The Observer                 by: C. Sprite          © 1999

 

Chapter 10                Day 21

Peter sat up in bed and stretched as the irritating bleat from the clock radio continued to sound. It was still dark outside but it was time to get up if he was going to jog before going to work. He reached over and turned off the alarm, pulled back the sheet, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Standing up, he looked at the prone form still curled up on the bed. Reaching down, he pulled the sheet back over the girl, and then gently tucked it around her neck and shoulders. He walked to his dresser and got out a clean pair of sweats and socks, put them on along with his running shoes, and grabbed his apartment key.

Before heading out, he bent over the girl in his bed and kissed her. "Be back after my run, sweetheart."

Then he left the condo and took the elevator to the lobby. Crossing the street to Central Park, he stopped inside the entrance just long enough to stretch and warm up before starting his easy lope to the running track that ran around the small lake. He had just started this practice several days ago, but people recognized Peter’s body and waved to him each morning. Kara had never gone in much for exercise, but now, as Peter, had discovered new thrills from pushing this body to its limits. Its strength had surprised her from the start and she wanted to keep it fit. Kara, formerly Peter, had raised the notion that they might not be able to switch back when the year was up. Originally he had thought of this as an opportunity to collect material for a book, perhaps it could even be a best seller. And since the first night, he had hopped into bed with any female who batted her eyes at him. Having lusted only after women since Kara had reached her teens, the number of female bodies available to her now was intoxicating. Even in these enlightened times, the number of gay lovers paled when compared to the number of ‘straights’. And Peter’s 6 and a half feet of tanned muscle, black wavy hair, and rugged, handsome features had women falling all over him.

But for the past 10 days, he had started to become more selective. If it was true that they might not be able to switch back, then he had to be careful not to catch any diseases, or make any babies. Prior to this change of thinking, he hadn’t cared what happened to Peter’s body. Reasoning that in less than a year she would be back into her own, why should she care if Peter contracted AIDS, or if he suddenly had a dozen brats to support for the next 18 years. That would be his problem. It would serve him right for getting her into this fix. If he hadn’t insisted on driving down that awful road, and then dragged her up that hill and into that cave, she would still be Kara. So why should she care what happened to him? He was only a MALE.

Peter slowed his running to a jog, and cooled down as he headed for the exit. Entering his condo, he stripped off his clothes and dropped them on the floor of the bedroom. As he headed into the bathroom, he glanced at the figure still lying where he had left her an hour ago. He turned on the shower and stepped into the steaming water. It relaxed his now tense body, and made him anxious to start the new day. After washing his body, and shampooing his hair, he stepped from the shower and rubbed himself dry with a large bath towel. Then he stepped to the toilet and raised the lid. Loosing a stream of pale yellow urine, he smiled. He got a charge out of peeing while standing up. It was one of the male perks. As the stream slowed to a trickle, he took a piece of toilet tissue and dabbed at the end of his penis to catch the remaining drops. Then he went to the sink and lathered up his face. As he scraped his face with the razor, he frowned. This was the worst part of being a man. Every morning he scraped his face off, and by noon, it was dark with stubble again. He hated the sandpaper feel of his afternoon face. In fact, he hated all the hair on his body, except for that on the top of his head. While many women may like to sleep with a hairy body, few would like to sleep 'in' a hairy body. And Peter’s body was hairy. He had nearly as much hair on his chest and back, as on his head. In fact, when seen naked, he resembled an ape. She thought briefly about shaving parts of it. Or perhaps electrolysis. Peter wouldn’t miss the hair on his back when they switched again. And maybe the hair on his stomach and sides, too. After all, she had to live in this body for almost another year.

Completing the shaving, he washed the rest of the shaving gel from his face. He opened a bottle of after-shave, splashed some on his face, and reeled from the pain as the alcohol came into contact with the raw skin and exposed nerve endings. Peter re-entered the bedroom and donned a clean pair of shorts and a tee shirt.

He walked to the bed and said, "Time to get up, sleepyhead. You can’t sleep all day." He pulled the sheet off to fully expose her naked body. Then reached down and untied the rope that kept her legs bent back almost to her hands. She groaned as he pulled her legs straight, and he saw tears forming at her eyes. As she started to stir, he removed the tape that covered the lower part of her face, and then the ball gag.

"Bloody hell. You didn’t have to leave that thing in all night", she said.

"You know that I don’t like that kind of language. Would you like this put back in?" he asked as he held up the gag.

"No, Master Peter. I’m sorry. It was just a slip of the tongue. Please don’t put that on me again. I’ll be quiet."

"Very well. I’ll forgive you this time." Peter pushed her onto her stomach and untied her wrists and arms, before going to his closet to get out a suit and shirt. When he had completed getting ready for work, she had not even managed to untie her knees yet. Peter shook his head. She would never be half the submissive that his beloved Carol is, but she was the best that he had found so far.

He had met her in a ‘dungeon club’ a week ago. Her name is Kirsten, and she is blond, compliant, and twenty-four. She told him that she was healthy, and that her former Master had insisted that she have her tubes tied. He had even taken her for the operation to make sure that it was done. Last week, Peter had taken her to a doctor for a full check-up. She had passed all the tests, and was declared healthy. Peter had submitted to a full exam also. He wanted to make sure that he had not contracted any disease while he was ‘whoring’ around. He also received a clean bill of health. The doctor that Peter had taken Kirsten to was one that shared his fetishes, so he didn’t question the bondage marks on her body, nor the slave collar that was locked onto her neck.

Peter hailed a cab as he stepped from the building. Arriving downtown, he took the elevator to his floor. After dropping his bags in the corner of his office, and his briefcase on his desk, he walked to the small refreshment room and poured a cup of fresh coffee. As Kara, he had only drunken water or fruit juice, but he found that this body had a craving for the jolt that caffeine offered. As he took his first sip, Kara came in to get a cup of tea. He greeted her and made a comment about how hot she looked.

She smiled at him and said, "Thank you, Peter. You’re looking pretty good yourself. I see that you’re doing better with shaving." She had stepped in closer and rubbed her hand gently across his face. He reached down and squeezed her bum. She took a step back and said, "Easy tiger, we’re at work."

He grinned and said, "OK, doll. How’s Carol doing?"

"She’s recovered from your visit. You frightened her badly. She thought that you meant to do us harm."

"I’m sorry. I really miss her, you know. I’ve found another playmate, but I still miss my pretty Carol."

"I’m taking good care of her", Kara said.

"I know. By the way, congratulations on the promotion. I guess that we’ll be working together a lot from now on. Lucky for me. I still have a lot to learn from the old master."

"What is this ‘old’ nonsense. I’m only 35. Carol referred to me as an ‘old man’ the first day that I met her."

"Hey, chill. At our age, anybody over 30 is old."

"Yeah, well, don’t look in the mirror, old man."

"Very funny. Save some of that humor for Herb Lungreen. You’re going to need it", Peter said.

"Herb’s an OK guy. He just likes to make passes. If anybody takes him up on them, he runs the other way. I fixed him up with a pro last year. She told me that all he wanted to do was sit and talk for two hours. On the other hand, I hear that you’re going after Claire Desmond’s new book. Don’t forget to bring along a case of condoms. If the rumors about her sexual appetite are correct, you’ll need them."

"I’ve heard. I’m actually looking forward to it. I’ll be leaving in an hour. I’ll think about you as I lie on the beach in Fiji. That’s where she’s been working."

"Gee, thanks. Good luck anyway."

Peter took his coffee and returned to his office. He looked over his flight schedule and then checked his ‘to do’ list to make sure that he had taken care of everything. Satisfied that he was ready, he gulped down the rest of his coffee, picked up his bags and headed for the elevator. Once outside the building, he hailed a cab and arrived at Kennedy Airport a full two hours before the flight. After checking in, he went to the Commodore’s Club Lounge. As he killed time waiting to board his plane, he checked out the women who entered the lounge. He added at least two phone numbers to his little black book before it was time to leave. On the trip to Fiji, he made several more contacts. Peter thought to himself that he might have to get a bigger, little black book pretty soon. So much for curbing his sex activities, he thought. But this was different. Since he traveled so much, this would help to alleviate boredom while he was in strange cities.

Arriving at Suva, on the island of Viti Levu, Peter picked up his rental car and drove to his hotel. He had been traveling for almost 20 hours; so once in his room, he fell onto the bed and was asleep in minutes.

Waking up with the sun on his face, he staggered to the bathroom and took care of business before splashing some water on his face to wake-up. He stomach was grumbling from lack of food, so he quickly showered and shaved. Donning shorts, shirt and sandals, he headed for the dining area near the pool and ordered a breakfast of fruit. After eating his fill, he headed for the beach. Several hours of sun later, he returned to his room and showered again before putting on a suit and driving to the address that Mr. Jacobs, his boss, had given him.

He found that the address was that of a nondescript sort of house on a dreary nondescript sort of road. Knocking on the screen door brought a redhead of about forty years. She just stood there and looked at him for several minutes before saying, "If you tell me that you’re here to fix my sink, your company will get all my business from now on."

"Miss Desmond, I wish that I was here to fix your sink. If I had known that you were having a problem I would have brought my toolbox. I’m Peter Hotaling. An Associate Publisher for McCarthy Publishing in New York City."

"Of course you are, darling. No Fijian would ever wear a suit like that. Come in and tell me how I can help you." She opened the door and stepped back so that he could come in.

Entering the parlor, he said, "I was rather hoping that I could help you. The industry scuttlebutt says that you split with your publisher after your last book. We were kind of hoping that you would consider coming into our camp."

"I’m too old to go to camp, darling. I’ll leave that to the girl scouts."

"Come on, Miss Desmond, the words ‘too old’ could never be used to describe you."

"Darling, you’re wonderful. Just what I needed this morning."

"Uh, Miss Desmond, could I trouble you for a drink of water."

