robert nodded.

       “As a matter of fact I did.  I was a bit surprised at that, but I figured that someone upstairs must have a secret kink he...or they...whomever...wanted to share with everyone.”  He replied.

       “How do you know her?” Carol asked, dodging his question.

       “I've been in the scene for years. She provides services for Doms, too. She provides subs and teaches whipping and flogging techniques.  She's quite good at delivering controlled pain. She has a remarkable touch with a crop or a whip.”

       Carol felt a quiver run through her as she remembered all too well just how skilled her Mistress was.

       “You didn't say how you know her.  Have you been to her dungeon?”  He asked.

       Again Carol's face burned.

       “Yes.  I wanted to see what it was like. I met her last Wednesday.” She replied.

       “Have fun?”  He asked.

       “Yes.  It was quite entertaining.”  Her voice was husky.  She struggled to swallow.

       Robert looked around behind her.

       “So, did you get a collar or a crop?”  She pulled a collar from out of her back pocket.

       “Collar.  What did you get?”  He produced a crop from the inside pocket of his vest.

       “I'm not the collar type. I prefer to be on the delivering end of the whip. Want to try it?”  Carol shook her head furiously.

       “NO! I don't know why I got the collar. Souvenir, I guess.” She said.

       “OK.  I think I want a beer.  Care for a drink?”   He tilted his head toward the bar.

       “Yes.  That sounds great.”  Carol was glad to change to subject.  At least for the moment.

       Robert led them over to the bar and they each got a beer.  An announcer stepped up to a microphone at the other end of the room. 

       “Good afternoon.  Welcome to the Dominant's Reception.  Everyone is welcome to try out the different stations around the room. Remember the safe rules. He pointed at various signs behind each of the appliances. “Please be respectful of the location.  We don't want to draw any unnecessary attention.  And remember, no cameras or cell phones. Discretion is required.”

       “Who are the guys in the shirts with 'DM' on them?”  Carol said.

       “They are Dungeon Monitors.  They make sure that everything is safe.  And sane and consensual.”  Robert said. “No excuses. Safe, sane and consensual.”  He smiled at Carol.  “That's what it's all about. It's all fun. Of course some people like their fun spiced with a little pain.  But it's still fun.”

       As they walked around the room had started to fill up.  Doms and Dommes led subs around on leashes.  Some walked, others crawled.  Different apparatus were being used.  The snap of whips, not all gentle, rang out from different areas. They migrated to the dais where a large, very muscular bare chested man wearing black leather pants and boots was connecting a tall naked blonde girl to the suspension frame. He attached her ankles to a spreader bar longer than the width of her shoulders and her wrists to another spreader the same length. He connected the wrist spreader to a chain suspended from a winch. Her large breasts flattened as he pulled her up. Her feet left the floor, then he snapped a chain on one end of her ankle spreader to a ring in the floor to keep her from spinning.  He picked up a vicious looking bullwhip from the table. She breathed deeply, watching as her master warmed up.

       “This should be interesting.”  Robert said to Carol.  She was wide eyed, not quite believing what she was seeing. He led her closer to the pair.

       “He's good.  And she loves it. Together make a perfect couple.” He told her.

       They watched as the large man uncoiled the whip and limbered up.  He snapped it a few times to get limber up and gather attention.  He stepped up and gave the girl a deep kiss then stepped back.  He drew the whip back and swung it gracefully around, wrapping it around the blonde's waist. As the whip fell away a red line revealed where it had struck.

       “Thank you, Sir.  Another, please?”  The blonde hissed.

       Another stripe joined the first.

       Then another.  Another.  Many more followed.  She was striped from her underarms to her knees.  Both the girl and her Dom were sweating, drops staining the floor dark. The inside of her thighs were wet, though not all from perspiration. Her fragrance was noticeable. Her master lowered the bar and removed the cuffs from her ankles and wrists.  She was trembling and not very steady on her feet.  He held her close and gave her another deep kiss then swept her off her feet with an arm under her knees and another under her back.  She cringed from the pressure against the welts decorating her back but said nothing.  Applause rang through the room as they made their way out a side door.

       “They've been giving that performance for several years.  I never get tired of it.”  Robert said.  Carol stared at him.

       “For years?”  She was incredulous. “They do that regularly?”

       “Yep.  They love it. They'll be at the gala tonight. A quick shower and nap. Probably a quick screw...ahh a quickie.”  He grinned. “Nothing like a little whip action to get the old hormones flowing, eh?”

       “I guess.  I wouldn't know.” Carol lied. Not only was she turned on, she was afraid that her copious fluid flow would betray her.  “This beer is going right through me.  Where are the rest rooms?”  She asked. 

       Robert walked with her to the door and pointed across the hallway.

       “Right there. I'll wait for you.” He said.  As she walked away a wry smile spread across his face.

       Carol returned to the room.

       “Did I miss anything?”  She asked.

       “Not yet.  Feel better?”  Robert asked her.

       “DEFINATELY!” She exclaimed. She had taken the opportunity to add a few layers of tissue to her panties to provide some protection. Maybe she could get through the rest of the afternoon without embarrassing herself.  She couldn't believe the reaction she was having.

       As they walked around various couples had made use of the different bondage stations and were busy “warming up” their subs.  They heard several DM's gently remind players:

       “Watch the back swing, please.”  The whip and cane wielders had a tendency to forget that they had a close audience.

       The Mistress caught up to them and as they watched one particularly pretty sub moan into the lashing she received, asked Robert:

       “Have you been practicing the techniques we went over last month?”

       “Actually, I have.  If I had a willing victim...or should I say, volunteer, I could show you.” He looked at Carol, smiling and lifting his eyebrows at her.

       “I don't think so!”  Carol responded rather loudly.

       Danielle laughed then said “Well, I don't think that there is any danger involved here. Robert does have a rather well developed sense of the whip. I'd like to get an idea of how well he has progressed. Are you sure?  He seems to know how to tickle rather well.”

       Carol paused, looking at Robert. She didn't respond.

       “I've been practicing tickling with a short buggy style whip.  I've got a few friends who enjoy being tickled while they're tied up.  It doesn't hurt. Really. Let me show you.”  He said gently.

       “There's a frame available right over there.” Danielle pointed behind them at a solid wall type frame.  The sub that had been enjoying it was spraying and wiping it down.

       They turned and Carol said hesitantly, “Oh...OK.  Just a few minutes.”  She looked around at the room, half of the participants were either nude or almost nude. Collars, cuffs and shoes were the only garments most of the subs wore.  The Mistress led them over to the frame. Carol stepped up to it with great trepidation.

       “Shall I hold your top?”  She asked, pointing at Carol's tee shirt.  Carol blushed and looked around almost wildly.

       “You're not alone.  And I think Robert's seen boobs before.  Not many as nice as yours, I admit, but they're just boobs.  Besides, you might make another discovery about yourself.” Danielle had a wry smile on her face.

       Carol looked around again then nodded slowly.  She pulled the shirt over her head, handed it to Danielle and quickly faced up against the frame.  Danielle tugged at her bra strap.  Carol sighed and unhooked it, then shrugged out of it and handed it to the Mistress. She leaned up against the wall, shielding her breasts. Robert pulled the cuffs down and fastened them around Carol's wrists, then attached her ankles. A few turns of a handle and Carol found herself stretched tightly against the frame. He found a whip that suited him from one of the tables and gave a few quick swipes through the air.  The swishing sound caused Carol to jump and turn her head.

