3 comments/ 40594 views/ 9 favorites A Snapshot of Molly Ch. 01 By: Stultus Synopsis: Mary is a very troubled young woman with very unhealthy ideas about sex and suicide, especially ones involving both at the same time. Will the love and care of a relative stranger be enough to save her? This is an odd sort of romance story that might not be to everyone's taste, and might have something to offend nearly everyone. Note the story codes carefully! Sex contents: Some Sex Genre: Romantic Codes: MF, FF, Slow, Tear Jerker, Consensual, Reluctant, Hypnosis, Dom/Sub, Spanking, Bondage, Humiliation, Body Modification, Masturbation, Water Sports Originally Posted at SOL: 2007-05-30 ****** Thanks to my Editors and Advance Readers! ****** Author's Forward: Honestly, I'm not sure how to describe this story. I think one of my editors said it best by saying it was "a little romance mixed into a sad story with a bit of hope at the end". There are worse things. If this story offends anyone, I might as well start off by apologizing now. The theme of the story was a writing experiment: "How do you save someone that does not want to be saved?" This theme bothered me for several years even before the outline for this story was written in early 2007. For some reason, I wanted - needed to write this story - BADLY. I knew its themes were a bit too odd, and that to put it bluntly, overall reader reviews would be unlikely to be very positive. It original reception was better than I had hoped, but at the time it was a very risky story for me to write. There is some sex in the story, but it's not particularly graphic but does involve some odd story codes (usually mildly invoked). It is absolutely for mature readers who are willing to think awhile and reserve their own judgment until the end of the story. This story has received a significant re-editing and re-writing. It had not outside editing at all originally and there were a great many typos and story errors. Enough new material was added during the re-write to add about another ten pages of MS Word text, about another chapter. I thought long and hard about cutting out nearly all of the sex in the story but in the end thought it was "important" in several places for the plot flow to logically progress. Your mileage may vary. ****** CHAPTER ONE I have a great many crosses to bear working at Montrose Photographics, but probably the single biggest was dealing with our resident airhead, part-time employee, and full time stoner Doug "Dude" Parker, who always acted as if he had smoked a blunt or two before coming into to work each day. He got the nickname easily, as that word comprised about half of his working vocabulary. There was no choice though, and I had to teach the guy how to run our photo development lab. It's 98% automated so that even a caveman could do, but Dave's skull was denser than most of the old skulls I'd seen in museums. I had a morning class at the University this semester that I had to take if I wanted to be able to graduate early this coming fall semester. Accordingly, someone had to be available early in case there was a priority drop-off that needed one hour service or less immediately after store opening. It certainly wasn't going to be our owner, who after nearly twenty years of running this small independent camera shop and photo lab still could barely figure out how to use the cash register, let alone the hardcore photo development equipment we had in the lab. He did know cameras well, and our shop had the reputation for being where the Pro's shopped and willingly paid extra for our service, which was better than they could get at any of the big box camera retailers. We also had one other evening part-timer, a gal like me who was in school and not available any mornings either. The boss didn't pay well, we were a small 'niche' shop and he said he couldn't afford another part-timer. That just left "Dude", and much against my will, I trained him on how to at least handle the relatively easy 35mm developing machine, which comprised 99% of most of our rush-rush stuff anyway. All of the medium and large format stuff was usually professional 'tricky work' anyway and could wait for me. Those sort of clients always wanted things done 'right' rather than done fast. I must have told Dude at least a hundred times, that the number one 'Golden Rule' of this store was respecting the privacy of the customers who gave us film to be developed. We had a history of providing top notch confidential and uncensored photo development. This quite often including very candid photos of a very private and personal nature. We advertise this confidential service in several national magazines and papers and we receive a great deal of mail order business also. This was how we had made and kept our reputation, and most folks 'in the know' preferred to send us their private bedroom pictures where they could be assured that some pimply teenaged minimum-wage clerk at Walgreens or Wal-Mart wouldn't be making spare sets for all his friends and whacking off looking at them... or worse, posting them on the Internet. This was exactly what I was afraid Dude would do... and indeed he didn't disappoint me but he picked perhaps the worst possible customer in doing so. ********* It was about noon, and I was just coming in to work after class drinking my luncheon soda with my sandwich in hand. Dude was talking with a customer at the counter and handing him three packages of developed prints and just as I was about to open the glass front door to my lab work area I heard Dude drop the A-Bomb. "Dude, those were like some totally awesome and hot pics, Dude. I bet that was a hot assed party!" Oh Fuck! I dropped my drink and sandwich right onto the floor and turned around in utterly horrified shock. The unmentionable had been mentioned. The customer, whom I had a passing acquaintance with, was named Walt, and he had been getting his pictures developed here for years. Yes, sometimes those photographs were of a very adult nature. I shoved Dude aside so hard I nearly knocked him down onto the floor, and began my most sincere and most groveling apologies for this intrusion into his privacy that we most shamefully had to acknowledge had occurred. I even got our useless boss out of his office to further grovel and beg Walt's forgiveness, which was eventually forthcoming. Needless to say Dude was fired on the spot and we never heard anything from the poor stoner again, but I did hear an interesting story about a week later from a friend of his who came by to pickup Dude's final paycheck. He cryptically said something about "Some man putting down some major heat on Dude and made him split for the coast." Whatever the hell that meant. I did know that the boss was now acting a bit strange too, and had received a couple of private visitors in his office lately and he seemed to be on pins and needles for the next couple of weeks. Naturally, inside the desk drawer of Dude's corner desk, I found about a dozen packs of developed photos, duplicates of customers pictures that Dude hadn't gotten around yet to taking home. Most of these were fairly tame, mostly nude pictures of girlfriends with a few assorted x-rated shots mixed in for flavor. The usual 'confidential' stuff. These were all run though the shredder, but not before I took a quick look at Walt's last three sets of prints as I ran them one by one into the machine to be destroyed also. Mostly typical orgy stuff, and pics of a lot of naked (or nearly so) men and women. Why Dude thought these were worth getting fired over, I had no clue, but then again Dude had no clue about a great many things. These were rather typical of Walt's photographs I'd processed for him in the past. I did have to admit that the guy sure did have some interesting friends! One picture leaped out at me though, it was of a nude young woman with long dark hair kneeling with a collar around her neck before the photographer. She hadn't posed particularly well and seemed much too thin to be healthy. They say that the camera adds ten pounds; in that case she was at least twenty-five pounds or more underweight, as I could count every single rib on her. She was sort of slouching a bit and had a very sad hang-dog sort of expression on her face. Upon closer examination of the print with a magnifying glass I realized that the marks on her arms and thighs were long parallel scratches. She was a "cutter", and apparently a compulsive one; how sad. It was her eyes that made the photo work however; she looked into the camera with sad soulful eyes that immediately reminded me of my mother's old brainless cocker spaniel dog "Molly". Molly was a silly little dog that always seemed to have accidents on the carpet and never remembered when punished for it, giving us always a sad look of "Don't look at me, I don't know who did that poop there". In nearly ten years of working here this was the first photo I ever considered keeping a copy of for myself, but in the end it joined the others and was destroyed in the shredder. I had seen many photos of this girl before, usually clothed, when doing a brief quality control check on Walt's previous photos before packaging, and if I had to guess I'd say that this was his daughter. I thought I had seen a wedding ring once on some of her older pictures, but this one certainly didn't show one and her hands were clearly visible. I would have put the entire incident out of my mind entirely except a few odd things kept happening. Twice I was nearly certain someone had been inside my small efficiency apartment and some little things were not quite where I had remembered leaving them. My advisor at the University, one of my favorite professors, told me right after semester finals that he had an interesting phone call "about me from a colleague" that had asked a lot of questions about my academic and personal life, but he wouldn't say anything about it further so I just assumed it somehow involved my pended application for Graduate School starting next spring. Still, something just didn't seem right. Classes over, I resumed taking over the early morning duties and things did start to get back into a routine when Walt stopped in one morning to drop off a large package of negatives that he wanted to convert into slides. It's possible to do this (normally slide film is quite different from 35mm film and not many people use it anymore) and I had an expensive machine that could do the transfer but it would be time intensive and frankly not at all cheap to do. Walt was fine with this and seemed in a very jovial mood; the past unpleasantness was apparently forgotten. I told him that I thought I might be able to have them done by the end of today, if there was any urgency, and he agreed that this would be excellent if at all possible. Keeping this man happy was now my number one concern in life, and I got to work on the project right away. Unfortunately it was a fairly busy day, with the start of summer there were a lot of holiday pictures coming in and it seemed like everyone wanted rush service rather than having to wait a day or two for their pictures. Our store closed at seven p.m. and I didn't get the last of the slides made until a little after eight p.m. I called Walt (I had his home phone number with the negatives) and told him I had just finished and he could have them first thing in the morning, but if it was critical that he get them tonight, I could be at his house I thought by about 8:45. It was somewhat critical, he said, and he gave me directions to his home. I was on my bike today; my old '69 Pontiac Firebird was DOA yet again. I loved that car, but the carburetor and exhaust system were nightmares to keep running, she dripped oil everywhere, including under the dashboard, and on a good day got about seven miles to the gallon. I locked up and headed toward the River Oaks area as fast as I could pedal, and got there right about on schedule. The house was beautiful and large. Much as I suspected, the always nice and genteel Walt was a man of very apparent wealth, and I felt very much like a boy with his hands caught in a cookie jar. I had seen a great many photos of the 'rich and powerful at play', and thanks to idiot Dude running off his mouth, I was probably now seen as a "security risk" in the eyes of my betters. Lucky me. I hoped that the truth that I had always been a very, very good boy would maybe only get some of my fingers broken as a warning. ******* I rang his doorbell and it was answered by his wife Nellie, who offered me a seat in the living room and said that Walter would be right out to see me. She offered me a glass of orange juice, which I gratefully accepted and drank it down nearly at once. I had to sit and wait for awhile and soon I felt rather drowsy. I think I dozed off for a bit, because I remember Walter coming in and shaking me awake a few minutes after ten-thirty and apologizing for being delayed. We talked for a few minutes, my tongue seemed to be still lost in the fog of sleep and I stammered quite a bit but no one seemed to notice. We shook hands and I left, heading on home and by the time I got home about at about eleven p.m. most of the fog had lifted. My dreams that night were rather odd, I dreamed that I was back there in Walters home and he was showing me the slides that I had prepared for him on a screen and he asked me questions about each picture. When the photo of "Mollie" appeared on the screen, the same one that I had so closely examined the previous month from Dudes stash, I remember calling out "that's Molly", and telling him the reason I'd given her that name. This interested him very much and I dreamed we had talked about that girl and her problems in great detail. At the end he asked me what I thought of her, and I think I replied something like "she could be very beautiful, but I don't think she knows how to love or be loved. I think she's hollow inside, or flat just like the photograph. I'd want to take her and hold her tight to me, but she'd just crumple up or tear and fall broken to the ground." In the morning I passed everything off as just a dream and tried to put it all out of my mind. In a fit of pique I did leave a note on the table at home asking my secret watchers to do something useful like change the kitty litter for me, if convenient, and not to drink the last beer I had in the fridge. Three days later the cat's litter box was changed somehow while I was at work and my last beer did disappear from the refrigerator, probably at the same time. I made a note to myself to leave some cream in a bowl on the kitchen floor for the Brownie. Whatever was going on, my life didn't seem to be in immediate peril and I saw no need to pack off to the coast myself. I just had to survive six more months of this job and then I'd be in Graduate School. If anything was going to happen, it would probably happen