"Of course. Would you like some ice in that, or better yet can I offer you a drink. I feel that that’s the least that I can do after you’ve traveled so far to see me."

"I’d love a drink. Whatever you’re having will be fine."

She walked from the room, and Peter wandered around looking at her memorabilia. He spent a lot of time looking at the little carvings on a side table. When she returned, she saw him at the table examining her collection. Wandering up behind him, she said, "I love collecting delicate hand-carved figurines." Her voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"So I see. You have a wonderful collection. It appears that you have traveled quite extensively. This piece looks Peruvian, while this is definitely from Korea. This one appears to be from Turkey. And I would say that this one is from India."

"Close. I picked that one up in Sri Lanka. You’re correct with the others though. Here’s your drink."

"Thank you."

They continued to talk about her collection of carvings for the next several hours. She had a story about each one. As the sun started to set, she invited him to stay for dinner, then remembered that her sink was still broken. He asked what the problem was. She said that it was clogged with water and refused to drain. Since Kara was an apartment building owner, she had long ago learned to handle simple problems like clogged drains. As Peter, she still retained that knowledge. He asked her to show him the sink, and she led him to the kitchen. Removing his jacket and rolling up his sleeves, he cautiously put his hands into the dirty water. Plunging your arms into a sink full of dirty water without knowing if there are utensils, or perhaps broken glasses, in there, could earn you a serious injury. Feeling slowly around the inside of the sink to make sure that it was clear, and finding nothing but liquid, he felt the drain to see if it was clogged. He removed a few pieces of what appeared to be potato peelings but the water still didn’t drain.

"Do you have any tools?"

"What do you want?"

"A large adjustable wrench, or a pipe wrench. And a pail to drain the water."

She left the kitchen and returned several minutes later with a large adjustable wrench and a plastic bucket. Before starting on the pipes, Peter scooped as much water out as possible. Then used a cup to remove most of the rest. After throwing 2 pails of water out of the kitchen door into the back yard, Peter stooped down and removed the trap. Water gushed into the bucket as he loosened the nuts. When the trap was loose, he finished removing it and turned it over. Globs of grease and decaying food particles fell into the bucket. He shook the remaining pieces out, then sloshed some of the water from the pail into the trap, and shook it out again. When it was empty, he re-installed the trap and tightened the nuts. He tested the drain by running water into the sink, and the water drained as soon as the removed the stopper. He walked outside and dumped the bucket at the property line. Back at the sink, he sloshed some water around in it to clean any residue. When he was done, Claire Desmond threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. He returned her kiss and that seemed to end any thoughts of dinner.

Several hours later, Claire wandered back into the kitchen to retrieve some things to drink and snack on. She carried them back into the bedroom and closed the door again.

The following morning, Peter emerged with Claire on his arm. As he sat in the kitchen, she made breakfast. Occasionally she would wander over and kiss him. When breakfast was ready she carried it to the table and sat down at his side. As they ate, she kept staring at him. He knew then that he would get the contract. She would sign just to have him stay for another night. She had been insatiable, and he had stayed right up with her.

After breakfast, he took a shower and dressed. Then he kissed her and prepared to leave. She said, "Will you come back later?"

"If you’ll sign with my company, I can stay for the rest of the week. If you don’t, then I have to leave tonight to work with another writer in Australia. I have to bring back one signed contract by Monday."

"Give me the contract, darling." She signed without even reading it.

Peter took the contract and put it in his briefcase. He stood to leave and said, "I’m going to the hotel to get a little sleep. I’ll come back at 6 and I’ll take you to dinner."

"Why don’t you stay here and get some sleep?"

Smiling he said, "Somehow I don’t think that we’d get much sleep. Don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it. You’d better get some sleep too. You’ll need your energy for tonight." Then he kissed her, walked to his car, and drove away.

Claire stared at the vacant spot where the car had been parked. She thought about the wonderful night of sex that had kept her peaking throughout the night. No one had ever satisfied her like that before. It was almost as if he knows what it’s like to be a woman. Knows what she feels, and when she’s feeling it. She felt as giddy as a schoolgirl as she thought about him coming back again tonight. Then she went to her bedroom, pulled the curtains closed to block the light, and promptly fell asleep.

Later that night, Peter performed like a champion once again. Claire marveled at his endurance. Very few men had been able to even come close to staying up with her, but Peter did. She finally fell asleep at about four in the morning. Peter rolled over and got some sleep himself.

On Sunday, Peter boarded the plane to begin his flight back to New York. Claire came to the airport with him to see him off. She had begged him to stay a little longer, but understood that he could not. It had been the most fantastic week of her life. She had always been very sexually active, but had never had a partner like Peter. At least not a male partner. Several dalliances with women friends had excited her passions, but they never had the right equipment to do the full job. Peter combined the best of both sexes. As his plane climbed into the sky, she started thinking about ideas for a new book. That would be one way to get him back here again.

Peter sank back into his seat. It had been a wild week of sex, but he was anxious to get back to New York where he could satisfy his own particular tastes. He had moved his own desires to the background and spent the week concentrating only on satisfying her. Of course he had taken time to see the sights and spend some time on the beach. You don’t get to go to Viti Levu every week.

Picking up a day as he crossed the International Date Line, Peter arrived back in New York after 18 hours of traveling, but it was still Sunday. He was really beat when he arrived at his condo. Kirsten was overjoyed to see him, but he was too tired to care. He tried to fall asleep but she kept trying to engage him in sex. After telling her three times to leave him alone, he finally jumped out of bed, dragged her to the closet, and tied her hands to the clothes bar. He gagged her and tied her feet together. Looking at her like that was almost enough to arouse him to action, but he was just too tired. So he closed the door, and returned to bed.

 

Chapter 11           Day 27

Peter stirred and opened his eyes. He looked at the clock radio and saw that it was after 10 o’clock. He picked up his watch from the nightstand and saw that it was Monday morning. Then he glanced over to look at Kirsten and saw that she was not in bed with him. For a moment, he closed his eyes again to get a little more sleep, then remembered that he had left Kirsten hanging in the closet. He jumped out of bed and hurried to see if she was OK. When he opened the door, she looked at him with pleading in her bloodshot eyes. He untied her hands and she collapsed into his arms. He checked to see if she was OK, and was relieved to see that her arms were fine. He had not tied them tight enough to cut off any circulation, just tight enough so that she could not get loose. He had been so tired, when he had tied her there, that he wasn’t thinking clearly. So he never realized that he would sleep so long. Kirsten had been standing there for almost 20 hours. He removed the ball gag. It was covered with saliva. In fact, Kirsten was covered as well. She must have drooled on herself all night. He untied her legs and carried her to the bed. Laying her down gently, he went to the bathroom and got her a drink of water. She was very dehydrated and he had to get her another after she downed the first.

She said, "Thank you, Master Peter. I’m sorry that I angered you. I was just lonely since you were gone all week."

"It’s alright, Slave. I was just worn out. I didn’t mean to leave you there so long. Why don’t you get some sleep now."

"Yes, Master Peter."

Peter took the chain that was hanging from the headboard and attached it to Kirsten’s collar. Then he rolled over and went back to sleep.

When Peter awoke again, it was after 4 PM. He forced himself into action. He showered and shaved, then went out for a run in Central Park. When he returned, Kirsten was awake and holding her stomach. She had to pee but was chained to the bed, so she had had to wait for Peter to return. As soon as he unlocked her leash, she hurried to the bathroom. While she was there, she took the time to bathe. Peter sat to read the paper and catch up on the news. When Kirsten came out of the bathroom, he told her to start dinner. She hurried to the kitchen without even taking time to get dressed. She didn’t want to anger him anymore right now. She had found him to be a wonderful lover, but a strict master. She realized that she had crossed the line yesterday, by trying to press her needs over his. When dinner was ready, she walked out and knelt at his feet until he acknowledged her presence.

"What is it, Slave Kirsten?"

"Dinner is ready, Master."

"Good. You may begin serving."

He walked to the dining room table and sat down. Kirsten brought his food to him and stood stiffly, off to his side, as he ate. When he was done, he stood up, stretched, and returned to his paper without saying a word. Kirsten cleared the table and carried everything into the kitchen. Then she fixed a plate of food for herself and stood at the counter as she ate. A piece of food slipped from the fork as she brought it to her mouth. It landed on her right breast, so she bent her head and licked it off as she lifted the breast with her hand. It reminded her that she was still horny.

It had been more than a week since she had had sex with her master. She was getting wet just thinking about him. He was the best that she had ever been with. Not that she had slept with all that many men, but of the half dozen lovers that she had been with, he raised her to heights of ecstasy that she had only dreamed of. Most of her lovers had left her unsatisfied, turning away once their own immediate needs had been achieved. But Master Peter was different; he worked to bring her to climax before allowing himself the release that was always so easy for men. And he was ready to go again as soon as she was. She knew that she would suffer any humiliation, or subjugation just to stay with him. She knew that he was sexually active as part of his job, but she hoped that she would not have to share him here at their home. At least not on a permanent basis. If he brought home any new slaves, then she would make their life more miserable then they could imagine. Master Peter was hers, and she was First Slave.

Over in Brooklyn, Kara and Slave Carol were just finishing their dinner. Kara, who had formerly been Peter, was trying to un-train Carol in a few small ways. But Carol had her own pre-conceived ideas about the proper way for a slave to act, and show respect. As a result, Kara was meeting with some resistance. She had finally gotten Carol to sit down at the dinner table so that they could eat together. Until now, Carol had insisted on waiting until Kara was done eating, before she would touch a morsel. Kara had felt very uncomfortable in eating as Carol stood at attention by her side, waiting to run and fetch anything that Kara desired. Carol had said that she was a slave and must act like one. Kara told her that she would not insist on anything else un-slavelike, if Carol would just sit down and eat when she did. Carol reluctantly gave in. Treating it as an order from her Mistress, rather than because she wanted to.