       “Just warming up the arm. I want to find the reach of this little thing.” He continued to swing around and then turned to face Carol's back, waving the split end of the whip around her shoulders. He dangled the ends across her shoulders and neck, swung the ends gently under her arms.  The end of the whip had soft suede laces that began wide and tapered to thinner ends.  This made it easier to tickle and less likely to inflict any serious pain. He began dangling the ends around Carol's ears and neck. He then moved on her shoulders arms and back moving the ends in a circular motion brushing gently against her skin.  Carol was stretched further than she was used to. The tightened skin added to the sensitivity to the suede tips. The Mistress stepped over with a blindfold and placed it over Carol's eyes. Without vision Carol focused her senses on what she could feel, hear and smell. Robert continued to tease Carol moving from her wrist to her ankles swinging the tips quicker to provide a sharper tickling sensation. Carol could feel her skin warming up. She could also feel that spot between her legs began to get moist again. She was surprised at her juicing, she was occasionally a prodigious lubricator but in the last few days her flow had increased dramatically. Occasionally during bedroom play David would call her a “juicy Lucy", but her wetness lately was greater than it had been in the past. “Could this simply be because of the added stimulation?” She thought.  Robert continued tickling Carol and then started adding a few swats with the shaft of the whip across her bottom. They were hard strokes, just enough to give her a change in sensation. They certainly added to her increased excitement. Daniel watched, smiling, as he continued to tease Carol with the whip.

       Danielle motioned for Robert to stop for a moment and stepped close to Carol, placing her mouth close to Carol's ear.

       "Are you enjoying this dear?" Daniel asked. Carol nodded "yes, Mistress."

       "Shall I enhance the experience a bit?” Carol nodded again.  Daniel picked up a ball gag, placed the ball in Carol's mouth and fastened the straps around her head; she then picked up a knotted red handkerchief and placed it in Carol's right-hand.

       "The cloth in your right hand is a red handkerchief.  If you need to stop the play, simply drop it. Understand?" Again, Carol nodded.

       Daniel stepped away and motioned for Robert to continue. He began again, this time adding light taps of the end of the whip shaft to different parts of her back, legs and arms. Carol could feel perspiration start to trickle down her sides; she could smell her scent mixing with her deodorant and cologne, forming an unusual mélange. She began to quiver slightly, both from the strains of her restraint as well as the increased excitement caused by the whipping. Robert stepped to her side and started using the shaft of the whip lightly across her back as if it were a cane. He alternated the came strokes with more tickling Carol wondered if the crotch of her shorts was beginning to show her arousal. Thankfully she had worn dark blue.

       Robert began to focus on her butt and the backs and insides of her thighs, tickling and striking the tender skin. Her skin had developed a bright pink glow, there were but a few faint lines showing where he had struck, none that would last for more than a few hours. Carol found it difficult to breathe deeply enough through her nose only, but the ball gag prevented any deep breaths otherwise.

       A dungeon monitor walked up to Robert, leaned close to him and said "it's about time to wind this one up and let someone else have this apparatus to play with." Robert nodded his acknowledgement, then decided to see how much stimulation she could handle. He increased the amount of force he was using to strike her ass, moving his strokes from top to bottom in parallel lines.  Carol felt the increased force of the caning and began shaking her head and moaning. She tried to say the word "RED!” But the ball gag made the sounds unintelligible. Her hands were clenched into fists, she finally remembered to open her right-hand and drop the red handkerchief. Robert was focused on his aim, and it wasn't until his last blow on the underside of her ass cheeks that he noticed the red handkerchief flutter to the floor. A dungeon monitor stepped up and caught Robert’s arm as he dropped the whip to the floor. Danielle rushed over to Carol, unbuckled the ball bag and removed it from between her teeth.        

       "All you all right? Are you hurt?" Daniel asked. Carol shook her head.

       "I don't want any whip marks!" Carol said. "I'm not hurt, but I just don't want any marks.”

       "Sorry" Robert said "I didn't realize that. I don't think I hit you that hard, though." Daniel was busy unbuckling Carol's restraints. Once she was released she ran her hands down her ass cheeks. Her ass was tender but she couldn't tell if there were any bruises yet.

       Carol suddenly realized just how strong her aroma was, and she blushed. "I…I think I could use a shower" Carol said.  Daniel laughed.

       "It looked like you were having fun. Sometimes fun is exciting." Carol's blushing deepened.

       "Would you like to go back to the hotel?" Robert asked.

       "I think I would." Carol replied. "I think I’d like to freshen up a bit."

       "Well, let's go back to freshen up and then we'll get a bite of dinner." Robert said.

       "Isn't there a ball or something tonight?" Carol asked.

       "Yes. Would you like to come?”

       “I had planned to go to the pharmaceutical meeting dinner tonight. I think Team Orstine is expecting me to be there. Which of the events are you going to attend?”

       Robert grinned. "I'm going to the fun one! Tell you what. Let's go back to the hotel, freshen up, then we can go to the cocktail party. I'll slip away after that and tell you the details later." They said their goodbyes to the Mistress and left for the hotel.

       Chapter 6

       The flight home was the best kind - uneventful. Carol didn't see Robert at the departure area of the airport. He must've had a different departure time. 

       I was waiting for her just outside the security gate. As she came out of the secure area, I slipped an arm around her and pulled her out of the traffic flow. I gave her a big hug and kiss. I think she realized how much I had missed her.  The way she returned the kiss told me she was glad to be home.

       “Gosh, I missed you!" I said.

       "I missed you too, love." She answered.

       I took her hand while we waited for the baggage, and held it all the way to the car. In fact, I held it all the way home.

       "BRRR!” She said, as we stepped inside. "I got used to being warm in Florida." She slipped close to me and I held her tight.

       "Let's go to bed. You can warm me up there.”  She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the bedroom.  I turned up the thermostat on the way.

       "Would you like me to tickle you?” I asked. She nodded, smiling. I undressed her, kissing each part of her body as I uncovered it. We slipped under the covers, and cuddled until the room warmed up. It was wonderful to have her home. Once the room warmed up I retrieved the toy bag from the Closet. I put the cuffs on her, and clipped them to the lines on the bed.

       "Tighter. Stretch me out more." She asked. So I tightened the lines. This was a new development. Usually she likes some slack in the lines so that she can move a bit.  I applied the blindfold and picked up a feather, and began to trace it along her body. She squirmed a bit, her nipples puckering and getting hard. I kneaded her beautiful breasts gently and put my mouth over the right nipple, sucking and licking.

       "Harder." She said.  I began to chew, gently.

       “Harder. Be rough with me.” This was a surprise. I squeezed harder, and began to bite. She squirmed even more and started to moan. I moved a hand to her pussy, and found she was soaking already.

       "It would appear that you missed me." I said.

       “Mmmm Hmmm.” She gasped. She seemed ready, and I know I was.  I slid down to start licking at her pussy and reached up to continue squeezing her breasts. She was as wet as I had ever seen her and it did not take her long to cum. As soon as she quit shaking I moved up and slid inside her. It felt like my rod was about to explode. It didn't take me long, either. When I finished gasping I eased down on top of her.  After a moment I shifted my weight off of her and held her tightly without withdrawing my cock. I managed to unclip her wrists, but to reach her ankles meant that I had to move. We held each other until her legs began to cramp, so I unclipped her and went back to holding her. Eventually, it was time to get up so she rolled over and moved toward the bathroom. I watched her as she walked away but was surprised to see two thin bruises stretching across her ass cheeks. One just above her thighs, another an inch above the first. I used a hand towel to finish drying myself. When she returned from the bathroom I asked:

       "Where did you get the bruises?”