soon or not at all. The correct answer was of course, soon. ******** About a week later on a Friday afternoon I got a phone call from Walter (now that I knew his real name I decided not to be overly 'familiar' with him) who asked me if I was available to come by his house again this evening, as he had a possible financial opportunity available to discuss with me. Ok, sure. I'm as trusting and gullible as it's possible to be, and without any second thoughts I agreed to come by right after store closing. And I did. This started perhaps the single strangest conversation of my adult life. "What do you remember of your visit to me about a week ago?" he asked. "Well, I think I slept through most of it, but it involved some sort of CIA truth serum and a lot of naked pictures of your daughter, who would be an absolute stunner if someone could sit on her long enough to get a sandwich or three down her. On second thought, I couldn't sit on her - her ribs are so thin now that they'd probably break. She needs some serious guidance in life, to become something other than an Assistant Crack Whore." This was all guesswork on my part, but you don't get into Graduate School being a total idiot, even if I had worked a horrible job for a worse boss for nearly ten years of my life, since early High School. Bingo. He blinked a few times and then smiled at me and offered me a choice of some wine or a beer. I took the beer, and we settled in to get to know each other a bit better with all of the bullshit now gone and all of our cards now on the table. Walter (well it was back to being "just Walt" again now), told me a bit about himself. He was a Senior Child Psychologist for a big school district here in Houston, and had a lucrative private practice as well. He specialized in the most disturbed kids there were - killers, rapists, and just plain everyday young budding sociopaths. His private clientele was the top of the pyramid of the wealth and power structure of the State. He knew "literally" where bodies were buried and the innermost secrets of many of the most important people in the State and in the Country. Particularly involving their sex lives at a place called "The Club" and other places like it affiliated around the country. The Club was not the real name of course of this meeting and playpen of the obscenely rich and powerful. Some secrets are too important to even whisper about, and I'd like very much to keep my lips and tongue attached. I had seen photographs of many of these people, and some of those pillars of society would probably even kill to protect their secrets. I started to really appreciate Walt's attitude and candor. He was the most pure WYSIWYG (what you see it what you get) person I had ever met in my life. He had no tolerance whatsoever for the slightest amount of nonsense and kept everything straightforward and honest. I could grow very used to dealing with that. How did all of this affect me and why was I here and now knowing things that could get me killed if I sneezed the wrong way? In short, he had a "job" proposition for me. The Club needed a trustworthy photographer that had a proven ability to keep his mouth shut, and my qualification in that aspect was beyond reproach. I would be "accepted and trusted" due to my long experience with the areas most trusted confidential photography lab. I was also likely to be a much better technical photographer than their current one (Walt had gotten drafted into handling that job some time ago and was a very indifferent amateur). The hours would not be long, mostly evenings a few days a week, usually Friday and Saturday nights, that would not interfere with my studies, and if things "worked out" I could be virtually assured of a full scholarship for Graduate School next spring. All of this I could agree to. My first night would be tomorrow night, and I had no problems about quitting the photo lab nearly immediately. In addition, I would be given a large budget for purchasing several good cameras and professional grade development equipment, and a room somewhere inside the Club would be available for my use as a darkroom and development lab. The next offer he made greatly confused me, and the more the matter was discussed the less optimistic I felt about it. This all was related to and concerned his daughter. Much as I had surmised, she was indeed a very, very troubled lady. Her mother had died when she was young, and she had always resented her step-mother Nellie even though Nellie had done everything possible to try and gain her love and trust. It had never happened. It didn't help that Nellie was very much a sexual submissive herself and she and Walt enjoyed an active bondage relationship together, but theirs was certainly not an S&M relationship. A Snapshot of Molly Ch. 01 Mary (my "Molly") had gone to one of the finest elite women's colleges on the east coast, but far from becoming 'liberated' or a strong independent woman ready for a successful career or her own, she was skittery and nervous - seemingly unable to make any decisions for herself at all. Soon she started a relationship with a very domineering and angry young man and found herself in a similar sexual situation to that of her step-mother. That of a Submissive, but the relationship was an unhealthy one as she became increasingly dependant upon her Master in a great number of unsavory ways, and who soon controlled virtually every aspect of her life. Far from being a relationship based upon love and shared trust (like her parents), their relationship began delving ever deeper into heavy S&M practices. Against her father's wishes she married this man, Donald after graduation, and she willingly endured four years of his abuse before his death about two years ago in an off-shore oil rig accident. She returned home and found a job as the Benefits Manager in the HR Department of a local hospital. She was living on her own in a house owned by her parents, but she was clearly not thriving. She sometimes attended parties at The Club, but her tastes were usually now too extreme, and she habitually visited the local S&M clubs and underground party houses seeking a new Master brutal enough to satisfy her. Preferably one that was "outlaw" from the local 'respectable' S&M community for being too sadistic and not respecting the "safeword" of his victims. She was bulimic, suicidal and very definitely into self-mutilation, mostly "cutting", but she would also burn her breasts, vaginal region and buttocks. Every time Walt visited her he expected it to be the last time he'd see her again alive, and every time the phone rang, he'd anticipate the nightmare of getting the message that their daughter had finally killed herself. There was much more, but this was enough for me to throw up my hands and demand "Why isn't she in a mental hospital receiving treatment. She needs something beyond what you or anyone outside can give her!" "She has been once, for the involuntary maximum seventy-two hour stay. But since she is not a 'danger to others" they could not legally hold her. Nellie and I were told if we ever interfered again, she would leave and we would never see or speak to her ever again." "Medications. You gave me something funky and probably under the shelf the other day, what is there available on the market that would work on her?" "Nothing she would voluntarily take on her own. The "special stuff", and some does exist, would be like trying to perform delicate brain surgery with a chainsaw. Far too messy and the results too uncertain. Sometimes I'll use it to stop a boy who is about to murder his own parents, gleefully and without remorse, but often the cure can be almost as bad as the disease. I'm just not the right person to do this particular brain surgery." He continued, "But you might be. You're a Senior about to get your BS in Psychology and you have a promising Grad School career ahead of you, and probably then your own Doctorate. If you can help her in anyway and somehow get her trust, then perhaps she can be saved and helped. There is nothing I can do for her anymore, but maybe you can." The plan was pretty basic and simple. Since she was shopping for a new Master, she would be ordered to help me the next night as my photographic assistant that weekend. I would stick to her like glue and hopefully we would establish a rapport, and slowly maybe I could try and get her trust, or at least become something of a restraint upon her until we could think up a better Plan B. Abnormal psychology was not my forte, but we both agreed that maybe trying something a bit from left field might work. I told him I had little hope of affecting a miracle, but I would do my best. My terms for agreeing to perform this hopeless task were straightforward and direct also. I needed my car working reliably. If he could attend to fixing and restoring my '69 Firebird to showroom condition, I would work my hardest to fix and restore his daughter to him. We laughed and shook hands in agreement, and I made plans to come for dinner the next night to meet my new 'charge'. I was given a few other last items in a large sealed envelope that I didn't open until I got home. It contained five hundred dollars in cash, the address of an excellent and very exclusive men's store where I could get a good suit, a signed legal looking letter from Walt and Nellie authorizing me access and permission to trespass onto their daughter's property for the purpose of establishing her well-being, a key that probably fit her front door, and a credit card for any incidental expenses I might have. Such as getting a rental car for the next week or two. I had a lot of errands to now run now before dinner on Saturday, but I also needed a bit more information on what I was about to be dealing with than had ever been in any of my Psych textbooks. As soon as I got home I called the only person I knew that was remotely associated with any alternative lifestyle. One of my best friends from High School, James. It was no secret that his wife Lana was a firecracker when outside and about and was as timid as a field mouse indoors. I had asked him why once when we were fairly liquored up one time and he had told me that Lana "really gets off on being spanked hard and sometimes can't orgasm at all unless I'm spanking her bare ass cherry red or worse. She likes 'being in charge' outside the house, but in the bedroom she wants me to be the boss." I filled him in briefly about my new charge, and he encouraged me to find another occupation entirely. Splitting for the coast was beginning to sound like a wise idea after all. She was a "basket case", he said, "screwed up by too many idiots that have read a Gor novel and think they know how to train a slave girl, but probably can't tell fantasy from reality." It was very much, as he put it, as if you took a young puppy and gave it random electrical shocks or beatings for no reason whatsoever. Soon the dog grows up to be nervous and fearful, expecting punishment for everything it does, good or bad. It makes for one heck of a nervous dog, and it is even worse for a young lady. In short, I was going have to undo nearly all of her prior "programming" and reward her for good behavior and somehow find a way to punish her for bad behavior that wouldn't make her even loopier. "Good Luck" he said, "He'd be betting against me." I did receive one useful piece of practical advice that I intended to follow. "Remember when you turned eighteen and were living with that crazy chick Sharon and she took Lana with her to the Eric Clapton concert at the Summit? Remember you were ticked that she hadn't taken you instead and you acted like an ass about it, even calling the stadium to find out what time the show would be over so you'd know exactly when to expect her home? That's almost the way you'll need to treat her. But not like a whiney insecure kid. Put on your big boy panties and act supremely confident, and let her know you're watching her every move and you know exactly what she's up to." I spent the rest of the night surfing the Internet. There are websites for everything, including how to be a Dom or even a perverted brutal master. Some information sounded good, some sounded like Gorean bullshit, and some of it actually sounded pretty darn useful, written by folks who seemed to have a loving and stable relationships that included S&M based upon trust. They just had a bit more trust in each other than most. The Master was not "taking" from his Submissive, but rather the Sub was "offering" more of herself to him, and that she was really the one with all of the hidden power in the relationship. This was allegedly a proper "healthy" sort of "power sharing" relationship. It didn't sound at all as if Mary had learned any of this. There were lots of variants of course with Female Dominants, etc, but those didn't seem to relate with what I needed to know to even have a prayer of helping Mary. I had a lot to learn and the testing would start tomorrow. Grading would be strictly pass/fail... if I failed, Mary would likely soon be dead, probably by her own hand, or find a psycho willing to perform some of her snuff fantasies for real. ****** Actually I felt pretty good driving up the driveway the next evening in my rented convertible and brand new designer label dark suit. I wanted to express confidence without too much macho bullshit ego. I was going to be "Joe Cool" personified but look and act professional, and I hoped that the rough script outline I had worked out with Walt would do. There were too many variables to map; if she got angry or 'didn't want to play' we were going to be pretty much screwed right from the start and everyone knew it. Fortunately, the script held all the way through dinner. Mary herself answered the front door and mumbled something that might have been a greeting of sorts, and I went immediately on the offensive. "I'm glad to finally meet you and I know your help will be invaluable later on this evening. Keep this with you at all times, we might need this later." I briskly but firmly said as I handed her one of my camera bags. She of course would not keep it with her, but it was only a prop anyway and had nothing but several heavy bricks inside it. My Canon AE-1 and my other gear were in the back of the car. Right away I exerted my authority and proceeded to give her orders, keeping her constantly busy dashing about. I then asked her to get me a glass of wine, then to bring me a family photo that I wanted to closely examine, to fetch me a certain book... 