Kara sat and thought about Carol. Carol had a beautiful face. Her silky brunette hair fell to the middle of her back. She had a slim build, which was almost the same size as Kara’s, and was of average intelligence. But she had completely embraced the life of a submissive. She had an intense dislike for men, and although Kara had not yet learned why, it was obvious that she had been hurt by one, or more than one, in her early life. In bed, Carol was an insatiable, sexual dynamo. Out of bed, she was a loving and caring woman who put Kara’s happiness above her own. How could you not love someone like that? Kara knew how much Peter missed ‘his’ Carol. She wanted to avoid falling for Carol herself, because once she had reverted to her life as Peter, Carol would not wish to be a part of it.

In the meantime, Kara wanted a friend to share things with. As wonderful as Carol was in so many ways, she had trouble filling that role. Carol looked at her as a Mistress, not as a girlfriend. So Kara had started to make some new friends. She was exercising at the workout center as much as possible, so it was inevitable that she would make new friends there. As Peter, she had spent a lot of time ‘clubbing’ while on the prowl for fresh talent, but as Kara, a totally different lifestyle had emerged. Carol mostly satisfied her sexual needs, so her other needs centered on peer companionship. As she assimilated the lifestyle of a modern ‘professional’ woman, she began to spend her Saturdays shopping for clothes. Kara’s closet had been atrocious and she had discarded almost everything that she had found there, so she had had to build a new wardrobe almost from scratch. As Peter, she would have selected some different materials, and ordered a dozen suits made. Returning only for a fitting, and then again to pick them up. Shoes, shirts, and underwear were selected in one trip and in sufficient quantities to insure that shopping trips were held to a minimum.

But as Kara, the shopping adventure itself almost became the goal. She had started to love the experience of spending hours on end selecting and trying on outfit after outfit. The endless variety of styles, colors, and materials had kindled in her a passion for shopping. Her closet had started to fill, and she rarely wore the same outfit more than once. Her dresser was full of new lingerie, and she added to it every time that she shopped. She had tried to get some things for Carol, but Carol had disdained the new clothes that were not in keeping with the somber image that she projected. And so Kara had made friends with women who shared her ardor for spending every Saturday in search of the ‘perfect’ dress. Sometimes, Kara would invite her new girlfriends over for tea, after a day of shopping. After one embarrassing episode with Carol, Kara had ordered her to remain in her bedroom whenever she heard Kara returning from shopping. On the day in question, Kara had arrived home with one of her new girlfriends, only to find Carol naked and kneeling in a position of submission, just inside the apartment door. Kara, for her part, would now make a big production of unlocking the door, thereby allowing Carol time to hurry into her ‘secret’ bedroom. Carol had accepted this arrangement without protest. After all, when her Mistresses friends had left, she would have her all to herself. And it wasn’t as if they were men or anything.

On Sundays, Kara would spend the entire day with Carol. She had worked out a plan to try to draw Carol out of the shell that she had withdrawn into. So each Sunday, she would order Carol to wear one of her new dresses and they would take a day trip to one of New York’s many tourist locations such as the Statue of Liberty, Seaport Village, or the Bronx Zoo. Against Peter’s wishes, Kara had allowed Carol to move in with her, and discontinue paying rent for an apartment she never used. Since Carol desired to be a full-time submissive, Kara had allowed it. Carol kept correcting her use of the term though. She wanted to be called a slave, not a submissive. She said that submissive implies deference to authority, where slave implies ownership. She considered herself to be the property of Kara now that she had been permitted to move her things in. Kara wondered silently if she had done the right thing. Carol now seemed to be looking at their relationship as something like a marriage.

To Carol, the meaning was entirely different than that of marriage. A marriage signified two partners bound together by a commitment to share their lives. As a slave, she looked upon their relationship only as a commitment by her to obey her Mistress in all things, at all times. She knew that her Mistress cared for her, and would look after her for as long as they were together. All she wanted was to make her Mistress happy, and have her be glad that Carol belonged to her. She took great delight in cleaning their house. She spent enormous amounts of time each day making Kara’s bedroom spotless, and planning her Mistresses meals. Kara had treated her much differently over the past month. She was more appreciative of her efforts, and had allowed her to do more for her. While she had really liked Kara before, she had come to love her now. She started to wonder how she could show Kara how she felt.

 

Chapter 12               Day 28

As Kara poured a cup of tea in the refreshment room, Peter walked in.

He said, "Wow, you look hotter every time I see you. Do you spend all your free time shopping these days?"

"Whenever I can. Peter, you on the other hand look terrible. Have you been getting any sleep?"

"Not much the past week. And that trip was a bear. 38 hours of travel time."

"Better you than me. Tell me something, Peter. What do you know of Carol’s life before you met her?"

"Almost nothing. She refused to tell me anything about her past life. I know that it must have been pretty bad. When we first got together, she used to wake up screaming. The first time, I thought that I had tied her too tight. But then I discovered that she had been having a nightmare. The longer that she stayed with me, the better that she got. During the past six months, she never had a single nightmare that I was aware of."

"But you have no idea what she was dreaming about?"

"Not a clue. She never talked about her dreams."

"OK. Thanks. Peter, you really should go home and get some more sleep."

"I will. As soon as I give Mr. Jacobs the Desmond contract."

"You got Desmond. That’s great. Congratulations, Peter."

"Thanks. I really worked for this one. Well, gotta go before I fall down."

"Bye."

Kara returned to her office and began work. Most of her time was spent working on the phone. They only traveled when they had too.

After work, she spent some time working out at the gym before heading for home. Carol greeted her at the apartment door. She was on her knees, in a submissive position of respect. Kara helped her to her feet and told her that she could serve dinner in a couple of minutes. Kara went to her bedroom and put her briefcase and gym bag away, before walking to the dining room.

The dinner was excellent. Carol really was a very good cook. Without being asked, Carol sat across from Kara. She didn’t take any food until Kara noticed, and told her to eat. After dinner, Carol cleared the table and stayed in the kitchen to wash the dishes. Kara went to the parlor and sat in an overstuffed chair to relax a little. Her workout had been very strenuous. She closed her eyes for a minute and fell asleep. When she awoke from her nap, Carol was sitting at her feet, leaning against her chair. She just sat there watching her like a faithful little puppy dog. Kara stood up and helped Carol to her feet. She walked to her bedroom while holding Carol hand. Carol followed docilely along. Kara handed Carol a sleep set and put one on also. When they had taken care of their toilet, and toiletry needs, Kara led Carol to the bed. They lay holding each other for some time before Kara spoke.

"Slave, would do something for me?"

"Anything, Mistress."

"Tell me of your life before we met."

Carol started trembling. Kara didn’t press her. She knew that Carol would speak when she was ready, and she also knew that she would speak now that she had agreed to do anything. It was ten minutes before Carol spoke.

"How far back should I start?"

"All the way. I want to know everything that there is to know about my little slave."

"Yes, Mistress. I was born 22 years ago in Buffalo, New York. I never knew my real parents. My earliest memories are of an orphanage. I was placed in several different foster homes before being adopted by the Renwick family when I was about 8. I lived with them until I ran away when I was 14, and I came to New York City.

"Why did you run away from the Renwicks?"

"My step-father started abusing me when I was 9. By the time that I was 11, he had gotten his son involved. They would both take me whenever it suited them. Stepmother just closed her eyes, and ears, to it. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I stole some money from his wallet one morning and got on a bus. That evening I was in New York City. The money ran out a couple of days later even though I was only using it for food. I had been sleeping in the subways. I wandered around not knowing what to do, but I knew that I wasn’t going back to the Renwicks. I would kill myself first. When my hunger got the better of me, I accepted an offer of food from an old man. He was as least 35, but I needed to eat, so I had decided to sell myself for the night.

He took me to his apartment. We had to take a long subway ride and I’m not even sure where we went. We had stopped and picked up some take-out on the way. I was so hungry that I couldn’t think about anything except the food that he carried in his hands, and when we got to his apartment he allowed me to eat. When I was finished, I expected him to want to jump right into bed, but instead all he wanted to do was talk. He kept asking me about myself. I told him the same things that I have told you. When I was done with my story, he led me to the bedroom. I went because I had agreed to do it for the food. As soon as we were in the room, he closed the door, and led me to the bed. As I reached to unzip my jeans, he jumped on my back and pushed me down onto the bed. He forced my arms behind me and tied them. I tried to scream and he forced a ball into my mouth and covered it with tape. In a matter of minutes, I was covered in rope. But he didn’t take me. Instead, he tied me to the radiator, and went to bed. I spent the night expecting that he would untie me and take me, but he never did.

At some point I fell asleep, and when I woke up, it was light outside. He got out of bed and went to the bathroom. Then he came back, untied me from the radiator, and took me to the bathroom. He had only untied my legs. He pushed me down onto the toilet and stood there until I had finished. Then he wiped me and took me to the kitchen. He tied my legs again and went to make breakfast. When it was ready, he brought me a plate of food and set it in front of me. I just sat and stared at it as he ate. When he was done, he asked me if I wanted to eat. He said that he would take the ball out and feed me if I promised not to scream. He said that if I did scream, he would put the gag back in and not let me have any food until I was so weak that I couldn’t scream. I nodded that I understood, and he removed the gag and fed me. When I was done he gagged me again and tied me to the radiator in the kitchen. He went to his bedroom and changed, then left for work. And that was my life for the next few months until heating season started. Once the radiators were needed again, they were too hot to tie me to. They would have cooked me.