       "What bruises?”

       "The ones across your ass." I said. "Turn around." I traced my finger along the bottom one.  "Are they sore?”  She looked down over her shoulder but of course couldn't see them.

       "I… I don't know…” she said hesitantly. "Maybe I sat on something. I think I perched on a hand rail Saturday afternoon. Maybe that did it.” It seemed doubtful to me but I let it pass. I felt something nagging at me again. I finished in the bathroom, got dressed and joined her in the kitchen. It was beer o'clock, so I grabbed a cold one while she fixed a drink. We sat together on the sofa; after having been apart I just wanted to be close to her.

       "That was a bit different." I said.

       "Mmmm… what do you mean?" She asked. My arm was around her, holding her close.

       "Well… you usually want me to be a bit more gentle than today."

       "I just missed you, that's all." She smiled at me. "You didn't seem to object."

       "Well" I grinned at her "absence makes the hard grow longer." She laughed and nudged me in the ribs with her elbow. I put my other arm around her, pulled her onto my lap and kissed her. "I'm so glad you're home."

       

       Chapter 7

       She was home all the following week. She mainly worked in the office and made some local calls. We made love a couple times, each time was wonderful. The next week was her usual schedule. I had some small remodeling work, but nothing of any consequence. I didn't know it, but she had received an e-mail from her friend from Charlotte, Robert. He asked to see her on her next trip to Charlotte so that he could tell her about the BondCon Ball. She still hadn't told me anything about it.

       Robert was still flying high after his trip to Florida. It couldn't have gone any better. The e-mail he spoofed worked perfectly and the session at the party was wonderful! Carol was beautiful, and her boobs were absolutely perfect. The whole evening after the party his balls felt like they were the size of a grapefruit; he had had to relieve the pressure in them twice that night. Since returning it been hard to remain cool but he knew he needed to be patient. Just let things work out. He had teased her with a few tidbits in his e-mail but wanted to wait until they were together before giving any details. He invited her to dinner at his House where he could tell her about the ball.

       

       His house was on the north edge of Mint Hill, east of Charlotte. It was on the end of a cul-de-sac set back for plenty of privacy. It was an older neighborhood, not one of the newer ones where all the houses were crammed together. She walked up the sidewalk to the front porch, the door opened as she stepped on the porch.

        "Good evening. It's great to see you again!” He held the screen door open for her and motioned her toward the living room. "Would you care for a drink?”

       "Please!” Carol smiled at him as she entered the house.

       "What would you like?" He asked.

       Carol thought for a second, then said "How about a beer?”

       "Coming right up." He walked into the kitchen and Carol followed him. He `reached into the refrigerator and pulled out two Coronas.

       "Lime?” He asked.        Carol shook her head.

       "No thanks. Just the beer. I drink limeade in the summertime."

       "Would you like a glass?”

       Again, Carol shook her head. "It's already in one, thank you."

       Robert laughed. He opened both bottles and handed one to her. He clicked his bottle against hers lightly and said:

       "Whips and chains!” He grinned at her and took a sip.

       At first Carol looked startled and then smiled and tipped her bottle toward him.  "Cheers!" She answered.

       "Let's sit in the den." Robert said. "I'll tell you about the party."

       The house was nicely appointed, though not lavish. It didn't seem like what would be considered to be a "bachelor pad". Everything was neat, clean and organized. The walls were decorated with photographs and artwork that appeared to be souvenirs from traveling. As they finished their beer, the doorbell rang.

       "Dinner has arrived!” Robert said. He walked to the front door and opened it to reveal a pizza delivery boy standing there box in hand. He paid for the pizza, closed the door and carried it back to the kitchen. He was pulling plates from the cupboard, setting them on the table next to the pizza box when Carol stepped into the kitchen.

       "I hope you like pizza." Robert said. "I didn't feel like fixing anything. It would just interrupt the story."

       "Pizza is great!" Carol replied. "You can have my anchovies."

       "No anchovies." Robert said. "I don't care for fish on my pizza. Ready for another beer?”

       "Sure." He handed her two plates each with two slices of pizza and said "I'll bring the silverware, napkins and beer.” He followed her back to the den, carrying the accessories and beers. He put his things down and pulled a pair of TV tables from behind a bookcase. He opened them and placed them in front of the chairs they had been sitting in. They got settled in and he continued telling her about the ball.

       "I would've liked to have gone. But business is business and that's why I was down there." Carol told him.

       "Yes, I know. But I have been to several of the meetings. Once they saw me at the cocktail party I had made my presence known. That gave me the chance to escape." Robert told her. "Besides, I wouldn't have missed that ball for anything. I've only been to one other BondCon. Usually they are too far away and I don't have the vacation time to spend going to them.” It took one more beer for him to finish his tale. About halfway through the beer he stopped and asked

       "Would you like to see my dungeon?" Carol knitted her eyebrows and looked around.

       "You… have a dungeon?" She asked.

       "Of course! Doesn't everyone? I wouldn't have asked to show it to you otherwise." He moved the tray table aside and stood up. He moved her table for her and held his hand to assist her up. She ignored it, rose and followed him to the hallway where he opened the door. He flipped the light switch and revealed a stairway going down to the basement.

       "A basement! Not many houses in the south have basements!" Carol exclaimed.

       "That's one of the reasons I picked this house. I can have my house and a dungeon, too." He led her down the stairs and flipped another light switch at the bottom. The floor was painted concrete; a smooth, grey shiny slab. She recognized an X cross, a whipping bench, and some sort of table with cuffs at each corner and rings mounted along the sides. A tall cabinet stood against one wall. She noticed spreader bars as well as cuffs dangling from the ceiling. Cables ran from each to the wall and down to winches mounted at waist height.  Rings lay in recesses in the floor. She walked around the equipment, running her fingers along the padded whipping bench. Robert walked over the cabinet and opened the double doors. Hung on the back of the cabinet was his collection of assorted paddles, floggers, whips and crops. He pulled opened a thin drawer to reveal a collection of canes. He closed it and opened the next drawer. It was divided into two parts; on one side were several masks and gags, on the other several dildos and vibrators. He closed the drawers and picked up a short whip with suede tips.

       "Want to try one out?” He asked motioning to the X-frame.

       "NO!” She exclaimed. "The last time you left me with a pair of whip marks. My husband saw them. I told him a lie about them. That's the first time I've ever lied to him. I hope that it's the last time." She glared at him.

       "I'm sorry. All Danielle said was that tickling gets your motor running. Since you mentioned you had been to her dungeon, I couldn't imagine anyone getting out of there without having had a thrashing. Until you dropped that handkerchief I thought everything was going okay. I do apologize." Robert put the whip back on its peg and closed the cupboard doors. He motioned toward the stairs and followed her up into the house. At the top of the stairs he closed the door behind them.

       "Danielle is an excellent teacher, and she has taught me how to use a variety of implements. Quite well, too. At least she says so. And she should know. If you would give me another chance sometime I could show you. And I promise not to leave any marks. And I'll bet I can get your motor racing."

       Carol was silent. She considered what he had said. She hadn't mentioned to him about marks. And they hadn't been with Danielle very long. Perhaps, she could cut him some slack.

       "Maybe. I'll think about it. It was fun, until you started whipping my ass. And it wasn't because it hurt that much. I just didn't want to take any souvenirs home. But I did, anyway. That's what hurt. I'll think about it." Was Carol's reply.

       Robert smiled at her. "I promise. Really. I truly mean it. The next time you come to town, let me show you. You will love it." She handed him her empty bottle and walked over to where he had laid her coat. She picked it up and put it on.