'no not that book', 'no not that one either', and so on. I kept her busy and hopping all the way until dinner time. She wanted to be 'obedient', no problem, I'd keep her too busy to even think. Dinner went about the way Walt and I had expected it. She was startled to find out that she had been volunteered to attend The Club that night and would be expected to help me, the new photographer throughout and do exactly as I said. I kept her from thinking about this startling development too much by also keeping her busy during dinner, to fetch me the salt, then pepper, then a new napkin, another roll, some extra butter, etc. It wasn't as if she was eating her own dinner. I finally had to stand next to her and act very provoked that we would be late unless she finished eating. The amount she did finally eat wouldn't have fed a bird, and she made a last second trip to the bathroom to purge even that before leaving. Of course she had forgotten the camera bag so I dragged her by the hand back inside and make her pick it up and carry it back to the car. It was going to be a very interesting night! A Snapshot of Molly Ch. 02 Arriving at The Club we were admitted inside, Walter, Nellie and Mary being well known to the doorman and I was given a new temporary ID to wear until security got to know me. Once inside the real fun began. I will say very little about The Club itself except that it was a well known spot for "ladies that lunch" and bored River Oaks housewives that played tennis or racquetball during the day, but at night it was restricted for Private members only. Even the Mayor (not a member) couldn't gain entry inside after hours. The furniture was all either priceless antiques or the most comfortable modern style club furniture that money could buy. A single chandelier or sconce would have probably paid my full tuition all the way through my Doctorate. There were several large "public rooms" near the main front doors where dining or lectures could be held and the "private" restricted areas were to the back, the main part of which was laid out much like a Victorian old boys network London Club with big oversized leather chairs and small tables with reading lights, but usually not much "reading" occurred. The dress code was 'clothing optional'. At one end was a long bar made of crafted antique oak and at the other end was a small DJ area with a dance floor. A number of more exclusive private rooms were along the center, each catering to different sexual specialties. Only a "Marked Member" was allowed to get unrestricted entrance into any of those rooms, but a 'MM' could bring an "escorted guest". I was theoretically still a "Guest", but actually for purposes of mobility I could go anywhere and see anything, but in the private areas I was to definitely ask before entering, at least for tonight. The "MM" business confused me until I saw several scantily clad ladies, young and not so young, scampering off into the Pink Room (Lesbian sex only, watchers tolerated). They all had what appeared to be a tattooed mark at the bottom of their lower back, just above the ass crack, and most women also had additional designs to both sides as a larger and more exotic "tramp stamp" decoration. This 'mark' was technically a tattoo, but it involved a complicated high-tech machine that injected a clear ink under the skin and then used different lasers for the design and coloring. This allowed an exceptional range of tattoo coloring, clarity and precise design details, far more so than traditional needle tattooing. The mark on the lower back was traditional, but some of the women placed theirs directly on their bare pubic mounds. Several others, in a Gorian style, had the mark on their upper thigh or ass cheek, as if it were a brand. A few more mature women had the older original hot iron brand marking of The Club burned into their flesh. There were more than few rather submissive women with additional branding marks, usually the initials of their Master, and this seemed to be a popular fetish here. I won't even mention the cross-dressers, transgendered and several chicks that had dicks. It was obvious that this was a place where 'anything goes'. Some men had a more masculine variation of this tattoo as well, but mostly male members simply wore their membership ring which was considered ample for admission anywhere they pleased. The membership ring, or the tattooed back stamp for the women, also allowed them admission, rights and privileges to other similar and affiliated clubs around the world. Still dragging Mary back and forth while she toted my heavy bag of bricks, I was shown my new work area in the back and it would do well. It was an older laundry room that had been replaced a few years back so it had plumbing and floor drains. It also had a good storage area, was very well lit and had room for all of the equipment that I would later need. I was told that members and their guests would start arriving about eight, but most of the 'fun' would be much later, but I was expected to be "on duty" between eight p.m. and 2 a.m., unless dismissed by the Club Manager early. The fun sometimes lasted longer, but usually by then the more enthusiastic players will have moved onwards for more private parties. He would be my nominal boss, but I should feel free to ask Walt if I had any questions or problems. From the deference shown to him by everyone, I could tell that Walt was indeed a very senior member. My job was to remain in the background but be immediately available if anyone wished a photo taken. I was not to otherwise photograph members or guests without their express granted permission. I also found out that I would soon be responsible also for storing The Clubs security camera footage and would be often required to obtain still photos from the film. I had about twenty minutes to get ready and I used them to run Mary ragged back and forth from the car to the new lab room, loading her down with equipment - most of which I would not need that night. Finally, a few minutes before 8 p.m, I considered myself ready, and now it was time to get Mary ready as well. "Strip" I ordered her, and she just stood there looking at me. About what I had expected. "When I tell you to do something, you will do it, immediately and at once, do you understand me?" I told her in my sternest voice and with what I hoped was my biggest frown of annoyance. She nodded her head and started to undress, too slowly for my taste. "Faster, Hurry!" I barked, and her clothes began to fly off onto the floor. When she was done standing naked in front of me I took a walk around her as if to inspect her, and I found much that I disapproved of. If anything, she was much thinner than even her previous photos suggested. The way her ribs stuck out was frightening. The only comparable images I had seen even close to this were pictures of WW-II death camp survivors. She had been quite busy cutting herself as well and there was a row of Band-Aids running down the inner sides of each thigh. I ripped each one off in turn, and told her when I ordered her to be naked she was to be completely naked with nothing on her but her skin. I took out a small office supply binder clip (I had filled one pocket full of them earlier) and applied it to her clamping down on the upper fleshy region of her left breast (fleshy was not an apt word given her state of emaciation). Now I explained to her our system of rewards and punishments. If she failed to obey me exactly to the letter she would receive another binder clip (non-damaging but painful enough to get her attention - it certainly beat sticking pins or skewers into her). If she was good, I would reward her with a piece of chocolate that she must eat and swallow or I would become exceptionally angry. The chocolates were some fancy covered macadamia nuts, and at about 1000 calories each, my best idea for getting at least a little bit of food into her without her being suspicious. I ordered her to kneel, and directed her to spread her legs wider apart in order that she could "show off all of her pretty marks of self-abuse to everyone" and to hold her chest out and keep her back straight and head forward at all times. When she reached a posture that I deemed acceptable I gave her a first chocolate reward. I could tell she didn't want to swallow it but I glared at her menacingly until she did and then threatened to gag her if she did not swallow it for me. Then I loaded her up with two extra heavy cameras around her neck that I would probably not need, plus I put her old friend the camera bag of bricks around one of her shoulders and we started off to make the grand tour of the main lounge area. She was directed to follow behind me about two paces and stop and kneel whenever I stopped for any reason. I made sure to start and stop a lot. Each time I found her posture to be much at fault, which earning her another binder clip and demerit. By the time we had finished our first circuit of the lounge, one breast was well covered by clips. A second circuit and there was no space left to mount another so I started on her other breast. By 10 p.m. I had to return to the lab area to refill my pocket with more clips. The reward pocket was unfortunately still mostly full, but her posture was starting to improve and my plan of shaming her by making her display all of her hidden self-mutilations publicly (and being forced to tell how they occurred) was bearing fruit. Along with slouching, which seemed to be a perpetual habit with her, she had the habit of keeping her knees drawing closer to try and hide her self-inflicted cuts. "What you're not proud of them? Spread your legs even wider, let's give everyone a good view of them, and keep your arms above your head also so your pretty arm cuts can be seen too." I bellowed and her, and she hastened to obey and I gave her another reward. By midnight she was exhausted with the constant exercise and could no longer keep her hands above her head, so instead I used a pair of leather restraints to keep her hands fastened tight behind her back. This helped her a bit with her posture too, by making her arch her shoulders and back. This helped her earn a few more rewards and saved us another trip to refill up on clips before the night ended at 2 a.m. I made the exhausted Mary reload all of the equipment back into the car and then kneel frozen in position, still with all of her clips in place while I relaxed for awhile and chatted with her father and several other Club members. I had seemingly forgotten all about her and I appearing to not be looking at her at all until she would slowly slip out of position, and then I would bark at her to "resume her position" and apply another clip. By this point I had several on her stomach and a few near by but not directly on her vaginal area. I bid her parents goodnight and said that we would see them tomorrow, which confused Mary greatly and without even getting her clothes or her purse, which were safe locked up in the lab area, I marched her naked straight out the front door and into the parking towards my car. She began to panic as she was nude and her front was covered with clamped binder clips and her hands were still tied behind her back. "What if someone sees me, what if the Police pull us over?" "Then I will make you spread your boney legs apart again and show all of the nice officers your pretty marks and how you got them, and then they'll take you to the County Hospital and fill you up with all sorts of happy fun-time drugs. But don't worry; I'll come visit you every day." With that she slouched down into the passenger seat of the car to better hide her naked body, but I was having nothing of it. "Aren't you proud of your body the way it is? You've gone through an awful lot of trouble to mold it just the way it is, all nice and scarred and bone thin. Don't you want to show it off? Aren't you proud of what you've accomplished? Let's go show it off to everyone we can find!" And we nearly did. I thought she would absolutely die from embarrassment when we pulled into a Sonic Drive-In and I let the car hop and all of the other customers admire Mary's nude abused body. When I started to cruise up and down the Richmond Avenue "party strip" area to display Mary to the patrons leaving the bars was when she finally broke down and begged to be taken home and that she would "do anything else I ordered her to, anything". With that I took pity on her and we went to her home via back streets. I really didn't want to have her hauled off by the Police for indecent exposure. The arrest report wouldn't look very good on my Graduate School application. When we got to her house, she was going to certainly be in for another big surprise. She lived in a small but nice duplex house in the Montrose area quite near my old job. Her parents owned the place as one of their many investment and rental properties but let her stay rent free. I lived not too much farther inside the Loop myself and could get to her house if needed within five minutes or so. My final errand of Saturday afternoon had been to go to her house after I was given the "all clear" that she had arrived at her parent's house, to do some serious snooping. There wasn't time to do a completely thorough and professional job earlier, but I had found and disposed of her main cutting kit (undoubtedly there would be more), put some food into the refrigerator for the morning (there had been none), and found her main assortment of play toys of which a few of them might prove useful later. I think the full realization of what she had gotten herself really into occurred to her just about the time I pulled out my copy of her house key. I ordered her to enter and kneel before me on the living room floor, which she did shaking all over from nerves. I pulled off the first binder clip that I had attached and demanded that she tell me what she had done to earn that one. She actually did remember, and I told her "Good" and gave her another reward. Naturally though, she couldn't remember what most of the rest where specifically for, and as she now got most of the answers wrong (she'd had enough chocolate for one day anyway, especially on an extremely shrunken stomach) I would give her a relatively gentle swat on her ass cheeks for each wrong answer with a well-worn out riding crop I had found under her bed. Her breasts were now quite black and blue all over by the time I had removed the last one and the pain from the released circulation combined with the swats on her ass had obviously made her very aroused. Nice, but there was still some work to be done first. For starters her bed was a disaster, I don't know when the last time she had changed her sheets was, but it had been a long time. Worse still were all of the blood stains that seemed to be everywhere. Not only had she sometimes done some of her cutting in bed, but she (or someone else) had seriously whipped her until the point of bleeding on apparently many occasions. Some scarring could be seen on her back, stomach, tits and ass. She did own a pair of clean sheets and I released her cuffs long enough for her to get them out and put them onto the bed, while I supervised to make sure she did the job neatly. This