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News Story

By: DaisyMontoya



"Jean Meredith." That is what it said on the name plate sitting my new desk. The lettering was an Old English style. It was the first name plate I had ever had. Of course, this was my first job: the new junior reporter for the Hemmingsburg Report newspaper. The newspaper office is on the second floor of an old building in downtown Hemmingsburg. It was not the big time, but everyone has to start somewhere, so why not here?

I had had several questions when I interviewed for the job just a few weeks before. Firstly, why was a small town paper like the Report hiring in this economy? After all, newspapers were generally in decline. The internet has provided instant access to news all around the world with a few key strokes. What made this paper so much different that they could hire new help? Howard Billings was the editor and owner of the newspaper. He explained that the Report was a highly unique paper in the newspaper world. His reporters ferreted out unusual special interest stories. Not only did the paper report the usual garden reports, utility bulletins, high school sports results and local political concerns, but each bi-weekly edition always had some off-the-wall or over-the-line story that kept the readers curious about each and every upcoming edition. He explained, "We needed something that you could not get in other big circulation papers or on the internet. My reporters go to places and ask the why and how questions that no one else wants to ask."

Here I am now fresh out of school with a degree in journalism. I had worked school papers in high school and in college. However, my intention had been to get into work in more technologically advanced news reporting. The job market is slim. I had some leads, but I had no money. The Hemmingsburg Report seemed like a good opportunity until I can find something more lucrative. I was very happy when Mr. Billings made me an offer. And it was a generous offer. He thought I was the kind of reporter necessary for the type of stories he wanted researched and printed.

Mary Hammond, Mr. Billings' secretary, stuck her head around the corner and says, "Jean, Mr. Billings would like to see you in his office. It's first assignment time -- good luck!" Mr. Billings had come in late this morning and had been in meetings since then. I was anxious to get going. I walk down the aisle quickly. Mr. Billings' office is at the opposite end of the floor from my desk. I tell me self to be calm, breathe evenly and slowly, and to not talk too fast. I reach the door and give it a couple of light taps.

"Open," I hear shouted from the inside.

I open the door and say, "Good morning, Mr. Billings. Mary said you wanted to see me."

"Come on in, Jean. I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to talk with you earlier this morning. I came in late and got tied up with some record keeping issues. I'm sorry for not getting to you on your first day."

"No problem, Mr. Billings."

"Please have a seat." Mr. Billings walks behind his desk and sits. I pull up a chair in front of his desk and sit, too. "Now, we talked during your interview about the fact that my reporters go after cutting edge stories. I have an assignment for you that may seem off-the-wall, but that is exactly what I want. If you can get us a good story, it would be a huge feather in your cap. There is nothing like getting started off with a great story."

"It sounds exciting. I think I'm ready for the challenge." I was genuinely excited. It was going to be my first reporting assignment as a professional.

Mr. Billings leans back in his chair and looks out the window. "Let me set the stage for you. The explosive growth of the internet has been fueled, in part, by the explosive growth of the 'sex' industry. There are escort services, photo and video opportunities and other recreational activities. A new business opened up on the east edge of town about one year ago. I have done a little research. The name of the business is 'Man's World.' Their specialty is providing bondage fantasy opportunities for women hungry for something that they weren't getting anywhere else. The story I would like you to write is strictly research. Find out what they do at 'Man's World.' Who is their clientele? What kind of fantasies do they offer? It's the kind of place that is so far over the edge for most people that you could get a Pulitzer Prize for the right kind of story."

All I can say is "Wow!" I sit back and look at the floor for a second. I ask, "Do you think this is the kind of story a woman should do?"

Mr. Billings leans forward in his chair and crosses his arms on his desk. "I think this is exactly the story a woman should do. There is something about this place that draws woman. You may be able to detect that magnetism. What is it that pulls the women to a place like this? You may have insights that a man would not have. In the second place, you are young and untainted, so to speak. Most of my more, to be polite, experienced reporters might not take as objective an approach as you would."

"Mr. Billings, I accept the assignment." I was eager and ready, even if it was such a bizarre story. "Do you have any initial information for me?"

"As a matter of fact, the owner is a man by the name of Hector McDougall. I don't know much about him. His online bio states that he is a naturalized Irish immigrant, unmarried, and an entrepreneur. Here," he reaches into his sport coat pocket and pulls out an envelope, "Take this, there is a card with McDougall's phone number and one thousand dollars in fifty dollar bills. You may need this for any expenses that occur during your research."

"What kind of expenses?"

"I don't have any idea. It is just a good idea to be prepared. Don't forget the saying on the sign on the wall." Mr. Billings points to the wall on my right. I look and read the sign, 'The only difference between wishes and results is preparation.'

I stand up. "Thank you Mr. Billings. I will get started today."

I turn and walk to the door. Mr. Billings says, "Jean, remember, a good reporter cuts through the hearsay and gets the facts. A good reporter also suppresses his, or her, own opinions and personal preferences in order to create a balanced, interesting and useful story."

"Mr. Billings, I will do my very best." I was determined to do the best job I could.

"I know you will."

I close the door behind me and walk back to my desk. I must have been smiling from ear to ear. I got my first assignment. It was a weird one, but I am a reporter. I was ready to get the facts and nothing but the facts!

Jerry Winfield, a twenty year reporter, has a desk next to me. He looks over at me and says, "My, aren't you looking perky today. Did Billings ask you to check out the elementary school playground vandalism?" He sounded sarcastic or, maybe, condescending. 

"Oh, no, it is better than that. Mr. Billings asked me to check out a business called the 'Man's World.' It is out on the edge of town."

Jerry looks stunned. "Yeah, I know where it is. That's a prime story, and he gave it to a first-day-on-the-job reporter. What a crock." He gets up, goes out the stairway door and walks down stairs.

I sit there for a second. I wonder what his problem was. Mr. Billings had told me during my interview that Jerry was his top reporter. But, in the couple of hours that I had known him, he seemed bitter and uninterested.

Nevertheless, I had a job to do. I did a quick internet search on 'Man's World' and on Hector McDougall. There was not very much there. The 'Man's World' webpage says the business offers edgy fantasies for the bored female: rope bondage, spankings and whippings, etc. I wonder what the 'etc' might mean. That is the job of a good reporter, eh? The searches on McDougall brought up a couple of articles on lawsuits from a fraud accusation and a bankruptcy. It was not a lot to go on.

I look at the card Mr. Billings had given me. I pick up the phone and dial McDougall's number. It rings twice and is picked up. "Hello."

"Hello, this is Jean Meredith of the Hemmingsburg Report newspaper. I am a reporter for the newspaper. May I please speak to Mr. Hector McDougall?"

"Why, of course, this is Hector McDougall. Please call me Hector."

"Thank you, Hector."

"May I call you Jean?"

"Sure, that would be fine."

"So, what can I do for a reporter of the Hemmingsburg Report?"

"My boss, Mr. Billings, would like for me to do a feature story on your business, the 'Man's World.' That is your business, isn't it?"

"Why, yes it is, Jean. I know your boss; he is a good fellow. Just what kind of story are you looking for?"

"I would like to learn about the services you offer and the kind of customers you have: why they are drawn to the services you have to offer."

"I think that would be an outstanding story, Jean. Let me look at my calendar." I hear him shuffle a few pages over the phone. "What about the day after tomorrow at 9 a.m.? Would that be okay?"

"That would be wonderful. I will see you then."

"I'm looking forward to it."

"Thank you, Hector. Have a good day. Goodbye."

"So long, Jean." I hang up the phone and sit back in my chair. I pick up my pencil intending to write down a few notes in my notebook. I need to be prepared. This is my first reporting assignment.

***

Two days have passed by. Today is the day for my first interview as a reporter. I had told Mr. Billings yesterday that I would be going straight to the 'Man's World' business in the morning. He encouraged me and said he was glad to see that I had jumped right in. And I was encouraged. I had a notebook full of questions and I was ready.

I jumped in the car, cranked it up, and pulled out of my parking space. I headed out of the apartment complex and onto the highway. I turn right onto the bypass, and drive toward the 'Man's World' building.

***

I can see the 'Man's World' building just ahead. It is a plain looking warehouse. It sits in a sparsely populated section of the bypass. As I drive up closer, I see there is a fence abutting the edge of the building and going back into a swampy wooded area behind it. There was no parking area in front of the building; it must be on the other side.

I slow down as I get to the building; there was a small sign that said 'Parking' and an arrow pointing to the far side of the building. I drive past the building and turn into the side road. The parking lot had about two dozen spaces. Only two cars were in the lot. I park in the first space. I sit there for a few seconds and try to focus. I take a quick peek at my notes, and then get out of the car. I walk up to the building. There is a door on the side of the building with a sign above the door that reads 'Office.'

The door is open and I walk in. The lobby is only about ten foot by five foot. There are two doors opposite the outside door. The one on the left is labeled 'Office'; the other is labeled 'Do Not Enter Without Authorization.' I walk to the left door and knock. The door opens and a man steps out.

He says "You must be the reporter."

"Yes, I am Jean Meredith. Are you Mr. McDougall?"

"Yes I am, Jean. Didn't you remember, please call me Hector. Come on in. Let's talk." He steps back into the office and I follow. He sits behind his desk and points to a chair in the corner. "Please have a seat."

I pull the chair up and sit down. I pull out my notebook.

"Jean, if you don't mind, let me start out by giving you the overview of the business."

"By all means, whenever you are ready."

"The 'Man's World' is a business designed to fit a very specific niche market. We offer erotic sexual fantasy opportunities for women. These opportunities include bondage, whippings, spankings, suspensions, chases and hunts, and other events that we or our clients dream up. We do no advertising other than the website. The events could range from very mundane to very painful. The choice is up to the client. We will mix and match. And the choice could be very specific or the client could take the 'Surprise Me' option. In that case, it is a total surprise to the client."

"What kind of women make up your client list?"

"Our events are not cheap. And we require payment up front. Our clientele is the upwardly mobile female. In most cases, she is in a significant leadership position. Or she may be in a relationship that does not meet her emotional needs. Our services offer her the opportunity to regress to a more savage time. We take them to a time when men dominated women. The client uses this as an escape."

"So, what you are saying, a woman walks in, she says she wants you to tie her up and beat her, you do that, and all this happens after she writes you a nice check."

"Jean, you make it sound like we are taking advantage. As I said, we offer no advertising, we offer no special deals. This is a take-it-or-leave-it business."

"I'm sorry, Hector, I let my prejudices get in the way. I am not being a good reporter, am I?" I did feel badly. I should not have let my disgust at what he was doing here cloud my interview.

"No harm done. May I try a little test?"

"What kind of test?" I am a little bit suspicious.

Hector opens the desk drawer and pulls out a red ball gag. "Let me fit you with this. Just temporarily let's let you feel what it is like having a ball gag. This will be a part of your research as a reporter."

I hesitate. I bite my lip as I delay an answer. "Oh, okay, but just for a minute."

He steps around the desk. "You can stay seated; this will only take a minute." He stands behind me and holds each strap of the gag as he takes it over my head and to my mouth. I open up and he gently pushes it in. He connects it behind my head. He walks to the side of the desk and looks at me. "How does it feel?"

I cannot answer. But it makes me tingle. I look at him and am overcome by a feeling of helplessness. I reach back quickly and try to detach the straps.

Hector moves back behind me, takes the straps apart and gently removes the gag. He drops it on the table. "I hope that wasn't too uncomfortable?"

"No. It was a new and different sensation for me."

"You mean that you have never used a gag before?"

"No. Never."

"Hmm. Well, it is as it is. Okay. Why don't we take a tour? Would you like to see our facilities?"

"Of course." I still have a rubbery taste in my mouth from the gag.

Hector stands and walks out the door and I follow. He goes to the other door, pulls some keys out of his pocket and unlocks the door. He pulls it open, looks at me and says, "After you."

I walk through the door. There is a hallway, about fifty feet long, with three doors along both sides, and a door at the very end. Hector walks up to the first door on the left, opens it and walks in. I follow.

The room appears to be a storage room. It is filled with shelves where I see lumber, ropes, poles, chains, blankets and pillows, clothes of all kinds, hoses and dozens and dozens of boxes with labels I cannot make out. Hector says "This is nominally a storage room. We have a large assortment of commonly asked for items. Sometimes, a client asks to have a fantasy in this room, usually restrained in some way or another on the shelving or just in a corner." I look around for several seconds, then Hector leaves the room and I follow. We walk to the next door, Hector opens it and we walk in.

This room is a bedroom decked with dark red silky tapestries. The bed is king size. There is a huge wooden headboard and a smaller footboard. The carpet is thick and white. The lighting is dim. Hector explains "This, obviously, is the bedroom. Surprisingly, it is not a commonly used room. However, we keep it up because when a client asks for a bedroom setup, this is a favorite."

I am curious. "This seems so, well, it seems so normal. How does this match up with your over-the-edge fantasy?"

"Use your imagination, Jean. We can tie a client to the headboard, the footboard, the frame, to the hooks in the ceiling," I look up; I had not noticed those, "or just tied to herself."

"Just to herself?" I ask.

"Yes, hogtying is a frequent request."

"I see." And I did see. For a moment, I pictured myself hogtied and laying on the bed.

"Also, the headboard can be raised to a full ten feet. Occasionally a client will ask to be tied to the raised board and whipped."

"Women actually asked to be whipped?" I could not believe that. But I pictured myself in that spot.

"Yes, Jean, although spanking is our most commonly requested 'punishment' treatment."

"Really?"

"Yes, especially for bosses. They unwind by taking it after a week's worth of giving it."

In my mind I imagine my dress pulled up, my panties pulled down, and a man giving me a good spanking. I do not know why I thought that. I had never been into 'kinky' sex. I had never imagined being in any of these positions. I am satisfied with my sex life. At least, I think I am.

Hector interrupts my thought when he says, "Let's move on." He walks out and to the next door.

The third room is a living room. There is a long couch, two chairs, two long coffee tables, one of wood and the other with a glass top. There is a large fireplace which looks like it has recently been used. Hector explains "This is another of our 'common' rooms. The living room is another fantasy location where a variety of actions may occur. This is a popular room, especially for the 'Surprise Me' option." He smiles, looks at me, turns and walks out.

We walk down to the end and enter the warehouse. The warehouse is huge. There are beams, tables, archways, crates and boxes. Hector says, "This is a general purpose room. Typically, any generic type bondage situation can be created here. There are places over to the right where we do suspensions." I look to the right and see several harnesses. "Upstairs there are crosses and stocks where we can restrain the customer." I look up above me but I cannot see any of those items from my vantage point. However, I can imagine myself in them. "In the corner to our left is a door to the outside area. Let's walk over there and I can show you the outdoor possibilities. While we walk, do you have any questions?"

"Yes, Hector. Do you video these events?"

"That is up to the client. And we can video and provide it to the client exclusively, or we can offer it up to a website that publishes that sort of stuff. Of course, these options have added cost which we have to pass on to the client."

"Of course. Who provides the services you offer? Are you the only employee?"

Hector laughs. "No, I am mostly the boss and an occasional participant. I have two full time employees: a nurse and a lawyer. The nurse is for the occasional accident or over-indulgence. The lawyer, well, I think his job is obvious. In some cases, the client will provide her own dominant male. In most cases, we will hire a dominant to provide the service."

We reach the door. Hector unlocks it, opens it and we walk outside. There is a large grassy area directly behind the area. Beyond that, the area is wooded. On my drive to the 'Man's World' I had noticed a creek that flowed into it. I look at Hector and ask, "What kind of fantasies do you have out here?"

"We do chases and hunts, camping scenarios, lost scenarios, primitive scenarios and the like. We have had occasion where the client likes to be taken to the creek and dunked forcibly. It is all up to the client."

"How much land do you have back here?"

"The property goes back about three miles. The frontage is two miles along the road but broadens out to three miles on the other side of the creek. There are fifteen cabins located randomly in the woods. The land is rolling. There are three small caves. To the back of the property the creek goes through several crevices in the bedrock. Would you like to walk back in the woods a bit?"

"No, thank you, that will not be necessary. I would like to finish up our interview and get my story done. It has been fascinating so far." In fact, I would have liked to have been hunted down in the woods. This was quite a place he has here. And we have three more rooms inside to visit.


News Story



"Fine, Jean, let's go back and finish up." We walk back inside and through the warehouse. I look around as we walk. I picture myself hanging on one of the slings and being manhandled. When we get to the door, Hector asks me "Can I do one more small demonstration?"

"What would you like to do?"

"Let me bind your hands behind your back just for a few seconds."

I think again. I am here to research a story for the paper. "Okay."

He pulls a cord out of his pocket. He is prepared. He walks behind me, pulls my wrists together. I feel as he wraps the cord around my wrists. He steps back in front of me and says, "Well, that's not too tight, is it?"

I say "No, it is not tight at all."

"If you want to get the full feel of the bondage you should get down on your knees."

I look at him with raised eyebrows.

He goes on, "I just want you to get a real feel for this. I don't plan on doing anything to you. I just want to help you get the facts."

"Okay, it's not a problem." I carefully get down on one knee and then the other. I look up at Hector. The feeling of helplessness and submission is incredible. I am looking up at him and he is looking down at me. The feeling sends chills all over me. I get back up and say "Thanks, can you unbind me now."

He walks back behind me and quickly pulls the cord off. We go on through the warehouse door and back into the hallway. We have three more doors to visit.

Hector just opens the first door. "This is the infirmary. I insist on having someone here just in case. I stick my head around the door and see a lady in a blue nurse's outfit.

She says "Hi."

I respond, "Hello."

Hector says, "Mary, this is Jean, the reporter from the town newspaper. She is trying to see what it is we do here!"

"Hi, Jean, it is nice to meet you."

"Likewise." I am still shaking a bit from the binding and kneeling.

She looks at me and says, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, I am fine. Thank you. It's nice to meet you." I step back away from the door.

Hector says "Thanks Mary. We need to move along." He closes the infirmary door and we walk to the second door. We walk in.

This room has a large metal framework. It looks like a seat surrounded by six metal posts. There are other posts and metal joints lying on the ground.

Hector says "This is one of our special request rooms. We have built up this framework for some specific bondage. The client has asked to be tied in certain positions."

I look at the framework, I walk around it and imagine myself in it. Then I look up at Hector and ask "Does the client get penetrated by the dominant?"

"That is up to the client. In most cases, that is exactly what happens. The submissive act crests when the female is taken by the dominant."

"And this is all consensual?"

"Yes, Jean, in every case. In the case of the 'Surprise Me' option, the sexual acts may or may not happen. It depends on the client. We evaluate each client on a case by case basis. Of course, we have more data on repeat customers which makes those choices much easier for us."