       “Thank you for the pizza.  And the beers.  The ball sounded like a wild party.  I’m glad you could go. This was fun.  You’re a very gracious host.” Carol held out her hand and he took it.  Her hand was warm, dry and firm. This was the first time all evening that he had touched her. He gave a gentle shake and released it.

       “Please come back. I really enjoyed seeing you again. Please. The next time you come down. Okay?” Robert was contrite, almost begging, very unlike a dominant.

       “I’ll think about it.” And Carol smiled.  It was the best he could hope for.  He opened the door for her and walked her out to her car.  He opened the door for her, held it as she got in and closed it gently.  He waved as she backed out of the driveway and disappeared into the night.

       

If there is interest then more will be posted.

       

       

       

       

       

       

       

       

       

Chapter 8

       Carol drove back to her hotel not quite quivering.  Her crotch was steaming; she could smell a faint whiff of her scent.  The recap of the gala plus the surprise tour of his dungeon had started her juices flowing and her imagination working.  She had reacted by instinct when she refused the invitation to experience some of his skills; she still felt pangs of guilt over her story to David. 

       Robert had a point, though.  She hadn't told him, she had only told Mistress Danielle.  And it wasn't necessarily the Mistress's responsibility to tell him; it was Carol's.  She hadn't been injured, quite the contrary. It had been a huge turn-on. That had been the culmination of the one of the most erotic weeks of her life; second only to her honeymoon. She had fucked herself silly that evening with the BOB – Battery Operated Boyfriend- that she traveled with.  She WAS interested in more.  But she preferred that it be with David.  How could she do that?  The trip home provided an opportunity to devise a plan to have her husband become the source of her excitement rather than Robert. 

      **        Friday evening found a very horny Carol enticing me to carry our personal bedroom play to a new level.  I both did and did not have a problem with it.  The idea of combining a little pain with our pleasure wasn't new; we had tried it before.  The problem came from two directions; first was her memories of punishment during her childhood.  There was nothing there to relate to but fear, pain and guilt.  Not exactly a bedroom turn-on.  When I had tried to spank her or use any implement on her, the memories of those childhood punishments overrode any eroticism that could have been generated.  The other difficulty lay in me.  I don't just love my wife; I cherish her.  And while I could bear to spank or lightly use a crop or similar instrument, doing so while it glaringly caused her grief was something I couldn't do. 

       There was another part of my life that it conflicted with as well.  That was first time I killed a man.  I was a Marine.  I had actually enjoyed it a little bit. That part was something that changed later. 

       My high school years weren't exactly smooth.  High school was boring.  I made good grades, surprisingly good considered how little I actually studied.  My parents, teachers and counselors all pushed me to take the advanced courses.  Apparently my aptitude and my interest in school were at opposite ends of the spectrum.  I was a tall, skinny kid with way too much testosterone fueled attitude.  It didn't take me long to figure out that being tall didn't keep someone heavier and stronger from beating my ass.  That started to change my senior year.  An extra inch and sixty pounds of muscle turned me from a skinny, harmless pain in the ass into a serious pain in the ass. I didn't care for college so I worked construction after graduation, something I had been doing part time and summers all along.  The atmosphere seemed to fit my attitude and the manual work aspect helped my physique.  It didn't do a thing for the testosterone, however.  After one too many altercations my father's patience wore thin.  Okay, it wore out.  He finally convinced me that if I was such a real badass then I might as well join the Marines and put it to use.  In a moment of “Okay, I'll show you”, I did.  And I liked it, enough to volunteer for Force Reconnaissance.  Forecon evolved into Reconnaissance and Special Operations.  Back then there were two divisions: Green and Black.  Green did what the name implied: deep forward reconnaissance for advancing forces.  Black was the tough stuff.  The Army had the green beanies who jumped out of planes, the Navy had the Seals who came in under water.  We did both.  Hell, they would have delivered us by cruise missile if they could have crammed us into the cargo section.  Force Recon never got the press of our counterparts.  But we were the guys you called if it Absolutely, Positively had to be DESTROYED Overnight.  I went Black.

       I joined up just in time to pull two short semi-tough deployments in Forecon before Operation Desert Storm gave me a chance to fully realize the potential of my training.  We were “delivered” into Northern Kuwait and were heading to check out one of the Iraqi “palaces” that also served as a weapons manufacturing center.  For a nation that had no nuclear ambitions, they sure had an amazing inventory of yellowcake.

       Just after dusk early in the mission, we – my two buddies and I – stumbled across three Iraqi men who had decided to have some fun with a girl.  She was 12, maybe 14. Or 18.  It can be hard to tell, especially considering how they dress.  Regardless, she didn't seem too interested in having their style of fun.  Essentially it consisted of one of the men holding a rather ugly knife to her throat while ramming his cock down her throat.  She was kneeling and her hands were bound behind her.  With all the gagging and crying she was doing, they didn't hear us slip up behind them. 

       I raised my silenced HK to interrupt the little party; my second grabbed my arm and pulled me around.  He motioned “NO!” and to slip on by.  He was right.  I knew that.  This had nothing to do with our mission.  What we were watching was a domestic issue.  But that hardly mattered to me at that time.  Testosterone listens to no one.  Two rounds went through the face of one of the men watching and laughing.  It was the laughing that got to me.  The sub-sonic ammo and the effectiveness of the silencer meant that the bulk of the resulting noise came from the rifle's action banging back and forth.  While the first one fell unnoticed, the other two looked around at the strange mechanical noise.  The next two rounds caught the other spectator in the forehead.  Most of the top of his head disappeared; that got the attention of the guy doing the raping.  I motioned for him to step away from the girl, which he both understood and obeyed. He started to turn to run but I put another round in front of his feet and he changed his mind.  I took the knife that he had dropped and cut the cord from the girl's wrists then motioned with the muzzle for him to kneel.  I handed the knife to her and stepped around behind him.  Her eyes grew wide as I reached down and pulled my Kabar out of the thigh sheath.  I never gave him a chance to see what was about to happen; I just grabbed his hair and pulled his head back.  The blood spurting from his severed jugular and carotids just missed splattering on her.  She scrambled back as the body fell, a small hinge at the spinal cord was all that kept the head from separating from the body.

       “Did you really have to do that?” My second asked.

       “No... I guess not.  But I wanted her to know that the son of a bitch would never be able to come after her.  She might dream about tonight, but she won't have to look over her shoulder or be afraid that this piece of shit will be around anymore.”  Was my reply.

       He just sighed. 

       “Let's get on with it.  We've got a cab to catch.”  He meant a copter, of course.  But that would come later.  That wasn't the only blood that my knife would taste that mission.  Nor the only time I watched a head turn into sausage.  Always up close and personal. 

       The Marines will teach you a lot of things.  Loyalty, duty, honor among others.  But the first thing they teach you is discipline.  That starts before you get off the bus at Parris Island.  That was something I soon learned well and applied stringently.  I sliced a man’s head off because I caught him sexually abusing a woman, but I didn't have the self discipline to ignore it and go on with the mission.  That was a graduate level education that I acquired in about two minutes.  I remember it as well as she probably does. By the time I mustered out at Camp Lejeune my testosterone had about run out; dealing death and destruction had lost all of its’ appeal.  My personal discipline was well locked in. 

       

       School had a new appeal.  Even the liberal, almost socialist, institution in Chapel Hill welcomed returning warriors.  My grades from high school were fine, actually excellent, everything was acceptable and I found myself in the business program at UNC. I decided to accelerate my studies and found that university was a bit more challenging than high school.  With a year left I met Carol, starting her second year of a six year program that would produce a PharmD.