earned her several more swats with the crop before things were done properly to my satisfaction. Now it was time for a little fun before bed. I directed her to kneel and I reaffixed her cuffs behind her. Then I pulled out an item that I had found earlier in the day that had greatly disturbed me and showed it to her. "What is this item, and who is "Muffin?" I demanded holding the sturdy leather neck collar with a ring and a dog tag that read Muffin on it before her while holding the crop in an angry manner before her. I held the crop to her neck forcing her eyes upwards to meet and hold firm with mine. She didn't want to answer, but I made her. No surprise, things were really just as bad as I thought. A "Muffin" is the most vulgar possible term that can be applied to a woman. Being tattooed on the forehead with 'SLUT' would be probably kinder. The politest way I could even begin to describe this term would be a woman who would willingly sacrifice her own life for the sexual and sadomasochist pleasure of others. The fact that Mary was willing and in fact desired to be the willing victim of a sexual experience that would end with her being snuffed out dead was heart wrenching. This was seriously major mental illness, and I was now drifting in extremely deep waters. Muffin, more so than Mary, was her real and true identity these days. She yearned for the oblivion of death now, and if by her death she could grant someone else pleasure, even if it meant the ripping and tearing of her flesh, so much the better. I let my anger flow forth in my words to her. "Why didn't you wear this tonight, Muffin? Didn't you want everyone to see just now much of you they can really have if they want it? I could have taken pictures while they sliced off your tits a little bit at each time. I'm sure your proud father would want his little girls last bit of fun to recorded. Maybe a nice big framed picture of the final result, your bleeding body totally sliced apart with nothing left to tell that it was even really you. Is that want you really want?" The answer was a weak no, but the eyes said "Yes". Simple steps, one at a time, I whispered to myself. I fixed her collar to her neck and told her how pretty she looked with it on. The ring I thought 'really brought out her skeletal shoulder and collar bones'. I kept on in this vein until she was in tears. If she was going to cry, I was now going to give her a valid reason for it. But first I wanted her to know from the get go that she would be receiving no consideration of privacy whatsoever from me. I directed her that it was nearly time for bed and that she had my permission to use the bathroom. She did need to go, but was startled to see that I had taken the bathroom door off the hinges earlier and moved into her small garage. Privacy was the last thing I wanted to give her for a good long while to come. "Piss, Now!" I ordered her, and stood over her watching her as she relieved herself. She couldn't wipe herself dry with her arms tied and I did that for her. Her bruised vagina seemed to be extremely wet and moist, even without the urine. I directed her to kneel at the foot of the bed with her ass out and asked her "How many times had she disobeyed this evening". Naturally she did not know, actually neither did I but I guessed somewhere around sixty times, so I told her it was sixty-three, and she would now before bed receive one strike from the crop for each demerit. I tanned both ass cheeks evenly to a uniform glorious color of fire engine red, but I avoided striking near her cunt or her clit because she seemed so aroused that I feared she would come if either was touched even for a moment. Her eyes were aglow with pleasure and as I finished with her punishment she was loudly begging me to fuck her. "Fuck me please" she begged, "Do anything you want to me, just please put your cock in me and let me come" "I don't fuck Muffins" I replied, "I might be willing to fuck Mary or even Molly, but your boney little cunt would give me no pleasure at all. I think I'll just lie back in bed and masturbate to memory of all of the pretty ladies I saw tonight with flesh on their ribs and thighs that didn't look like they were a cat's scratching post. When I fuck a woman, I like them to stay fucked and come back the next day for still more fucking, and not wind up in some pathetic losers backyard buried in a piss covered shallow grave." With that, I fastened a short sturdy chain I had prepared at the foot of her bed and chained her there and turned off the lights. While I slept (badly) in her bed she spent a restless night chained and helpless on the carpeted floor at the foot of her own bed. She whimpered a few times but when I warned her that her next offense would get a gag put in her mouth she remained silent. I resisted the urge to masturbate, as I thought that would just be rubbing salt in her wounds, but all of the fun this evening had left me very aroused indeed, but I could not let her detect that. For now at least I had to remain a stern and implacable Master. The next morning, I had a good lounge in bed for awhile while I listened to her roll about impatiently on the floor. At last I got up and unchained her and supervised her morning urination. Next I started the shower and released her from her cuffs and ordered her into it. I soon joined her, but any hopes she had of an erotic interlude were soon dashed. I stuck to the basics of seeing that she was clean (especially her cut marks) and gave the interesting parts only minimal attention. She did pay extra attention to my cock and balls and was about to take me into her mouth before I stopped her. A Snapshot of Molly Ch. 02 "Granted your skinny butt needs all of the nourishment that I can give you, but I've got a better choice for that." I got her out of the shower and let her dress into shorts and a t-shirt for breakfast and changed into casual clothes myself. She was shocked to see that I had moved quite a few of my own clothes into her closet and one of the drawers of her dresser. I didn't let her start questioning me, but I hurried her now into the kitchen to fix our breakfast. Mary, to put things frankly, was very bad cook and couldn't even do a full Sunday breakfast properly without constant direction and supervision. Left on her own, she didn't seem to cook at all. The most I had been able to find in her trash when searching previously was some microwaveable TV dinner boxes, which were probably purged up afterwards. Didn't she learn anything at all from her step-mother? Probably not, she seems to have started her rebellion early and stuck with it long after common sense would have told her to quit. Well it was about time that she learned, and I taught her how to do pancakes, bacon and eggs to my personal satisfaction. The eating of breakfast itself became another issue. I gave her just one pancake, an egg and slice of bacon for her to start with, and after I repeated glared at her and told her that none of us were going anywhere until she had eaten all of it, and eventually she did. Since her starved stomach was so trained by now to throw up its contents at just the thought now of purging, she soon had to run for the bathroom to throw up. "No problem" I told her, "There is plenty of breakfast left" and I once again sat her down in front of another pancake, egg and piece of bacon and forced her to eat them. She held this lot down a bit longer but didn't quite make it to the hall bathroom before throwing up again on the wooden floors of the hallway. Here was where I almost made a fatal mistake. While getting the cleaning supplies, I took my eyes off of her for about a full minute, which was at least thirty second too long. Underneath a bar of soap I discovered that she had hidden a razor blade and with trembling hands she was trying to extract it but I caught her hand as she was about to bring it down on her wrists. There was a bit of a struggle but a starved eighty pound woman was no match for any strong and healthy man and I easily took it away from her. She began to cry and screamed that she wanted to die, "Why won't you let me die?" and I let her cry in my arms for a very long time. "You have greatly disappointed me. Come back to the table and finish your breakfast". I told her with my saddest expression on my face. I refastened her cuffs behind her back and told her that they would stay at all times when she was out of my sight until I felt I could trust her again. With her sitting in her chair once more, I slowly fed her small pieces of her third breakfast and it seemed as if her stomach would accept it this time. The plan was for four to five small meals a day for her until she got used to eating again. She wouldn't like it, but tough shit. After breakfast she again became quite sullen with me and demanded to know why I had intruded into her life. The answer that "I was her new Master now and that her approval or disapproval was of absolutely no importance to me" didn't sit well with her at all. She liked it even less when we began a room-to-room full search for more "contraband". I allowed her the opportunity to reveal where any additional cutting supplies might be hidden without any punishment, but she refused to speak. Fine, I had found several of her smaller stashes yesterday and I spent the morning dragging and frog marching her around by a leash on her collar from room to room exposing stashes of hidden Exacto knives and razor blades. Soon she owed me another sixty whacks (ten per blade) and I stripped her and gave each butt cheeks thirty whacks and helped her to dress again. I warned her that any additional blades I found would now cost her twenty each in the future, and I would also hang her from a large hook in the middle of the living room with the curtains and windows wide open while I gave her that punishment. It was about noontime now, and we had a lot of work to do. We visited three separate big chain camera shops while I bought all of the equipment I would need for the new photo lab at the club, and placed orders for two larger automated photo and video to DVD conversion machines that would need to be delivered later in the week. The trunk and backseat were now pretty much full so it was time to head back to The Club and start getting things installed. It took us about eight trips to get all of the new equipment into the lab room from the car, I say we, but Mary did all of the porting. The minute we were into the private area to stay I ordered her to strip, which she did at once and I began the now normal routine of checking her over for fresh cuts or other new markings. Her bright purple bruises from the night before were slightly healed now, and since I had been with her there had been no opportunity for her to cut, but I wanted her to be aware that I didn't trust her one little bit and would be watching her very closely. Once in the lab, I refastened her arms behind her back and ordered her to go fetch us a pair of bottled waters from the bar, she soon returned with two bottles clamped between her teeth. I took a good long swig of mine and held her bottle up to her lips for her to drink. I wanted her kidneys good and hydrated to help with the stress of her body adjusting to food again, in the next four hours I made her drink five full bottles of water, plus a soda that was part of her small afternoon snack at 3 p.m., which she held down well. I was almost done getting the lab set up that way I wanted it when Mary began to squirm. "Master, I have to go pee" she said. "Wait", I told her, and worked for another 15 minutes or so, until she even more urgently squirmed and again requested to pee. "Piss here, now!" I ordered her, but she looked down at the floor and refused. I lifted up her head firmly to look into her eyes and ordered her sternly to "Piss now!" and she finally did, releasing her bladder onto the floor. She attempted to move out of the large puddle she was kneeling in but I ordered her to stay put, and she did. My goal still at this stage was to get her to trust and obey me immediately as her ultimate authority figure, and if making her piss herself on a few floors or a few hundred floors would help accomplish this, then fine, great and wonderful, I'd make her piss upon command until she'd filled the entire Gulf of Mexico. I made her drink another two bottles of water and soon around 5 p.m. she showed signs of needing to urinate again. "Do you need to piss again?" I asked her and she nodded. "You have my permission to go, piss now!" This time she peed herself again without any hesitation, and she was sitting in the middle of quite a large puddle now. Some ran down the floor to the central floor drain but there was enough of a pool or urine to make her uncomfortable. I again gave her as much water as she could drink, and ordered her to go once again on the floor right before we left at 6 p.m. for the day. "I don't quite need to go yet, Sir" she told me, and I replied "I didn't ask you if you wanted to piss, I told you to piss for me and piss now. Don't make me ever tell you an instruction twice again." She now found that she did indeed need to piss very badly and I made her look into my eyes as she once again emptied her bladder onto the floor. Naturally, I didn't want my lab to smell like a latrine, so I ordered her up and showed her where the water hoses were connected and had her completely rinse and wash the floor into the large center drain. I then had her scrub the floor the entire with a brush and cleaning agents to remove any last trace of stain or scent. Pronouncing the job well done, I permitted her to dress and we left for dinner. ******* Dinner was arranged to be at her parent's house, a casual evening cookout next to the pool. No sooner were we inside the front door but I again ordered her to strip. She did hesitate for a moment but then obeyed me, leaving her clothes by the front door. As there were still a few good summer hours of daylight left, I ordered Mary to take a couple of swimming laps in the pool until I told her to stop and then she should assume her position kneeling next to me on the deck where she could get some sunlight. While she was getting her exercise I took the opportunity to update my relatively meager progress with her father and told him all about the "Muffin" episode. Naturally this disturbed him greatly. When Mary looked good and tired from her swim I called out to her, calling her "Muffin", and ordering her to come and show her father her collar and tag. She was very ashamed to do this and I had to end up smacking her wet bare ass hard with my hand a few times to get her to go to him. Walt then told his daughter how sad and unhappy this made him, that he didn't like her friend Muffin at all and missed seeing Mary, and he then turned his back completely on her to resume grilling the steaks. "Muffin, go take five more laps