So he installed rings in the walls throughout the apartment and chained me to those instead. After a month, he allowed me some freedom when he was at home. He got a long chain and attached it to a collar that was locked around my neck. He had me clean his apartment; moving me from room to room as I finished. I took my time and cleaned everything very carefully because as soon as I was done, he would tie my hands again. At mealtime, he would untie me so that I could cook, and then clean the dishes afterward. He had a telephone, but he always unplugged it and locked it away when he left the apartment. During the days, I was bound and gagged so tightly that I couldn’t move or scream for help. He kept me there for four years. One day he told me that he had been transferred and that he couldn’t take me with him, much as he would like to. By then I had accepted my status as a slave. I didn’t have any worries and I was fed twice a day. I had a warm, dry place to sleep, and clean clothes. It was a lot better than life with the Renwicks. Master didn’t beat me, and only took my body occasionally. He usually just wanted me to suck him off. That I did almost every night. He asked me if I wanted to be free, or if I wanted a new master. I never finished school and don’t have any job skills, so I told him that I would like a new master. I didn’t want to be out on the streets again without any money or prospects of getting a job. And the life of a slave wasn’t so bad. I had learned not only to accept the ropes but also to enjoy them. A few days later, Master had me sign some papers. He didn’t permit me to read them but I saw that one of them was a form to open a bank account. The next day he gave me a piece of paper with a bank name, address, and account number. He told me to memorize them. I studied them until they were burned into my brain.

Master kept me until the day before he was to move. That evening he had me put on a black dress that he had brought home for me. It was the first dress that I had worn since I was with him. I wasn’t bound at all. The only bondage item that I wore was a new slave collar. He took me out the front door of the house and there was a car waiting. The rear door opened and I was guided in. My master didn’t get in with me. I turned and watched him go back inside the house. It was only the second time that I had seen the outside of the house. A large man took a leash and attached it to my collar without saying a word. Then he handcuffed my hands behind my back. I didn’t resist since this had been my choice. I learned later that this was to be my new master. He made life with the Renwicks look desirable again. He beat me and abused me at every opportunity. It took me two years to escape from him. One morning the keys to my chains fell from his pocket as he was leaving the house. I managed to reach them after he was gone, and unlocked myself. I was so scared that he would come back and find me before I could get away. I took one of his overcoats and left by the front door after making sure that there was nobody outside. I hurried down the street and jumped onto a bus that had just stopped. I didn’t have any money and the bus driver stopped the bus and was going to make me get off after only several blocks. It had taken me that long to go through all the pockets of the coat looking for change. A nice, older woman stopped him, and gave me the fare. I sat down and talked with her. She was a cleaning lady on her way to work. I told her that I was running away from an abusive boyfriend and was trying to get back to my mother’s apartment in Manhattan, but that I didn’t even know where we were. She told me that we were in Greenwich, Connecticut. She didn’t have much money but she gave me 5 dollars for bus fare. She believed my story because she could see the black and blue marks on my arms and face. I made her give me her address so that I could return the money when I was able.

When I arrived in New York, I was unsure what to do. I went to the address of the bank that my former master had told me to memorize and gave them the account number and my name. I hoped that he had left me enough so that I could get a cheap room for the night while I worked on what I would do now. The clerk handed me a slip with the amount that was in my account and I almost fainted. I asked her if she was sure and she confirmed it. My former master had deposited fifty thousand dollars. With interest, I now had over fifty-one. I withdrew five hundred dollars and walked out of that bank feeling like a millionaire.

I got a room in an inexpensive but clean hotel and paid for five days in advance. Then I went shopping for some clothes. I knew that if I blew all the money, I would be back living on the streets, so I only shopped in bargain stores and second hand places. That night I slept without chains or ropes for the first time in 6 years. I tossed and turned in that big soft bed for hours. Finally, I got out of bed, and after sitting on the floor, I tied my ankles with a belt, and used a scarf to secure my hands behind me. Then I lay back down on the floor and was able to sleep for the rest of the night. The next day I started to look for an apartment. I found a real cheap studio apartment after 4 days of searching. There was some furniture left from the previous tenant, so I didn’t need to buy any. I moved in the next day. That was my apartment until you let me give it up.

I was afraid to go out during the day because my last master might be looking for me, so I stayed in my apartment until dark. Then I would go out to shop for groceries, or do laundry. At night, after sealing up my apartment, I would tie myself up. But I had started to get lonely without a master. So when I saw that advertisement for that dungeon club, I decided to check it out. That was the night that I met you. You were so nice to me, that I liked you from the moment that we met."

"Why do you enjoy bondage so much?"

"I don’t know. It’s been a part of my life for so long that it seems natural. I begin to feel uncomfortable if I go too long without it. But I know that I feel very good when you secure me to my bed. I feel like I belong. I feel like I’m a part of somebody’s life. I feel like somebody wants me. Not just wants to use me. But wants ME. I love you Mistress. I would do anything for you."

"And I love you, my little slave. And you are wanted. And you are a part of my life now."

"I know, Mistress. And I’m so happy serving you, and being with you."

We lay together for quite awhile without talking. Each of us was lost in our own thoughts. I began to understand Carol that night. What she had been through would screw up anybody’s head. I’m surprised that she was as sane as she was. I now understood her feelings toward men. To be abused by her stepfather and stepbrother for so long, would make anyone hate males. Then to have been abused by that creep from Greenwich. Well, it made my blood boil. I began to wonder if I could find out who he was, and pay him back for what he had done to my beautiful, little Carol. I struggled to hold back the tears as I visualized what she must she must have gone through. Carol was so sweet. How could anybody ever hurt her like that? I fell asleep with thoughts of vengeance going through my head.

 

Chapter 13               Day 29

The next morning I started working on my plans for vengeance. I hired a private investigator to get met a report on the Renwicks. I wanted photos of ‘stepfather, stepmother, and sonny’, as well as full financial records, and adoption records. I instructed him to get a copy of Carol’s birth certificate as well. He understood that Carol was an adult now, but had been a runaway. I also made arrangements to rent a car for the weekend.

Then I started on my normal work activities and set aside the thoughts of vengeance for now.

 

Chapter 14             Day 32

On Saturday morning, I took a cab to the car rental agency and picked up the Mercedes that I had arranged for. I had cancelled my regular shopping trip in favor of going to Greenwich. I had rented a Mercedes so that we would blend in with the regular resident of that area.

Carol was unaware of our destination until we entered Greenwich and she saw the sign at the exit ramp. Then she started to shake more than I had ever seen anybody shake before. I had purposely not told her where we were going because I knew that she would never even get into the car. I pulled over to the curb as soon as we were off the highway. I reached for her and she recoiled away from me. I slid over on the seat and grabbed her. She started to fight me. I held on until she began to calm down a little. Then she began to cry. I pulled her close as she crumbled into my arms.

"Why?" she said between sobs.

"Why what, my little slave?"

"Why are you bringing me back to him. I thought that you cared for me. What have I done?" spilled out in an almost incoherent jumble of words and sobs.

"I’m not bringing you back to him. I would never to that to you. You belong to me now."

"I do? You’re not taking me to him?" she said as she began to calm a little.

"Of course I’m not taking you to him. Not exactly, anyway. I want your help in identifying his house so that I can make sure that he never does to anyone else, what he did to you."

"You’re not going to leave me with him?"

"Never, my love."

"Do I have to meet with him?"

"No, I only want you to point out his house, then we’ll leave, and I will take it from there."

She stopped crying, and after a minute laughed with a very nervous little laugh. "I’m sorry, Mistress. When I saw the sign, I got really scared. I should have known that you would never do that to me. I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?"

"Nothing to forgive. I know how badly he treated you. We’re going to make sure that that lousy bastard pays for it."

She giggled again in a nervous way. She had never seen me display anger before. I think that it may have frightened her a little, so I cradled her in my arms for a few minutes. When she was calm, I told her to wipe her face and fix her makeup. I gave her one of those little moist towels that came sealed in aluminum foil. When she looked presentable again, I started the car and we drove around until she got her bearings. We then backtracked the escape route that she had taken until we located the house where she had been held captive for two years. I asked her twice if she was sure that that was the house, and she said there was no doubt. She said that she had only seen it once from the outside, but recognized the house across the street as the one that she saw everyday through the window.

Satisfied, I wrote down the address and a basic description of the house. Then I drove back to the highway. Carol breathed a sigh of relief as we left Greenwich. She slid over next to me, straddling the bucket seats, and hugged my arm without saying anything. I reached down and gently squeezed the inner thigh of her left leg. She let out a low moan and another sigh. Because we were on the highway, I couldn’t do any more, but I knew that tonight would be a memorable one.

On Monday, I would call the investigator that I had hired and give him the new information. I wanted a full dossier on the new mystery man now that we had tentatively identified him.

 

Chapter 15                  Day 63

When I arrived at work, I went to get a cup of tea. Returning to my desk, I found a very large manila envelope marked ‘personal’. Upon closer examination, I found that it was from the investigator that I had hired. I broke the seal and pulled out a number of smaller manila envelopes. The smaller envelopes were marked, ‘Renwick’, ‘Barrington’, ‘Dwyer’, and ‘Smith’.

I opened the one marked ‘Renwick’ first. A number of 8x10 black and white glossy photos fell out, along with a stapled sheaf of papers. I glanced over the photos and saw that they were marked ‘Ren1’ through ‘Ren9’. The sheaf of papers was a narrative report with references to the photos. I began reading and looking at the photos as they were referenced.

‘Ren1 - Subject: Michael Adam Renwick. Age 48. Married to Barbara. Natural father to Sean. Adoptive father to Carol, Samantha, and Denise. Employed as Cable Television Installer for past 12 years.

Ren2 - Subject: Barbara Jean Renwick. Age 47. Married to Michael. Third wife. Housewife.

Ren3 - Subject: Sean Patrick Renwick. Age 25. Son of Michael & Wilma (First wife to Michael). Unemployed.

Ren4 - Photo of Michael, Barbara, and Carol Renwick. Approximate date: June 1984. Carol Renwick declared runaway by police on Aug. 4, 1986.