       She was one who had blossomed from a duckling to a glorious swan.  She still retained the memories of being a small town girl who was too tall, too skinny and with too long a face.  All I saw was a candidate for a Victoria's Secret catalog. She was shy and ignored the boys that tried to make a move on her.  The girls on campus had resurrected my testosterone, Carol started it raging. I had maintained my physical conditioning so I was impressively intimidating; at least toward any guys that might want to sniff around her.  To her I was the perfect, respectful, humble Marine.  Okay, that last seems to be an oxymoron (to any sailors reading this, STFU. Oxy in this case means contradiction, not an inhalant.) But I behaved myself.

       We dated, her parents hated me (because she liked me) I really didn't care and soon I was waaay past being in love.  And lust, which she happened to enjoy, too.  I graduated first, stuck around and found a job with a contractor in Raleigh.  I took some extra classes in Construction Business and Management at NC State.  “Moo U” was okay.  No body gave me any shit about being a Tar Heel first.  Even NC State guys could figure it out about former Marines.  Eventually she graduated; I had found a house in the country that the realtor said was a “fixer upper” which means that the roof might not collapse before the deal closes.  Hey, I'm a contractor.  The price was right, I did the work; we got married and had a decent house in the country.  I started my own contracting company and for a few years things went very well. Then the Great Recession came along and my business turned into shit.

       So when the beautiful, wonderful love of my life asks me to start spanking her, I was just a bit apprehensive.  I was also curious as to why this change had occurred. I was suddenly reminded about my nagging feelings about the bruises on her butt.

       Chapter 9

       I got out the toy bag when she said:

       “Wait.  I think I need a spanking.”  She was looking coy and smirking at the same time.

       “A spanking.  Why do you need a spanking?  Have you been a bad girl?” I asked.

       “yes.  A very baaad girl!”

       “And what have you done?”

       She paused.  She didn’t expect this. “I’ve been thinking naughty things.”

       “Such as…?”

       “I…I’ve been thinking about sexy stuff.”

       “Well, that’s not naughty.  That’s good.  Maybe I should do something else.”

       Her countenance seemed more worried than guilty.

       “I still think I deserve a spanking.”  She pouted.

       “Hmmm.”  I sat down on the edge of the bed.  “I think you should be naked to get a spanking.”

       “Naked?  Or Nekkid?” She asked. 

       “Nekkid.  We’re up to something. Or at least I will be before long.”  (Naked means you don’t have any clothes on.  Nekkid means you don’t have any clothes on and are up to somethin’.)

       She slowly began to strip, teasing me.  She wasn’t a stripper and we had only been to one or two strip clubs before, so she didn’t really know the routine.  She understands sexy though and it doesn’t take much for her to get me worked up by simply getting undressed.  Just trying to be sexy is enough to get me started.

       Once she was nekkid I patted my lap.

       “Here.  Lay down.  You need a spanking.”  Actually by now I was thinking that maybe she did need a spanking.  She lay across my lap and I put my hand on her left cheek and rubbed it lightly. I never miss an opportunity to rub her ass. I gave her a pop, then another on her other cheek.  Several more and she began to squirm. I hadn’t used enough force to really hurt so her squirming indicated something else.

       “Have you been naughtier than that?”  I asked.  She just nodded her head. I began again, this time harder.

       “Is…this…what…you…think…you…deserve?”  I punctuated my spanks with my question.  Each one got a little stronger. I stopped and she nodded.

       “I’ve been naughtier than that.”  Was her reply.   This was certainly a change.

       “How naughty?  What should I use other than my hand?”  She didn’t answer for a minute.  Then she said:

       “A belt.”  I swallowed hard at that one.  This was going back into a part of her life that I wasn’t comfortable to participate in.  I lifted her off my lap without a word and placed her on the bed.  I stepped over to the closet and drew a belt from my closet.  I then returned to the bed and sat back down.  I motioned her back onto my lap and she slowly returned.

       I could see that whatever she had expected earlier wasn’t exactly what was happening now.  She moved with some trepidation and slowly got back on my lap.  I gave her two quick, though not very hard, swats with the belt. She squirmed around then settled and I gave her two more, but harder.  She was tense; so was I.  My apprehension didn’t enhance my erection in the least.  I took a breath then gave her two more.  She started sobbing and said:

       “Stop!  No more.  I’m SORRY!”  I threw the belt to the floor and grabbed her into my arms.

       “I’m sorry.  I didn’t want to hurt you.  I’m sorry! I’m…”  She put her hand on my mouth to shush me.

       “It’s…It’s all right.  It’s okay.  I thought I wanted something…I thought…I didn’t think that…It’s okay.  I’m fine.  It’s okay.”  She held me tightly and breathed into my chest.  She took deep breaths.

       “It wasn’t what I thought it would be. I thought it could be sexy.  Like the way I get when you tie me up.  But it wasn’t. It… it reminded me…” She couldn’t finish and didn’t need to.  I knew what she meant.  But I still couldn’t quite figure out why the sudden interest.

       “What made you want to try it?”  I asked.  She thought for a minute. Her head was still close against my chest.

       “I thought maybe it would spice things up a bit.  One of the extra activities in Orlando that sent me an e-mail was from a dungeon.  It looked interesting.  It gave me the idea.”

       So that was where the bruises came from.

       “Did you go there?”  She nodded.  “Will you tell me about it?” 

       “Maybe later.”  She answered.  What I wanted to ask was ‘Why in hell didn’t you tell me before now?’

       

Chapter 9

       The next morning I fixed French toast with cinnamon and powdered sugar for breakfast.  After we finished and I had cleaned up, I took her hand and looked into her eyes.

       "We need to have a little talk."

       "What about?" She knew. I figured she was stalling.

       "About last night." I said.

       "That's the name of a movie."

       "Yeah.  Well, besides that I have a few questions.  Let's go sit down."  I said.  She looked away, then sighed.

       "Let me show you something first."  She lifted the screen to the laptop on the table next to her and worked the touchpad.  A website came up that seemed rather...exotic. 

       "This is where I went." She proceeded to show me the page and some of the secondary views of the dungeon. I noticed that there was a disclaimer about "other pages" that she didn't bother to show me.  It was all quite impressive. The lady had a very complete setup and the website seemed very professional.

       "Now let's talk."  She said, getting up.  We went over to the couch and sat next to each other.  I held her hand and looked at her as she looked away.  Reddi, our neutered red headed male cat jumped into my lap.  He’s sweet, but sometimes can be a pest. I gently pushed him to the side of my leg and petted him with my other hand.  Freddi, our white cat, sat on the floor and watched.  She finally looked down at her feet and began speaking.

       "I got an e-mail at work.  The announcement about "The Show" included a statement about "other attractions" that might be sending us invitations, attractions that had been coordinated by the company.  The one from Mistress Danielle came just a few minutes after the show invitation. I though that it was sponsored by the company since it had made it past the spam filters.  I don't know if it was or not, now.  Anyway it looked interesting.  We have so much fun playing games that I thought that it would be an opportunity that I might not get again.  So I went."  She looked up at me then, I tried to look as understanding as I could.  Since I didn't quite understand enough, I may have not conveyed what I wanted.  She looked down again.

       "She's really an interesting person.  She's a licensed psychologist; she had had her own practice. But she gave it up to become a professional dominatrix.  She says that she helps more people this way and that the money is better."  She snickered at this and looked up at me.  I smiled and she resumed, not looking at me.