"Interesting. If you don't mind, what are your rates?"

"I can give you a price list in the office. Generally, basic bondage is $500, add sex and it's $1000. Some of the more elaborate schemes might cost $750 or more. Hunts and chases go for a couple thousand depending on how elaborate they may be. Filming usually adds another couple of hundred to the total cost."

"Other than the nurse, I haven't seen anyone today. Is business slow?"

"On the contrary. It's midweek and that's our slow day. I wanted to interview you when no one was here mainly for privacy reasons."

"Yes, that would make sense." And it was just as well. If I had seen someone being used somewhere in here I probably would have offered myself up for the same treatment.

Hector walks out and we go to the last door. He opens it and we walk in.

There is a sawhorse shaped metal frame in this room. Hector smiles and says, "This is one of my creations. It is a discipline station. The female lays on top with her arms and legs bound to the sawhorse legs." I look down and see shackles on all four legs. "The sequence of the typical event involves gagging, spanking, blowjob, penetration, second blowjob and cum, and second spanking." This is one I usually get involved with.

I look at it. I can see me lying their helpless servicing my dominant. I close my eyes and try to visualize it better in my mind.

Hector speaks "And that is the 'Man's World' facility. Let's go back in the office for a second."

We walk out and back to the office. Hector sits behind the desk. He opens the desk drawer, gets a sheet of paper and hands it to me. I look; it is the price list. I see that the sawhorse room is marked 'Special, $1000.'

I reach out my hand to him. "Thank you for a wonderful and informative interview. I think I can get a very good story put together with what I've learned today."

"Great, Jean, it was my pleasure. Did I answer all of your questions?"

"I think so. I can call you later if I come up with anything else." I look down at the desk; the ball gag is still there. "Goodbye." I quickly turn and walk out, through the lobby and the outer door. I lean back on the door and breathe a sigh. I had never felt the way I felt while I was in there. I was not the kind of girl that might come to a place like this -- at least, I did not think I was.

I am a reporter. I got my story. I should be happy. I should go back to the office, write it up and send it to Mr. Billings. I close my notebook and notice the envelope that Mr. Billings had given me. It was for expenses that might come up. I take it out and hold it. I look back at the door. I am a reporter. Mr. Billings wanted me to get the inside story.

I go back inside. Hector's office door is still open and he sees me come back in. "Is there anything else you need, Jean? Did you forget something?"

"No, I did not forget anything." I walk in his office and by the desk. "I think that in order to make my story most informative I will need a bit more information. I would like for you to take me to this last room. I would like the 'Surprise Me' option for the sawhorse." I take $1000 out of the envelope and drop it on the desk. "I believe this ought to cover it." Then I pick up the gag and say "And I think we will need this."



News Story Ch. 02



I could not believe it! I had just signed up for the ‘Surprise Me’ option on the sawhorse at Man’s World. This was supposed to be just an interview and fact finding mission. Howard Billings, my editor at the Hemmingsburg Report, had sent me to get the real story. It was my first assignment in my first job. I was so eager. Simply stated - I am going to get the real story. And I am going to get Mr. Billings’ money’s worth – he had given me an expense account of $1000!

Hector McDougall is the proprietor of Man’s World: the place for female fantasies. He has given me an orientation including documents I had to sign to verify my legal age status, to acknowledge my fantasy selection, and to accept responsibility for the activities in which I was to participate.

Hector had walked me around the place on a quick tour; it was quick only in the sense of real time. In contrast, my mind was still digesting the sights and sounds that I had tried to absorb during the tour. I had walked in the door of his office totally unaware of the kind of business he directed. My vision of sexual fantasies, as it turned out, were fairly tame.

Mr. Billings had given me a minimal biography but it left a lot of blanks and unanswered questions. After I had spoken with Hector on the phone, I still could not envision the nature of the female fantasies his establishment offered. In person, Hector seemed so nice. But it was not a nice type of nice; it was more of a car salesman nice – I could not quite put my finger on it. But my job is to dig this information out, to get to the real truth, to cut through the surface fluff and get to the meat of the matter. That is what I intended to do.

Each stop on the tour was an eye-opener. Hector opened the first door into the storage room; what an incredible site it was. I saw an array of articles that were utilized in the ‘Man’s World’ operations. I could not comprehend it all: shelves where I saw lumber, ropes, poles, chains, blankets and pillows, clothes of all kinds, hoses and dozens and dozens of boxes with unreadable labels. The next room was a bedroom. But the bed was not built primarily for sleeping but for bondage – and in a variety of positions. I am sure the positions I pictured in my mind was a mere subset of those that had been created in this very room. Then we entered a living room setup in the room next door. Again, it was not designed as a living room, but as a room to restrain a girl in an infinite number of positions and locations.

The warehouse was huge and contained numerous ‘big ticket’ items for bondage. And, again, my mind reeled with the number of ways that Hector and his team could tie a girl up! And there was more yet to see. Outside to the rear of the warehouse there is a huge wilderness-like area. Hector offered to take me out in the woods but I declined. I did not enjoy going into the woods much. I had lived on a farm as a child. There was a huge forest that bordered our property. It was dark and scary for a young girl. Ever since, I had been uncomfortable being in the woods. I would just have to take his word for what was there.

We went back inside and Hector introduced me to the nurse. Her name was Mary. I was not ready to think about why this place needed an onsite nurse. I suppose it was prudent; but when I thought about my fantasies, I did not necessarily think there was ever an excessive degree of risk.

The last two rooms were the most bizarre for me. They both contained contraptions to position girls for whatever. And it was the ‘whatever’ that intrigued me. I had never known that there were girls around who would submit to be used – to be freely used by a man. It was an astounding education for me. I could easily picture myself being confined in either of the contraptions. I could almost feel the delight of being possessed by a man. I had come a long way from where the interview had begun.

I had asked Hector in disbelief about women who asked to be whipped. Was that real? He said, of course, but spankings were much more popular. In my mind I imagined my dress pulled up, my panties pulled down, and a man giving me a good spanking. I had never been into ‘kinky’ sex. I had never imagined being in any of these positions. My thought was: I am satisfied with my sex life. At least, I think I am.

Following the trail of this story has caused me to build some interesting doubts about my own sexuality. It had been a fascinating day and it was only 10 o’clock. I was signed up for the female fantasy known as the ‘Surprise Me’ option. I wanted to go to the sawhorse room. For some strange reason it had piqued my interest the most. I am wondering what more was going to happen to me today.

I was about to find out.

***

Hector and I are standing outside the office – the paperwork is all done – we are ready to go. Hector tells me, “Let’s go on into the warehouse. The changing rooms are upstairs. Room #5 is setup for you with the garment you must wear. Everything else is already in place and ready to go. Your garment will be all you need to bring with you; leave everything else there. We will lock it all up securely while you are enjoying yourself.”

Hector unlocks the door to the warehouse, “After you,” and he waves me in.

We talk as we stroll down the hallway. “Thank you, Hector. Is there any set time limit for this? Maybe I should call Mr. Billings and let him know I’m going to be later than expected?”

“Oh, no, not at all – we allow for however long it takes to finish whatever fantasy has been selected. And remember, you have selected the ‘Surprise Me’ option. We have something special for you today. I think it will make your story even more unusual and unique than you might expect. We are pulling out all the stops for you today. No need to worry about Mr. Billings, when I talked to him I told him that you would be getting the A-1 treatment. He knows that you will be away for quite a while.”

“Why thank you, Hector, I appreciate you helping me in this. I was really worried that I wouldn’t be able to get a real understanding of what goes on here. I’m so glad for your kind accommodation.”

“We relish the good publicity that your article is bound to give us. The pleasure is all ours.” We reach the hallway door; he opens it and ushers me in.

We walk directly to the stairs. Before I start up, Hector stops and says, “Jean, go ahead to Room #5 and get ready. I have a couple of things to take care of real quickly here before you get started. I should be done and waiting here at the bottom of the stairs when you are ready. Go ahead and lock the door to your room when you leave. The keys to the rooms are only accessible in the office.”

I walk up the stairs; Hector strides off to the right and around the corner. When I get to the top of the stairs I look around. There are two stocks – one apparently for standing and the other, having a bench, apparently for sitting or lying. Behind that was what looked like a gallows. That is peculiar. I picture myself up there – now that is a scary thought! Ha! To the right of those are crosses. A girl would be stretched out on one of those. But enough looking around – I need to get ready.

I turn around, there are a series of doors and I see the door to Room #5. I check it out; it is unlocked. I walk in and shut the door behind me. The room is not much more than a department store dressing room. I look up by the mirror and there it is – the garment. It is a small frock, off-white and somewhat diaphanous. It is seamed tightly around the middle apparently to boost one’s breasts. It is very low cut and has a very short hem with large slits up each side. I really like this. I hurriedly take my own clothes off and slip it on. I stare at myself in the mirror. I look damn sexy. The frock leaves little to the imagination. But, I bet, it will get some fellow’s imagination into gear!

I do not think I had ever looked in a mirror at myself before and thought that. This outfit makes me feel like a provocative woman. It accentuates my curves. For each movement I make the ruffle has a wave motion back and forth. My breasts jiggle too!

My hair comes down over my neck in back. The frock scarcely covers my butt cheeks in back. The front wraps around my breasts and the open front plunges down an inch or so below them. It has a large ruffle around the bottom. It is sleeveless. I feel so girlish in this. I think I can almost possess a man with this outfit. I can see myself walking and talking sultry to man who wants to take me.

The fabric is soft and silky. Oops, I picked a small runner; I pull it back out – I want to look good for my man. That is what he will demand.

***

I walk out, lock and shut the door behind me. When I get to the stairs I see Hector. He is standing by a large maroon van. A garage door to the outside is open. I walk down the stairs. He is scrutinizing me. I slacken my pace down the steps – I really look fine. He looks like he appreciates the view.

When I get to the bottom of the stairs he says, “Turn around.” I turn. He takes my wrists and tugs them behind my back; he binds them with a cord. While I am still turned around he reaches a ball gag over my head and inserts it into my mouth; he clips it behind my head. I recall the sensation when I had tried each of these just an hour or so ago. Now, with both the sensation is exponentially deeper. I close my eyes just for a second and picture myself standing at a slave sale.

Hector grabs my arm and turns me toward the van. He takes his other hand and pulls open the side door. I observe that the van’s windows in the back are all painted. He shoves me into the van; I stumble in and sit on the carpet. Hector climbs in and pushes me down on my belly. He pulls both of my ankles up and ties them to my wrists in back. I am hogtied. Hector pulls up my frock and smacks the side of my bare ass cheek. He crawls back out of the van and closes the door leaving me hogtied with my frock pulled up over my ass. I look back behind me; there is a wall between me and the driver’s seat. A sudden chill of isolation goes up my spine. I cannot see anything outside of this van compartment. In just a few short seconds, Hector had transformed me from a sultry bitch into a vulnerable wench.

Someone starts the van. I can hear as it is clicked into gear; and then it begins to move. We move just a few seconds and, from the sound, I can tell we are outside the warehouse. My fantasy was explicitly the sawhorse and now we are outside. There has been some sort of gaffe. How could Hector make a mistake like this? Yet he is the one who put me into the van. He slapped my ass (and I liked it). He made me feel like a subservient with that little gesture. But where are we going?

The van starts pitching back and forth. Apparently, the road is not very good. This goes on for about fifteen minutes before the van comes to a halt. I could not envision where we were going or for what purpose. I hear some metal clanging outside the van. Then the van door opens. Hector crawls in, unties my ankles and pulls me out of the van. I stretch a bit as my legs are stiff from the hogtie. There is a chain-link fence that goes in either direction disappearing into the hills. Behind the van are a large field and some trees off in the distance. The area inside the fence is completely and heavily wooded as far as the eye can see.

Hector grasps my hair in his hand and shoves me ahead and through a gate. I can feel a wisp of air through my dress as we walk. He takes me about five yards inside the fence. We stand as he removes the ball gag and unties my wrists. I rub my hands together to get the circulation going again.

Hector has not said anything to me since I had gone up to get dressed. Or maybe one would call it undressed (I fancy this frock!) “Where are we?” I inquire.

Hector glances around and says, “This is the opposite side of our property relative to the warehouse. We have a very special ‘Surprise Me’ option for you today. We wanted you to have the best of opportunities to get the story that you wanted. So we have decided to set you up with one of our more popular hunt scenarios.”

I am startled, “A hunt? I don’t want to seem unappreciative but I signed up for the sawhorse. How did this get worked into the program?”

Hector smirks and disregards my demand, “Jean, here’s how it works. You are being released here. The compound is over there.” He points straight through the woods. I cannot see any landmarks that would help me judge the way to go. “Your task is to go from here to there without getting caught. If you can do that, then we will set you up with the sawhorse and you will really enjoy it. However, if you get caught, then your captor will have his way with you. It will be at his option. And remember, we have researched you and we know what makes you tick. This ‘Surprise Me’ option has been designed specifically with you in mind.”

“Who is going to be chasing me?” Notwithstanding my disgust with the woods, I like this more and more. I had not understood that a chase could be so stimulating, but I was getting hot.

“Actually, it’s a bit more complicated than that. There are two other girls being released into these woods as we speak. You will each be released to head for the warehouse at the same time. There are six chasers in the woods. They do this for us all the time and have made it a challenge for themselves. The three winners, if they capture all three girls, get the spoils. These guys keep score. It’s a competition for them as well. And they are expert hunters. They know how to track. They know how to listen. But, most important, they are brutal and they know how to properly handle a woman.”

“What is the challenge for me? Getting caught by a man chasing me seems exciting.” In my mind I think ‘just slink around and let him take me somewhere out in the woods’.

“No, not at all, the chase is not for the woman’s pleasure; it is for the woman’s capture and punishment. In the typical chase scenario, you will not want to get caught. Picture this, if you will, as a medieval slave hunt: the victors pillaging a conquered village and taking the young women into slavery. You must be afraid of getting caught. This is one of the possibilities you run into with the ‘Surprise Me’ option. However, there are advantages to being the last one caught. This is also a competition between you and the other two women. Punishment is administered to the two who get caught first. When I say these men are brutal, that’s exactly what I mean. You will be punished for not being the winner and you will not like it.”

Abruptly, the gist of the game has transformed. “What do you mean ‘punishment’?”

“Jean, I can’t give away the adventure. That wouldn’t be fair to you or your opponents. But as you evade the pursuers, you may get some insight as to what will happen to you if you are caught.”

“I thought this was a woman’s choice fantasy. That doesn’t sound like a choice. I don’t know how to get through the woods.” I was lying; I grew up on a farm. There was a large forest next to our farm house. The real problem is: I am getting more and more scared. This is not what I had signed up for. And it alarmed me when he made a nebulous statement like ‘punishment.’ What does that portend?

“Actually, it is the choice you made when you signed up for ‘Surprise Me’. That choice means you have no choice. The surprise is you being hunted by someone who wants to capture and own his woman. The fantasy is the fear of being caught and the anxiety of hiding from a pursuer. I think you will ultimately like this one, but you can tell me about it later. We don’t want to waste any more time. You are on the clock, you know?”

I begin to get irritated, “I don’t like this. You need to take me back and let me get back to town.”

“I’m sorry. Your commitment is irrevocable. Now, you will hear a horn go off; that will indicate the hunt is on. A piece of advice – keep moving and don’t hug the fences – they will find you in seconds if you hug the fences. These guys are hunters. Once the horn sounds, the hunters will be released fifteen minutes later. That does not give you a lot of time. Use it wisely. It is about two miles from here to the warehouse. Be careful. Trust no one or nothing you see. Stay alert. Honestly, I hope you finish as champion; I’m beginning to like you.”

I am shaken. I shout, “I didn’t sign up for this! I hate the woods!”

Hector swats my ass (again), steps out through the gate and locks the padlock. He looks at me and says, “Yes, I know about your fear of the woods.” He pauses and looks me up and down. “You look very nice in the slave dress. Good luck!” He gets into the van departs. I am standing there alone. I love the way he slaps me like he owns me. And I admire how he knew about my aversion to being in the forest. His preparation work is thorough.

***

Now, to the business at hand: I am not going to wait for the horn. I walk along the underbrush and look for an entry into the woods. It just occurred to me – I am barefoot – this is not going to be easy. Ah, there it is; a gap in the brush. I walk through and see a small trail winding its way deeper into the woods. I walk tentatively and look around; I do not see anyone anywhere. But this is a big place – the odds would be that I do not see anyone. This may not be as hard as I thought. Then I hear it – the blare of the horn. The hunt is on. I start to panic.

I begin to walk faster and I am looking around more and more. I bend down a bit to keep a low profile; that would make it more difficult for someone to see me. I do not know what Hector meant by his warning of ‘punishment’. That worries me more and more. He does not know the limited world that I have been used to. I cannot conceive of what ‘punishment’ might entail. The fear captures more and more of my mind and my thoughts. I walk faster and look around more and more; I look for movements or color. I listen for sounds or voices.

Maybe I should not be on the trail. An experienced hunter probably expects the untested prey to take the convenient path. But where do I go? This brush is dense. There will be a lot of clamor when I walk around. And I am barefoot; that is going to hurt every time I step on something. Then I hear it; was that a snap of a branch? I crouch down low and duck behind a tree. I look up and down the trail. Over to my far left I can make out someone or something moving.

It is another girl. I see her moving and looking around just like me. We have only been on the trail for a few minutes. She must have been released just out of sight of me. She is not wearing anything except a leather collar and some moccasins. I get back on the trail and begin running toward her. She looks at me frightened and says, “Get away from me! If they catch us both, we will both be caned and then the torture will begin.”

I do not comprehend her, “What do you mean?”

“I can’t talk. There’s no time! Keep away from me! I have to go.” She runs on. I want to run with her but it probably would not be a good idea. I could sense her fear and that makes me even more fearful. I move down a fork that goes away from her. I walk a few steps and then I start running. I have got to get out of these woods first. They are not going to catch me.

Up ahead I see some rocks; I slow down and look around. This might not be safe or maybe it will be a good vantage point. I cautiously walk between the rocks. There is a small ravine that runs for several hundred feet. I walk along hugging the wall. The cracks and breaks in the rock offer a protected view of the surroundings. It seems like a safe haven. I am looking between two of the rocks when suddenly another figure walks past; it is a man. He is walking in the direction parallel to mine. He is wearing tight gray pants and black shoes; he has no shirt and a dark green vest; he is wearing a black mask that covers his head. It looks like he is carrying a whip on his belt. I step back away with my back to the rock and start breathing deeper. I cannot let him see me now. It is too early. I cannot be more than halfway to the warehouse. It is too soon.