I looked closely at the photo. It was an enlargement copy of a faded picture. It was definitely Carol in the picture. Her adoptive parents were smiling, but she was not. She looked like the very unhappy little girl that I knew she was. This was three years after her adoptive father had started to abuse her. I returned to the photos and narrative.

Ren5 - Photo of Michael, Barbara, and Samantha Renwick. Samantha adopted October 1, 1986. Samantha Renwick declared runaway by police on June 26, 1990.

Another runaway. A pattern appeared to be developing.

Ren6 - Photo of Michael, Barbara, and Denise Renwick. Denise Renwick adopted August 16, 1990. Current whereabouts unknown.

Ren8 - Adoption agency photo of Carol Renwick.

Ren9 - Adoption agency photo of Samantha Renwick.

Ren10 - Adoption agency photo of Denise Renwick.

I looked closely at the three agency pictures of the young girls. All were pretty, and had engaging smiles. The three pictures of them with their adoptive parents showed their obvious misery. What was wrong with that adoption agency? Couldn’t they see what was going on?

I opened the envelope marked ‘Dwyer’ and another picture of Carol dropped out along with a copy of an old picture of another teenager. The teenager turned out to be Carol’s mother. She had died as a result of injuries sustained in an automobile accident. Carol had not been in the car. She was with a baby-sitter at the time. Carol’s mother was not married and the authorities could not find any relatives. She was buried at the expense of the City of Buffalo. A copy of Carol’s birth certificate was in the packet.

The package marked ‘Smith’ yielded a biography of Samantha Smith, the second daughter that the Renwicks adopted. I didn’t know how the investigator had uncovered the facts about Carol and Samatha’s backgrounds since adoption records are ‘sealed’, but he had. On my second look I realized that the information he gave me was public domain, so he must have uncovered it in the county clerk’s office, or a newspaper morgue. It turned out that Samantha’s parents had also been killed in an automobile accident. No surviving relatives had been found.

The last package was marked ‘Barrington’. It also contained the most information. I noticed immediately that the subject’s address was Greenwich, Connecticut. "So this is the bastard who has hurt my Carol so badly. OK, let’s have a look at the creep." I looked at the first photo and my breath caught in my throat. The picture was an 8x10 B&W glossy of a man exiting the house in Greenwich that Carol had identified. I quickly looked through the reports for a description of Mr. Barrington. I found the bio, and read ‘subject is approximately 6 feet, 6 inches tall, muscular build, tan complexion, black wavy hair, weight about 240 pounds. Then I looked at the photo again. The man was so similar to my former appearance as Peter, that from a distance, or even in low light, we could have been mistaken for twins. In bright sunlight, with a telephoto lens that could zoom in on the face, one could perceive the differences. But in a police line-up, I wouldn’t want to have to depend on the imprecise memories of a victim. I began to speculate. Suppose Peter, dressed just like Mr. Barrington, was to do something illegal, such as rob a bank, just minutes before Mr. Barrington showed up at the bank to meet someone. What do you suppose would happen? I looked at the rest of the photos. Yep, no doubt about. 99 witnesses out of a hundred would confuse the two. Interesting.

Another thought suddenly occurred to. This must have been why Carol was so frightened when Peter tied us up last month. His uncanny resemblance to Barrington must have shaken her to her soul. And that was why I hadn’t been able to calm her while he was there. But she must have consciously realized the difference, or she would have said something to me.

I went through the rest of the papers. Mr. Barrington was quite wealthy. Old money obviously since there was no record of his ever having held a job. His wealth was estimated at 40 million. I had to whistle. He had extensive business rental property in Manhattan, and a considerable stock portfolio. That rules out a bank robbery. He would never be involved in something like that. I read everything in the report and tried to memorize it all. I intended to know this man so well that I could predict his actions.

I looked all the material over, once again. One fact that I had not picked up earlier grabbed my attention on my second time around. The third adoptive daughter of the Renwicks, Denise, was listed as ‘current whereabouts unknown’. Was this another runaway, or something more ominous? I decided to call the investigator.

When he answered, I asked if he had any more information about the third daughter. He said that she had not been seen in over two weeks. Her parents had not reported her as missing. Several of her friends said that her parents had told them that she was away at summer camp. But they were concerned because she had made plans to be with them this summer. She had definitely not entered or exited the house at any time during the two weeks that it was under surveillance.

On my lunch hour, I went to a phone booth several blocks from my office and called the Buffalo Police Department. After depositing the correct change, I spoke to a desk sergeant. I claimed to be a relative of the Renwicks who didn’t want to leave her name, but couldn’t keep silent any longer. I told them that the Renwicks had killed another of their adoptive children. I immediately hung up and walked away from the payphone. I had worn gloves and made sure that I left no trace of my identity in the booth. I had no proof that the Renwicks had harmed their daughter but I didn’t like the sudden disappearance and the fact that they had not reported her as missing, as they had done with Carol. It may be nothing, but it may be significant. If Denise is badly hurt, an investigation will get her proper medical attention.

Several days later I read an article in the paper about a couple in Buffalo that had been accused of killing their adopted children. A full investigation had been started when they could not produce a 12 year old adopted daughter. Two older adopted daughters had previously been reported as runaways, but neither had ever surfaced. During the investigation, a shallow grave had been found in the back yard. The grave contained the body of a young girl, tentatively identified as that of Denise Renwick. The Renwicks and their son had been arrested. Under questioning, Mrs. Renwick had broken down and confessed that the young girl had died one night as her husband and son raped her. She further admitted that her husband and son had raped and sodomized her other daughters during all of the years that they had been there, but she denied that they had killed them. The police were continuing to look for other bodies on the premises. The Renwick men were being held in lieu of ten million dollars bail, each. Mrs. Renwick was being held in lieu of five hundred thousand dollars bail, due to the lesser ‘accessory’ charges against her.

I put the paper down and said aloud, "I’m sorry Denise. I guess that I was just a little too late to save you. Well, three down and one to go."

I waited until Carol and I had gotten ready for bed before I told her that I had hired an investigator to take a look at the Renwicks. She was surprised to learn that she had a stepsister named Samantha, but not surprised that she had been reported as a runaway. When I told her about having another stepsister named Denise, she was incredulous that the adoption services had given them another child.

I told her that I had called the police when the investigator could not find the third daughter, and they had not reported her missing. When I told her that the police had found the body in the back yard and arrested the Renwicks, she broke down and cried for a long time. They were tears of regret for Denise, and tears of happiness that the Renwicks would finally be brought to justice. She fell asleep in my arms that night. I hadn’t yet told her about Barrington. That could wait for another time.

 

Chapter 16                   Day 116

It was Saturday and my 24^th birthday. Let me restate that. It is Kara’s birthday. My birthday was actually more than a month ago, and I had sent myself a gift. Rather, I had sent my body a gift, since I no longer occupied it. But until Kara and I switched back, this would be considered my birth date. Carol had insisted on serving me breakfast in bed this morning, and had made me promise to stay in bed until she brought it. But when I woke up, I had had an urgent need to use the bathroom. So I quickly and quietly used the toilet, and hurried back to bed, where I waited until she came in. She was carrying a covered tray in front of her totally naked body. Naked that is, except for the slippers on her feet, and the bright red ribbon around her neck. I suspected what my birthday present might be.

Breakfast was delicious. Crepes with fresh strawberries and fresh whipped creme, tea, and chocolate mousse for desert. Carol wanted to sit and watch me eat, but I insisted that she have some too. When we were done, she took the tray off me and set it on the floor. From under my bed she produced a small, elegantly wrapped gift. I smiled when she handed it to me, and I said, "What is it?"

She said, "Open it and see, Mistress."

I carefully unwrapped the present. When I opened the box, I found a silver-white metal choker. It was about 2 inches wide, and incredibly light. It felt like it might be aluminum, but the finish was different than aluminum, and it was highly polished. At three points around the choker, it had small o-rings attached near the bottom. A tiny bell hung from one. It wasn’t really my taste, but I told Carol that it was beautiful and I loved it. I remembered an old movie with Michael York called ‘Logan’s Run’ where Logan’s girlfriend, Jessica, wore a similar looking choker. Her’s had a small ankh symbol hanging down, instead of the bell, which was supposed to be a key to ‘Sanctuary’.

I picked up the choker and was about to put it on.

Carol quickly said, ‘Mistress, don’t."

"Why not. What’s the matter?"

"It’s not for you. Read the inside."

I held up the choker and saw that it was engraved around the inside. I read it out loud. "Slave Carol, Property of Mistress Kara for all time. If found please return this slave to her rightful and beloved mistress." I smiled at her and said, "Thank you for the wonderful present. Can I unwrap you now?"

"Of course, Mistress."

I started to hand her the choker.

"No, Mistress, that is only for you to put on me."

"Oh, OK. Can I try it on first though?"

"No, Mistress. This slave collar can only be put on once."

"What do you mean?"

"Once it is put on, it can only be removed by being cut off, and even then, only with special tools. I shall wear it for as long as you keep me, which I hope will be forever."

"You’re saying that it locks on, and that there’s no key."

"Yes, Mistress. This is the ultimate in slave collars. There’s not even a keyhole. It’s made from titanium. You know, the stuff that they make the space rockets from because of its strength and super lightweight. I had it made special. The closure mechanism is a one time lock. Once sealed, it can never be unsealed because there’s no key hole, and no way to access the lock."

"So once I put it on you, that’s it. You shower with it, sleep in it, everything?"

"Yes. I will wear it forever."

"You’re really sure about this?"

"Yes, Mistress. I love you and will stay with you for as long as you let me."

I hesitated for a second. I had been trying to wean Carol away from the ‘slave’ identity. This would make it more difficult, but I couldn’t very well ridicule her gift. She had obviously put a great deal of thought into procuring it. So I said, "Very well. Turn around, Slave Carol."