       "Anyway, I went.  She did a lot of things, some of them hurt, some of them felt really good.  So that's why I wanted you to spank me.  I thought maybe I was past the memories because she could spank me without the fears coming back."

       "Did you tell her about your past?"  I asked.  She nodded.

       "I told her that before I went down to Orlando.  I needed to know about her before I went.  She understood and I thought with her professional background that she might be able to help.  She said that she would stop anytime I had a problem.  But I didn't have a problem." 

       I thought about that.  Then I asked:

       "So you have a problem with me?"  I had to know.

       "I think I have a problem because I love you.  And you love me. I could tell you were...apprehensive about it.  I was too.  It wasn't the same.  She wasn't someone I love.  It was a neutral place.  Actually the setting helped.  The dungeon looked like an appropriate place for punishment play... or rough sex... or something completely different from home.  It was different."

       "So tell me the details.  What did she do?  What did you do?  Did you like it?"  I was more than curious.

       "Yes, I liked it.  She did a lot of things."  She proceeded to tell me about the afternoon; but I had the feeling that I got the Reader's Digest version.  Very abridged and cleaned up.  I was still very attentive.  By the time she had finished my mind was zooming through a variety of scenarios.  And that erection that didn't work the night before was trying to make up for lost time.  When she finally looked up at me and smiled, really smiled, I thought that the sun had come up in her eyes.  Apparently remembering the afternoon in the dungeon had rekindled some emotions in her as well.  We never had lunch that day.  Actually we had a snack.  Make that a feast of pussy and a slab of cock.

Chapter 10

       Things carried on.  I struggled to find work; she went about her usual travel.  Two Fridays later she returned from her trip to the Charlotte area and again she was hornier than a two headed billy goat.  Hmmm.  That feeling again.

       

       I managed to find the money to go to the pistol range on occasion.  Usually I practiced at home in the back yard.  It's rural enough to do that, but I still like to get some time in on a regular range.  It makes it a lot easier to find my brass for reloading, plus I get the camaraderie of being with fellow shooters.  That can be half the fun of shooting.  One of the guys that frequent the range is a fellow former Marine.  He's also a private investigator.  I mentioned my "feelings" without getting into too many details.

       "Standard shit."  He said.  "Either she stops fucking or she starts fucking your eyes out.  The first means she's about to leave.  Or just soak you for a while.  Then she leaves.  The other means she's guilty.  It's kinda like a mercy fuck, but she really means it.  She still loves you and doesn't want to hurt you.  So she fucks you to make up for it.  Whoever is fucking her is getting her interested in sex. So you get dessert too.  It still isn't a long term good thing.  It will come down to you or him. The question is, what do you want to do about it?" 

       "What the fuck can I do about it?  I can't just ask her why she wants to fuck like a bunny every so often.  Okay I could; but I'm not that stupid.  Got any suggestions" I asked.  He grinned. 

       "Sure.  You can hire me to follow her for a month.  Of course, I don't work cheap.  Since she travels I'd have to travel. I could farm it out to a gofer, but that's still not cheap.  YOU could follow her.  Once you catch her you'll end up paying an attorney more than you'd pay me so he can handle the double homicide charge.  You might get off with justifiable.  Better to try insanity.  But that's tough in this state. And then there is the sensible option."  He paused, waiting for me to bite.

       "All right.  Quit dragging it out.  Tell me."

       "Okay.  You do your own car maintenance, right?  Oil and filter changes, tune ups?"  He paused again, waiting for my response.  I had an idea where he was going.  I nodded.

       "I've got a system I bought to tail a lady who was suspected of cheating on her husband.  They both traveled around.  He thought she was fucking around on him.  She was.  Of course, he was fucking around on her, but she wasn't paying me.  I bought this nifty GPS surveillance system.  To do it right it needs to be installed where it doesn't show and can still get power when the engine is running.  It uses a battery but is recharged by the power source. If you can get access to the fuel pump circuit then you're all set.  Think you can do it?"

       "Shit yeah.  Even if I have to tell her I need to do a brake job or something and she has to take the spare wheels, I can do that. What does the GPS show?"

       "It's pretty neat.  It reports GPS locations as often as you want, based on the programming, until the power is turned off. It then reports the current location and goes to sleep. When power is restored, that is the car is started, it then reports its' location again.  You can set it to report every five seconds to every hour.  It reports to a web site that gives verifiable time and date stamps.  You can include VIN numbers and other specific information for evidentiary tracking.  It blows the hell out of defense attorney's excuses."  He grinned again.

       "What does it cost?"  I asked. "Where can I get one?"

       "Just borrow mine.  I don't think I'll need it for a while.  If I do, I'll tell you.  If you're not through, then you can replace it.  Sound fair?"

       "More than fair. When can I get it?"  I was excited.

       "Call me tomorrow.  You can pick up it anytime you want."  He handed me his business card.

       "I'll call in the morning." I said.  "Thanks.  You have no idea."  He looked at me with a sad smile and I could tell there was something else there.

       "Actually...yes I do.  Semper Fi."  And we left.

       The next day I went by and picked up the unit.  He had it in the original box with all the software.  He handed me a sheet of paper with the device.

       "Here's the setup password and the website password and instructions for the website.  Doing this in preparation for a trial is a bit laborious, but I don't think that is what you're interested in yet.  If you need to you can do a resetup; but usually just showing the print out to a defense attorney is enough to get your point across.  Just do the quick setup and you're good to go. Call me once you've got it installed and we can go over what you get."

       "You get paid for doing this.  What do I owe you?"  I didn't want charity but I didn't want another debt, either.

       "Look, you've got a problem.  Let's just say that I've lived a version of your problem. I also see this happening all the time."  He hesitated, then continued. "This thing is paid for.  The online service doesn't cost that much, I'll send you a copy of the bill. I help you out now, when I need some building work done you'll help me out later.  Deal?"  He stuck out his hand.

       "Deal. You know I may need some heavier assistance later?"

       "So call me.  I'm not cheap...but I'm cheaper than an attorney.  Plus I might be able to prevent you from needing one."   **

Chapter 11 

       Two weeks after Carol made her confession about the visit to the Orlando dungeon, her schedule had her returning to the Charlotte area.  A lot of thought and more than a few sleepless nights had convinced her to e-mail Robert and arrange a return visit.  On the way to Charlotte she gave him a call.

       "I've got a few..." she paused, "actually I've got a lot of reservations about this.  I want to sit down and go over some things before we even start to go downstairs.  Understand?"

       "Absolutely." Robert replied. "You set the rules.  I'll do what ever you require.  By the way, do you like beef stew?"

       "Well...sure.  Why?"  Carol asked.

       "Because I started a pot going this morning and I thought we could have it for dinner.  It saves time that way."  He answered.

       "Sure.  Beef stew is fine.  I'll be there around 6:30."

       She was there at 6:35.  He opened the door and grinned at her, sweeping his hand around to usher her in.

       "Welcome.  I'm glad you came back. Let help you with your coat."  He took her coat and laid it across the back of a convenient chair.  She stepped into the house and sniffed.

       "It smells marvelous!  It doesn't smell like a beef stew.  It smells like more than that."  She exclaimed.

       "Nope.  Beef stew.  It just takes a little more preparation to make it right; but it's worth it."  He answered.

       He served the meal and they talked shop.  The life of a pharmacuetical rep, like many specialty jobs, has its’ own peculiarities and it's hard to relate them to a non-rep.  He related to her some of the same issues detailing his particular line of products that she faced with hers. Carol relaxed during the dinner; the nervousness that had accompanied her through the day had retreated.  Robert stood to clear the table and take the dishes to the kitchen.  He stacked the dishes, making sure the slow cooker was turned off and returned to the table. He reached out his hand to her.