News Story Ch. 02



I wait several minutes; and then I walk on down the ravine taking cautious peeks around the rocks. It looks clear. The ravine empties into a dry creek bed. I walk down it and realize: I am at the very bottom between two ridges. Anyone is going to see me here from a long way off. I have got to climb out of here. I track back to the rocks and try to climb to the top. At least here, I am mostly out of view from most directions. It takes several minutes, and I slip a few times, but I finally make it to the top. I lay very low behind some brush and look around. It looks okay.

***

I walk guardedly; the trees are very thick here. I can hardly see ten feet in any direction. If I am noticed, I might not be able to get away too easily. I move deliberately. A branch snaps – it is me; It is a small limb. I duck down as low as I can get. I cannot let them see me here. I move again even more deliberately.

There is another small hilltop up ahead; maybe it will offer a lookout point for me. As I slowly pace up the hill I hear some sort of disturbance. I lean down onto the ground as I reach the crest. Down in the hollow is one of the pursuers – he has the girl I just saw. He is dressed just as the first I had seen just a few minutes before: gray pants, black shoes, no shirt and a green vest, black mask covering his entire head. She is on her knees and giving him a blowjob. I stay low in the brush and watch them. She moves rapidly back and forth pulling on his cock. She is so nimble. She rolls her head back and forth as she moves on his shaft. The man looks to be enjoying his treatment.

What a contrast; my mind wanders for a moment. I gave my first blowjob to a guy just after high school graduation. We were both getting ready to go to college. His name was Brendon and he had been one of the school jocks. I had been a quiet girl in high school but at graduation I let my hair grow a bit longer and I begin to dress more girlish. It had an impact.

Unfortunately, it was hardly a moment to remember. It was my nineteenth birthday and he had promised me a night to remember. It took all of about four minutes; and half of that was getting clothes off and putting them back on. As I recollect, that was the full sexual encounter. Brendon was always in a big hurry and this was no exception. He had me suck him for about four strokes before he shoved me down on my back and spread my legs. From there, it took about four more furious strokes with him within me before he finished. That was it. And then he had the nerve to look lovingly into my eyes and say “Wasn’t that great?”

I wanted to kick him in the nuts. I had so hoped that my relationship might go beyond a four minute whirlwind. Alas, Brendon and I never got together after that one brief moment. I would be surprised if he even remembers.

I can almost hear the girl grunting. The hunter finally pulls her head close to his belly and holds her there. She struggles a little but eventually acquiesces to his muscle. Then they are done. He begins to walk back away from me into the woods and she, dutifully, follows a few steps behind. That seemed appropriate, I guess. The dense trees swallow them and they vanish from my sight.

***

As I walk, the trees become more widely spaced. There is very little underbrush here. I stop and look down to my right – the trees are lined up in rows. This must have been an orchard or a replanting zone of some kind. Just ahead of me I see a wide gap that looks like it used to be a road. There is some gravel. I walk across it carefully to safeguard my feet. I plunge back into the forest on the other side.

That girl I had just seen did not appear to be in any danger. Her captor was not treating her badly; nor did she appear to be panicky about her situation. That perplexed me. I wonder where they were walking when they disappeared into the woods. I wonder why she was captured so quickly and how she came to succumb to him so quickly. Maybe she was fearful and she was submitting to try and mitigate some more severe handling. I am walking in a mini-daze. Until I hear it.

It is far away. It is a voice crying out. It is a scream. A few seconds later, I hear another scream. I have no idea where it is coming from, but it is not very near. At least, I think it is not near. Maybe it is in the ravine I just walked through – there the sound would be muffled. There it is again: another agonizing scream. I hear a dozen or so more cries of anguish before it finally stops. It had to be the girl. Her vanquisher must be beating her. I picture it in my mind: she is dangling from a tree limb – he is pacing about her as she dangles, lashing her at will. She is struggling in pain. She is crying out for compassion but to no avail.

The more I thought about it, the more scared I became. I was distracting myself. I looked around – there was no one in sight.

The trail goes down between some large rocks. The isolation is overpowering; I do not want to be walking here. There is a fork in the trial; it seems to me that the warehouse will be to the right, so I stay on the path going straight ahead. If someone is out there waiting for me, he will probably be there. Maybe it was just intuition, but I felt like I had made the correct choice.

I do not understand. Just an hour ago the thought of being hunted had excited me. And I hated being in the woods. But now I am slinking through the rocks and crawling through the underbrush fearful of capture. Not only that, but I was fearful of the ‘punishment’. Hector had spoken of medieval slave hunts and pillaging. This started as a voluntary action and has now turned into a survival test. I was going to win.

There are fewer rocks now and the trees begin to thin. There is some grass patches here and there.

The trail veered sharply to the left. Up ahead there is a large gap in the trees and the sunlight is shining brightly. As I get closer I recognize it as a small gulch about fifty yards wide. The gulch is fairly deep and there is a small brook flowing at the bottom. The trail turns back to the original direction and follows alongside the gulch.

***

There is a shack ahead on the right. It looks desolate. There are no windows and the door is barely hanging on the hinges. I warily approach and look in one of the open windows. No one is here. I open the door and walk in. There is no dust; it looks very clean. There are two doors along the back wall.

I walk through the door on the right. Inside is a large six-foot vertical post with short wooden pins on either side at about six inch intervals. On the wall is a pegboard; there were several varieties of whips, gags and bridles and a large shiny metal tool that I did not recognize. It was curved and had a large ball on the end. The other straight end had a loop on it. I thought for a moment what that might be for and cringe.

What was that? That sound! What was that? Someone is in the outer room! Now what am I going to do? I am standing behind the door. It creaks open; I can hear someone take a step. He must be looking around. He moves away and closes the door. I am petrified. Why did he not come in? Is he looking for something?

The door to the other room opens. I have not taken a breath, but I do not want to move. I cannot move. I must stay still. I hear him lumbering around the next room. Something is dropped and then something else. The thumps make me flinch. He walks back out. I sink to the floor and hope that he does not look into the window.

In just a few seconds he appears in the window walking away on the trail behind the shack. Just like the others before, he wears gray pants, black shoes, a green vest and a black mask. He is carrying two large coils of rope. He turns left and disappears from sight. Several minutes go by before I gather the courage to even breathe. I stand and touch the door. Its creak sounds like a tuba to me. Cautiously I put each foot forward trying to get out of the shack without making any more noise.

The door to the outside stands open. The part of the trail that brought me here is empty, but how close are the hunters? I should not have stopped here. What was I thinking? I move around the corner slowly; no one there. A couple of more soft steps and I see no one behind the house. I run up the trail as it follows the side of the gulch. The trees are denser; no one can see me in there.

I cannot believe I made such a mistake; I should never have stopped at the shack. I could have been caught. I have got to be more careful. That was too close.

The trail winds over a small rise and back down and along the side of the gulch. In no time, I can look back and the shack is out of sight. I can hear the sound of the brook as it gushes over stones. It is so peaceful out here. That is the irony. Someone is being terrorized by a mysterious pursuer, a medieval hunter, a slaver. I have got to keep moving toward the warehouse.

***

I overhear a voice. Where? There I see on the opposite side of the gulch. Another man, dressed just as the before (gray pants, black shoes, green vest and black mask), standing by a row of trees. And he has a girl with him. She has red hair. She must be the third girl in our group. She is suspended between some trees. Her ankles are secured with rope to two trees so that they are stretched wide apart. More rope is looped around her body and two long strands hang from the tree limbs above her. Her arms are tied off at the wrists and reach up to more limbs above her. The man is standing between her legs and jacking her hard. She is moaning in delight. I can hear it as if they were standing next to me. I must be cautious – the acoustics of this place must conduct sound a long distance.

She can scarcely move at all. I have already run across a blowjob. Now I come across some bondage sex.

I recollect running into another bondage sex scene – it had been my first exposure to non-conventional sex. I had thought sex was just blowjobs and missionary position and you are done. That is the way it had always been done. That is the way the guys had done it to me.

But I learned that the world was bigger than a thought. It happened during my sophomore year in college. I normally came home from college on the weekends. But I came home early one week day and learned a new lesson.

I walked into our farm house and went up the stairs. I could hear the bed creaking in my brother’s bedroom. I stealthily looked in the door and saw a naked girl stretched out on the bed – her ass was elevated, her legs were spread and ankles tied to each post of the footboard. Her wrists were tied behind her back and the cord stretched up to the ceiling and was tied off to a hook. This cord was taut and pulled her arms up off her back. There was a rope wrapped around her neck and tied to the bedframe beneath her. She had very little maneuvering potential.

The girl had a blindfold and my brother was in her face feeding her mouth with his cock. And he was feeding her hard; he held his left hand behind her head as he pounded her. He saw me and raised his right index finger in a ‘shush’ pattern, then held up the finger in a ‘just-a-minute’ signal. He gave her a few more hard shoves and unloaded into her mouth. He pulled his cock out and I could hear her say, “Thank you my master.” He took a gag that was lying on the bed and placed it into her mouth then he walked out into the hallway with me.

In the most nonchalant manner you could imagine, he grinned at me and said, “What’s up?”

I was stuttering; I looked at him and asked, “Wha_, wha_, what do you mean ‘What’s up’? Who’s that you’ve tied up in the bed?”

“Oh, her? She told me she had been a bad girl and needed a spanking,” he said with a boyish grin.

“Wasn’t it convenient that you were available to provide her with that service?”

“Well, you know me; I always try to help out any way I can.”

“You are a pervert.”

“Oh, come on now, Jean, this it totally consensual. Anyway, don’t you recognize her? She’s your old high school buddy: Jenny!”

“Jenny? You mean Jenny Ackerman, the cheerleader?”

“Yeah, that’s her. You two are good buddies aren’t you?”

I looked at him sternly, “Jenny Ackerman would drop her pants for anyone. Is this the kind of girl you are looking for?” 

“Oh, no, she’s not really like that at all! I’ll show you the kind of girl I’ve got – watch this.” He walked back into the bedroom, climbed up on the bed and squatted on the other side of Jenny’s ass from me. He held his middle finger up as if he was flipping me off, turns it around and plunges it right into her ass hole. She jerked and squirmed, and I could make out some muted screaming behind her gag. He pulled and pushed his finger back into her ass four more times while she shuddered and squealed and while I was frozen there watching them.

He gently patted her upwardly extended rump a couple of times. Then he jumped out of bed, ran back out into the hall and innocuously said, “Hey, now that’s the kind of girl I want.”

I rolled my eyes and walked past him into my bedroom. In passing I commented, “You’re a brigand!” I was disgusted with my brother. I know I had surprised him by coming home early.

But I sat and thought about that incident. I had never seen, or even imagined, a bondage sex act before. It looked enthralling. I could almost picture myself in Jenny’s place and my master shoving his finger into my ass just to show me who was the boss.

I love my brother. He and I still live on the old farm in the farm house. Mom and Dad have been gone for nearly ten years now. In all our time there since their deaths, I had never really known him to even date a girl. That chance encounter had been an eye-opener.

I twitch; I hear some moaning. I look back at the girl suspended in the trees. Maybe if I let myself be captured, one of them would do that to me. No, I cannot think that way. I have got to get away and back to the warehouse. I heard the screams; was that the ‘punishment’? I must keep out of sight.

The hunter pulls his cock out of her, walks around while holding his cock. He starts rubbing it and aiming it toward her face from about a foot away. I see it discharge streams of white juice onto her face, neck and chest. She extends her tongue and tries to get some into her mouth as it drips off his cock.

He looks around right at me. I stand and gulp. I have given myself away. How could I do that? I take off running as fast as I can. How could I be so stupid? He saw me. It did not matter that he was on the opposite side of the ravine. He was the hunter and he had spotted me. I knew he would somehow signal the others of my whereabouts. I am panicking. He is a medieval slave hunter. He is a brigand, just like my brother. He wanted to show me that he was my master.

I run up and down a couple of hills and finally come to rest at a small bridge going across a creek. I am heaving for air as I gasp with each breath. I hold onto the handrail on the bridge and try to gather my wits. My breathing gets easier and easier. I look around. I see no one.

I begin to think about driving up to the warehouse earlier this morning. There was a small creek that worked its way around behind the warehouse. This must be it. I must be close. I start hiking again and climb out of the creek bed. When I get to the top I peek over the edge – there it is.

***

A hundred yards ahead of me is the yard and the warehouse. I have made it. This is the poorest spot I can be in – so close to the finish line and I am getting very edgy. I look around. I still do not see anyone. I do not hear anyone. I have got to be sure. For those last hundred yards I have got to avoid anyone that might be around. This could be an ambush. I have got to scout out an obscure way to get past the hunters. I know they are around. I have got to be the one that reaches the goal. I saw how the red-haired girl was taken. I had not seen anything that looked like ‘punishment’. But what about those screams? I had heard them. That meant something. I knew they were real and painfully inflicted.

I hear some branches crack behind me. I duck into the brush. It is getting closer and sounds heavy. I do not move. I try not to breathe. I see a figure coming out of the woods. It is a man; he is hauling a naked girl on his shoulder. There are red stripes across her legs and butt. She must have been whipped. Those stripes hurt when they were applied. She must have been the one I heard screaming. I can see why she was screaming. The stripes look painful.

I do not think this is the same man I saw earlier. But how was I supposed to know? They all were dressed alike and were wearing the masks. They are walking not more than five feet away. They walk past and I see her long black hair dangling down. Her hands are bound behind her back. Momentarily I see myself on that man’s shoulder. The thought covers me with an erotic chill. I regain my senses. He walks on carrying his prey. They go into the warehouse. She must have been the first girl that I saw – I have seen both of my competitors and they both had been captured. I am the last girl! I can relax. Oh, no, I must be diligent. Stay focused.

In the corner of my eye, I see two other people. It is another hunter and the red-hair girl is being pulled on a leash right behind him. She is covered with mud from head to toe. I cannot imagine what might have transpired but she is a mess. They walk out of the woods a little farther away and he leads her into the warehouse.

I am so close to home I can hardly stand it. I must be careful. I look down the trail again. I see no one. I am going to run for it. I will follow the same path they took to get to the building. It is quiet. There is no one about. I have got to go.

I stand and start running toward the warehouse. Another fifty yards and I will be out of the woods and finally heading for the door. All of the sudden, I am taken off my feet and rising into the air. The trees move past my eyes as I am lifted up. Everything around me is bouncing up and down. I am in a net. It has curled me up into a lump. It was a trap. I have been captured in a trap. How did I do this? I followed the same track as the man carrying the girl. I had been careful. I have got to get out of this before someone sees me.

I move around. This thing has me tightly. Maybe I can climb up out of it. I pull at the top, pulling the ropes apart trying to find a gap to climb out. I am only about four feet off the ground. If I can get out of this and jump down, then I am home free.

The door opens on the warehouse. Someone is going to find me here. He is going to take me and beat me. I am going to scream and twitch as I hang helplessly from some tree. Wait – this man is not dressed as the rest. I breathe a short breath of relief; it is Hector. He is walking toward me carrying a long wooden pole. If he gets here then I win. He is not a hunter. He will let me go. He gets up a few feet away and says, “Well, Jean, you made it a long way today. I’m impressed with your spunk. You evaded several close situations today. You have done very well.”

“Get me out of here. I have got to get into that warehouse before a hunter gets me. I have won. The other two girls were captured and now I have won.” I am so relieved. But Hector is not getting me down.

“Not to worry, Jean, the chase portion of this adventure is about over. Now it is time for phase two to begin. Your journey has only begun.” He looks behind me. I tighten up with fear. I feel a sudden coldness and my mind races in horror. I look behind me. It is a hunter, a medieval slaver, a brigand.

He pulls the net, with me in it, down. He spreads the opening, reaches in and grabs hold of my hair and pulls me out. He drops me on the ground and rolls me over on my belly. This cannot be happening; I was so close. The hunter ties my hands behind my back. “Let me go, I am the winner. You have got to let me go.” He takes a dowel and pushes it between my teeth; he ties it behind my head. He pulls the pole that Hector had carried out up by my head. It has a thick cloth strap looped at one end; he pulls the loop over my head and around the bridle gag and snugs it up around my neck. I can feel a rubber pad on the end of the pole. The man steps in front of me. I am afraid to look up at him. He walks to my side, picks up the pole pulling me to make me stand. Hector is nowhere to be seen. I am standing before the hunter. He takes hold of my frock and rips it off of me with a couple of swift movements. I had liked that frock; I had wanted to use that to seduce a man. Maybe I had already succeeded. Hector had referred to it earlier as a slave dress. The man drops the shredded rags onto the ground.




News Story Ch. 02



The man puts the pole under his arm. With his opposite hand, he pushes me with the pole to make me walk. I have to turn around to go the way he wants me to go. I begin to feel an awesome sense of erotic delight. How can that be? It seems so outlandish for the situation I am in. But I am yielded to the feeling. My nipples are stiff and standing at attention; the excitement of the apprehension and capitulation radiates throughout my body. I have been enslaved.

He is behind me, making me walk by pushing the back of my neck with the pole with its belt wrapped around my neck. My wrists are bound, I am gagged and naked. We are going back into the woods.

Up until now, I had always hated going into the woods. But now, I am elated.



News Story Ch. 03



Hector McDougall had expected me in his office at 9 o'clock this morning. As a reporter for the Hemmingsburg Report, I was going there to interview Hector about his company: the 'Man's World'. Contrary to its provocative title, the establishment offered erotic sexual fantasy escape scenarios which catered exclusively to females. The female chose a fantasy ranging from the mundane to an option called 'Surprise Me'. The latter option plunged the female into realms unknown. It was a sort of Fantasy Island for the FemSub side of the MaleDom / FemSub alliance. Of course, there was no little fellow in a white tuxedo pointing and shouting 'ze plane, ze plane'. But in most other respects, it was very, very similar. The FemSub dream any girl wanted could be created. Mr. Billings, the chief editor and my boss at the paper, had assigned this as my very first story; I had not been on the job for a week by the time I walked into Hector's office this morning.

Hector is a very friendly man – kind of a requisite for a successful business owner I suppose. He explained the rationale behind the enterprise and then he toured me through various the alternatives and nuances that customers have come to enjoy. I was astonished, not only by the fantasies themselves, but also by the type of woman who would partake in these exploits.

In fact, at the end of the interview, I was so overwhelmed by the erotic excitement of the place that I returned and asked for the fantasy option: 'Surprise Me'. I did not known exactly what was involved with the 'Surprise Me' option when I chose it. Hector's explanation had been extraordinarily vague. I had envisioned myself mounted on the sawhorse that I had seen in the last room we visited in the warehouse. For some strange reason, that had really pushed the erotic slice of my brain into motion. It had budged my imagination into unexplored corners.