She smiled broadly and turned around, then lifted her hair so that I could place the slave collar around her neck. I first removed the red ribbon that she wore. I had to pull with all my strength to separate the sides of the solid collar enough to get it around her delicate neck. When I relaxed my grip, it closed back down to its original size, leaving just a tiny gap at the seam. Then I had to push with all my strength to get it closed the rest of the way. When it did finally close, I heard a small ‘snick’ sound as the lock engaged. It was so well machined that it was difficult to even notice the seam once it had locked closed. The little bell tinkled as she moved.

She turned after I finished. She dropped her hair and threw her arms around my neck. I heard her choke back a little sob as she said, "I love you, my Mistress. Even if you stop loving me, I will love you always. And thank you for trying to help my stepsister. It’s my fault that she’s dead. I hope that my other step-sister is OK."

"I wanted to punish the Renwicks for what they did to you. You couldn’t know that they had adopted other innocents. Don’t blame yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong." Carol was already carrying around more than her share of problems in her head. I didn’t want her adding a load of guilt to that.

"If I had spoken up sooner, I might have been able to prevent their getting any more children. Those monsters should have been stopped, and I didn’t stop them."

"When were you going to stop them. While you were tied to the radiator?"

"Well I…Well I…."

"Exactly. There was nothing that you could do."

She began to cry. I held her, and let her get it out of her system as she realized that she had been powerless to do anything. God, how I had come to love this wonderful little woman in just three months. I would ache for her after Kara and I switched back. I hoped that Kara would appreciate what she had. I had made commitments that Kara had asked me not to, but I felt that she would not be too upset. I wished that there were some way to bring Carol with me when it came time for me to return to being Peter.

After Carol stopped crying, I said, "Slave, would you run a bath for me." I wanted to take her mind off of the Renwicks.

She pulled back away from me and, wiping her cheeks, said, "Of course, Mistress." She jumped up and hurried to the bathroom, her little bell tinkling as she went.

When she came back to tell me that the bath was ready, I took her hand and led her into the bathroom. She assisted me in removing my sleep set and held my hand as I stepped into the tub. Then I gently tugged on her hand and arm until she stepped in with me. I sat down and reclined against the back of the tub. She sat down and reclined against me. Together we enjoyed the warm water of the bubble bath. As it started to cool, she slid away from me and we both washed. Then I washed her back and, after changing positions, she washed mine.

After we had dried and powered, we went back to my bedroom. I hadn’t planned anything special for the day. I had told my shopping chums that I would not be available this weekend, and I intended to just spend it with Carol. I gave her a light print dress to wear in place of the black somber sheath that she always preferred. When we were dressed, we took a cab to Prospect Park, where we spent the rest of the morning, and afternoon. It was a beautiful July day. Not too hot, and there was even a gentle summer breeze. We held hands as we walked, and her little bell tinkled with each movement of each her body. A number of people stared at her collar, but no one said anything. At the end of a thoroughly relaxing and enjoyable afternoon, we took a cab to a little french restaurant that I knew of. As we ate dinner, I realized that I was more at peace now than at any time in my entire life.

Back at home that evening, Carol gave me two more items that went with the collar. One was a notarized statement, in her own handwriting, that clearly spelled out her desire for our arrangement. It claimed to hold me harmless for anything that ever happened to her. It explained that she desired to be completely under my control in perpetuity, and avowed her desire to participate as the recipient of strict bondage, as a lifestyle. She acknowledged that although slavery was not allowed under the laws of the United States, she disputed their right to tell her how she could choose to live her life. She declared that she had given herself willingly to her Mistress, without pressure or duress from anyone. I knew that the document would never hold up in a court of law, but it definitely defined her desires, and would carry weight should anybody ever try to press charges against me for ‘false imprisonment’. Because of her limited education, I knew that she had not written the document. She told me that the people who had made the collar had given her a printed form to copy. They told her to write it in her own handwriting, to show that she agreed to it willingly. A handwriting expert could ascertain that she was not under duress when she wrote it. Also included in the price was a videocassette, which included an interview with Carol sitting in a park like setting. She basically said the same thing while in the full view, but not hearing, of passerby’s. If she was being coerced, then she could have called for help at any time. The company that made the collar had kept a copy of the cassette for their own files as proof of Carol’s willingness for subjugation.

I was touched by her gift once again. To make a present of your life to someone else was surely the greatest gift that could be given. I loved my Carol, and must find a way to take her with me when I returned to being Peter. 

 

Chapter 17              Day 124

The following weekend, I brought home the pictures of Barrington that I had received from the investigator 2 months earlier. I had decided that it was time to confirm his identity with Carol before I progressed further with my plan. I sat her down and explained that I had tentatively identified her tormentor in Greenwich. Before taking any action against him, I wanted her to confirm his identity. She started to shake. I quickly told her that I only wanted her to look at his picture, not see him in person. She calmed down almost immediately.

I said, "Do you think that you can look at his picture?"

"Yes, Mistress. I think that I can do that."

When I took out his picture, she started to shake again, but got herself under control. "Yes, that’s him. I will never forget his face."

"His name in Barrington. Do you remember the man who tied us up several months ago?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"They look very much alike, don’t they?"

"Yes, Mistress. At first I thought that it WAS him. But then I realized that it wasn’t. I was still frightened though."

"You remember that I told you that the man who came here was Peter Hotaling? And that I work with Peter at McCarthy Publishing?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Peter looks like the man who harmed you, but he would never harm you, or myself. He’s a good man who shares our affinity for bondage. Would you be able to stay calm in his presence knowing this?"

"I think so, Mistress. If you wish me too."

"I do, and I wish you to understand that not all men want to hurt you. There will always be terrible men like your stepfather and stepbrother, and the two men who enslaved you, but overall, men are not your enemy. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress. If you say so."

"I do. I want you to be able to trust certain men so that we can punish the ones that harmed you. Mainly, I want you to be able to trust that Peter will not harm you. I want you to know that he liked you. OK?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good. Then I think that it will be possible to meet with Peter to discuss some ideas that I have been working on, which will even the score with Mr. Barrington, and prevent him from doing it to anyone else. He may already have found another victim."

"You mean that he may have someone right now?"

"Yes, I believe it more than likely. Remember, you escaped more than two years ago."

"Why don’t you just call the police like you did with the Renwicks?"

"This is a lot trickier. Barrington is wealthy. The police would probably not even be able to get a search warrant for his house without substantial probable cause. If you were to file a complaint, than a search warrant would be issued, but it would drag you into the morass. Also, you told me that your first master had you sign a lot of papers that you didn’t read. Perhaps one of them is like the one that you gave me, and states that you requested your status. No, what I have planned for Mr. Barrington will drag him down alone, without destroying anyone else’s life in the process. For the rest of his life, he will regret his actions against helpless women.

 

Chapter 18                  Day 324

It’s Friday, and Carol’s 23^rd birthday. I took her to Manhattan for dinner, and afterwards we went to see Andrew Lloyd Webber’s play ‘Cats’, at the Winter Garden Theatre. I had seen it five years earlier as Peter, but it is such a wonderful play that I wondered why I hadn’t come back again before this. I sat amused as I watched Carol play with the little bell on her collar throughout the play. Many of the actors on stage wore collars too, but I’m sure that theirs all came off each night when the play ended. Carol loved the play. Her childhood had robbed her of such treats, and I had enjoyed introducing her to the many things that New York offered during the past 10 months. I was more in love with her now than ever. And she professed her love to me every day. In 41 days, the Observer would be looking for Peter & I, to return us to our former bodies. With the exception of that one time each month when nature wrecks havoc on our female bodies, I am extremely happy with my present situation, and would prefer to stay as I am. But Peter is wavering back and forth. He can’t decide if he wants to remain this way permanently, or not. It only takes one of us to decide for both, so if he changes back then so must I. I have been preparing myself for that eventuality.

Carol thanked me all the way home for the delightful evening. I told her that I had enjoyed it every bit as much as she did. After we had prepared for bed, I told her that I had something very serious to discuss with her. We sat on my bed and I began.

"Slave Carol, you are the love of my life. I have something very important to tell you and I know that it is going to shock you. I expect that you may not even believe what I am going to say. You may think me mad, or a fool."

"Mistress, I love you with all my heart. I will believe whatever you tell me. You have never lied to me as far as I know."

"This is very hard. I don’t know how you will feel about me after I tell you. I’m afraid of losing you."

"That can’t happen. I have pledged to remain your slave for my entire lifetime."

"This will be very confusing for you, but here it is. Do you remember last year when you kept me in bondage for an entire weekend?"

"Yes, and I’m so sorry. I thought that is what you wanted. Please don’t be upset with me."

"I’m not upset, my love. It’s just that the time has come to tell you that I never requested that weekend of bondage, and that weekend was the first time that I ever saw you." I stopped to let that thought sink in.

"I don’t understand. We had been Mistress and Slave for 2 years before that weekend."

"I told you that this would be confusing. That week that Peter Hotaling and Kara Swenson went to Arkansas, their minds were switched into each other’s body by an alien from another planet." I paused to let her think about that.

She started laughing. "Oh Mistress, that’s funny. Come on, what’s the punchline?" She stopped laughing when she looked at the serious expression on my face. "Oh my God, you’re serious." She reached up and felt my forehead to see if I was sick.

I didn’t say anything. I just sat there looking at her. She started to become uncomfortable and squirm around.

"I am perfectly serious and I am not sick. Until March 23^rd of last year, I was Peter Hotaling. Peter was Kara Swenson."

"I’m not educated, but even I know that such things aren’t possible."

"I told you that you wouldn’t believe me. Let me tell you the entire story and then tell me what you think." So over the next hour, I went through the story in as much detail as I could, relating every event that I felt significant.

"Mistress, that is a wonderful story. You should write it and sell it."

"There is only one person that I want to buy it. You."

"I think I do. If it were not true, then what reason would you have for telling me such a crazy story? Oops, sorry."