       "Let me take you to my dungeon, said the spider to the fly" He smiled at her.  She smirked at the misquotation and rose from the table.  She picked up a small carry bag she had brought in.

       "May I have a minute to change?"  She asked.

       "Certainly.  Use the quest room."  He led her to a bedroom and turned on the light for her.

       Once downstairs she appraised her surroundings.  She had changed out of her work clothes and put on a pair of snug fitting shorts and a tee shirt.  The swell of her breasts and the outline of her nipples revealed that she had left off her bra. The cool of the basement made her nipples harden and pucker.  Robert led her over to an X cross mounted close to one wall.  Suspension cuffs hung from the arms, ankle cuffs attached to coiled chains were against the bottoms. She looked at the apparatus, then at him.

       “I’m not taking the shirt off.  Just because you’ve seen them once, I’m not showing tem to you again.”  He nodded.  “And I don’t want to be chained.” He nodded again.

       "If you don't want me to fasten the cuffs, I understand.  Just put your hand through the cuff portion and hold the grips.  I'll put the ankle cuffs on loosely.  You can let go any time you want. But if you just stand there you lose the effect."  She nodded this time

       “Okay.” And gripped the handles above the cuffs.  He secured the ankle cuffs lightly and adjusted the chains to stretch her legs apart.  Then he tightened the chains so that she had to stretch to hold on to the cuffs. 

       "Still okay?"  He asked.

       "Yes. So far."  She answered.  He went to the cabinet and selected a three foot long whip with suede tips.  He slashed the whip back and forth, producing an angry whistle.  She jumped and looked around.

       "Just for effect."  He said smiling at her.  "Limbering up a bit, that's all. No marks, right?"  She nodded vigorously.

       "NO MARKS!" She exclaimed. "Just tickling.  If I say stop, STOP.  No touching...other than with whatever you’re using.  I'm not here for anything else.  No sex, no nothing.   Got it?" She no longer sounded relaxed.

       "Sure.  I might go a bit beyond just the tickling, but only to enhance the experience.  If you say stop, or slow down, or anything like that, then I'll stop.  I want you to enjoy this.  That's what it's all about."  He began to move the whip at a slower speed.

       He was pretty good.  He tickled her and lightly stung her; not enough to leave marks but enough to spark emotions. By the end of an hour he was worked  into a lather but didn't let her realize it.  She, too, was worked up and it was very evident.  He had used the whip, a paddle and a small version of a cat, but with latex tails.  They stung a bit, but the way he used it left no visible evidence.  The only evidence was soaking through her panties.  He finally called enough for one night and she agreed.  They went back upstairs, she changed, and they said their farewells.  Once she got to the hotel and to bed she had retrieved her BOB.  By the time she finished she realized that he was due for fresh batteries.  She was ready for some real sex.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

Chapter 12

       ** The following weekend I changed the oil and filter in Carol's car.  I also used the pretense of some other maintenance which I did do. I needed the Monday to finish so she took my truck to work that day.  The GPS tracking system worked perfectly.  I felt guilty about installing it.  I used every justification I could think of to convince myself that I was doing the right thing, but it didn't help.  By the time she got home on Friday I had reconciled it with myself.  Two Fridays later I had started a slow burn.  Reconciliation wasn't required.  On both Tuesday and Wednesday nights she had spent two hours at a residence just outside Mint Hill before returning to her hotel.  What the hell was that about?  I wanted to know...but I was afraid I would find out. **

       The next trip to Charlotte had been similar to the previous one, but things had smoothed out.  Carol had allowed Robert to fasten the cuffs on the second night; he was right, it did enhance the experience.  He had prepared a jacket for her to wear as well. He had obtained a denim jacket from a thrift shop and cut off the sleeves.  He had added a leather lining so that he could take a stronger swing.

       "It's for me to practice."  He had told her. "It's hard for me to get into a rhythm if I'm always having to hold back so much.  This way I can practice hard strokes, you get to feel them, but no marks and little pain.  Okay?"  It seemed to work.  He got to unwind by whipping her and she didn't suffer from the impact.  She could still feel the strokes, though.  They didn't sting, but she could feel the force of the whip as they landed.  He imagined her hanging there, nude, her back red, stripes running in opposing diagonals across her back, butt and legs.  He could imagine her shrieks, her tears, her cries.  In his mind he could see her jump with every stroke, sagging after so many that her muscles had fatigued.  Then he could see himself ripping off his jeans, stepping up behind her and plunging his manhood into her soaking wet pussy.  And it was wet.  He could see it; he could smell it. It was all he could do to not just drop the whip and satisfy his urges right there.  But he controlled himself.  Soon, he thought; be patient.  Soon.

       When she had changed he walked with her to the car.

       "The next time, why don't you stay here?"  He held up his hand as she started to speak. "Guest bedroom. You can lock the door if you want.  Send an e-mail to yourself at work that you're going to be here.  But if you stay here it gives us more time to play plus you can relax without having to go to a hotel.  I don't bite.  Really."  He smiled as charmingly as he knew how.  And he was good.

       "I...I'll think about it.  I don't like the idea of staying at your house.  I probably shouldn't be doing this at all."  She said.

       "Good.  Just think about it.  There are a lot of advantages.  What's the harm?"  He said.

       "Okay.  I'll think about it."  What was the harm?  She thought.

       The next trip to Charlotte, she was prepared to stay with Robert.  Things at home had seemed strained, for some reason.  She didn't understand why David had seemed so uptight, but his business was still extremely thin and bills kept coming in.  She made enough money to keep things comfortable, but she knew that the situation took a heavy toll on his ego.  No man wants to be a failure; it made it worse when there wasn't anything he could do about it.  He was dependent on the economy to give people the confidence to spend money, especially on a house that might lose value while the work was being done.  He was also dependent on his wife for their income.  It was a bitch of a time.  Perhaps that's what had him so down.

       Robert helped Carol bring her things into the house and led her to the guest room. He put the suitcase, and two other bags down.  One he figured was a makeup and personal effects bag, but he inquired about the other.

       "It's a CPAP machine."  She stated.

          "You have sleep apnea?"  He asked.

       "Yes.  It's a pain to use, but it does help me sleep.  Why?"  She asked.  She noticed an odd look on his face.

       “Is there something wrong?” She asked.

       "Oh...I just thought...I thought that only fat...er...heavy people had sleep apnea.  You certainly aren't like that."

       "Oh, no.  Body size can certainly have an impact, but not always.  I know really skinny people who have apnea.  I've got very narrow nasal passages.  Plus when I go to sleep the relaxation effect lets them almost collapse.  If I don't use the machine my blood O2 levels drop way too low."  By now Robert's face seemed to return to normal.  It was all he could do to keep from shouting and running around in joy. 

       "Do you use a machine with a humidifier?"  He asked. 

       "Yes.  Otherwise my sinuses dry out and that interferes with my breathing as well."  Robert nodded.  He looked solemn.

       "It reminds me of a ventilator.  That was what I was thinking about. My grandfather was on one for months before he died.  He had worked in a cotton mill.  The fibers got to him.  They said it wasn't actually brown lung, but I wonder."  He looked sad.

       "I'm so sorry.  That's must be a terrible way to die.  Before I got the machine I had dreams that I was suffocating, then I would wake up gasping. It's terrible."  Robert nodded again.  But he wasn't thinking about his grandfather, or about suffocation.  He was thinking about the CPAP machine.  Besides, his grandfather had died from colon cancer; so dosed with morphine that he didn't have a clue where he was.