in the pool then come back to me." I ordered, this would give her the chance to shed her tears of shame unseen in the pool, and not let her father see her cry. The meal was simple but delicious. I had Mary kneel on the outdoor deck while I hand fed her small bites one at a time while Walt and I sat at an outdoor table. Nellie was amused enough at this game that she stripped down also and knelt at Walt's feet and allowed him to do the same thing for her. This wasn't quite the stepmother-daughter bonding I had in mind, but it was certainly an interesting start. I had Mary drink another three full glasses of water with dinner, and by the time I felt it was about time to leave I decided it was time for one last obedience demonstration for her. I ordered her to piss for us, right now onto the deck in front of everyone. I was sure that she would refuse, doing it right here in front of her parents. But after a long pause she closed her eyes and obeyed and once again emptied her bladder upon command. I thanked her for being a good obedient girl and rewarded her with several bites of a lemon meringue pie. Since she had been "very good" at dinner I told her that I would permit her to be dressed for the short drive home, and she raced to obey me and seemed to smile at my small pleasure with her. There was a last piece of unpleasantness still left to handle once we got home. Now that we had retrieved her purse from my photo lab at The Club where we had left it over night I ordered her to empty it out on the dining room table and give me any blades that were inside. Hesitantly, she handed me two small ones and a large old fashioned straight razor, but would not meet my eyes when I asked her if there were any more hidden contraband items. It took awhile to find, but I after I disassembled everything in her purse I found a large single edge razor blade hidden inside the leather cover of her checkbook and I let her know the fullest extent of my displeasure. As promised, her hands were cuffed above her head onto the hook on the living room and I opened all of the curtains and windows and proceeded to give her twenty-five of the hardest strokes I could manage on her ass, back, stomach, thighs and tits. "Muffin you are a very misguided and stupid girl, you have so much and yet you want to throw everything away. Sometimes when you are just being foolish and silly you remind me of my mother's silly little dog Molly. Molly made mistakes but we all still loved her anyway, even when she piddled on all of the rugs and shit in the middle of the kitchen. Now Mary was once a very beautiful woman whom everyone loved, and someone whom anyone with an ounce of brains in their heads would desire to care for and cherish forever. But Mary doesn't live here any more does she? There is just stupid and ugly little Muffin, whom no one likes or wants to be around. You can decide once again to be Mary and everyone will give you their unlimited love. You can even decide to be silly Molly, and if your mistakes are honest ones you will always have everyone's love and devotion. Or you can stay Muffin and all of the love you could have given or received will be lost forever. The choice is yours." I closed the curtains and shut the windows, but let Muffin spend the night hanging from the hook in the living room while I enjoyed a somewhat better night's sleep than I had the night before. A Snapshot of Molly Ch. 03 I had set the alarm for quite early, as there was a lot to do before taking Mary to work in the morning. She was very eager to see me, but also very tired as this had been her second night in a row with little or no sleep. Now it was time to start teaching her the weekday routine I would expect her to follow from now one. "Do you need to piss now?" I asked her, and she begged to be allowed to go. "Well go now" I told her, and soon there was a large puddle in the middle of her living room wood floor. I then released her and had her clean up the mess, and then told her prepare our shower for us, which she did. We showered quickly and I chose her wardrobe for the day at work, inspecting every item to make sure it was clean and unwrinkled. I made her iron both her skirt and blouse and then clean her shoes, which were well worn and scuffed. All of her work shoes in her closet were either flats or had a very low one inch or less heel, and I told her that I would expect her to wear pumps in the future for work. Then I told her to put on her makeup. She normally didn't wear any, she told me, but that answer was of course quite unacceptable. We scrounged what few pieces of makeup she did have and I made sure she used them. I told her that her employers would expect Mary to show up to work each day looking pretty and professional looking, and were probably quite tired already of seeing frumpy ugly Muffin instead. Breakfast was simple, just juice, a banana each and some cereal. Her stomach was restless again this morning, but after a close call she managed to hold everything down. If she expected to drive her own car into work alone, she was sadly mistaken. I let her drive, but I went with her and told her that I'd be borrowing her car for the day. I hadn't had the time to search it for contraband yet, and I certainly didn't trust her on her own yet. She had her own assigned parking place in the contract parking garage and I made her take me up to her office. I emptied all of her desk drawers and found her work cutting kit, stashed in a small otherwise empty makeup bag, and then called in her administrative assistant Shirley. "Shirley, Hi, my name is Ramsey, but you can call me Ray. I'm Mary's keeper this particular week and since she's been especially careless lately I want you to take care of the blades in this bag and make sure that they get properly thrown out. That should help with all of the accidental cuts she's been getting lately." The embarrassment continued from there. I told Shirley that I did not want Mary going to the restroom or out alone by herself as she might 'accidentally feel a bit sick and want to throw up her lunch'. I further arranged for Shirley to order lunches from now on for both herself and Mary and that they should eat together, and then I gave her fifty dollars to pay for their meals together for the week. I gave her my cell phone number with strict instruction to call me directly in the event of an emergency or other problem that she couldn't handle. Shirley took me aside afterwards and thanked me for my "intervention" with Mary, as it was an open secret that she was not mentally well lately and everyone was concerned about her weight and had strongly suspected bulimia. I gave her strict instructions to be my "eyes and ears" and told her I would be checking up on Mary as often as I could during the day. I also told her that the situation was indeed much more dire than she had realized and that a long vacation or a "medical leave" might be necessary at any time, and if she could have those papers already filled out and ready for pre-approval it would be much appreciated. I had two critical things back at her house to do today and I also wanted to spring a couple of surprise visits on Mary, but this first step ended up taking far longer than I had planned and I missed meeting Mary and Shirley for a surprise luncheon visit. I gave Shirley a call and discovered that while Mary had eaten "most of her lunch" she then went straight to the bathroom and Shirley had heard her throwing it back up. Damn one step forward, another step backwards. I directed Shirley to get them an afternoon snack and make sure that Mary ate it and couldn't purge afterwards. My first critical errand that so far had eaten up nearly all of the day was a systematic search of Mary's home computer. I was sure there were a number of things that I would find that I wouldn't like or enjoy reading. That was an understatement. She had an entire folder in her saved documents labeled 'Suicide Notes', with about a dozen different flavors offered. More serious was her web bookmarks of favorite Internet sites, all catering to extreme aficionados' of S&M and Snuff material. I could check her messages on many of these sites she had registered on and found that she had been actively searching for a sex partner that would kill her at the final stages of their lovemaking. Fortunately she hadn't yet found the right partner. I deleted her accounts from these message boards, and removed her shortcuts. Next I began to search her favorite Usenet newsgroups. Naturally, she was active on alt.suicide, alt.sex.torture, and alt.sex.snuff.cannibalism. This last group seemed to be her main home, and she had written numerous short stories about how she fantasized her last hours of life would be. The stories were well-written, articulate and all extremely disturbing. Each story seemed to be increasingly more violent than the one before it and I printed out copies of all of them and also forwarded them by email to her father. The methods of sexual torture and death that were described were always lingering and painful, with no consideration of her own wants and desires, her sole desire was just how best to serve the sadist that would soon be extinguishing her life. She was hung, strangled with cords, cut into tiny little pieces at a time, stabbed, bludgeoned, buried alive and often cooked alive and eaten in her stories. The men characters in her stories were always one-dimensional fiends who had no love for "Muffin" but used her for their sadistic pleasure and once her corpse was no longer of interest, it was merely garbage to be disposed of. This was horrifying to read how utterly empty and tired her soul was. I began to despair that she could be rehabilitated at all, even with the most modern drugs and with the most caring psychiatric medical staff. Suddenly the whole chainsaw brain surgery option began to look very good indeed, but Walt still didn't think so. He liked what he had seen the other evening where Mary seemed willing to accept me as her Master and allowed me to utterly control every trivial part of her life. This was indeed a level of trust and he hoped over time that as her 'need to serve and make me happy' became stronger she could likely now be weaned from these stronger self-destructive impulses. He was going to read and study her stories to make sure, and he thought that he already had the kernel of an idea, but he wanted to think on it some more. I decided to let him call the shots, that's why he's got the PhD and makes all of the big bucks. We hung up the phone just in time for me to go pick up Mary from work. My other task, to tear the house completely apart looking for anything she could use to hurt or kill herself would have to wait until tomorrow. I picked Mary up at her office and got a thumbs up signal from Shirley that her second lunch had stayed down, and we left to do our evening shopping. First, to a large shoe store where Mary selected several styles and colors of pumps, each with heels at least four inches high. These looked good on her and I approved of them. She was very drawn to a pair of Italian black leather 'fuck me pumps' with six inch heels, but I refused to allow that purchase, telling her that "Muffin had no need for those, but I thought that Mary would look very good in those later." Our last stop for the night was to buy her a full range of cosmetics and for those we went to a big mall store that had a cosmetics expert on-hand to suggest and sample a wide range of daytime and evening looks for Mary. I accepted most of her advice and we purchased a full set of the products for her to use. Dinner was late and at home, I didn't feel like rewarding Mary for her disobedience today with a "date meal" out. I taught Mary how to sauté a pair of chicken breasts with rosemary and orange juice, and we fixed some rice and a vegetable to have with it. Mary's personal china was pretty bad stuff (she did eat mostly from microwave packages when she did eat) and I had bought an inexpensive but nice looking 'everyday' stonewear set for four, and had Mary set a proper table with the new dishware and both water and wine glasses for us both. She was allowed one glass of white wine with dinner, and she actually ate everything that I had put onto her plate without any disagreement. The dinner was pleasant, but it was a shame the rest of the evening was not to be so enjoyable. After she cleared off the table and put the dishes into the dishwasher, I ordered her to strip and kneel in front of me and to look me in the eyes. "Mary, did you eat all of your lunch today?" Yes, she said she had. "Mary, did you then go to the restroom right afterwards and throw it all up again?" She would not answer and couldn't hold my gaze, but tried shaking her head "No". "Are you sure that you did not stick your fingers into your throat and throw up the nice lunch that I had Shirley get for you?" Again she could not meet my gaze or speak, but just shook her head "No". "It seems as if Muffin really enjoyed sleeping last night hanging from the ceiling. Too bad, I was going to maybe let Mary sleep in the bed tonight, but it seems poor stupid Muffin would rather suffer and make Mary uncomfortable again all night long. Did we discuss yet what the punishment would be if poor stupid little Muffin was caught being bad and lying again? Last night you got twenty-five strokes for disobedience; tonight we are going to start with fifty and then do a few more until Mary can convince poor stupid little Muffin to be a good smart girl and confess when she makes a mistake." And so Muffin spent another pain filled evening hanging from the hook in the living room ceiling. I kept the strokes slow but firm and not synchronized in timing so that she could not anticipate the next one. By the twentieth she was crying, and by the fortieth her pleading for mercy was becoming increasingly sincere. The fiftieth stroke I aimed carefully so that I would hit both nipples with the blow and she screamed in pain so loudly that she lost bladder control and once again pissed all over her living room floor. I let her down long enough to clean up her mess and as I was about to lift her back onto the hook for another round of punishment when she gushed out her confession that she had indeed purged her luncheon. "Will you ever do it again?" I asked her, holding her head and eyes firm with mine. "No Master, I will never purge myself intentionally again, and if my stomach throws it back on its own I will tell you myself immediately and do as you tell me to." Every word was now spoken sincerely, and I almost believed her. Mary slept that night once again chained at the foot of the bed, but slept more comfortably as I allowed her a blanket to wrap her bruised body up in. Maybe we were now making some little progress together. ******** Tuesday went much better, I paid her two surprise visits at work and