The 'Surprise Me' option has turned out to be much more intense than I could ever imagine. I had spent most of the afternoon learning as the option dug deep into my innermost feelings of fear and anticipation, of anxiety and excitement. It was one of the most basic FemSub visions, capture and enslavement by a domineering master. I was being hunted; it was a chase. And at the very end, when the pretentious finish line was in sight just a few feet away I was captured. But I was captured only in the sense that the journey had turned from its path onto a new path. My instincts took over and forced me to surrender. But 'forced' is not right word either. I had leapt over the divide and into the world of submission. My surrender was my destiny.

I was captured by a hunter, a plunderer, a brigand. He was anonymous. I saw several hunters during the chase. They had all dressed identically: gray pants, black shoes, no shirt with a green vest and a black mask. They all looked the same. They were members of a band. It was a band whose task was to round up women who were roaming free in the woods.

Now, I am being pushed back into the woods behind the establishment's main warehouse. There is a cloth belt wrapped around my neck; it is attached to the end of the pole he uses to push me. I have my wrists bound behind my back. I have a bridle gag in my mouth. I am naked. He has not spoken. There is not much need for speaking at this point. I will do whatever he wishes. He is the Master.

***

He prods me on as we walk down the trail. He looks no different than the other men I saw: the gray pants, the black shoes, no shirt underneath the green vest, the black mask, a whip hanging on his belt. It was as if it were a uniform. I am not so embarrassed to be naked before him. I actually try to accentuate my lilt as we trek into the woods. I want him to know that I realize he owns me.

We go over the small rise and I can see the bridge where I had rested just minutes before. He pushes me across the bridge then makes me turn to the right. This is a new trail; I am back into unknown territory again. The landmarks are new. The destination is yet to be understood.

The trail sidles along the creek. The water is clear. It meanders; there is no stirring of the mud and silt. Every now and then I hear a plunk in the water. I look around to see what it is, but to no avail. The ground is wet and cool. The bottoms of my feet look to be turning a muddy color. We continue walking like this for half an hour or so. The creek has wound around a bit, so I am not really sure which direction I am heading. Way off to my left I see some rocks – maybe those were the ones where I had hidden earlier in the day. We trudge on deeper into the woods.

We come upon a large boulder that juts out into the creek. He stops there and sets the pole on the ground. He bends down and takes a quick drink from the creek. Then he gets up; using the pole he forces me down to the creek to do the same. I do not want to drink this water, but I have no choice. I lap up a few sips; I cannot get much – I do not know how to lap up water like this. I suspect that I will need to learn how. The little bit I do swallow is cool and refreshing. He stands me back up and again pushes me on the trail beyond the boulder.

After another fifteen minutes we get to a small clearing. We stop there. He pushes me down to a kneeling position. He walks a few steps away and sits in the grass looking directly at me. He has not spoken during this whole time and is not speaking now. He looks me up and down. I am a little embarrassed but I am even more titillated by his stare. I try not to look directly into his eyes. I really want to look like a submissive; but how to do that. I do not want to act like I am in control. I am not in control, but I am feeling a little more comfortable. I am still bound, gagged and naked and it seems natural.

Master stands and walks directly in front of me. I cower as I look up at him. The pole was laid down at my side so I have some freedom of movement. I arch my back to thrust my breasts up at him; my nipples are still stiff and now are pointing up toward him. I bow my head a bit and look up at him. I spread my knees apart. I am gushing with excitement as I kneel there looking up at him. He is my impassive and wordless master. I am his anxious slave. I have left my world behind and now we are alone here in the woods.

Master moves around and picks up the pole. He makes me stand and pushes me on, deeper into the woods. I am disappointed. I wanted him to use me. I would have sucked his dick for as long as he wanted – even longer. The warmth of submission has encircled my body. I am being pushed into the woods by this nameless maestro. Even without speaking, he is playing with my sensibilities like a virtuoso.

Master pushes me to move more quickly; I have to jog sometimes just to keep up at the pace he demands. The trail is not really a trail. It is mostly just a wide grassy area. The trees were not too dense and I could see a relatively long distance. However, all I can see are more trees! The trail veers away from the creek and vanishes behind a line of small knolls. The trail also looks more like a trail again – a grassless ribbon winding amongst the trees.

As we walk further, the trees now begin getting thicker. The light dims some as the canopy of leaves begins to coalesce into a green solid. Up ahead I can see a wall of rock and roots and dirt. There is a small waterfall and a small brook running off to the right – I presume it runs back into the creek we had just left behind. Beyond the waterfall I can see a broad opening in the tree covering and the sun is shining brightly. We turn the opposite direction and go to the left of the rocks. They swing around in a large arc. There is a path way going up the side of the rock and we walk up. The path opens up to a large flat grassy field with a higher rock wall maybe one hundred yards away. In between, I see a small house sitting by a pond that is feeding the waterfall we had just seen below. The house appears so out-of-place way back in this wilderness.

The house is a small white ranch and has a wooden deck that goes all the way around to the back. He stops me at the two steps that go up to the deck. I am panting from the tempo of our walk. He loosens the belt around my neck, removes it and sets the pole against the side of the deck. I notice two more similar poles standing there. He snaps his fingers and points; I follow him up the steps and onto the deck. We walk around the house to the back. The deck is wider in the back and there are steps that go down to the water. It appears to be a man-made pond.

Master leads me into the house. The living room has a wooden floor; there is a carpet in between a couch and two wing chairs. There is a cabinet behind the wing chairs. To the right I can see a small kitchen. There is a hallway immediately in front of me with several doors on either side. He walks down the hall; I dutifully follow. At the end of the hallway he stops and turns toward me. He meticulously looks me over – top to bottom. He turns me around and puts his hands on my waist. He moves his hands up to my breasts and moves them up under my breasts, as if he has to prop them up. He holds them there for a few seconds then moves his right hand and uses his fingers to squeeze my nipple while his left hand sweeps down to my butt cheek. I am melting in ecstasy as he fondles me.

Suddenly, Master stops, pushes his hand to the right and opens the door. Inside, I see a small bed. He pushes me inside and I stand by the bed. It not nearly big enough even for me; and it certainly could not hold both of us. The bed is unusually tall; there are circular wooden posts at each corner; the posts have thru-holes drilled at about four inch intervals. The bed has no blanket but is fitted with a sheet.

Master goes to the closet and picks up a small coil of rope. He takes me by the arm and makes me sit on the edge of the bed. He tosses the rope over a beam above the left side of the bed, and then loops it up over a similar beam to the right. That leaves a strand hanging on either side of each beam. Master unties my wrists; he holds onto my shoulder and makes me lay back on the bed. He takes hold of my hips and adjusts my butt just on the edge of the bed. That leaves my head hanging over the other end. The bed is even smaller than I thought. He picks up my right leg, pulls one of the strands hanging from the beam and ties it loosely around my ankle. He pulls up my other ankle and ties it too. He reaches up to the center of the rope directly above me; he pulls from each direction and spreads my legs into a 'V' shape. He ties it off tightly then tightens the knots around my ankles. He goes back to the closet and picks up three short pieces of rope. With the first, he loops it around my neck and ties it off to the frame of the bed. I can lean my head forward but cannot raise my neck off the mattress. He ties a loop around my left wrist, and then he stretches my arm out straight, laying it on the bed with my hand at the side of my hip. He pulls the other end of the rope straight down and ties it to the frame. He takes my other wrist and ties it down just as the first. My arms are pulled downward opposite the rope holding my neck. I look down at my body, lying here bound. My arms, pressed tightly to my side, push my breasts up into two milky mounds. They ripple with every slight twitch I make. He stands and looks over me. I must be blushing but I still love his scrutiny. It is so simple – a few ropes and a few knots, but in just a few short moments he has completely immobilized me and opened me up to his fancies. I want him to yearn for me. I am yearning for him.

Master walks around the bed studying me. He tightens the knot on the rope pulling my legs apart and spreads them just a little bit wider. How meticulous he is; he knows exactly how he wants me positioned. I watch in eager anticipation. He stands behind me and starts stroking the backs of my thighs. I quiver as he rubs me up and down. He runs a finger up the furrow of my wide-spread crack stopping to press it into my pussy. I groan. He alternately tickles my pussy and probes it with his finger. I can hardly endure the sensations. I am trembling all over. He stands straight up, takes his hands and holds the backs of my thighs at my knees. I am ready for him to plummet into me. I have been anticipating this moment. I try to extend my legs even wider as a further enticement. I am about ready to boil over in a surge of fulfillment.

Master steps back. I look up at him. He lets go of my legs. He pulls shut a black cover over the window. Then he walks out and shuts the door. Other than a dim sliver of light under the door, the room is pitch-black.

I am alone and cannot guess why he left me here. He had taken such care to pose me as I am. He deliberately aroused me. He abandoned me. The incongruity confounds my spirit.

***

I hear Master as he walks out. I can tell by the sound that he is on the deck. In a few seconds, that sound stops. Is he gone? Is he standing on the deck? Am I alone – really alone? I would look around but there is not enough light to see. The small patch of light coming up underneath the door is not even a decent night light. I am really alone. Abruptly, I hate being in the woods – alone – and in the dark. I am now isolated in this house. And where is my Master? Why did he leave me here alone? 

It is so quiet in here.

There must be some sound somewhere. What about the birds? What about the crickets? What about the waterfall? I can hear nothing in here. I am drowning in silence. I cannot see anything. I have sunk into an abyss. I am restrained on a bed; my legs are stretched out in a wide 'V' shape. My arms are pulled tightly up against my sides; my breasts bulge up into the air like two splendid hillocks. But I can only sense that because I cannot see it. I am scared.

I am so lonely in here.

I am so aroused. I had wanted Master to have his way with me. I still want him. Where has he gone? I am overcome with pleasure at the prospect of being his slave. Something I never knew existed inside me has been stirred into a flurry of passion. I have become a submissive who has found her Master. But he has left me. I feel so remote. He left me alone in the dark.

It is so dark in here.

It is still afternoon outside. It is sunny. The forest is beautiful. The pond is beautiful. The trails are beautiful. It is all darkness in here, except for the sliver of light emanating from beneath the door.

Maybe this is the 'punishment'. I had been warned that if I was captured I would be subject to 'punishment'. This must be it. I am so frightened in here confined and abandoned.

I had always hated being in the woods at night. It all started when I was a kid. We lived next to a large forest; my brother and I still live in the same old farm house. One night I went for a walk into the woods. I crossed the wooden bridge over the creek that ran between our house and the woods.

Absentmindedly, I wandered around watching the squirrels and butterflies, admiring the trees, feeling the gentle breeze, smelling the flowers and enjoying the grass under my feet. When it occurred to me to notice where I was, I concluded quickly that I was lost. And it was getting dark. I stumbled around, crying and calling out for Mom and Dad.

It got dark very rapidly. I was a dumb kid and I was lost in the woods. I sat by a large tree and looked up in the sky. There was just a sliver of moon and it was so dark around me. I could not see anything. I sat there alone and in the dark. I did not know where to go. I was horrified. Then I heard some sound. Was that Mom and Dad searching for me?

I am jolted out of my daydream. There are footsteps. Yes, there are footsteps walking in the house somewhere. No, wait, wait --- they are coming down the hallway – slowly – steadily. They are heavier than my Master's footsteps. Someone else is in the house. I hear another door swing open and then slam shut. After a couple of steps, the sound stops again.

I am listening intently. There is someone in the house. There is someone in the room across the hall from me. I am laying here prone and utterly powerless. There is someone nearby who is not my Master.

A brief silence is broken by unintelligible mumbling. Maybe he is speaking. But who is he talking to? I remember: I saw two other poles outside just like the one that Master used to guide me here. Are there two more girls secured somewhere in this house? There must be! The house is substantial enough that I might not have seen them. We only went through two rooms; there were many other doors we never entered.

The mumbling stops. It is silent again.

Ack! I nearly jump out of my skin. That sound: it was a whack followed by a girl's shriek. My eyes are wide open, but, of course, I cannot see anything. My heart is racing. I do not want to think of what that sound was; but I know what it is.

I hear another whack and another shriek. No, it cannot be, it cannot be. Please, no, it cannot be. Whack! Shriek! Whoever came into the house is whipping a girl in the room across the hall! I begin to squirm. They are right next door to me. They are just across the hall. A girl is getting a hard pounding and I cannot move.

Whack! Shriek! I hear a girl's voice. It must be her. "I'm sorry Master. Please stop! Master, please stop! I am sorry. I did not mean to displease you," she implores in anguish.

Whack! Shriek! He is punishing her. He is disciplining her. He is adjusting her attitude. He is molding her as his subject. She has to learn a lesson. She has to know her place.

Whack! Shriek! I can hear him shouting at her, "You stupid bitch, don't you dare try to challenge me again."

She whimpers, "Master, please don't beat me anymore. I am so sorry. I did not mean to disappoint you."

Whack! Shriek! He shouts again, "I will stop whipping you when I am satisfied that you have learned your lesson."

Whack! Shriek! I am struggling madly to loosen my bonds. My Master has trussed me well. I cannot move. I can hear her crying out. Tears form in my eyes. I am ashamed that the tears are more in fear for me than they are in empathy for her.

Whack! Shriek! The blows she is taking are severe. I am feeling every one of them. They are grueling for me; I cannot imagine how painful they must be for her.

I stop and listen. It is silent again. It has stopped. I do not hear any more sobbing; maybe he has gagged her. There are the footsteps again. The door slams shut again. It is quiet for a few seconds; then the door on my room opens. I see his silhouette in the doorway. I lay fixed in horror.

He steps inside; he is a bit taller than my Master and broader through the chest and shoulders. He is carrying his coiled whip in his hand. In the light that shines through the door I can see he is dressed as all the others: black shoes, gray pants, no shirt with green vest, black mask. He walks around me and brushes my behind with the shank of his whip.

I am terrified out of my wits. I do not want him to whip me. I want my Master. Where is he? Why does my Master not step into the door and rescue me?

He brushes the shank over my belly and chest; he pokes my breasts lightly. He rubs me under my chin. He puts the shank onto my lips. He holds the whip above my face and brushes the strap over my face. I can almost make out a leer on his face. He lightly lays the strap over my throat as if it were a noose. He is toying with me; I am breathless with angst.

He recoils the whip and examines me. I should be an easy study. I am petrified. He is in control.

He walks back around behind me and stokes my legs softly with the whip shank. He directs it down to my ass and presses the knob onto my asshole. I jerk. He rotates the knob but does not press it inside me. The feeling is extremely uncomfortable but what could I do? I am defenseless.




News Story Ch. 03



What is he going to do? Is he going to lash me? I am longing for my Master. I had thought Master laid me out in this fashion to ravish me – as if we were in the oppressor's dungeon. Now this man is in here with me, holding his whip in his hand. It is probably the whip he had just used to punish the girl in the next room. And now I am next. I suppose that a slave overseer beats his slaves too. Maybe this fits the pattern. Maybe I should just accept that he is going to chastise me.

He stands. He unravels the whip and snaps it twice. I am trembling and I jump with each crack of the whip; I am dreading the inevitable. He swings the whip lightly and the strap just touches my thighs. He walks over by my side; he lays the strap directly over my nipples on my breasts. He gently pulls it over them; that move spawns an incredibly stimulating sensation. Is this what he did to the girl in the other room to diminish her anxiety before the punishment? There is that word again. Am I now at the 'punishment' stage? Is this it?

I look up at him pitifully. He walks around my head, brushing his fingers gently through my hair. He walks out the door slamming it shut.

***

My mind spins.

I am alone again. I am in the dark again. What is happening to me? My Master has spread me open on this little bed and has aroused me to a near explosive level just to quit me before the culmination. This last man has walked around me tormenting me with a potentially savage flagellation just to quit me before the execution. The tension of just being in this room is driving me crazy. Is that the 'punishment'? Are they trying to hurl me into the pit of insanity?

It is quiet. It is dark. I lie there. My mind is bare. I cannot think anymore. I am tired. I am confused. What are they doing to me? Maybe this entire ordeal is the 'punishment'. I get more and more bewildered with every passing moment.

The door opens. I see a form in the doorway. It is my Master. I know it is him. I can smell him. He has a sweet smell; I remember it from when he restrained me. I perk up. I remember it from when he first captured me and latched me to the pole. I remember it from when he ripped the frock off my body and looked at me when I first stood naked before him.

Without hesitating my Master kneels between my legs and buries his face into my pussy. I can feel his tongue probing inside me. That surging feeling comes back quickly. I dip back into that misty haze of intense arousal. He has both of his hands on each of my inner thighs and rubs them gently. He licks my pussy with his tongue flattened on it and pressing firmly. I make a throaty groan with each breath I take.

Master stands and pulls his cock out of his pants. It is hard and long. He guides it into my pussy and gradually penetrates me. My whole body transforms into gelatin. I watch as he thrusts slowly and steadily. I can feel his balls flop against my ass. He leans forward and puts his hands flat on the bed beside me. I lose track of time as his muscle throbs inside me. He reaches up with his right hand and alternately squeezes both of my breasts and pinches my nipples. I desired this and I have reached the apex. He moves his hand between each breast and then up to my throat where he forms a loose choke-hold. His rhythmic motion in and out of me drives me into a near frenzy.

I explode in orgasm. I groan louder through the gag. It is a magnificent moment. The sensation ebbs inside me. I want to wrap my legs around Master but I cannot. I want to hold him but I cannot. I want to serve him and I will. I can feel him inside me; his manhood is considerable. He slowly moves it back and forth inside me. I try to hold him inside me each time he withdraws; then he follows up by burying his cock deeply inside me with every push. I am delirious under his expertise. The delight of the moment waxes throughout my body.

Oh, no! Please no! He pulls out of me. I try to lift my pussy up toward him. It is the only way I can ask him for more. Please do not stop now. I have waited for this for so long. I want more!

My Master strokes his shaft several times and I see a white stream spraying my belly. A little flies almost as far as my breast. I look at the trails of cum that trace across me. He has marked me as his own. He has used his juice to identify me as belonging to him. He stands over me flexing his cock and aiming the last drips of jiz onto my belly. I want to suck his cock but he continues to stand there inflexibly. He has not spoken during this entire day. I want to suck him dry. But my Master has other plans. He shoves his cock back into his pants and slaps my ass sharply.

My Master unties the rope from my neck. He releases both of my ankles and lets my feet back down onto the ground. He unties my wrists. He pulls me up so I am sitting on the edge of the bed. He pulls a frock over my head; it is just like the one I had had on earlier. I love this frock. He binds each of my wrists with a long strap. There is about five inches between my wrists giving me a little bit more freedom of motion – but not much more.