       

       Robert was prepared for the second night.  He had already installed two surveillance cameras in the guest bedroom, both equipped with low light sensing capabilities.  That, plus the two nightlights installed, one on each wall provided more than enough illumination to show everything happening in the room.  He had watched as she filled the humidifier tank with the distilled water he had provided her and gotten into bed.  He had watched and recorded her actions as she eagerly, almost frantically, worked her pussy over with her vibrator.  He imagined that he could hear it without the help of the hidden microphone. She had teased herself mercilessly until she had finally succumbed to its' magic.  Then she slipped the CPAP mask on and pushed the button to start the machine.  And to also start the vapor from the GHB that Robert had injected into the sealed gallon jug of distilled water he had offered her. 

       He waited until her sleeping seemed even deeper than it had the night before.  He had used the previous night as a baseline to learn her nighttime routine and her sleeping habits.  This night she was even more relaxed.  He used his cell phone to call his home landline number.  The phone next to her bed was set on the loudest ring setting; she didn't stir.  He eased into her room and looked down at her loveliness.  He shook her gently; when she didn't respond he shook her more forcefully.  She stirred, but barely opened her eyes.  She wasn't really there.  He removed the mask and turned the machine off.  He removed the water tank and took it to the bathroom where he washed it out and refilled it with plain water.  He then returned to the bedroom. He placed the CPAP machine exactly where it had been and pulled the covers off of Carol's drugged body.  Her nightgown was pulled up to her waist; her pale skin glowed in the dim light.         Robert eased her over toward the middle of the bed.  He then took a condom package, ripped open the foil and rolled the latex sleeve onto his cock.  He moved onto the bed and spread her thighs wide apart.  As he eased himself down and positioned his cock at the entrance to her pussy, he thought "FINALLY!"  Then he pushed himself inside her and slammed down as hard as he could.  The first cum hadn't taken long.  After the workout downstairs – she had removed her tee shirt at last-and then watching her pleasure herself with her vibrator he almost came just putting the condom on.  The next two times took a while longer.  It was almost 3:00 am when he had finished, cleaned her up a bit and put the CPAP mask on and then climbed into his own bed.  He had left no evidence. It had taken a long time, but it had been worth the wait.  Now he had to arrange things so that he could fuck her while she was awake.

       The next morning Carol felt like something was wrong, but everything seemed perfectly normal.  She had slept well enough, though she was tired from the previous night's activities.  Her pussy was sore, but she had given it quite an energetic working over with the vibrator.  She hadn't realized that she had plunged it that deep and that hard.  But she had certainly been horny, and the release had been wonderful.  Now it was time to get home and get some serious fucking!

       

Chapter 13

       ** She had spent two nights with him.  The GPS coordinates revealed the address; the property tax website had revealed the owner.  Robert Hazleth.  A web search revealed that he was another employee at Orstine Pharma.  Probably also went to Orlando.  Had he also gone to the dungeon?  Had she gone with him to the dungeon?  I didn't know, and didn't really know how to find out.  I could ask her, but what do I say?  'Hey, babe, is the guy you're fucking in Charlotte the same one that gave you the whip marks in Orlando?'  That would really go over well.  So how else do I go about it?  If I reveal that I know that she's staying at some guy's house overnight, how do I tell her that I bugged her car?  That reveals that I don't trust her.  Which I don't, now.  Who's the bigger jerk, me for bugging her car, or her for fucking around on me?  My answer to that question was a bit biased.  The bottom line was that I was crushed. 

       The woman I loved more than anything in my life; more than life itself, was cheating on me.  Worse, when she comes home she's as horny as a mink.  She hasn't been this horny since our honeymoon.  But is it for me or for him? It sure seems genuine.  If it's an act, then she deserves at least an academy award.  Even with all her enthusiasm it's still difficult for me to get it up for her. All I can think of is her doing it with someone else.  It's killing me.

       I almost relaxed until it came time for her next trip to Charlotte.  Telling her goodbye was almost impossible.  I contemplated going down and watching her go into the guy's house.  I talked to my PI buddy for advice.

       "Don't."  He said. "If you want, I'll go.  You have the address and you know her schedule.  I can go down, take some video and some stills. Then you find an attorney."

       "Sure.  I kick her out.  Then how do I pay the mortgage?  What are the chances of me getting any alimony before I get foreclosed and evicted?"  I asked.

       "Somewhere between slim and zilch. I'd bet on zilch.  But don't you go down there.  You'll have free room and board for the rest of your shortened life if you do."

       I knew he was right.  What could I do?  **

       This trip was even more intense for Carol than before.  Robert had removed the leather insert from the jacket but had eased up on his whipping force.  He said he was working on his aim and his technique, and that he didn't need to strike quite so hard while he concentrated on that. He worked on her legs, though.  They were sensitive and quite red when he had finished.  The exertion from pulling and straining against the restraints left her tired and winded.  The next day her muscles felt like she had lifted weights all evening and then been fucked half the night by a madman.  And she was right.  When she got home she realized that her pulling on the restraints had left bruises on her wrists and ankles.  She hoped that David wouldn't notice.

       ** Of course I noticed.  I had started looking at her as closely as I could without pulling out a magnifying glass and going over her inch by inch. Sunday evening I couldn't take it anymore.  She had fucked me twice on Saturday and once that afternoon. I hadn't been up to my best performance.  As we got ready to go to sleep she kissed me and said:

       "You've been worrying too much.  Things will be all right.  My job is secure.  The bills are getting paid.  The work will come back before long."  I picked up her hand and looked at her wrist, tracing the bruise with my finger.  Then I did the same thing with the other one.  Then I reached down and traced around each ankle.  When I looked at her I couldn't focus.  My eyes seemed to be swimming.

       "I'm not worried about work.  But I can't take this anymore."  I got up and went into the other bedroom and got into the bed.  But I didn't sleep.  Reddi came with me.  He did sleep, nestled under my armpit as usual. Freddi stayed with her.

       Monday morning was rough.  I was up and had made coffee before she came into the kitchen.  She looked like she hadn't had much sleep, either.  She got a cup of coffee and sat down without saying anything.  Her mouth was taut, eyes red.  I finally spoke.

       "I'm not going to share you.  I love you.  I love you too much to lose you.  But I can't sleep with you knowing that you're sleeping with some one else."  She looked incredulous.

       "Is that what you think?  That I've been screwing around with another man?  Because I HAVEN'T!  I haven't slept with anyone but you since before we were married.  NEVER!  NO ONE!" Now she was pissed. "How DARE YOU accuse me of THAT!"  She glared at me.  It took a few minutes but she took a sip of coffee; her hands trembled so much she almost slopped it over the rim of the cup.

       "Then what about the bruises? They sure look like you've been tied up.  And you haven't been too interested in me tying you up.  Not in weeks. Yes, the sex has been great.  What do they call it - 'guilty sex'? Trying to make it up to me?  I'm not stupid!" Now I was pissed.

       “Every time you come back from a Charlotte trip you can’t wait to jump into the sack. Does he get that worked up?  You can’t get enough but you have to come home anyway?”

       I still didn't know how to tell her about the GPS tracking device that showed where she had been.  Her eyes widened and her face grew a bit pale, but she didn’t respond.  She slowly got up and put her cup into the sink, then left the room.

       Ironically, she didn't know that she HAD been fucking, or at least had been fucked, by someone else.  We were both right; we had both been wronged.                                                                

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  

       

       

       

       

       

       

       

       

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.