joined her for her lunch of soup and a little pasta salad, all of which she kept down. I finally finished my final exhaustive search of the house and no more blades were found. I did locate a bottle of rat poison from the back of her walk-in closet and a bottle of drain cleaner on a top shelf in the bathroom, and these were disposed of. Now that I was fairly sure that the house was reasonably safe, I could begin to give her a few moments free from observation and see if she would lead me to anything else that was too well hidden from me. We again had a good home cooked dinner that night, and as Mary had been mostly demerit free that day, I allowed her to sit with me on the floor still dressed and watch some television for an hour or two before bed, when she once again slept at the foot of the bed. Wednesday, some sort of miracle occurred and Mary was well behaved all day long. In fact I had let her go to the bathroom first in the morning all by herself, and after checking on her a moment or two later I found that she had not yet gone. "I was waiting for your permission to go Master." She said, which I laughingly gave and whispered into her ear to "be a good girl and piss for me", she smiled and spread her legs widely so I could better watch her flow and waited to allow me to pat her dry afterwards, even though her hands were free. She then asked if she could please watch me go, and I let her, even letting her hold my cock to control the aim of my flow. She then patted me dry and kissed the tip of my cock before I put it back into my shorts. I joined her for lunch again that day. She was again having soup as that seemed to settle well her stomach, which was still getting used to having food again, and she even enjoyed a little cup of ice cream afterwards. Dinner also went flawlessly, and she even seemed to have an appetite and wanted a bit more for seconds. I made sure to effusively praise her, and told her over and over how pleased I was with her. This seemed to make her glow with pride, and was really the first look of self- satisfaction I had ever seen her have. I decided that a more appropriate reward would be in store for her. We watched one show on television together, her head lying against my thigh and knee, and then I ordered her to get up and turn off the TV and strip for me. I told her then to kneel in front of me and tell me about the first time she had ever had sex. She was allowed to masturbate herself but she was not to come without my permission first. Actually, her first ever sexual encounter was with a girlfriend at a sleepover when they were both sixteen. Mary had borrowed one of her mother's dildos and they broke each other's hymens and masturbated each other with their hands. They stayed lovers until each left for different colleges after high school and then they had lost touch with each other afterwards. Her first boyfriend in High School was a clumsy lover a year younger than she was and his technique was mostly "in-out, repeat if necessary". I laughed and told her that was probably pretty typical for most high school aged boys (possibly including myself at that age), but what we lacked in stamina, we made up for in fast recovery, and that practice (as in all things) did make perfect. She was still mad at him for ruining her favorite sweater she was laying on when he pulled out of her at the last second and came all over it in a massive sticky puddle. Her husband, as we had all suspected, had gradually trained this relatively inexperienced girl to accept pain as a compliment to pleasure. Soon she virtually needed even required pain in order to achieve orgasm. Mary was now having a great deal of difficulty in coming for me, and I made her tell me hotter and wilder stories of their lovemaking until I thought she was close enough to orgasm and I whispered into her ear, "Come for me, be my good big girl and make your clit come for me." With that she screamed out in orgasm and couldn't resume her proper kneeling position for some time. I gently kissed her head, and asked her casually what her name was, "Muffin" she said instantly without thinking about it, and then hung her head down in considerable sadness afterwards. "Muffin" again enjoyed another night at the foot of the bed. ******* Thursday and Friday did not go so well at all. Mary seemed a little out of sorts, and had to be constantly reminded to do all of the little morning tasks we had established for her new daily routine. She wasn't very hungry for breakfast, and had to be nudged into eating before we left for work. I met her again for lunch each day and she seemed resentful that I was "once again checking up on her, didn't I trust her?" I just smiled and said, "We'll see." Both nights she had minor punishments for a few demerits and slept at her now usual spot on the floor. Friday though she was so argumentative and surly that for the first time I tied her up and put one of her ball gags into her mouth before I left to spend the evening alone at The Club. She wasn't good company that evening and her continual efforts to rebel were beginning to make me angry and lose my cool composure with her. I decided it was better to let her stew alone tied up in the dark alone at home. It was a slow night there and the Club Manager cut me loose a little after midnight. Muffin wasn't terribly excited at my return and I was too tired to deal with attitude. I ignored her. She then began kicking the bed until I fastened a spreader bar onto her ankles with a warning that upon her next disruption she would then spend the night hanging upside down from her feet in the living room. She had pissed herself during the evening but since her attitude still needed a lot of adjusting I let her sleep in it. "What's your name?" I asked her first thing on Saturday morning when I took out the ball gag. "Muffin!" She exclaimed with a sharp tone of anger in her voice. "Well then stupid little Muffin is going to sit here all day on her piss covered carpet and enjoy the smell. I was going to take Mary out for a few treats, but I think she'd rather wallow in her own piss with Muffin". Back in went the ball gag, and she remained chained to the foot of the bed with her legs locked in the spreader bar for the remainder of the day. Twice I brought her food to eat and each time she initially refused it until I pinched her nose closed and waited for her mouth to open breathe and began force feeding her until she sullenly agreed to eat again on her own. I made sure she got plenty of water also, and by late afternoon the bedroom carpet underneath her was totally soaked with urine. At 6 p.m., when she looked quite miserable enough to be a bit more sociable, I removed her gag and asked her for her name. "I don't care at the moment; call me anything you want to. Muffin is too tired to argue and Mary is too pissed to talk to you. Take your pick." A pissed off Mary suited me just fine. I released her and put her into the shower while I got out her carpet cleaning stuff from the hall closet. This became Mary's first chore of the day and it took awhile to get the urine smell out of the air and the carpet mostly dry and clean. I told Mary that she was not to dress for The Club, but to only wear a coat or jacket if she had one over herself. She did have a raincoat and that covered her fine for the drive to and from the Club. While "on duty" as my assistant, her behavior remained fairly surly and sullen. Her posture became quite dreadful once again and soon I was on my second box of binder clips for her to wear. When I warned her that if we ran out of binder clips I would start to use stickpins instead that perked her up a bit and her posture much improved. Her cut marks were mostly healed now (I had been giving those special cleaning attention morning and night and putting on ointment to reduce the scarring) and there was no need to revisit that particular embarrassment punishment on her. She seemed to become very irritated when I spent a good deal of time conversing with a lovely lady in her early thirties with a rather impressive display of nipple and vaginal area piercings. Her husband was out of town this week, but she had his ok to "play" and kick up her heels a bit. She demonstrated that several years of yoga lessons had been well spent indeed by wrapping herself upon on the floor and demonstrating that she could easily put her feet completely behind her shoulders and head. A Snapshot of Molly Ch. 03 The more I spoke with her throughout the night the more furious Mary seemed to get. At about closing time I once again asked Mary for her name, and received an instant and defiant "Muffin!" No problem. Two can play that game! I popped her ball gag back into her mouth and popped a leash onto her collar ring and handed the lease to my potential playmate (Frances) and asked her if she could watch this rather stupid and very disobedient slave girl for me while I finished things up here and we could go somewhere more private afterwards. I was extremely horny from spending my days and nights with a frequently naked woman that I didn't want to 'reward' by having sex with her yet. This opportunity seemed like an interesting way to make a few points and have a little fun at the same time. Muffin didn't seem the slightest bit happy to be flung tied and gagged into the back of my car while Frances and I chatted cheerfully in the front seat. She liked it even less when she was hung up once again in the living room, but turned around so she could watch everything that took place inside the bedroom. Much to Frances's delight and amusement I first administered all of the punishments that Muffin had accrued that day. It was frankly more strokes than I thought were either safe or prudent to deliver. Frances also kept up an amusing banter all during Muffin's punishment plainly noting her own disapproval of her too boney body, ugly attempts at self improvement with a razor, and surly attitude that shamed her friends and loved ones. Muffin did not have a favorite "safeword", and had outright refused to provide me with one, so I had given her a default one of "Penguin" and ordered her to use it but I had no illusions that she actually would, nor did she. Idiotic. When I was done chastising her, Frances then picked up the crop and asked if she could deliver five strokes of her own in repayment for a rude remark that Mary had once made to her (calling her a 'stupid old slut') at a previous Club event. Certainly, I said offering it to her, and to my surprise Frances gave her five very hard and fast strokes right onto Mary's clit, which caused her to scream and orgasm like a banshee. "That was just to wake her up a little bit" Frances whispered in my ear as we stripped nude and headed to the bed. "She'll be all primed up to go now and will spend the night watching us fuck with her own cunt itching away like crazy. It will be a torment for her." And it was. We didn't quite fuck all night long, but we made sure we were nice and loud and vocal and I had a lot of pent-up frustration to release. Frances talked constantly about how big and hard my cock was, and how good it felt inside her, and how tasty my cum was and how she wished she could drink it down all night long. I in turn commented on how nice it was to fuck a real woman and not a skinny bag of antlers. I liked a "well fed woman" and especially one who knew how and liked to please a man. Long into the early hours of the morning, Mary/Muffin had a front row seat and watched every minute of our fucking helplessly. In the morning, we enjoyed a leisurely morning fuck and decided it was time to let the poor girl down. Who was she this morning? Alas still Muffin. Frances suggested that it would be only proper for stupid little Muffin to properly thank her house guest for taking such good care of her Master last night, and that she could make herself useful by cleaning out the cum filled cunt he had filled up to beyond capacity. I agreed that skinny little Muffin probably needed the nutrition and keeping her head pressed against Frances' cunt I supervised to make sure she did a proper and complete cleaning job of licking her clean. I started a shower for Muffin and kissed Frances goodbye at the door. We had enjoyed a bit of fun and maybe we had taught the stubborn girl a lesson or two. When I returned Muffin was sitting on the floor of the shower stall with her arms still fastened behind her crying. "Why are you so cruel to me?" She cried. "Cruel? Isn't that exactly what you want from your Master? Let me read you a few of your emails and stories that you have posted all over the Internet. Cruel and merciless seems to be the first characteristics you request for the man you want to abuse you and then take your life. Now if Mary decided that she preferred a firm but kind Master, well I would be happy to arrange that for her, but stupid little Muffin doesn't want kindness, she just wants to be used. Did you enjoy watching the fun last night? You didn't? Well that's strange, all Muffin is supposed to care about is the happiness of the sadistic fiend that's going to snuff her, why should she care or get jealous over someone else? If I didn't know better I'd say I was talking with Mary. Mary has wants and emotional needs. Mary I think wanted to be in that bed last night sucking cock and being fucked, and being loved and held and cuddled... all things that Muffin isn't supposed to care about. Mary can have all of those things, but she has to make the pathetic and ugly Muffin go away and not listen to her stupid little lies. We can help and love poor lost Mary, but we need Muffin to go away and never come back first." With that I released her arms and gave her a hug and a kiss to the top of her head. I came in and joined her in the shower for awhile, but let her eventually sit and just think with the hot running over her. She had been long overdue for a bit of that. ********** The rest of Sunday went really pretty well. We took a long walk together in Hermann Park and ended up at the Zoo and visited as many animals as we could before closing time. I then took her out for a nice Italian dinner at a restaurant and she ate every bite of her entree and even sampled a few bites of my cheesecake. I weighed her when we got home and found that she had gained 4 pounds this week. Her skid of self-destruction seemed at long last halted. That night for the first time, I let her sleep in the bed with me and I allowed her the use of a few of her toys to masturbate herself while I watched and caressed her hair and tits as she used a large AC powered vibrator to bring herself off again and again. I promised that if she was good and "didn't start anything" that she could have her hands free for the remainder of the night. Naturally she couldn't wandering her fingers slowly over my cock and balls just when I thought I was about to fall asleep, so