My Master holds his finger to his lips in a 'Shushing' motion. He removes the bridle gag from my mouth. He does not want me to speak; I have to be careful. I do not want a beating like the girl across the hall. I do not want to displease him now. If my Master wants me to do something I will do it with all my heart.

I lick my lips a couple of times; I had worn that gag for most of the afternoon. He pulls me up off the bed. I stand and the frock falls down over my hips just like this morning. I feel so sexy wearing this. My Master looks at me. I like the way he looks at me. I subtly move my hips; I hope he likes that.

My Master snatches a handful of my hair and bends me over so my head is down aside his hip. He pulls me out of the bedroom and down the hall. We walk together that way out the front door and onto the deck. He hurriedly pulls me around the house and down the steps. We stop by the pole he had pushed me with earlier. He re-snugs the belt around my neck and starts pushing me again. I notice that the other poles are gone. I never heard anyone leave the house.

I am both sad and glad to be leaving this house. The torture I had endured had been severe. But the pleasure of absolute submission to my Master had been even more overpowering.

***

I do not know how long I had been in the house. It was starting to get dark outside; we probably only had another hour or so of daylight.

My Master pushes me past the house and on around the pond. I am not sure of exactly where we are, but intuitively I think we are walking deeper into the woods. We are going away from the warehouse. We will not have enough time to get back to the warehouse before dark. My anxiety begins to build again. I did not want to be out here after dark even though I was with my Master. He pushes me to move more quickly. I sense he is watching me as I walk. That would be good. My physique is the only thing I have to influence how he controls me. Undoubtedly, he already knows that and is watching me perform for his gratification.

We walk down alongside a large rocky outcropping. It is getting harder to see because the sun is getting lower in the sky; I cannot see how far this outcropping continues. After a few minutes I see some large green vines growing down over the edge of the outcropping. My Master pulls me to a stop. He aims me to the right and tilts his head toward the vines. He wants me to walk to the vines. What can we do here? I look up at the tangled mass. I can see several cut strands of rope tied eight and nine feet high; he is going to tie me up to the vines – he is going to beat me here. What else could it be? He shoves me into the vines; there is nothing solid behind them.

I poke my head through the vines; I stumble through the jumble of branches and stagger into a small cave. The floor declines downward and away from us and I can see some light coming from the other end. The entire cave is only about fifty feet in length. My Master pushes me forward. I walk down into the cave until I can see outside the other end. There is a flat grassy area. I can see a fire burning about one hundred yards beyond the opening.

My Master pushes me out of the cave onto the grass. I look around. We are in a huge sinkhole. It must be almost an acre in size and is probably twenty-five feet below the surrounding rocks. The large outcropping surrounds the area and shapes a formidable partition around the clearing and away from the rest of the forest. It feels like a fortress; we are isolated here from everything.

The bonfire is just ahead. There are some people there. I can see at least three men dressed just as my Master; black shoes, gray pants, no shirt with a green vest, black mask. They are standing around the fire and appear to be chatting. I can also see four and maybe five girls to the right of the fire. Their necks are tied to stumps. They are on their knees and bent all the way over so that their heads are only inches off the ground.

My Master pushes me toward the fire and the people. I am anxious to get there. This must be a slave camp and my Master is taking me there. The world has gone backward in time almost one thousand years. There are three canvas tents near a few trees on the other side of the fire. There we were: wenches being carried off by our masters. As we get to the fire I can see there are five girls tied to posts. There is one more post; I know who gets that one. I notice two more men walking across the clearing on the opposite side of the fire. So now, the matchup is complete; there are five girls for five men. My Master and I will make it six of each.

I thought back to this morning; I had understood that there would be three girls in the woods today including me. I wonder who the extra girls were. As this day has worn on my mind has been filled with discrepancies and bewildering turns.

My Master makes me kneel at the sixth post. He removes the belt from around my neck and lays the pole aside. He ties the rope connected to the post around my neck. He leaves me there kneeling and with my head almost touching the ground at the post. I dare not move. He gets up, takes the pole and stacks it on a pile of, presumably, five other poles, and then he walks over to the fire.

I watch the men. They are talking amongst themselves. I cannot make out anything they are saying. The few words I can hear sound foreign; it is beginning to get dark now. I cannot make out to much detail now. But I can see red stripes on the back of the second girl over. Maybe she was the one who had been beaten in the other room back in the ranch house. I am still ashamed that I had deserted her in my mind.

I glance out of the corner of my eye. I can make out one of the men walking toward us. I do not think it is my Master. He is carrying a small bowl. He walks toward the girl just next to me. He unties the cord around her neck and snaps his finger. She leans up and back onto her legs. She looks up at him.

The man pulls his cock out of his pants and massages it a few times. He then pushes his cock down into the bowl and coats it with the bowl's contents. He takes the girl's hair and pulls her forward; she envelopes his cock. I watch her suck his dick wrapping her tongue around it from side to side and swallowing the syrupy coating. She slurps on his cock as she cleans every bit of the coating. She takes his cock in as deeply as she can. The man pulls his cock out and coats it again. They repeat this sequence a couple more times.

He must be feeding her. He has a bowl of some soup or sauce and he is feeding her. I had not eaten since early this morning and, suddenly, I am hungry. I look over at my Master. He is talking to one of the other men.

The man drops the bowl on the ground and grabs the girl's hair with both hands. He pumps her hard and breathes very heavily as he drops his load into her mouth – supper and dessert have been served. He removes his cock from her mouth and stows it back into his pants. He pushes the girl down and reties the cord to her neck. He picks up the bowl and walks back to the fire.

I look back at my Master again. I am very hungry. I want to be fed.

Two more men come over and feed their women in the same manner. I am getting very jealous. I want to be fed like a slave. I want to suck some gravy off my Master's cock before he shoots his juice down my throat. Why is he waiting? Why is he teasing me this way? He must know I have not eaten anything today.

I look at my Master one more time. He looks back at me and smirks. He and the remaining men walk over to us girls. The feedings continue.

My Master unties the cord around my throat. He pulls me up onto my knees. He coats his cock with a white gravy-like concoction and pushes it into my mouth.

I begin licking his cock with my tongue. The white goo tastes a bit like oatmeal – the consistency is not the same but it is delicious and I am going to gulp down every bit of it. I push my mouth around his cock as far as I can go and lick every bit of its circumference. I quickly swallow as much as I can. My Master recoats his cock and I go at it again. I make sure to run my tongue along the underside of his cock. I can feel him getting stiffer and bigger. It makes it trickier to reach every spot, but I am trying my best. I want to clean him up thoroughly!

My Master coats his man muscle one more time and lays it on my tongue. I resume the feeding. I make sure that I do not miss a single drop. I almost have him cleaned off again – he drops the bowl. He holds both sides of my head and begins sliding his dick over my tongue.

I try to lick him as he moves in and out. I feel his dick tighten up; it quivers. A warm sticky fluid discharges into my mouth. I begin to swallow. One more stream shoots in and then another. I suck harder trying to pull more juice out of his cock. This was the chance I had wanted a few hours ago! Now I get to try and drain him. I suck all the harder as the drips start to diminish. He pulls his cock out of my mouth. I reach forward with my mouth open; I want to suck him more. But he pushes it back down into his pants. I lick my lips lustily to get the excess cum and meal! He has watched me the whole time.

My Master pushes my head back down and reties my neck to the post. I recline there with the other girls. We have now been nourished and I wonder what is next. It is totally dark; I had not noticed. I did not feel the helpless fear of the dark that had overcome me in the house. My Master was here to protect me. I wonder when we will be pulled into the tents to bed down. I would like for my Master to take me again. I would so love to sleep beside him tonight.

All six men walk back over toward us carrying small bowls again. Do we get to suck more sauce off of their dicks again? They set them down; the bowls are filled with water. I had not had a drink since we had been at the creek. My Master sets the bowl right next to my head and he walks back. The other men do likewise.

I try to drink again, just as before, and have the same difficulty. The girl next to me clears her throat two times to draw my attention. I look at her; she purses her lips like she is sucking on a straw and gets a drink. I try that myself; it works. I look at her, smile and nod. She looks back at the men and then quickly puts her face back down into the water. I look up.

The men walk around to the tents; I see them pick up some blankets. They all walk over toward us again. Something is not right about what I see: they are bringing us blankets. Surely, they do not expect us to sleep out here tonight. They would not do that, would they? I quickly go back to the water bowl and drink up.

My Master walks beside me and lays one blanket on the ground. He pulls my legs out straight and rolls me onto that blanket. He then spreads the other blanket over me. He picks up the empty water dish and turns around. So there it is – they are going to leave us here tonight. The other men are fashioning their ladies in precisely the same manner. We get to literally sleep under the stars tonight. The men walk back to the tents and vanish inside. At least the fire is warm. There we remain laying cozily underneath our blankets. Everyone settles down and I can hear the sounds of the night: the chirps, the croaks, the whistles, the howls, the wails.

***

The thought crosses my mind: Jean, what in the hell are you doing? I think for a second: I was sent to this place to get a story. I have been immersed in this adventure all day and have not given a second thought to my assignment. How could I have been so irresponsible? I had my duty to Mr. Billings; he is the one that writes my paycheck. He has subsidized my adventure today. I pause and look around. The fire is still crackling and its warmth is soothing. I had come to this place today and I was dropped off in the woods and chased by a nameless pursuer. That man who captured me, who bound me, who stripped me, who ravished me, who fed me, who just tucked me in – that man is a few feet away sleeping in a tent. It is a paradox: I had savored the treatment while, at the same time, I had dreaded it – the chase, the capture, the enslavement and all that it entailed. So maybe I really have done my job today. After all, I had a story that I could write for Mr. Billings and the paper; but it was not a story about the 'Man's World' enterprise – it was a story about me and the impact that 'Man's World' had on me. I had found another way of life, another way to escape, and another way to seek out pleasures that had eluded me in the past. Those pleasures might not seem so conventional to the casual observer. I had been that casual observer before this morning. I have now crossed that line and I want more. I have been dragged to the depths of utter fear and lifted up to the heights of giddy joy.

I lay there looking up at the sky. I have been out here in these woods all day and now, evidently, will be here for all night. It had been a wonderful day. I had learned a lot about myself. I had found desires and needs that had been buried deeply inside me. They have all surfaced today and I feel that today has been an extraordinary day. I wonder who my Master really is. He knows me so well. He has controlled my day so exquisitely: it is as if he could read my mind. I do not want to lose him when this day is over. Let me rephrase that, I do not want to lose him when this adventure is over tomorrow. Or will it be the next day? I do not know!

The girl next to me looks around and then turns to me again, and whispers, "My name is Maddie Miller. Who are you?"

I whisper back, "I am Jean Meredith. It is nice to meet you." I smile. "I have never met anyone under these circumstances before."

"Shush. Don't make me laugh. How many other times have you been out here at the camp?"

"This is my first visit ever."

She looks astonished. She goes on, "That's amazing. They wouldn't let me stay overnight on my first visit. No matter, anyway, my dominant is my husband. We visit here a couple of times a year. It's fun. I really enjoy these feedings. What did you think?"

That is strange. "The girl next to you has been beaten. I heard another girl take a whipping today while I was in the woods."

She curls her lip, "There are women who want to be beaten. I'm not one of them. Bondage sex is great. We really get off on that. But we don't get into anything risky. I manage the entire fantasy. Rob, he's my husband, he goes along with everything – it's a thrill for him to tie me up and gag me!"

"I didn't see you in the woods today. I was told there were two other girls released at the same time as me."

"Probably not. We started the day in the warehouse on the sawhorse." That makes me mad; I was supposed to be on that sawhorse. "After that Rob brought me out here for an overnighter. We've done this a couple of times before; I was uneasy at first about overnighting but it's not so bad, once you get used to it."




News Story Ch. 03



"That's really odd. I have spent this entire day in overwhelming fear of being whipped. I was challenged to race through the woods and threatened with 'punishment' if I failed."

"Are you on the 'Surprise Me' option?" I nod yes. "Well, a whipping could happen. You could be spanked. You could be caned. The 'Surprise Me' option opens a lot of possibilities. I have never used it before. I like to write the details for my fantasy. Hey, it's my money! Well, I'm sorry but if you don't mind I think I will get to sleep; today has really worn me out!" She rolls over and snuggles up under her blanket. She did not want to talk to me. 

Her homily does not convince. Her description does not make sense to me. I am here on a journey of discovery; she is here on a short holiday. She is in control; she is managing her condition throughout her day here. Her day has been scripted – mine was filled with unexpected twists and turns. Several times I was on the brink of panic wondering what was going to happen to me – she already knows. To some extent, I am sorry I talked to her; I am sure she is not getting the delight that I have from this place. She is missing something. This place offers her a chance to be a barbarian, a chance to live in a time when relationships were less complex. She did not necessarily need to be beaten, but why not have a fantasy that is written by someone else? I bet her husband could pull a good screenplay together.

Hers is not the story of 'Man's World'. Mine is. Ha! That is funny. I am a commercial for 'Man's World'. I am the testimonial for what they offer to women seeking that special place! Mr. Billings' story might become an advertisement for this place. Hector would probably like that!

I look up at the sky. I see a large bird fly past. He looks majestic floating with the stars as a backdrop. I wonder what is going to happen to me in the morning. I am scared. I am excited.



News Story Ch. 04



I am supposed to be sleeping now. I am supposed to be Jean Meredith, newly hired reporter for the Hemmingsburg Report newspaper. I am supposed to be getting the true story of the 'Man's World' female fantasy enterprise. Who am I now? I am a subservient female; I have no name. What have I been doing? An anonymous tracker has hunted me in the woods for the better part of the morning and then shunted me around the woods for the better part of the afternoon. He has not said a single word all day – not to me. He took me to a house in the woods that was a torture chamber of sorts. He secured me to a bed; he lifted me to the edge of ecstasy then left me just short of realization; he allowed a whip-wielding ruffian to torment me until I was ossified with dread. After that, my captor came back and lifted me to incredible heights of euphoria. When he finished with me there, he then brought me here to this place – a literal hole-in-the-wall. Here is a sinkhole surrounded by high rock walls. It is now the middle of the night and I am out in a forest somewhere behind the 'Man's World' warehouse. I do not know exactly where somewhere is located, just that it is on the property. There are six couples here. Maybe I should not use the term 'couple'. There are six males here; they are all a few yards away sleeping inside tents. They are the managers of this 'campout'. Five females and I are sleeping outside under the stars. We are, to a certain extent, the reluctant participants. Cords tied to each of six posts are secured around each of our necks. A blanket is spread out underneath each of us and we each are covered by another blanket. Feeding time last evening was sucking oatmeal flavored goo off each of our men's cocks. We each drank water from a bowl using only our lips as our hands are bound behind our backs. We females are here living in an escape reality – we have left the world behind and became savages to be tamed.

Other than a brief conversation with the girl lying next to me, I do not know much about the other girls. I presume that they are all in submission in some way to the men. Twice during the day I heard girls being whipped. I can still hear their screams echoing in my mind's ear. I think at least one of those two girls is here now. Maybe the other one is also; I do not know.

I had a short conversation with the one girl. It occurred just after we were fed and watered down for the night. She did not seem to fit here. She was not here to escape into an alternate reality. That is the real value of what they do here. Hector, the proprietor explained the typical profile of the clientele: mostly women looking to be a part of another world.

I did not know anything about that other world before I got here. I had seen and heard a few things before but I never had put one-and-one together. Within the last twenty-four hours, I learned what it was like to be chased, to be captured, to be used. And I found a different fulfillment. I had not intended for it to be this way. But I found the new reality. An alternate world where I could go and feel feelings I had not felt before. There were new sensations. I had never looked up into a man's eyes waiting for him to command me. I had never submitted to a master. This was not a twentieth century thing to do. This had not been at all what I had planned for the day.

So I got my story. It is not the story I thought I was going to get. The story is about a naïve girl who was swept by a tumultuous evolution into a perverse world, an ancient world, a less complicated world. I have been subjugated by a ruffian, a predator, a brigand.

I do not know what will happen with the approaching dawn. I need to go to sleep now. Tomorrow's events are not known to me. I was on the 'Surprise Me' optional treatment and it has been full of surprises so far. I have no reason to think that this upcoming day will be any different.

***

It is dawn. I can hear birds merrily chirping around me. It is sunny and it is very warm; it is much warmer than yesterday. I blink my eyes a few times and try to focus on my surroundings. The fire has burnt down but I can see some white smoke swirling up from the ashes and dissipating into the light breeze. There are some squirrels bounding here and there looking for nuts and seeds that might be lying about.

The girl who was lying next to me last night – she is gone now. Her name was Maddie Miller. I wonder when she left. I did not hear a thing; I must have slept well. I wonder about her though; her husband really needs to bring her here some time and rough her up! She needs to be manhandled! Hector will read about that in my notes.

The girl at the other end of the row is being prepared to leave. She is up on her knees. Her man has the belt that is attached to her pole and is tightening it around her neck. I do not remember seeing her yesterday. I was still confused about that. They had told me there were only two other girls being chased beside me. Anyway, the girl at the end is tall and skinny. She is wearing the same type of frock that I am wearing and it barely covers half of her ass. Her man stands her up. She jumps when he reaches his hand down and grabs hold of her pussy. He fingers her heartily; I see her shut her eyes. He rubs her more vigorously and she begins to rotate her hips; she moans loudly. He abruptly stops, takes hold of the pole and leads her away to the right. The look on her face is astonishment. In just a matter of seconds, they both vanish into a small stand of trees. I notice two bowls lying on the ground near her post.

Behind me and next to my post there are two similar bowls; one is filled with water and the other contains something that looks like granola. I am not sure what it was, but someone who had not been tied to one of these posts set it out – so I decide on the spot to eat it up. This is neither the time nor the place to piss someone off. I had to get these bowls emptied out. What if Master came over here and saw that I had not touched these? Would he be angry? I could not take that chance. I crawl over and dip my face into the granola bowl. It tastes like granola; looks like my guess is right. I chew it up and swallow it down. I move to the water bowl and sip it up just like I had learned last night. It only took a minute or so to clean both bowls. My timing was impeccable.

My Master is walking toward me; he is carrying my pole. I look up at him cautiously. He stacks the two bowls together then unties the cord from my neck. He wraps the belt and snugs it around my neck. He pulls me to my feet; the blanket falls to the ground. My Master shoves a large red ball gag into my mouth and wraps the strap around my head. He picks up the pole with both hands and steers me in the same direction that the tall skinny girl was directed just a few minutes before.

The other three men are standing by the other three girls now and getting them ready to leave. We walk past them. Just as the night before, none of the men are speaking to the girls. I recognize the two girls I had seen the day before in the woods. So they are both here. My Master, just as yesterday, is pushing me briskly as we move out of the campsite.