‘That’s OK. I know that it sounds crazy."

"The main thing is, up until the weekend that I tied you up, I really liked you. But after that point, I fell in love with you. You were different towards me, you changed your appearance, and you’re whole attitude changed. Something definitely happened to you. Your story could explain everything."

"I didn’t appreciate Kara’s appearance, or clothes. Since I had to occupy this body for a year, then I decided to make it fit me. It is time to tell you because I may be going away. I wanted you to know before that happened."

"Oh, Mistress. You wouldn’t leave and not take me would you?"

"As I keep saying, it’s confusing. Even if I leave, Kara will still be here. I will return to being Peter and she will return to being Kara."

"I can maybe believe the other stuff, but it’s so hard to believe that you were a man. Were you gay, because you act so feminine?"

"No, I wasn’t. But I quickly adapted to being Kara so that I could fit in. I’ve come to love being her and being here with you. It’s going to be a difficult transition to go back to being Peter again. If it was up to me, I would stay here with you forever."

"Why can’t you stay if you want to?"

"Well, we only have 2 bodies to work with. If Peter wants to return, then he will be returned to this body. I will have to leave it because it is his by birthright. I will be put back into my own original body. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I think so."

"My biggest regret is that I will lose you. I could stand to loose everything else much more easily."

"You won’t lose me Mistress. I will come with you no matter what your body looks like."

Those were the words that I longed to hear. I began to cry. "Do you realize that I may look like the man who hurt you so badly? And you couldn’t call me Mistress any more. I would be a man."

"I don’t care what you look like. And I will call you Master if you’re a man. I love you. You. Not the body that you are in."

"You don’t know how happy that makes me."

"If you’re happy, then I’m happy. Can we go to bed now, Mistress? All this talk about bodies has made me horny. I want to show you how much I learned at the play tonight. I want to be your little sex kitten."

I reached up and batted at her little bell with my finger.

She said, "Meooow." 

 

Chapter 19                  Day 331

Peter stood there grinning at me when I opened the apartment door. I stepped back so that he could come in. Following close on his heels was a small, well-endowed blonde who had not been visible behind his massive frame. I immediately noticed the slave collar locked around her neck.

"Hi, doll. Meet Slave Kirsten. Slave, this is Mistress Kara."

I said, "Hello, Slave Kirsten."

She bowed her head in response and respect. "Hello, Mistress."

Peter said, "So what is it that you want to talk about?"

"We need to discuss Arkansas. Our appointment is in 33 days."

"Would it be alright if Slave Kirsten waits for me in Slave Carol’s room?"

"Yes. That would be alright."

He took her to the ‘secret’ bedroom. He was gone for quite a while. I wondered if he was taking time to secure her, or if he had succumbed to her obvious charms. When he came into the parlor, it was plain to see that he had taken the time to secure her, because he hadn’t even worked up a sweat.

He said, "I hooked her up to the Nox Sox Box."

"Is that what it’s called?"

"That’s what I call it. That box will knock your socks off."

"Clever name. Because our time is nearing, it’s important that we talk. Have you made a decision?"

He looked over at Carol who was sitting quietly in a side chair. "Shouldn’t Carol be somewhere else?"

"No. She knows the whole story. I decided that it was important for her to know."

"I see. Carol, your mistress is a little off her nut. She thinks that she was me until last year. Now she thinks that we’re going to change back."

Carol’s little bell tinkled as she turned to face him. "I believe her. She has never lied to me. And she’s not lying now."

"Listen to yourself. You’re saying that you believe that she’s a man, and that I’m a woman. Look at me. Do I look like a woman?"

I said, "It’s no use, Peter. I explained it all to her. She understands, and believes. I simply need to know if you want to return to this body, or keep the one that you’re occupying, so that I can make plans."

"What kind of plans?"

"Carol will be staying with me, regardless of which body I occupy. We have already worked out a series of code words to use at different intervals so that she will know immediately if I am switched. You see, I would prefer to stay in this body. But since you can override my vote, we would like to know where you stand so that we can make plans to be here, or at my old condo in Manhattan.

He just sat and looked at me. Then he looked at Carol. He stood up and walked over to her. "That collar is new, isn’t it. I haven’t seen one like that before. I might want to get one. Mind if I look at it closer?"

I said, "I’ll get you one. It would look good on you."

He grimaced at me. "Not for me. For Kirsten. She keeps complaining about the one that’s she’s wearing. She says that it’s chafing her. It’s leather, and it absorbs water when she bathes. What is that one made of?"

"Titanium."

He examined it. Carol sat very still. She was very proud of her collar and didn’t mind the attention now that she knew that Peter wouldn’t hurt her.

"How does it fasten? I don’t see a lock. And it seems very light."

"It is. Titanium is a very light, very strong metal that is highly resistant to corrosion. The lock is integrated into the design. Once locked, it is on for life, or until it is cut off with special tools."

"Really? I love it. How can I get one for Kirsten?"

"Are you making a lifetime commitment then, to remain as Peter? Because I already have a slave whom I love."

"I spoke too soon. And I won’t speak further with your slave here."

I said, "Slave Carol, would you check on Kirsten please, and stay in there with her until I call you?"

"Of course, Mistress."

"Thank you. OK, Peter, what can’t you say in front of Carol."

"You’ve really blown it Kara. How could you tell Carol? Do you want everyone to think that we’re nuts."

"No. I’ve fallen in love with Carol. I had to make sure that she’d be with me after this is over. You wouldn’t make a commitment. I couldn’t wait any longer."

"You can’t have her. I want her. She was mine before you did this to us. I want her back."

"Before I did this to us? You’re blaming me for this."

"Of course. You drove us down that road."

"We both discussed it, and BOTH decided to go down that road. You know that. You’re as responsible as I am for being on that road."

"Well, you dragged me up that hill and into that cave."

"Going up that hill was your idea. You said that you saw a house."

"Well, I thought it was a house. Anyway, it was your idea to go into the cave."

"It didn’t seem like a good idea to stand in the rain when we could be dry. And I didn’t drag you in the there. You were hanging onto my coat for dear life after you saw that bear."

He said, "You’re a typical male. You have an answer for everything."

"Women don’t have any answers?"

"You know what I mean. You keep twisting my words."

"I’m not twisting anything, but I am keeping Carol. She made her commitment to me, not to you. Just because you saw her first doesn’t mean that she belongs to you."

Peter said, "She’s the only reason for me changing back. Without her I might as well stay as Peter. I love your body. It’s so big and so strong. And it’s a real chick magnet. You really had it good. I can’t believe that you want to give it up for my old body."

"I fell in love for the first time in my life. I would give up anything for Carol. I think that she would be more comfortable with Kara, so I want to stay here with her. But if you want your old body back, then we’ll make a life in Manhattan. Your choice."

"I’ve made it. Without Carol, there’s nothing for me here. I’ve been happy as Peter, and I have Kirsten. So I’ll stay where I am. And I’m sorry. I was as responsible as you for our situation."

"I’m not unhappy. I hope that you find as much happiness as Peter, that I have found as Kara."

We embraced and kissed.

He said, "You have really made my old body into one hot property."

"Easy tiger. Let’s go check on your sweetheart. She should be cooking by now."

We walked into the bedroom and watched as Kirsten arched her back in ecstasy. Peter had fastened her spread eagle on the bed. Her wrist cuffs were attached each corner. On the floor were the Nox Sox Box and all attachments. On Kirsten was Carol. Kirsten was finding release under the expert ministrations of Carol’s tongue. She looked up and smiled as we entered, but continued on Kirsten. Their actions were hypnotic. Before we knew it, Peter and I had joined them on the bed. After all, this was a celebration of sorts. We spent the next several hours in every position imaginable. I lost track of who was where, doing what to whom, and how they did it. But I know that it was wonderful. I fell asleep happy and exhausted.

And woke up miserable. He had done it to me again. I woke up as I was being gagged. I was already blindfolded, and stretched out on the bed. And I wasn’t alone. Somebody was beside me, struggling to get free. What was Peter’s problem? Kirsten and Carol wanted this, but I didn’t. Suddenly the person next to me stopped moving. Then I realized that they weren’t trying to get free as the Nox Sox Box switched lines and the piece inside of me came to life. From then on, the bed never stopped moving as the NSB rotated through the three lines on a continuous cycle.

At some point, the unit stopped operating and we were able to get some sleep. We were awaked some hours later and taken for a shower. After being assisted to use the toilet, and being washed and dressed, the three of us were tied as a group, facing one another. Support ropes kept us standing in the center of the parlor for many hours. My feet were aching from the extremely high heels, and my arms ached from being joined behind my back. My mouth was so dry, that I would not have been able to lick a postage stamp. Carol, Kirsten, and I continuously breathed each other’s air. Peter had put a slave collar on me, and joined the three collars with a rope. Pulling us in together until our foreheads touched. I would have bet that he was lounging on the couch, reading the Sunday paper, or napping, as he had done the last time. But since I was still blindfolded and gagged, my observation abilities were limited. I wondered if he had done this when he was a Kara.

At 11 PM, Peter released us. He thanked me for an enjoyable weekend, and wished me well in the future. He kissed Carol and me, while Kirsten fumed, and then he led her out of the apartment. I wanted to be angry, but I was too happy that he had agreed to stay as Peter while I could stay as Kara. I would allow him to have this one last fling, without seeking retribution. Besides, I was starving. We hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Carol and I hurried to the kitchen and started drinking water and eating fruit until we stopped feeling so dehydrated. We ran a bath and relaxed together in the warm water. It had been a hell of a weekend, and now we could honestly look forward to sharing our life together. After we had finished with our bath, We went into the parlor. I removed the camcorder from its hiding place and rewound the tape. Then we watched as Peter admitted the swap. Carol just watched and clutched my arm until it ended.

She said, "I always believed you. But it’s nice to see it confirmed by Master Peter."  