I grudgingly restrained her wrists behind her back for the night. She cuddled up close to me but we both actually got some quality sleep. A Snapshot of Molly Ch. 04 I woke up in the morning with her mouth and tongue running all over my cock sucking it into hardness. I asked her who was giving me this very disobedient but pleasurable act and she answered with a mouth full of cock. "Muffin, of course, but she's doing it as a favor for Mary!" she said with a wink. By the time I was awake enough to figure that comment out, I was also too aroused to argue much. I let her finish her fun and warned her that I was about to cum and that she was to swallow every single drop and show it to me on her tongue before swallowing it. I came with what must have been a quart of semen into her mouth, but try as she might she couldn't hold it all and some seeped out of her mouth. I gently scolded her for this disobedience and told her that she must now keep my load in her mouth until I gave her permission to swallow, and she held it through our shower and while fixing breakfast and she seated herself at the table and awaiting my command to swallow, which I finally gave. She smiled and licked her lips clean. I reminded her that she would have to be punished later for disobeying my instructions last night, but she just licked her lips clean once again and smiled. That Monday and the next Tuesday went very smoothly. Mary was allowed to sleep in bed with me again, but her hands were kept tied for the night. That didn't stop her early Tuesday morning from trying to pull down my shorts with her teeth so she could get my cock head into her questing mouth. I pulled teasingly away and started the shower a bit early. Leaving her hands still tied behind her I ordered her to kneel in the shower before me and I pushed my cock into her mouth and told her to suck only and not to bob her head, but I would instead fuck her mouth. I did this for some time until just as I was ready to cum in her throat I pulled out and ordered her to "Piss for me now" and as I felt her hot wet stream hit my feet I blasted my cum all over her face, neck and breasts. I then told her that I needed to piss myself now and she held my cock as I rinsed all of my shot cum from off of her body, she even allowed my stream to pass over her lips and she opened her mouth wide to drink the last bit of my piss stream, after which she licked my cock head clean. But at the end of our delightful interlude, when I gently asked her for her name, as always she replied 'Muffin', but she now seemed quite ashamed and sad to admit it and would only look at my feet on the shower floor afterwards. Her behavior was so exemplary the next two days that I took her out for dinner at a nice pasta place near a mall, and we later did some window shopping there and I pointed out a number of sexy and attractive dresses that I thought I'd like to see Mary wear for me some day. Again, this seemed to embarrass and slightly depress her spirits a little. I think she knew by now what I was wanting, but she remained conflicted inside and still unwilling to surrender that last final dark hollow place in her heart. Mary was a very bright and intelligent girl (probably smarter than me), it was just a shame that the stupid, stubborn and self-destructive Muffin still controlled most of her life. "Baby steps" I again kept reminding myself. We were just leaving the mall when Mary, passing one of the restrooms, asked permission to use it. I still was unhappy about her being alone in a place I couldn't (or shouldn't) go into, so I told her to hold it, and by the time she reached her car she was just about dancing. "If you can't hold it for twenty minutes until we get home you'll have to go now and piss your panties and slacks. I give you permission to pee." She did so, soon soaking her pants and driving home on a wet drivers seat that I made her clean as soon as we got home, even before letting her change. I then let her have a quick shower to get the smell off of her skin, and bound her for bedtime. We got up that Friday morning a little bit late, and I refused her offer of a good morning blow job. Everything seemed to go just a little wrong that whole day and she was late getting to work right from the very start. The big heavy photo development equipment arrived at The Club today and dealing with that seemed to take forever. I could not come and visit Mary at all today for lunch and I was even thinking that I might be late to pick her up, when I got a panicked cell phone call from Shirley. Mary had apparently had a very bad day at work. She had just come out from a meeting with her boss who was very angry with her and had chewed her ass up one side and down the other for making a mistake on her financial estimates that might cost the hospital a lot of extra unbudgeted money when they had to renew one of their insurance policies soon. Mary had locked the door to her office and was heard crying inside, and Shirley suspected that she was 'cutting herself again'. Panic time. I dropped everything I was working on and raced to her office as fast as I could, reminding myself that my work could wait and that Mary's health and safety was far more important. When I got there I quietly asked Shirley if she had an extra key to the office and she did. Without announcing myself I unlocked the door and charged right in. Mary appeared to be fine, but was curled in a ball on the floor beside her desk rocking herself and sobbing. In the trash can next to her desk I saw a plastic pink ladies shaving razor with a few spots of blood on it, but broken and mashed into little pieces inside the trash can. I sighed with relief - things could have been so much worse. Calling Shirley to join us in the room, I ordered Mary to kneel in position, which she instantly did. "Do you have anything you wish to tell me?" I asked her firmly but patiently. "Yes Master, Muffin did something very bad and made Mary go buy a razor and wanted her to use it to hurt herself. She started to hurt me but I was able to stop her." "Show me where, strip" I ordered her, and then I asked Shirley if she could find anything suitable to spank Mary with, and fortunately she had just the thing. Her co-workers had gotten a paddle for her spouse to give her forty whacks for her fortieth birthday, and she had left the item on her bookshelf and never taken it home. I had Mary bend naked over her desk while I inspected her. There was just one fresh cut mark and it was a small one. I told Mary that I was very pleased and happy with her for standing up to Muffin, but that Muffin still had been very bad and had to be punished, and as a reminder to her Shirley was going to watch her being punished. If Muffin ever again tried to make Mary do anything bad, she was to tell Shirley right away. Mary vigorously agreed to do this, and I only gave her ten medium force paddle blows for her punishment before I told her that she could get dressed and we would leave a little early for the day. Later once we were home and while we were fixing dinner, I took the opportunity to hug her for a moment and told her that while I was pleased she had mostly resisted a bad temptation, she had not really handled the situation very well. I am here for you, twenty-four hours a day, and that includes your hours apart from me at work. If you have a problem at work, call me and tell me about it. Cry on the phone with me instead of curling up on the floor and avoiding your problems. You made a mistake at work, an expensive mistake, right?" She nodded yes. "Is there a way to fix this mistake now before it becomes an even bigger mistake later?" She thought for a moment and nodded again. "Then stop panicking and start working the problem. What then do you need to do - how do we fix the situation?" She suggested a possible way that the benefits budget could be adjusted in the short term while she apologized to her representative at the Insurance agency and requested that maybe some of their other contracts could be renegotiated for a several year extension if this bad contract could be revised. It was possible to do this, and it was fairly practical, but it would take her a couple of days at work to crunch the figures and get an approved revised set of contracts back from her insurance rep. Was she willing to work all weekend on it and present her boss with a potential 'fix' on Monday morning?" Sure. It killed most of our weekend and I worked Saturday night at the Club without her once again, but after she called her Insurance rep and worked out a tentative slightly longer term restructure of all of their policies, she was able to report to her boss when he came in the next morning that the Benefits Budget was back in exact alignment with the original approved estimates and that the older incorrect budget figures had now been updated with the latest information. In fact, once the new figures were confirmed, a 10% overall rate savings for the following year was now likely which brought her well under budget. In three days she had gone from being corporate road kill and in danger of losing her job entirely to now being the fair haired savior of the department. Her boss mentioned that she had a tentative request for vacation pending on his desk and he would certainly approve it anytime she asked for it. We weren't always going to be this lucky, but anytime you can turn lemons into lemonade it's a very good feeling. ****** That Sunday, I had spent a chunk of the day with her father comparing our notes. Really things were working pretty darn well considering what most of the alternatives were a few weeks ago. Walt had polished his kernel of a plan and gave me the gory details. I didn't like any of them. I thought it was much too drastic and departed from our program of small baby steps, one at a time. Walt on the other hand had based his calculations on a careful study of her Muffin writings and his observations of us together. It amused him greatly that I had already established so much trust with her that she was quite literally willing to 'piss on command' no matter where she was. Mary was now 'desperate to please me in any way' he determined, and Muffin was slowly losing control and "would undoubtedly try to do something drastic soon." This plan would pre-empt that. In the baseball terminology that Walt was so fond of, Muffin was now a very tired pitcher with maybe only one trick left up her sleeve with base runners in scoring position late in a tie ball game. If we guessed right Muffin could be forced to throw a fat weak pitch right where we could encourage Mary to hit it right out of the park for a game winning home run. In his opinion the worst case scenario would be Muffin would strike Mary out again, and we'd all go into extra innings stuck in the status quo, but probably in not much worse shape than things already were. Ok, the plan started to sound a little bit better then. When could everything be done and ready? Probably next Sunday, Walt thought. There were a few details out of his hands being handled by a third party, but 'within his limits' that fellow was fairly reliable. The entire next week went on as a blur, I think it was this week that I first really began to think of Mary and myself as 'a couple'. She was easier to live with now (her cooking and domestic skills were much improving) and she often showed signs of being happy with only occasional moments of sadness when she would finger her collar, which I still made her wear when she was home. All week I got 'good night' blow jobs as well as the usual 'good morning' ones. In a moment of weakness after an especially tender cuddle on Wednesday night we even had anal sex with her lying on her stomach loving every moment of it. I really hadn't wanted to do any penetration sex with her until her feelings were a little more sorted out. Already I was sure that my own were now getting extremely confused as well. I wanted Mary to get well, and not mold some sort of compromise Muffin-Mary hybrid that would always be just one crisis away from disaster. ******** The next Saturday night at the Club, Walt verified that all of the plans were ready and that hopefully the last act of this drama would start at noon tomorrow. Mary was an angel all night and maintained perfect postures and gave sincere smiles to everyone. When we got home that morning she immediately ran to the bed and spread her legs wide for me and begged for me to fuck her. My willpower power failed me and we had real sex together for the first time. She had never looked prettier... and she was up another couple of pounds this week. I even let her sleep curled up next to me with her hands free. Once again in the morning I woke up to the usual sensation of a soft warm mouth expertly sucking my cock. While I was greatly enjoying her attentions, I begged for a slight delay so that I could take a fast bathroom break first. I'd drunk a few beers the previous night at The Club and really now needed to take a piss badly. "Please don't get up Master." She begged. "I'll take care of it for you. Just please piss slowly so that I can take it all for you without spilling a drop." With her lips wrapped tight around my cockhead and her hands fastened behind her back as usual, she motioned that she was ready to drink every last drop of my piss. Slowly, I released my bladder, just a few brief weak streams at a time until I was sure that she could handle the flow, and then gradually I increased the flow to full pressure. I could hear her swallowing quickly at first, nearly choking once or twice but she held it all down and never dripped a single drop. As she swallowed, she began to gradually deep throat me so that by the time I was pissing away at full speed I was actually urinating directly down her throat into her stomach. Once I was nearly done, she once again held my cockhead just inside her lips so that she could savor the final mouthful of my golden liquid gift to her. She swallowed the last mouthful with a smile and resumed her original cock sucking until she shortly added a load of semen there as well. After a morning oral interlude and a long fun shower I told her to get dressed for 'fun' today, something casual but not one of her favorite shirts or shorts in case they got stained or damaged. Her interest peaked, she selected an old torn but comfortable pair of jean shorts and I selected a black t-shirt that already had several small holes in it. For a long pregnant moment, I thought she was not going to put on her Muffin collar, she normally wore it weekday evenings when she got home from work and all weekend long, but I did not let her wear it if she was sleeping in bed with me. She held it in her hands for a few minutes and asked me if she needed it today? "I don't know", I replied. "Does Mary want to wear it or does Muffin want Mary to wear it? It's up to you - you