So now we begin the second day. My Master and I resume marching toward what is for me an unknown destination. Hector had told me before how he researches his clients and matches them up with dominants. Master seems to have an uncanny propensity to tweak me in just the right way and at just the right time – whether it is toward fear or toward joy. I really need to get to know him better; he already knows me.

***

We enter the small stand of trees that the other girl had just been pushed into. The trail is flat. In just a few moments we are surrounded by dense green foliage in every direction. The ground is moister and richer than anywhere I have been in this sinkhole. It must be closer to the water table in this end; all the plants look healthy. This spot looks like a jungle. My Master continues pushing me forward.

We have only been in these trees for five minutes and the trail turns sharply to the right. As soon as we get around the corner I see the tall skinny girl. She is standing tied to a tree; her arms are draped around the tree so closely that her face and chest are hugging the bark. Her man is standing behind her with his hands on her waist. He is moving his hips forward and backward behind her. We walk by them; he has his cock forced into her asshole! She grunts hoarsely behind her gag every stroke he drives into her. My Master goads me on past them without slackening our stride whatsoever. I was spellbound by them. This was so alien to me. I wanted to stay and watch; have I become a voyeur now? Notwithstanding, he pushes me on. I would have to satisfy my prurient instincts some other time.

The trail dips down and alongside the rocky wall. Wide slabs of stone lay over each other to form this trail. The trail inclines upward as we move along. There are deep undercuts in the rock and tiny lizards are scurrying about. After about another one hundred feet the rocks on our right get taller; the trail is now a narrow path with craggy rock walls on either side. The path twists and turns through several iterations of broad s-curves. Finally, it opens out into a circular rotunda about fifty feet in diameter. There is a small opening on the far side.

We are approaching the entrance to another cave. This opening is larger than the cave we used to enter the sinkhole; and there are none of those wretched vines encumbering the way. My Master pushes me into the gap; the floor is smooth and a bit slick. Water is dripping all along the sides of the walls and from the rocky ceiling overhead. It is nippy in here. The path bends back downward now. I feel we are going downhill ever so slightly.

There is a roaring sound up ahead; it must be the waterfall. We walk on just like we have always walked. My Master is pushing me with this large pole and I am moving as directed. At least, I am wearing the frock again; although it was warmer outside, it is quite chilly walking in this cavern. There is quite a bit of light shining up ahead and through an opening on the right. Master guides me into the opening.

The waterfall is immediately to our right. At least, the backside of the waterfall is to our right. I can hardly hear myself think in this thunder. On the far side of the waterfall the rock wall opens up and there is a narrow chasm going outside the cave beyond the fissure.

Master pauses. I look back at him wondering what he wants me to do; he looks at me for a moment. He swings the pole around and shoves me under the waterfall. The torrent almost knocks me over; the water is freezing. The rocky ledge under the falls is so slippery I am afraid I will fall and hang myself with this belt wrapped around my neck. I can feel Master tugging me forward; he is forcing me to walk underneath the waterfall from end to end. I try and plant my feet as firmly as I can with each step. I am being inundated.

Aagh! I slip and twist my ankle slightly. That hurts. Master tugs on the pole. I try to regain my balance but the burden of the water flowing over me is difficult to overcome. I step forward and slip again. My head goes out past the waterfall; for a brief second I can see the grassy plain beyond the waterfall. Master quickly pulls me back underneath the water; I trudge along. It is so cold in this water; I am shivering.

The isolation of simply walking underneath the deluge is incredible. I am fully surrounded on all sides by rapidly gushing water. I have difficulty breathing; I have to keep my head ducked down to keep my nostrils clear. I cannot identify anything of the real world around me other than the occasional tug on my neck strap. The image of the open-air I just saw might have been a hallucination! I have been left alone again.

The water pounds my head and shoulders; I wobble under the pressure. By walking from side to side under the water, the waterfall is still only about ten feet wide; I feel like I have been walking under this water for nearly an hour. In reality, only a few minutes have passed.

Master yanks me forward. At last, I step out of the waterfall. I take two big breaths. Master smirks and pushes me forward up the narrow rift.

How incredible that it has happened again! I have just stood on the precipice; one wrong step or one nasty slip and I could have cracked my skull, I could have broken my arm or leg. My wrists are bound and my neck is secured with a belt attached to a rope. There was little I could have done to protect myself in any predicament. Master was toying with me again. He had the power to hold me on the edge. I had been abandoned in that house up above the waterfall. I was terrified. Then I was left alone to sleep under the stars by the fire. It was a time of deep reflection. Master follows that up by walking through a chamber of brutality that is comprised simply of falling water. Master has drilled his tentacles deeply into my essence!

I look down at myself. I am soaked. The frock clings to me accentuating every nook and cranny on my body! There are two shadows where my nipples press on the cloth; there is a slight depression into my belly button. I can only imagine how my ass might look underneath this wet garment. It undoubtedly leaves little for my Master's imagination as he strides behind me. But why would that matter? Master had pushed me through the forest while I was totally naked yesterday. Yet, the look of a bound woman in figure-hugging wet clothing must create a certain air of eroticism. With that in mind, I try to walk with a provocative cadence all the more.

The forest is enveloping us more with every step. We climb out of the narrow crevice and back onto a dirt trail. I can see the creek a few yards to our right. The rumble of the waterfall has greatly diminished and the sounds of the forest prevail once again. The sun warms me as we walk; my frock is drying out. I bet my hair is a mess. Styling with a waterfall is not an effective beauty technique.

***

That sound I hear! I know that sound! It is a horn. It is the horn that started me off yesterday. It is the start of a chase. There is another chase going on! Master pushes me to go on. He knows that sound also. Maybe he is smiling; I am smiling behind this gag.

The trail becomes more and more monotonous. I take some time to arrange my thoughts. I am beginning to understand my Master. Is that an absurdity? He plucked me from a net dangling from a tree yesterday. He knows how to pique my interest, how to stimulate my fears and how to make my emotions flow. He is imaginative. He has done all this without speaking. What have I done in response? I have submitted to him. I have conducted myself in a sultry manner just to suit him. And the reaction of my body to his touch has been nothing short of magical. We have been matched. Our compatibility has interlocked our personalities as we have walked together.

There is a large spread of daisies between the creek and me. They are beautiful. Master steers me to the right closer to the creek side. There is a grassy ledge jutting out over the creek. Just short of the ledge Master pushes me down to the water. He removes the gag from my mouth and points down; he wants me to drink. Unlike the last time, I drink up. This time I know how to do it. He bends down and takes a few sips.

He stands me up and pushes me over to the ledge; we both sit down. He lays the gag in the grass. Master looks out over the creek and across the way. I wonder what he is thinking. It is nice sitting here. 

A couple of birds flutter through the treetops. A squirrel scurries past us and up a sycamore tree standing near the creek. I hear another one of those plunks in the creek; I cannot ever seem to be looking at one of those when they happen! Then I see a brief flash out of the corner of my eye. I look over beyond the creek. I see it again; there it is. Yes, not 'it', but there she is.

A girl is running through the woods. I do not think she notices us over here. She is hunched over trying to move without detection. She is not succeeding. Was I that indiscreet yesterday? It makes me laugh. Master probably waltzed through the forest following me yesterday while I was struggling to keep myself hidden. My Master is looking toward her also. She stealthily moves past us and out of sight.

Master moves over by me. He pulls the belt from around my neck and lays the pole on the ground. He unbinds my hands. He pushes me back onto my back and grabs both ankles pulling my ass up onto his lap. He then grabs me behind both knees and pushes them up lifting my ass up into the air with my legs spread wide open. He buries his face into my pussy. I moan with delight. He licks and probes me with his meticulous tongue. In no time I am lost in bliss. To have my Master indulge me this way compels me to submit to him all the more. My hips writhe as he stimulates me more and more. I put both of my hands on Master's knees and press my ass up higher still while extending my legs as widely as possible.

Master lowers me back down. He stands and pulls his member out of his pants. I get up on my knees and take his cock in my hand. I begin coyly licking his head. I look up at him. He pulls my hair and lifts my head upward with his right hand and holds his cock in his left. He aims it directly into my mouth; I open wide. He pushes it in and bobs my head twice. I continue to suck him in that same rhythm. I take him into my mouth as far as I can; it gets more arduous as he gets bigger and harder, but I try. 

Master pulls his cock out then pushes my head and neck down to the ground; he moves behind me and rolls my frock up over my ass exposing it in all its glory. I look back at him as he trains his dick on its inbuilt target. He slowly pierces me and I squeal with delight. He places his hands on top of my ass cheeks and pumps me with his member. I feel him as he displaces my insides with his muscle. He starts moving my body back and forth. I get myself into motion; he stops. I bounce onto his belly pushing him deep inside me. Now it is my turn; he has given me more latitude and I am going to take it. I move back as far as I can and start grinding on him. Left and right, around – I move with every gesture I can conceivably make.

But now my turn is over. Master grabs both of my elbows and pulls me back onto him. Then he starts jabbing me hard with his cock. He is pounding me and I am grunting with each hit. There is no slowing down now. He has his cock moving with great dexterity. My pleasure continues to explode and my whole body is submerged in elation. I orgasm, and then do it again. He does not miss a beat. My breasts are bouncing with the rhythm of each of his strokes.

Quickly he pulls his cock out of me. Master rolls me over onto my ass and stands over me. I push my face toward him while leaning on one arm and holding onto his thigh with the other. He points his cock toward me and I open my mouth and wrap my lips around it. I move up and down. I can look directly into his eyes from this angle. He looks down at me as I clean up his dick one more time. I move my tongue on his cock's underside slowly and gently. Finally, I feel the warm juice as it squirts into my mouth. I recognize his taste. This is my second taste of his cum; I know how my Master tastes.

I continue suctioning his member for a few minutes; I must ensure he is drained. I fall back to the ground exhausted. Master gently pushes his cock back into his pants. He says nothing. He does not have to. We are one out here in the woods enjoying each other; I do not want the day to end.

***

I stand as Master rebinds my hands. He has inserted the gag into my mouth. Now he rewraps my throat with the cloth belt on the pole. He pushes as we walk on. The path follows alongside the creek for another hundred yards or so before veering away slightly to the left as the creek turns to the right.




News Story Ch. 04



The bridge I had crossed twice yesterday stands over to my right. I can barely make it out. We must be close to the warehouse. Is this the end of the 'Surprise Me' option scenario? I walk along reluctantly as Master nudges me onward.

The path veers back to the right. We must be almost on top of the warehouse now. I see a bit of off-white behind some shrubs near the trail. I know what that is; it is a slave's frock. A girl is hiding. She is almost in the same place where I had hidden yesterday. I chuckle. I hope I was not so noticeable yesterday.

The warehouse is just ahead. I can see it. We are nearly at the end of the path when I notice the ropes; there are five of them. They are hidden strategically against the trees. It is the trap. How could I not see this yesterday? They are so obvious. This girl will get caught up in the trap; I know they will get her. The rope mesh will pull her off her feet and hang her in the air until her pursuer takes her into custody. Master pushes me out into the clearing and to the warehouse door. He clicks a button on the wall by the door; I hear a loud buzzer inside. He removes the belt from my neck.

The door opens; Hector walks out carrying a long brown robe. He hands it to me, "Put this on." Master disappears into the warehouse. I want to say 'Wait a minute', but I have this gag in my mouth.

I turn around and show Hector my bound wrists. He says, "Oh, I'm sorry – I'm an idiot! Here, let me get those." He removes the cord from my wrists and removes the ball gag.

"Thank you," I say and pull the robe over me.

"So, how was your day?" he asks blandly.

I look at him with some disbelief, "This is going to take a while!"

"Jean, let's go on inside so you can get changed." He points his thumb back to the door. "I imagine you have as many questions as you have comments for me!"

I nod and walk into the warehouse. I had not been inside this building in over twenty-four hours. I had never quite had a more tumultuous twenty-four hour period in all my life.

Hector walks up the stairs ahead of me. I look over the railing; I can see several men and women milling about. There is a camera man – they must be recording a fantasy! How exciting that would be!

Hector says, "Let's step inside for a minute." He points to Room #5. We both walk in. "In just a second I need to run down to the office and bring you some paperwork. While I do that, why don't you go ahead and get dressed."

So why did you come up here, Hector? I say, "Can I ask you something before you go?"

"By all means, shoot."

"Who was my dominant? What is his name? Can I meet him?"

He smiles. "You and he will be introduced before you leave here today. He is in his dressing area now. He's looking forward to talking with you."

"We developed quite a rapport. But he didn't say a word. How did you manage that?"

"Jean, I told you before, we research our subjects in great detail. In my business you have to be a bit of a psychic. Your dominant gave you exactly what you needed in order to achieve the maximum satisfaction at every step of your adventure. If we don't match a dominant and a submissive successfully the fantasy will never even get off the ground. There's no profit in that! Our business thrives on returning customers."

"I notice you didn't have him put me on the sawhorse. I had sort of looked forward to the sawhorse. That was the reason I signed up in the first place."

"Well, we do owe you for that one and I will honor that. Tell you what - I will give you a free return visit to the 'Man's World'. Will that even us up on that oversight?"

"I suppose. I don't know. I'm not sure I would come back." I was lying; I was standing ready to go back out in the woods as we spoke. "Right now, I think I need to focus on writing my story for the paper."

"Of course, but the offer remains open. Anytime you want a ride on the sawhorse, come on back. We will be glad to oblige. Now, if you will excuse me, I will run down to the office and get the paperwork. I will be right back." Hector stands, walks out the door slamming it shut behind him.

My robe drops to the ground. I look at myself in the mirror. This frock does look nice; I am still damn sexy! And I had just spent the last twenty-four hours living as a sultry slut for an unspeaking Master. I relished these two days.

I pulled the frock over my head and started getting dressed. I had worn a simple skirt and blouse. In a few minutes it was back on and I looked like Jean Meredith again. It is odd – I had a short moment of sadness that I was me again. But I like who I am. I just liked who I was for the past two days also. I pulled my panties up last. I wanted to be bare for a few more minutes just to keep that little itch going! It might have been a self-serving moment!

Tap! Tap! Tap! Someone is at the door. Hector must be back with the paperwork. I shout, "Open," and laugh – this is how Mr. Billings would have answered a knock at the door. I am picturing myself as the newspaper's editor-in-chief! I look at the reflection in the mirror and see a figure walk in; it is not Hector. I stand frozen. He is nicely dressed with slacks and a polo shift. He looks like he just stepped out of a fashion catalog. I close my eyes and think back to earlier today. I know who this is; it is my Master!

Somehow I dredge up the courage to speak first, albeit very timidly, "I am Jean Meredith. I have served you for the last twenty-four hours. It was wonderful."

"It is nice to meet you Jean." His voice was pleasant and in a normal conversational tone. I had hoped I would get to hear it. I cannot turn around; I continue to look at him in the reflection. "My name is Brent Adams. I have enjoyed directing you for this fantasy. It was enjoyable for me too. Hector said you had wanted to meet me so I thought I would stop by."

I still cannot turn around to face him. "I am very happy that you have done so. I was really sorry that the fantasy had to come to an end."

"Well, not quite so fast. There is one bit of unfinished business." He looks at my reflection in the mirror and smiles. He walks around me, leans back against the desk standing directly in front of me. He places both of his hands on the edge of the desk. He moves his feet apart by about eighteen inches. "Kneel before me," he commands.

I smile very big – it was an all tooth smile! I drop to my knees and waddle between his feet. I loosen this belt, unzip his pants and pull them down below his knees. I rub his cock still inside his underpants. It is already growing. I pull his underwear down into his sagging pants. His dick swings out right in front of my face. I hold it with my right hand and reach over and lick his balls softly with my tongue. I push his balls from side to side swishing my tongue underneath them. I run my tongue along his cock's underside until reaching the tip; then I swallow it down. I suck him off as passionately as I possibly can. I move slowly. I keep him very wet. I massage him with my tongue. I do whatever I can think of in order to please him. It pays off as he ultimately unloads into my mouth. I swallow and pull on his cock for more.

Brent pushes me away saying, "That's enough of that!" He pulls his clothes back on but leaves his belt unbuckled. He says, "Stand up." I stand; he moves beside me and pushes me up to the desk. With that he takes my shoulders and pushes me down over the desk. I watch him in the mirror. He pulls my skirt up over my waist. He pulls my panties down to my knees. He holds his left hand on the small of my back and removes the leather belt from his pants.

"What are you going to doing?" As if I did not know.

He does not speak. He grabs the end of the belt doubling it up in his right hand. He swings it around and onto my ass.

"Aaagh!" I scream.

He smacks me again and I scream again.

"I am the Master here. There is only one appropriate response by a slave while her Master teaches her."

I softly reply, "I understand, thank you, Master." He slaps me again.

"Aaagh, . . ., thank you, Master."

He swings the belt again onto my bare ass.

"Aaagh!, thank you, Master." My cheeks are stinging and tears form in my eyes. But I am happy. He is spanking me because he loves me. I am truly thankful that he loves me so.

Crack!

"Ooooh!" I breathe hard twice and try to hold back the tears. "Thank you, Master."

He stands and looks over me; I can still see him in the mirror. He says, "That's enough for now. You needed this final little lesson to complete your learning for today. Be aware - we will meet again soon; I will be in contact with you."

"Thank you, Master."

He slides his belt back through his pants loop, latches it up and leaves.

I lay there on the desk for a minute. It had happened so quickly. It was over quickly too. Only four whacks; but he knew how to wield a belt and each one hurt. He had to do it to firmly settle who my boss really is. I understand.

I push myself up and try to stand. I am a little wobbly. I slowly pull my panties back on. My butt throbs from his lashing. This had been a surprise. But it should not have been; it is the 'Surprise Me' option.

Tap! Tap! Tap! It is the door again. I open the door; it is Hector.

"Here are the papers. Have a seat and let's go over them quickly so you can get out of here."

I sit down gingerly.

***

Friday has arrived. Eight days have passed since my trip to 'Man's World' ended. I amble into work and sit at my desk; I do not think I was late. The red light on my phone is blinking. There is a phone message. Is it Brent? Let's see, how does that sequence go again? 0-4-4-#-#. Some mechanical voice inside the phone begins speaking, "There is one message. Message one received on Friday at 8:03 AM." So maybe I was a few minutes late!

"Hi, sis, it's Mark." It is Mark, my brother. "Hey, if you aren't busy tomorrow, I have completed some remodeling on Grandma and Grandpa's old house. I think you would enjoy seeing it. Why don't you come over and we can catch lunch and walk out to the old house. Anyway, call me later. Hope you are doing okay! CLICK."