 

Chapter 20                   Day 369

The one-week window for our swap had come and gone. I was still Kara, and Peter was still himself/herself. Carol and I were happy, and life looked good. It was Sunday, just before noon, and I had rented a car so that we could take a little trip. The phone rang and I answered. Carol listened as I said, "Just got in? It went as I said? You’re there now? OK, I’ll be there as soon as I can. Goodbye."

"Are we going out, Mistress?"

"Yes, Slave Carol. Better take a heavy coat. It may snow."

We went to the car and drove north towards Connecticut. I said to Carol, "Sweetheart, do you trust me?"

"With my life, Mistress."

"Good, because I would never do anything to harm you. But I fear that you are going to be a little upset today. We are going to meet with Mr. Barrington."

As soon as I said it, she started to tremble. I pulled her close to me and said, "Don’t worry. I promise that he won’t hurt you ever again. Please believe me."

"I trust you, Mistress. But please don’t be upset if I tremble a little."

"There’s no need. Mr. Barrington and I have reached an understanding. He won’t be harming anybody."

We arrived in Greenwich and drove to Barrington’s house. I parked in the driveway and walked to the house with Carol. She clutched at my arm as we walked. As soon as I rang the bell, a very large man whom I recognized at once as Barrington opened the door. He stepped back so that we could enter.

I said, "I have the contracts. Let’s go into the kitchen and get that out of the way."

He escorted us to the kitchen and we sat at the table. Carol had hidden behind me the whole time, visibly frightened of Barrington. I set up our camcorder and started it. Then I laid out the contracts on the table and he signed them, with the camcorder acting as witness. When that was done, I put them away and stopped the camcorder.

Sitting back down at the table, I said, "You said that everything went well. Tell me about it."

He began, "We met, as you had instructed. At midnight we drove to the rendezvous spot and waited for the contact to show.

A little past 1 AM, we fell asleep. We awoke several hours later and returned here to sort things out. Then I called you."

"Where’s Sharon?"

"Come with me, I’ll show you." He led the way to the basement and opened a steel door that led to a small room. He turned on the light by a switch outside the room. There were no windows in the room. A young blonde girl of about 23 was chained tightly against the wall. She was naked from head to foot, and was trying to scream through her gag. Around her neck was a collar identical to the one that Carol wore. Carol was visibly shaken and wanted to go to the girl. I held her back. As we walked out of the room, I had to pull Carol with me. He closed and locked the door, then turned off the light. We went back upstairs.

I said to him, "What about the other girl?"

"There’s 2 actually. They’re upstairs. Follow me."

He led the way to an upstairs bedroom. Two young girls huddled on the floor next to the bed. Their faces, arms, and legs showed bruises from recent abuse. They cringed, and began to shake violently as Barrington entered the room. I estimated their ages as between 17 and 18. Both were beautiful. Barrington’s money had allowed him to buy the pick of the litters. I gently pushed Carol towards them. She got the hint and went to them. Fearful of her at first, within an hour they were hugging each other.

I said, "We’ll take them with us. Someone will be along in a couple of weeks for the other one. Take care of her until then, as we discussed. If you decide that you want to keep her, let me know and I will cancel the other contract."

An hour later, we were on our way home. When we arrived there, I called the rental agency to tell them to pick up the car. Then I sat down with Carol and the two girls, in our parlor.

I said, "Girls, this is mine and Carol’s home. You are free to leave, or stay here with us. If you choose to stay, you are still free to leave at any time. For now, it is warm, and food is plentiful. Whether to leave or stay is always your choice. The monster, that did this to you, will never be able to do it again, to you or anybody else. That I swear. Our home is small so we do not have enough bedrooms. But we will fix up this room for tonight. You will be a lot more comfortable than you have been recently. Carol told me a little secret about the night after she first escaped from our friend Barrington. She had a little trouble sleeping. I’ll let her explain. Meanwhile, I’ll get some blankets and pillows."

Carol said, "No. Mistress. I’ll get them." She jumped up before I could, and hurried to get them.

I said, "Tell me ladies, what are your names and ages?"

They looked at each other, but didn’t answer.

I said, "If you don’t think that you should tell me, I understand, after what you have been through. And I do know how you have been treated. Barrington had Carol for two years. But it would make it easier on us if you tell me your first names, at the very least."

One said, "I’m Stephanie Case. And I’m 18."

The other said, "I’m Vanessa Porter. I’m 18 also. Or at least I will be in April. Is it April yet?"

Carol had come back in with an armload of sheets, pillows and blankets.

I said, "OK, Stephanie and Vanessa. I’ll leave you with Carol to get your beds made. You have the run of the house. I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight."

Stephanie said, "Goodnight, Mistress".

Vanessa also said, "Goodnight, Mistress."

They were obviously parroting the way that Carol addressed me. I expected that Carol would spend the night with them. They would need some support for a while.

 

Chapter 21                 Day 370

The next day, I called work and took a vacation day. I wanted to be around to help Carol with Stephanie and Vanessa. But both girls spent most of the day sleeping. I looked in on then and saw that both had loosely tied their own ankles.

Carol and I had a long talk. She was very upset with me for having left that other girl with Barrington. I decided to tell her the whole story. I explained that I had spent five months searching for Sharon before finding her.

Carol said, "You spent five months looking for her and then just left her there?"

"Yes. Exactly. But you are missing one important piece of information. You see, Sharon was a girl that wanted to be a man at any price. I offered her the opportunity. She didn’t believe me at first, but I finally managed to convince her that I might be able to give her what she wanted. I think that she was skeptical, right up until today."

"But you left her there, naked and chained to the wall."

"No. That’s not correct. You see, I blackmailed Barrington into going to Arkansas. He met with Sharon and they drove to a rendezvous point on a road called ‘Graves End’, and parked where the Observer had told Peter and I to go if we wanted to change bodies again. Barrington has an extremely close resemblance to Peter, and Sharon looks a lot like me. I was gambling that the Observer would see them and switch their bodies. It worked. The girl chained to the wall in the basement is, in reality, Barrington. The man that we met with is Sharon, or at least used to be Sharon. Part of the deal with Sharon was that she receives 10 million dollars of Barrington’s assets, and turns the remainder over to me. She is secure for the rest of her/his life. The real Barrington, now Sharon, will spend the rest of her days as a captive of men like she used to be. The real Sharon made a tape, like yours, while she still occupied her body. The tape absolves anybody of any liability in her captivity. Should the new Sharon ever escape, she will get no satisfaction. If she complains about having her body switched she will spend her time in an institution. But most likely, she will never escape."

Carol threw her arms around me and kissed me. "Oh, Mistress. You’re wonderful. That creep will get a sample of what he has been dishing out for years. I love it." 

 

Chapter 22

It has been five months since Stephanie and Vanessa first came home with us. They fell in love with Carol, just as I did, and decided to stay. When the tenant just above us moved out, we took over his apartment and joined it to ours. We now have all the room that we need. We installed a circular stairway in our apartment to connect the two floors. The four of us have been very happy. Both girls were runaways from abusive situations at home. It turned out that Stephanie had been a captive for 7 years. Barrington had acquired her just after Carol had escaped. Vanessa had been a captive for 4 years. The last year was with Barrington. Both girls began to adopt Carol’s attitude towards bondage soon after they joined us. They have both come to love the Nox Sox Box.

For my birthday in July, they honored me by presenting me with permanent slave collars just like Carol’s. When I locked them around their necks, we all cried.

I have used some of the assets that I got from Barrington to set up trust funds for my three girls. Part of it has been used to track down other captives and free them. Using a small amount, we were able to find Carol’s stepsister. She is alive, well, and married in Canton, Ohio. We have a huge chunk left and will use it to fund other efforts to free captives and support runaways.

The new Barrington declined to keep the old one, now Sharon. Sharon was sold to a particularly nasty character that will treat him/her as Barrington had treated his slaves. She will learn what it is to suffer at the hands of a monster.

 

Chapter 23

In September, Carol signed for a package from a deliveryman. When I arrived home that night, she handed it to me. It did not have a return address. I opened it up as she went to help Stephanie and Vanessa with dinner. Inside I found a small jewelry box, which was lined with something like blue velvet, and which contained three metal balls. I had seen these before. On a deserted road in Arkansas. I picked the one that was the largest. As I lifted it from the box it floated from my hand and dissolved into a holographic image of the Observer.

He said, "Hello my child. You have done well. We knew that those people that you sent to Arkansas were not you and Peter, but we decided to go along with your plan. Both deserved to be switched. Barrington especially. He deserves the fate that you have arranged.

Because you have done so well and served others so selflessly, we have decided to give you an opportunity to correct other mistakes of birth. The box that you now hold has two metal spheres. Have people whom you wish to swap hold the spheres. We will do the rest. Exercise your usual good judgement, choose wisely, and use caution. Good luck, my child." The image stared to dissolve.

I said, "Thank you."

The image stopped dissolving and re-solidified. The Observer said "You’re most welcome, my child." The Observer smiled as the image dissolved and turned back into a large metal ball. The ball floated back into the box.

My mouth was hanging open. I had thought that the image was like a recording. I never dreamed that it was like a telephone call where both parties could talk.

I looked down at the three metal spheres in the box. I would have to find a safe place to put them until they were needed. I smiled as I began to think of ways in which they could be most useful.

Ah, life is good.

 

The End……For Now.

 

 

*********************************************
copyright 1999 C.Sprite

This story is a work of fiction. Any similarity to any persons living or dead is a coincidence. Anyone wishing to copy, archive, or re-post this story may contact me for permission. Permission will not be withheld as long as, the text remains unchanged except for formatting changes, that no fee is charged either directly or indirectly (this includes the so-called "adult checks"), and, provided that this disclaimer and attribution to the original author are maintained. Anyone wishing to make comments is welcome to e-mail me at cesprite@storysite.org