decide." In the end, she put it on, but spent most of the drive in the car 'adjusting it' as if it weren't comfortable and it bothered her. Walt was right. Muffin did just have one pitch left to throw, and I was now betting that there wasn't going to be much left of that pitch to fool anyone. For the first time I began to relax and consider that the plan wasn't maybe quite as insane as it first sounded. Our first stop for the day was at her parent's home and if she was surprised for us to be there unexpectedly she was even more surprised by all of the black balloons that decorated the bushes along the driveway. Inside the house more black balloons greeted her and she was stunned to see a long printed banner running across the dining room. The banner read "Goodbye Muffin". Every part of the living room and dining room was decorated with black balloons and streamers and Halloween decorations such as skeletons, grave stones and coffins were visible everywhere. The crowning touch was a big black frosted cake done as a tombstone inscribed RIP Muffin and her birth date and today's date. Next came her 'Death Day' presents, her father had expensively framed every single one of Muffin's snuff stories and presented them to her one by one, telling her which gruesome deaths he liked and which ones he thought were a little overdone. Mary looked on in utter shocked silence and didn't know whether to laugh or cry, and seemed utterly paralyzed with indecision. The Mary and Muffin parts of her brain were in direct conflict now and she was lost in a daze, unable to do or say anything, completely lost in shock. She was offered some of her cake, but had no appetite for it. "You have to be sure and eat your last meal!" Nellie told her smiling cheerfully. "I'm so proud of you, going out and offering yourself to be brutally raped and murdered just to fulfill your dreams. Every girl needs to have her dreams!" Soon afterwards the doorbell rang, and it was the guests of honor. Four proud members of a local outlaw motorcycle club came to collect their date. They called for their 'Muffin', and we popped a leash onto Muffin's collar and handed it over to their leader. "Don't expect your little girl home from the party early - or maybe even at all!" He laughed while seizing her leash and giving one of her tits a wicked pinch. He was still laughing evilly as he dragged her out to a van with several more men and women inside it, and they drove off with Muffin, who was nearly catatonic with fear and shock. "Well, that went easier than I thought." Walt said with a loud exhale. "Off they go! And we must hasten after them, for we are their leaders!" He said with a smile and we hopped into Walt's car and began to catch up with the caravan of five motorcycles with the van containing Muffin in-between. ******* We knew exactly where they were heading, a large rural ranch just outside Houston owned by a hot shot criminal attorney who was a member of The Club. He had defended this bike gang many times and they owed him more than a few favors. They had received a nice hunk of cash and very clear and specific instructions of what they could do and what they could not do, with the promise of another fat payday if everything stayed according to plan. We crossed our fingers and toes for the whole hour that it took us to drive to the ranch. We parked on the back side of an old barn and we verified with the cast and crew that all of the stage props we had requested were in place. Once we were sure that everything was ready we then hid ourselves before the bikers released Muffin from the van. She looked utterly scared to death, and probably had good reason to be. For the last hour the bikers in the van had been reading aloud one of her most gruesome death stories about a girl who gives herself to bikers who then torture her and cut off little slivers of her flesh a bit at a time, cooking it and eating her before they finally finish her off and laughingly dump her remains into a shallow grave. I saw lots of very wicked looking and undoubtedly extremely sharp knives in evidence nearly everywhere, and undoubtedly some of the bikers had been sharpening more in the van while they told her exactly how they would be used on her. They tied her hands up above her head and threw the rope over the branch of a tree far enough from the barn that she could not see us, lifting her up off of the ground a few inches. Then slowly using a very large and exceptionally sharp knife their leader began cutting away her clothes, slowly. She was gagged, but I could tell that if she could get a word out she would be begging and pleading for help. Suddenly her lovely little fantasy didn't look quite so appealing in reality. When all of her clothes were cut away and she was left tied naked, all of the bikers and their women began a critique of "their evening meal". They were not impressed, 'not much meat on those bones' was the general shared opinion and a few folks thought that she wasn't even worth the time to carve up and cook because she wouldn't even feed everyone properly. The women were especially harsh in the criticism of Muffin's charms, or rather her lack of them. A Snapshot of Molly Ch. 04 "What a fucking bag of antlers! If any man tried to fuck her they'd break her and probably hurt themselves too in the process! What a worthless piece of ass!" This was one of the kinder remarks. At length the threats started to sound hollow and it was time to back up their word with some action, and out came the whips. Each of them took a turn and they were not particularly gentle. After about half an hour there was hardly an inch of her that didn't have a red welt. They let her hang there in misery a good long while afterwards so she could see them preparing for their cookout and she knew that her final fate was not to be delayed much longer. When the fires looked nice and hot the head biker cook called out that he was ready for the meat. Muffin was cut down from the tree and collapsed in a heap and she had to be dragged kicking and fighting for her life over to the 'Butcher's table' where she was shown all of the nice sharp knives waiting to be used. At last she was ungagged and she began immediately pleading for help. "NO! She did not want to die!" She screamed. "I love a man and want to be with him forever and have his babies!" "Nonsense." The leader of the bikers replied. She was a 'snuff slut' looking to be done in right and proper and now she was going to get everything she had asked for! They laid in with their whips again on her ass to 'tenderize the scrawny meat' some more while she screamed out in desperation and pain. When that was over and she was forced to lean across the butcher's table and was held firmly in place. There she knew her end was near and she began to incoherently whimper. When she saw the huge knife of the boss biker at her throat ready to start cutting she fainted and lost control of her bladder pissing wildly everywhere. The biker tossed a bucket of water on her and slapped her face a few times to revive her and then held the knife just inches from her face. "Before we start to send pieces of you off to the grill, look down at the ground over here and see that nice shallow grave we've fixed up nice for you. The rancher is going to put a pig pen up right here so no one is ever going to find your skinny little skeleton for a very long time, if ever. Not that we're going to put up a gravestone or anything, but what name would you like us to remember you by when we start to shit out pieces of you tomorrow?" "MOLLY! She screamed out. My name is Molly, please don't kill me, I don't want to die!" She blubbered out in a full eruption of tears. "Molly?" The leader asked her, "I thought your name was Muffin. That's what it says on your pretty little collar around your neck. Muffin would definitely want to party with us, this is just her kind of thing. She'd be begging for the knife right now and asking that we not do her too quickly, so she can feel herself dying slowly and painfully." "I'M MOLLY, MOLLY, MOLLY, MOLLY!" She shouted and she forced her hands free and began to rip off her collar and once it was free she threw it into the open grave. Then she totally broke down in tears and emotional exhaustion and slid off of the table and began to bawl her eyes out on the ground. The mummers show was now over and we signaled an 'ok' to end it. Pretending to be very confused, the bikers then tied Mary up to one of the nearby fence posts and began loudly debating what to do with her now. Since they had 'gotten the wrong girl', someone owed them some dinner at the very least, and it was determined that they would offer to sell her back to her boyfriend for a large sum of money, but that he'd probably her consider her to be not worth it and would refuse to pay. Well in that case, they still had a perfectly good almost empty grave that they could still use for her. A phone conversation was staged and we waited an hour before coming out to 'rescue her'. I feigned a little reluctance told them loudly that I wasn't really sure I even wanted Muffin back. She really was a very stupid girl who constantly did things that pissed me off and made my hands itch to hold a whip. I lifted Mary's head up and asked her, "Who exactly am I buying back now anyway?" She looked straight into my eyes and said, "Master, my name is Molly and my safeword is penguin, and if you buy me I will be always be a very good girl and never make you regret even a day of it. Muffin is gone and you'll never, ever see or hear from her again!" Holy Cow! I think Mary had indeed hit the ball right out of the park! We concluded our financial arrangement as planned and we left for home sitting in the back seat of Walt's Mercedes caressing Mary/Molly's hair while she cried gently in my lap. "Why Molly?" I asked her later when we were home alone together in bed. I was just hoping to get rid of Muffin and get Mary back." "You obviously never took enough English classes in school. Molly is the old common "familiar" name for Mary, especially in older British literature. Besides I like the name, even if I have to share it with an incontinent Cocker Spaniel. Good old Mary is fine for work, but Molly can have a little bit of fun too. She's probably not so bright either and I'll definitely be regularly piddling on the carpets, but I'm sorry I refuse to shit on the kitchen floor! I just got that floor finally clean for the first time in two years! I'd really prefer 'Harder!' for a safeword, but I guess you won't let me use that one." She asked with a wink and a bit of a smile. No, definitely not! ******** Mary and I have been together for two years now; we are married and have been so for quite awhile. My Masters is done and I've gotten a huge jump on my Doctorate studies and hope to have that completed in just a few years. I've gotten a full scholarship from friends at The Club and a very fat research study grant from a Foundation in Lovett, Texas that I've never heard of, but I think is associated with Dr. Myra Wells. She was introduced to my father Walt at one of The Club's parties. She also has a source for several of the latest flavors of 'miracle' psychiatric drugs that Walt and I had discussed long time ago. Now we think, the drug is closer to being a small scalpel rather than a chainsaw. With a lot more testing I think that there will be a lot fewer Muffins' in the world someday. Mary continues to do well at her job and between the two of us we already make more than we can spend even after replacing Muffin's entire wardrobe for some fun things for Mary/Molly, and our home life is even better. Muffin has never returned and with each day that passes it become increasingly unlikely that she ever will. Molly though is my ever present delightful companion for every minute that we are together. A few weeks after her "adventure" we were in an erotic clothing and toy shop and she asked me to pick out another collar for her that I liked. I worried for a moment or two until I saw the dog tag she already had engraved for it. Naturally it said 'Molly'. It still looks good on her to this day. Her 'need' for violent S&M is significantly less now and slowly she has retrained her body to be able to cum without requiring pain first, although she looks forward to a 'therapeutic spanking' most Sunday mornings. Very occasionally, she has been known to put on an exhibition at The Club to prove to younger or newer women members that she's a pain slut par-excellence, when the mood and inclination strikes her. Our morning wake-up routine hasn't changed in years. I always get a 'good morning' blowjob and often, but not always, Mary will lovingly drain my bladder for me to save me a trip up out of bed. She's never spilled a drop yet. Occasionally she enjoys receiving a urine enema late at night, especially if she has been a little bit naughty (invariably intentionally). We'll have anal sex (her favorite position still) and then I'll remain inside her and fill her bowels up full with my piss after I've finished cumming. If she's been really naughty, I'll then stick in a tight butt plug and make her hold it all night long or until she pleads for mercy and uses her safeword. She plans to drop the birth control the second my doctorate sheepskin is in my hands and start raising our vast brood. After she is pregnant she plans to quit work, probably for good. We enjoy watching the blatant unrestrained sexuality of The Club but we restrain our lovemaking strictly to each other. Some folks can share themselves and those that they love easily, but Mary is very special to me and I don't really want to share even the slightest bit of her with anyone else. I have agreed that it is past time she looked up her old school girl friend (and lover) to at least 'say Hi' and catch up on all of the past years, but she hasn't made that phone call yet. Next year it will be her 15th Year Class Reunion, and I'll bet we'll see her there. We've discussed in the long term about moving to Lovett to be closer to Doctor Well's research but she would hate to be separated from her parents even by those few hundred miles. She and her step-mother are now the closest of friends and she's made a few friends from the Club as well. Walt is considering retirement fairly soon himself, and I know that he and Myra exchange regular phone calls every week. If they move down there, and I think they will, that will seal it and we'll soon join them. We've been so blessed I hardly know how to begin to count them. Number one is certainly my darling wife, but a close 2nd has to be our 1969 Pontiac Firebird Convertible in our driveway that Walt, true to his word as always, had fully restored to perfection! I think I definitely got the better of the deal. He got back his daughter, but I have found a loving wife and got my car repaired at the same time! The End *******