The mechanical voice comes back, "End of message, press '1' to proceed, press '2' to repeat this message, press '7' to delete message, press '9' to exit." I do not move. Mark never calls me to invite me to lunch. He has been so busy with his Master's Degree work. This is really strange. I wonder what kind of remodeling he is doing on the old house. I wonder where he found the time. No one has lived in the house for fifteen years.

The mechanical voice on the phone repeats its message, "End of message, press '1' to proceed, press '2' to repeat this message, press . . ." I click '9' and the voice replies, "Exiting answering service. Have a nice day!" Great, a machine is wishing me a nice day! I hang up the phone.

Mark is not quite two years older than me. He and I lived together at the farm house until I took this job. Even though it is only twenty minutes or so away from here, I wanted to get out on my own. I think Mark is getting close to marrying his girl. I am not quite sure who his girl is, but he has dropped a few hints that would only come from the mouth of a man getting ready to tie the knot! He never has told me much about his personal life, but I have an intuition about this one!

"Jean" I hear my name. "Jean!" I hear my name again, and the voice is speaking with more insistence. I look up startled; Mary Hammond is standing by my desk.

"Oh, Mary, I am so sorry. I had my mind on my brother. He just left me a strange message."

Mary's face suddenly shows concern, "Oh, no, I hope everything is alright."

"Yes, no one is sick or anything. He just asked me to visit him tomorrow to see a remodeling job. It took me by surprise. This is quite out of character for my brother."

"Okay, good, I'm glad that nothing is wrong. Anyway, Mr. Billings would like to see you for a minute. He is in his office."

"Thanks, Mary, and forgive me for not paying attention."

"No problem." Mary walks back up front.

Mr. Billings wanted to talk about running my story. He must have finished the final read through. This is exciting. I think he really liked the story. I pick up my notebook and scurry to his office. I tap my knuckles on the door.

Mr. Billings shouts, "Open." I had hastily done that once before!

I walk in his office and what I see stuns me; I am flabbergasted. Mr. Billings is sitting in his chair; across from him in a chair in front of his desk is none other than Brent Adams. And I stare directly at him.

"Jean" I hear my name. "Jean!" I hear my name again, and the voice is speaking with more insistence. I look up startled; I really need to pay attention more.

I blurt out, "Yes, Mr. Billings."

He looks at me as if I was crazy. "Jean, Is something wrong?"

I am so flustered. "No, Mr. Billings. Sorry – please go on."

He starts speaking deliberately. "I just wanted to let you know, the story will print in next Friday's edition. You did an outstanding job. Mr. McDougall appreciated your candid assessment of the operation. Personally I liked your dramatic flair. How did you glean your story from the clientele?"

"Thank you, Mr. Billings. Actually, it was quite easy getting the first-hand story." That answer causes Brent to smile – he casually covers his mouth with his hand. A vague answer here is probably appropriate. I can feel my heart throbbing.

"That's all I wanted . . . oh, just a second. Pardon my rudeness. Brent I would like for you to meet Jean Meredith. I hired her just a couple of weeks ago. Jean, this is Brent Adams." Brent stands and gently shakes my hand.

He says, "Mr. Billings. Jean and I have already had the pleasure of meeting." He smiles at me with a gleam in his eye.

"Wonderful." Mr. Billings looks at me. "Brent is our latest new hire. You are no longer the least senior reporter on the staff. Congratulations!" He chuckles. "Brent comes to us as a free-lance writer who is focused on self-help and other such psychological stuff. It's all beyond me, but there is a significant role for people with his talents." You did not have to convince me of that one. Stop that, I tell myself, pay more attention. "We are planning on using Brent for a community question and answer column – people can write in with their questions about life – Brent will provide insights for whatever situation might come up. He will be the male 'Dear Abby' in a way. I am looking forward to his new column."

I reply, "I'm sure Brent will do well. And thank you for the news about the story. I hope it does well. I enjoyed doing the research – I learned a lot." I looked over at Brent. "Nice seeing you again." That is a loaded response if there ever was one.

"Likewise," he says in return and winks.

"Jean, the story is excellent. Good job!" Mr. Billings cracks a smile. I walk out of his office and back to my desk. He had just complimented me on my story, but I am thinking about Brent. This has got to be more that a coincidence. It had to be.

I sit at my desk for the rest of the day hardly moving. I must look like a mannequin sitting so rigidly. I cannot remember what I did today – it is almost quitting time; it is just shy of 5 PM. I do not remember going to lunch. What did I do today? I must have done something. I see some scratchy notes; there are two phone messages that I notated; I filed a follow-up story on the town's financial woes; I started a file on the upcoming high school expansion. I did not remember any of it. This is eerie. All I could think about was Brent and our time in the woods.

I shake my head and stand. I walk out into the hallway. I do not know where I was planning on going. I take a few steps and look into the kitchen. It is cozy. There are a few cabinets, a refrigerator, a microwave and a couple of vending machines. I step inside and sit at one of the tables. No one else is here. And I should not expect anyone else to be here. They are all getting ready to go home.

Brent is a new employee at the paper. That is unbelievable. I had just spent parts of two days with Brent as his personal submissive. It had been an erotic couple of days. I had ridden a roller coaster of emotions. And now I was going to work side by side with Brent. I was incredulous.

I need to go. I stand up. I hear foot steps behind me. A voice speaks, "Hi, Jean." It is Brent. He stands behind me.

I speak docilely. "I was not expecting to see you here today."

"Ah, Jean, it's just another day at work. I think we are both professional enough that we can separate our work lives and our personal lives. What do you think?" He shimmies up against me and puts his hands on my waist.

I nod – probably unconvincingly. We did not have a personal life to speak of. We had been together for parts of two days. Of course, I wanted to pursue more of the personal life part. I really did not know much about him; on the other hand, it seemed that he knew me very well.

"I enjoyed our time in the woods last week. I think we were the only well-matched team out there."

I nod again. It was an amazing time. He led me around without speaking; just think how much more we could do if we actually talked!

"You know, some couples never find that connection. The dominant / submissive lifestyle isn't for everyone. But I felt that we found some enchantment all of our own. I wouldn't mind trying to find some more. I would like to try to find more with you."

I nod one more time, with more enthusiasm this time.

Brent sighs, "This discussion seems to be one sided. I really wish you would talk!"

"I'm sorry. This has been another unusual day for me. I have had a lot of those lately. Last week was special for me too. I started from a zero-knowledge of anything like what we did. It was all so alien to me. But it grew on me. I liked the role I played."

"This is more than a role, Jean. When we are there you assume the identity and actually live the life – it is not a role with a script. Everything I did with you last week was spontaneous except for the no-talking part. That was planned. Otherwise, everything we did was improvised. For example, it was only at the last minute that I decided to camp out with the other couples. Originally I had figured on staying in the house for the night."

"You know what. I looked online at some websites that cater to this sort of stuff. We were fairly tame, weren't we?"

"Not necessarily. The websites are also make-believe. For us it was a reality. We jumped up and flew off into the clouds."

I pause to think for a second. I wanted to go again. The appeal of the moment overwhelms me. His words are almost poetic to me. I want to pursue this some more.

Brent takes his right arm and wraps it around my neck; he pulls my head back against his chest. "Say, my roommate wants us to come see him this weekend. It's only about twenty or thirty minutes away. It will be a weekend similar in nature to the time we spent together last week."

I like that idea and I did not even ask what we were going to do. It would be just like another 'Surprise Me' optional fantasy. "I would love to go."

"Great. It's just after 5 PM now. I will pick you up at around 6:30. We will be spending the weekend. No need to pack anything – your wardrobe will be provided. Will that be okay?"

"Yes. I will be ready."

He loosens his grip on me; he holds my left arm with his hand and smartly slaps my behind with this other hand. He walks away; I hear him walk down the hallway and out of the building. The door clicks behind him and I am left alone.

Oh, my! It is past 5 o'clock. I must get out of here and ready to go. First of all, though, I must call Mark and let him know that I will not be able to have lunch with him. I have a serious date with Brent, my Master. I am sure he will understand.




News Story Ch. 04



***

It is 6:30 and I am at the door waiting for Brent. Bing bong! The doorbell rings out. I open the door. "Hi!" It is Brent! He is wearing jeans and a t-shirt. That is good – I was also in jeans and a t-shirt (I seem to have forgotten to wear a bra – just an oversight, heh, heh!)

He looks at me and raises an eye brow, "Ready to go?"

"Yes." He turns and walks back to his car. I lock up the apartment door and follow him. We hop into his car and buckle up. He backs out of the parking space and heads out to the highway. He drives to the right.

Brent starts off the conversation, "You looked surprised to see me today."

"That's an understatement!"

"I'm sorry for startling you that way. I had hoped to run into you sometime before Billings called me into his office."

Brent is my Master. Why was he apologizing? "May I speak to you freely?"

Brent's face showed a look of concern. "Jean, you are new at this. You need to understand – our dominant-submissive relationship exists only in the context of the adventures wherein we participate. In the so-called real world we are still going to conduct ourselves within their definitions of normal."

"Now you are depressing me."

"I understand your concern. However, on the bright side, we have a weekend ahead of us where we can be who we really are. This is the time we get to be who we wish to be."

Obviously, I do not need to know why he apologized. "I'm sorry for sounding so pathetic. You're right – I am new at this. I appreciate you being here for me."

"Jean, I hope we are getting more out of this than just me as a teacher. A lot of what you have experienced and enjoyed was all your own doing. You are an incredible partner."

I blush (I can feel it), "Thank you for saying that. I feel the same way about you." I lean my head over on his shoulder and place my right hand on his right elbow. "I really want you right now," I whisper.

"I'm glad to hear that. I really want you too."

We sit quietly as he drives along. We are still traveling on the highway south out of town. I am from a town on this highway. "Where are we going?" I inquire.

"We are heading for Pittsfield."

Now that is a surprise! "Pittsfield – that's where I'm from."

"I know. Perhaps you don't know this, but my roommate is Mark, your brother."

I am much more surprised now. I sit back up and look at him. "You and Mark are living at the farm house?"

"Yes. He offered to rent a room out to me after you moved up to Hemmingsburg. We are heading for the farm house now – we will be spending the night there. I hope you won't have a problem with spending the night there with me!"

My mind strips a couple of gears on that. "I . . . uh, well . . . we . . . this is a lot for me to process. Of course, I won't mind spending the night with you! It's almost too good to be true. Actually, it is too good to be true. But that doesn't make all this any less bizarre. There are so many paths crossing over each other in my life – this has got to be more than just a coincidence. What is happening?"

"I promise I had intended to talk about this before we got to the farm house. Mark and I had talked about you. He is concerned for you. He loves you deeply – just as a brother should. He wanted just the right man for his sister and felt like I might meet his standard."

I laugh, "Sounds like he is a doting father more than a brother."

Brent grins, "To some extent, that's true. Mark has seen himself in that role ever since your parents died."

"Yeah, I know. Our parents died in a plane crash about seven years ago. We went through a significant alteration to our lifestyle in the space of a few short days. We both had to grow up in a hurry. I had little time for any social life with the extra duties I picked up around the house."

"That had to be tough on you and Mark."

"It made us both tough. We worked with each other. Mark is a great leader. He is a take-charge kind of guy. He has built up the farm in that last few years into a big business. He has hired a team to operate the farm – he is the manager."

"Yes, I know. Mark is a tremendous business man. He is quite wealthy. He has also set you up with a lucrative trust to live off. You don't have to work for a living but you choose to do so anyway. That is a good indicator of your inner drive for fulfillment."

"I want more out of life."

Mark smiles, "Yes, I know!"

I lean back over on his arm. I reach my right hand down to his crotch. I tickle him through his pants with my fingers.

Mark asks, "What about the grandparents' old house. I understand it is a couple of miles from the farm house and inaccessible from the road. What's the story behind that?"

"Grandma and Grandma's old house sits on a ledge overlooking a broad bend in the creek. The house is large. It used to sit just across the creek from the main road. Fifteen years ago a monsoon rain flooded out the main road so badly that the county elected not to rebuild. They quoted safety concerns about the roadbed and lack of funds to correct the problem. They elected, instead, to rebuild the main road a couple of miles south of the original road. Where it crosses the creek now is one hundred feet over the creek bed – there will be no risk of a washout for the new bridge. That is what happened. Grandpa built the new house that we, that is, you live in now. The old house still exists. The county did remove the old roadbed. Beyond that, most everything else remains intact. Mark has spent a lot of time since then maintaining the site. It was Grandma's favorite spot in the world. It's so peaceful sitting on the porch and listening to the creek gurgle by."

"Your Grandma sounds like a special person."

"Yes, Mark and I were both close to her. He was with her when she died. He promised her that he would look out for me no matter what." I feel a tear of happiness slide down my cheek. "She is a special person."

"I'm glad you feel that way. That makes you special too." Brent really makes me feel special.

I look up at Mark and ask, "Thank you, that is sweet of you . . . By the way, may I ask what we will be doing this weekend?"

"Sure. In fact, we are participating in a group fantasy. Your brother Mark is the main designer and producer of this fantasy."

I think back to the time I caught Mark and his girl, Jenny Ackerman, in a bondage sex scenario in the main bedroom in the farm house. "So, my big brother is still at it!"

Mark asks, "How's that?"

"Oh, nothing really. So what kind of fantasy does he have for us?"

"All I can tell you is that the fantasy is based inside a Mongol harem. You should let your imagination roam on that one!"

"It sounds exciting." It sounds erotically exciting. From what I know of Mongol history, there is no doubt about the pecking order of the male master-female slave relationship.

"Yes. I am excited about this one too. Your brother is a master designer of fantasies. He setup the one you participated in with me at 'Man's World'."

"I knew it!" I exclaim. "You had to have some inside information on me!"

"Indeed! "We are about there – there at the farm house. But I guess I don't need to tell you that; do I?"

"No, I know how to get there!"

Brent drives us down into the valley where our farm house is located. He pulls into the gravel drive. The house sits back from the road about fifty yards. The creek runs along the property to the left of us. Just beyond it there is a large forest. A small wooden footbridge goes over a brook near the house. Back behind the house is a large barn where Mark keeps some of the big farm equipment.

We park by the front door. Brent and I walk into the house and into the kitchen. Mark is sitting at the table. He looks at me and speaks, "Hi, sis, there is tea on the counter. Help yourself!"

I love fresh tea. "Hi Mark. Thanks for the tea."

Mark goes on, "How about you, Brent. Want some tea?"

"Sure, I'll have a glass. Thanks."

We all sit at the kitchen table and sip our tea.

Mark says, "I have the big room ready for you two."

I look at Mark and ask, "How did you know WE would need a room?"

"Ah, come on, sis. I know more about you than you do! And, did you notice, I set the big room up for you. Maybe Brent wants to give you the Jenny Ackerman treatment tonight!"

I look at him in disgust. "You're a pig."

He tries to act offended and responds, "You're a voyeur!"

Brent asks, "What's this about the Jenny Ackerman treatment?"

I respond quickly, "It's nothing - just my brother acting stupid!"

Brent sighs, "Okay. Maybe on of you can clue me in later."

Mark laughs, then looks at Brent and whispers loudly, "Not to worry, the rope and gag are in the bureau."

I slap the back of Mark's head and walk upstairs. I am tired of this and want to get into bed. I hope Brent feels the same way and comes upstairs soon.

When I get to the big room, I notice Mark has laid out a skimpy negligee for me to wear. He thinks of everything; and it is certainly in line with his taste: spaghetti strap, diaphanous, v-neckline plunging to the belly button, open back, ruffles around bottom hem. In no time, I am in the outfit and admiring myself in the mirror. I hear Brent coming up the stairs and jump into bed under the cover. In just a couple of minutes, Brent comes into the room and closes the door. In just a few minutes he, too, has changed wearing a pair of pajama bottoms only.

He pulls the blanket back and sees me in the negligee. The only way I can describe the look on his face: it is the look a girl wants her man to have in this very situation. He smiles, climbs into bed beside me and pulls up the cover over the both of us. He leans over to the nightstand and shuts off the light.

I am content. I am not even thinking about tomorrow. All of the ingredients are here for this to be a splendid night.



News Story Ch. 05



The last two weeks have been unbelievable. I am now on my second fantasy trip. Morning will be here soon and we are going out into the woods again. How ironic! I used to hate to go into the woods. So much has changed in my life in such a short time. It is now the middle of the night and I am curled up in bed with Brent. He did not say a word to me on the day we met or for most of the next day. However, he tied me up, he stripped me, he laid me out on a bondage bed, he pounded me with his cock, he took me 'camping' in the woods then fed me with his dick, he drug me through a waterfall, he ravished me on the grass next to a stream, and finally, after introducing himself to me, he spanked me. The more he did to me, the more I liked it. I liked his control over me. I liked how he directed me. He is asleep now. I am cuddled next to him twirling my fingers on his chest. I sink back into slumber wondering what tomorrow will bring.

***

I slap the alarm clock as it rings: 7:45 AM shines on the screen. Wow! What a night we had. Brent bent me into every position imaginable. He knew how to handle a woman.

It is still dark in the room; the drapes are still closed. I reach over for Brent but he is not in the bed. I sit up, wide awake now, and look around. He walks out of the bathroom.

"Good morning! Hope you slept well," he says.

"Yes, I did, thank you." Today we will be going back into the woods. How much better I thought about that than I had just a couple of weeks ago. We were going on a new adventure. Brent had mentioned Mongol harem. My mind has reeled with all sorts of scenarios relative to how that will play out!

Brent walks past me and to the mirror. He adjusts his outfit. He is wearing faded brown trousers and a baggy white shirt. He has a wide brimmed brown hat sitting on the side of the dresser. His boots are very dark brown leather and lace up the front.

I get out of bed. My negligee is on backwards; it was one of those kinds of nights! Mark has not laid out any clothes for me. Was this an oversight? Brent sees me looking around and says, "Put yesterday's clothes back on. You won't need them for long. You will get dressed out along the trail." That was a relief -- I think it was anyway. Brent was always in control so I am okay with this.

Brent says, "I'm heading down for some breakfast. Come on down as soon as you can. We need to leave within the hour."

"Okay. I'll be right down."

Brent steps out and disappears down the hallway. I take a quick shower and throw my clothes back on. My hair is easy to deal with; I do not wear my hair in some puffy stack. A quick comb down and it is ready to go. I slip into some leather sandals and head downstairs.

Brent and Mark are at the table chomping down bacon and scrambled eggs. It smells delicious. Brent looks up at me coming into the kitchen and charges me, "Fill a plate over there. You should eat up. We have a long day ahead of us."

I walk past Mark as I head for the stove the stove; I say "Good morning big brother. How are you today?"

"I am having a splendid morning, how about you?" he replies cheerfully.

"Great!" And it was a great day. I can only hope that today will be as good as last night!

I pile a plate up with eggs but just one piece of bacon. I tamp it with a paper towel to remove excess grease; I still want to watch my figure! Mark goes over and pours me a glass of milk. We three sit at the table and eat in silence. The chomping and gulping sounds tickle me, but I just sit there and smile to myself. Mark and Brent both look lost in thought.

I finish up my bacon and eggs as Brent stands. He asks Mark, "Are we all set?"

"Yes, we have an outstanding turnout for the weekend. This may be one of my best fantasy adventures ever!" I like the sound of that prospect.

"Great!" Brent looks over to me, "Are you ready?"

"Yes!"

Brent walks by Mark and pats his left shoulder, "See you later." He picks up a back pack by the door and walks out the kitchen door; I follow. We walk down the back steps and turn toward the bridge across the brook.

Brent looks at my feet, "Thanks for wearing the sandals. I forgot to mention those."

"Are they pertinent to where we are going?"

"Yes." I wait for him to elaborate, but he says nothing further about them.

After walking a few more steps he asks, "When was the last time you were at your grandparents' old house?"

"It's been five or six years. I haven't been out there since before I started college. I never found the time. I always worked during the summer and found the time to break away. Sometimes I regret that. I love the spot out there in the woods. Even though I was always afraid of the woods, the house was a sort of refuge for me."

"Mark says the house is big."

"Yes, it is. It is two stories with a loft above that. The rooms are large. The living room, especially, is huge."

We walk across the bridge and onto the trail. I remember it like I was here yesterday. It is an old forest. Up north of here, there used to be a lumber and paper company. They closed up before I was born; the forest has been left untouched by civilization ever since. To the west of the forest is a large badlands of sorts. It is a series of limestone plateaus, rifts, valleys and caves. I have never been there. It is on the other side of the main fork of the big creek and goes on for twenty or thirty miles. Our farm lies east of the forest.

Brent looks around as we walk, as if there is someone he expects to meet out here. He had mentioned before that our adventure this weekend was a group adventure. I should have asked Mark about it. I wonder if he is involved; after all, he designed it.

Brent suddenly observes, "This forest is extraordinary. What marvelous scenery. I should retire out here. One could easily escape the world here!"

"It's not easily accessible. There are no state parks or national forests nearby. It is well of the beaten path. The woodlands are pristine. One could easily get lost in here and survive just on the fruit and vegetation that grows in there."

Brent takes my hand and we interlock fingers. That sends tremors throughout my body. This is a great place to get lost. The serenity was comforting.

We walk into the first clearing. From here we will turn north on the trail up to the house. It is about two miles away. I notice four back packs sitting by some fallen trees at the edge of the clearing. Brent stops and drops his pack alongside of them. He opens it and pulls out a folded white cloth and a wooden block.

He says, "It's time to begin." He looks over at me and orders, "Take off your clothes except for the sandals. Put this on." He throws the white cloth over toward me. I quickly strip down and pick up the cloth. It is a simple cloak. I slip it over my head. It has two openings for arms, one for my head and is straight other than that. The hem runs evenly around my knees. The material is dense weave wool. The garment fits me closely but is still loose.

Brent walks to me saying, "Open your mouth." He has the wooden block; it has a round knob and with an indentation and a square end. There are two straps attached to the end. He pushes the round part into my mouth. My teeth rest in the indentation. Looks like I do not get to ask any more questions! Brent wraps the straps around behind my neck and secures them.

Brent steps behind me and binds my wrists with rope. He wraps another rope around my neck three times then secures it in back. I am tied up again except that this time I am not naked. Nevertheless, I have become a slave again. That would seem to be apt since we are headed for a Mongol harem!

Master ties a leash onto my collar and pulls me westward. This is not right! The house stands north of here. Still, that is the way he is pulling me. He holds the leash in his right hand and I lag behind him. We are going west -- so be it.

***

This is unfamiliar territory for me. I do not remember ever walking through this part of the forest. None of the landmarks are familiar. The ground is getting more rugged; there are more rocks. After another mile or so of this we walk down a steep incline. We must be approaching the big creek. I hear water flowing up ahead.

The creek is wide and the water is flowing briskly. My parents always warned me to keep clear of this area. Sometimes, especially after rain, the creek would be deep and flowing swiftly. It was a dangerous place for a little girl to be. The creek side is muddy gravel and moss. It is slippery here.

Master pulls me to the right alongside the creek. Just ahead is a rope bridge crossing the creek. He walks onto the bridge and, of course, I cooperatively follow behind. The bridge swings as we walk. It is difficult balancing with my hands bound behind my back. The creek is much wider than I imagined. I had only seen it from the bridge that crosses it south of here on the highway. We finally make it across. The path here is much drier; the gravel is looser. It is not any easier to walk.

The trail alongside the creek goes for another hundred yards and ends. To the left there is a gap in the sandstone wall. Master walks through it. It is inclined up. Another fifty feet or so and it opens out onto a flattened area. It is all rocky but there is still a path of sorts winding through it. We walk on. The path dips down and around a large boulder. On the other side I see a large thatch hut. When we approach a man walks out to greet us.

The man is short and broad in the shoulders and the hips. His skin is dark olive. His hair is black and tangled. He sports a shaggy beard. He and Master talk briefly. I cannot hear the conversation but they appear to be haggling. They both take glances back in my direction as they speak. Master walks toward me; he pulls my robe up and over my shoulders exposing me to the other man. He walks around me, inspecting me. Master drops the robe back down. They resume haggling. Then the man walks back into the hut.

In a few seconds, he walks back out with a small pouch. He shakes it; it jingles like it was full of coins. He hands it to Master. Master opens it up and looks into it. He says something to the man, and then closes the pouch and sticks it into his belt.

Master walks back to me and looks at me sternly, "You have just been sold to this man; his name is Gernskess. His runs a slave station in the camp just ahead. We will be parting now; Gernskess will be taking you to the camp." With that, Master turned and walked back the way we came. I turned to look at him, but Gernskess takes ahold of my leash and jerks me around. This is an unexpected turn. But I had been surprised before. I had girded myself for more surprises. I am determined to take them in stride.

Gernskess walks past the hut and around another large boulder. There are some trees up ahead. When we get around the boulder I see six tents in a large clearing. There are at least a dozen men milling about. Gernskess directs me into the first tent; it is the largest tent. Inside we walk into a small vestibule; there is a large drape that hides the rest of the tent.

This fantasy has developed into quite an extravaganza. The scope of what is happening is greater than I ever expected. I suddenly get a chill questioning how my brother was able to put this fantasy together -- for just the few minutes I have been here it seems to be an incredible logistical production. I have already been bartered to some guy who hangs out in an old hut. I wonder what is next!

Gernskess claps his hands twice; a woman walks from behind a curtain to the far left. She is dressed from head to toe in a flowing gray robe. Gernskess points to me; she takes hold of the leash and pulls me toward where she came. We go past the curtain and enter a larger section of the tent. The lighting is dim in here. There are four naked girls seated on the far side of the room. I recognize one of the girls; it is Jenny Ackerman. How did she make it into my fantasy? The girls are gagged with the same wooden gag I bear; their ankles are shackled. There are two open sets of shackles; I imagine one set is meant for me.

Another woman dressed in red appears from behind a small black curtain to my right. She gently holds my arm and escorts me behind that curtain. This room has a large tub and a desk filled with jars and bottles. There is another slave girl back here being prepared by a second woman wearing an orange robe. She steps away from that slave girl and joins with my escort to disconnect my leash, unbind my wrists and remove my robe.

My first stop is in the tub. The water is warm. The ladies bathe me with a soft soap. The bath is very thorough; they do not miss a spot. They douse my hair and wash it. The shampoo smells of coconut. They pull me out of the tub and pat me dry with towels; then they dust me with a sweetly smelling powder. They seat me in a wooden stool.

My second stop is for hair. One of the ladies strokes my hair with an ancient looking brush of sorts; it scratches my scalp. She drips a lotion onto my head and rubs it into my hair and my scalp. Then she wraps my hair into a bun on top of my head.

Next stop is at the table. They sprinkle me with a perfume; it smells of vanilla. One of the ladies touches up my eyes, lips and cheeks with makeup. There is no mirror for me to review their handiwork. The other lady dabs some rouge around my nipples. They both then rub down my entire body with a light lotion; they rub me from head to toe. Even in this light their preparations make my skin glisten, but it does not feel greasy.

The ladies both look at me and giggle. I am not sure if they are pleased with their work or if they are simply amused. I wish I had a mirror! They pull me and the other slave girl back to the curtain and have us join the other four girls in the ankle shackles.

Once we are seated, the woman who took me from Gernskess stands in front of us and spoke. English is not her first language; her speech is stiff and emotionless, "Good morning ladies. Welcome to my camp. My name is Jasmine. Soon we walk to platform -- there is slave sale. Men are buying -- you for sale. Please be agreeable. The men no like trouble from slaves. Most important: walk like slave -- it bring a high price. We need money!" She laughs and walks back outside.

I look over at the other girls; two of them are in tears, Jenny looks calm, I cannot determine much about the other girls. Their makeup jobs look pretty good; it appears to subtly enhance the feminine features of each girl. The other five do have their hair wrapped up into buns on top of their heads. I am not sure as to the significance of that.

I hear a bell ring twice. There is some commotion outside.

***

Jasmine walks back into our compartment. "Slaves, time to go." The two ladies who prepped us come from behind the curtain. They go to the girl on the other end, remove her shackles, bind her wrists and attach a short cord to her collar. They repeat that with the second girl but attach her neck cord to the first girl then tie another cord to attach to the girl behind her. They continue in turn; Jenny is third in line. They get to me and attach my collar to the cord from the fifth girl in line. Jasmine says, "Follow me please." She grabs the arm of the first girl and leads the train through the curtain and back outside.

Gernskess meets us outside the tent; he turns and walks toward the other tents. Jasmine leads us to follow behind him. We walk to the other end of the camp beyond the tents. Standing before us is a wooden platform; there are probably twenty men standing beyond it. They are dressed similarly with dark trousers, loose white shirts, boots and some have hats. Jasmine lines us up on the back side of the platform away from the audience and directs us to kneel. We must be quite a sight for those men -- bound, gagged and naked.

This whole thing boggles my mind. At 'Man's World' fantasy compound my fantasy was fairly simple. The complexity of what my brother has designed for us here is remarkable! I am enjoying this -- I am finding it easy to submerge into this fantasy. I wonder what my Master is doing.

The men in the crowd get rowdy; they begin yelling and pointing toward us. Gernskess walks up on the platform and waves at them; he shouts something and they quiet down. Jasmine walks up on the platform behind Gernskess and in front of the first girl. She releases her collar and pulls her to her feet. They walk up beside Gernskess. The men cheer.

Gernskess speaks; apparently the auction begins. Gernskess points to the woman; Jasmine reaches over and slaps one of the girl's breasts. She then turns her around and bends her over. Gernskess reaches over and spreads her ass cheeks apart to give the men a good view of her resources. They all sound approving of what they see. Jasmine has the girl stand again. She whispers to the girl who then begins to dance. She gyrates her hips and rotates. She shakes her shoulders and her breasts jiggle. The men look on approvingly; I hear a few catcalls. Gernskess shouts a command and the men begin bidding. The sale moves along swiftly; there appears to be several men bidding for this girl. The bids slow down and finally Gernskess makes a gesture and a modest cheer goes up. The winning bidder steps up to the stage and hands Gernskess a hand full of coins. He counts them carefully and shouts out "Yah". The winner pulls the girl off the platform and has her kneel in front of the platform. The auction continues.

The next sale proceeds identically. The girl is pulled from the stage and is set down in front of the platform. The same man has bought the first two girls. Jenny Ackerman is next.

When Jasmine whispers to her, Jenny begins dancing and becomes an instant hit with the men. She looks like she has experience dancing at a sale. Even Gernskess appreciates her artistry. When the bidding starts, the action is must more energetic. It looks like she is going to draw a good price. When the bidding finally stops, a tall muscular man walks up to the stage. He hands Gernskess a bulging pouch of coins. Gernskess shakes the bag and laughs. The winner pulls Jenny onto his shoulder and turns to the crowd. A large cheer goes up. He slaps her ass cheek sharply. She looks around; he carries her through the middle of the crowd. The men in the crowd grope her as he passes through them. They eventually disappear behind some trees beyond the men.

The sale of the next two girls does not go as well. They are the ones who had been crying in the tent. They do not cooperate with Jasmine. Eventually, Gernskess has to pull them around by holding onto the bun of hair on their heads. I am sure Gernskess and Jasmine knew how to deal with uncooperative slave girls. The bidding for the first one goes quickly. She is pulled off the stage and thrown down at the foot of the platform. The bidding for the other girl goes quickly also. She resists as she is pulled off the stage; her buyer drags her back into the trees. In just a few seconds I hear the snap of a whip and an agonizing (muddled) scream. The men in the crowd cheer. Slave sales are not a time or place to try and make a point! She finds this out the hard way. The whipping continues for about a dozen strokes, and then it is done.

I am the last girl for sale. I think I am ready for display. I walk provocatively to the front. Jasmine twirls me and bends me over. I feel it as they spread my cheeks apart and show the men. They whistle in appreciation. Jasmine whispers to me, "Entertain the men!" I begin to dance; I spin around so that they can watch my ass then I move it forward and backward as if I were grinding one of them. I can tell by the cheers that they enjoy the show. Gernskess starts the bidding. It seems to be hearty. Finally, Gernskess cuts it off and a winner approaches the platform. He is broad and dark. He has a moustache but no beard. He swings me up over his shoulder, just like Jenny. He carries me through the crowd and they indulge themselves by grabbing and pinching whatever parts of my body they can reach.




News Story Ch. 05



Once we are passed the crowd we enter another group of small tents. My buyer takes into one of them. He lays me down. Several dozen large pillows line the floor covering it from end to end. My buyer latches the tent flap shut. The lighting inside the tent is dim but not so dim that we cannot see each other. He drops his robe to the ground and pulls off the short pants he wears beneath it. His member is long and dangling; it looks inviting. He approaches me; he unties my wrists and removes the gag from my mouth. It has been a long time since I could wet my lips.

I decide not to wait for directions. One girl here has already been whipped. I roll up onto my knees and crawl to him. I begin licking his shaft as it hangs before me. Slowly it begins to stiffen; I am relieved -- I did not want to be the victim of his wrath. I pick his cock up and slide my mouth around it. I stroke it; it quickly straightens out and gets much harder. He steps around me then sits on a stool that stands in the middle of the pillows. I am thinking he wants to be seated as I suck him; rather, he pulls me over to sit on his lap straddling him with my legs. He wraps his left arm around my waist and pushes his right hand down between my wide-spread butt cheeks underneath me; he fondles my pussy with his fingers from the rear. I gasp with delight!

He leans back with me on his lap; he reaches his hand to propel his cock into my pussy. Then he rocks me up and down. At this point I have my arms on his shoulders and I bounce up and down as far and as hard as I can. I have never been taken in this position before! It is most pleasing! His cock is rock hard too! And his stamina is beyond belief. He rocks me in that one position for a long time.

Suddenly, he wraps both his hands around my ass and stands up holding me latched onto his dick. He starts me bouncing again up and down onto his stiffness while he stands there holding me. I am giddy. I repeatedly utter blissful moans as he slides me along his dick. I start getting shriller as his strokes fuel my emotions. At long last, and I do not know how long it was, his cock twinges and I feel his warm juice filling me inside. He groans deeply with each shot.

He gently lays me down on the pillows and withdraws his member from me. I lean forward and take it into my mouth and gently lap it with my tongue. He allows me to do that for several more minutes. With much reluctance on my part, he stands and pulls his shorts and his robe back on. He re-ties my wrists and puts the gag back into my mouth. This has been an astonishing ride I will not soon forget.

***

My buyer pulls me by my arm, unlatches the tent flap and we return to the outside world. The other five girls are out here with three men; they hardly take notice of our appearance. The men take up three wooden shafts. These shafts are about four feet long having two round shafts sticking out of each end in a narrow V-shape. The men move Jenny and me between one of these shafts; Jenny's head is placed with the back of her neck in the base of the 'V' and the round shafts resting on her shoulder -- a rope is secured around her throat holding her in place. I am pushed around with the front of my neck pushed into the 'V' on the other end of the long shaft; a rope secures the back side of my neck. The other four girls are fixed into the other two shafts exactly as we are.

Our trek out of the camp begins. A man leads out motioning one set of girls to follow. Another man then moves out behind them and motioning for Jenny and me to follow him. My buyer walks behind me. The last set of girls falls into line and the last man brings up the rear. We walk northward out of the camp. I am behind Jenny Ackerman, the girl who I accidently saw being harried by my brother so many years ago, and I watch her as she walks.

Jenny was a cheerleader back in high school. She still looked the part. Her skin is milky white and smooth. She is totally blemish-free and I doubt if she has a single hair on her body anywhere but her scalp. Her hair is dark, dark brown, long and straight. I would be lying if I said I was not jealous! She has a perfect figure and walks like a temptress. It is no wonder my brother has enjoyed being with her.

The path starts out as a rut worn in the rock. We veer somewhat eastward and the trail begins to dip down. Ahead I see trees. We walk back into the forest once more. As much as I enjoyed my encounter with the man who bought me back at the slave sale, I still miss my Master. I wish he was here conducting me through the forest. The trail flattens out now and we continue walking along a little more effortlessly. This is a new and different feeling being bound with these sticks on our shoulders and the shaft between us.

We wind through the trees trudging on to our next destination. I wonder where that might be. I glance around when I can; we must be quite an interesting looking wagon train lined up as we are! Six naked girls yoked onto three halters being herded through the forest by four men.

I hear the sound of water getting louder. The path bends around along the big creek at a rapid. The water splashes over the rocks. The man in front walks past most of the rapid to a calmer section; he leads the first girl set across the water. The girls walk tentatively; the footing appears to be quite slippery. The second man steps into the water; Jenny and I follow in. It is difficult finding a place to step. The water is cold and moving quickly. I hear a loud splash behind me. I crane back; it looks like one of the girls behind me went down on one knee. She must have slipped. The man at the end takes a switch off his belt and slaps the back of her thigh. He yells at her and points toward the rest of us. She struggles but finally stands and begins moving again. My buyer pushes my back prodding me to pay attention and get across the creek.

Jenny gets to the bank and pulls me up behind her. In a few seconds we are all out of the water and moving back into the woods. The trail is narrow and winding. The pathway is going back up again.

The trees are dense and the underbrush scratches our legs as we walk. I am guessing that we are heading in the direction of my grandparents' house. I know we are going back in that general direction. I begin to see some pattern to the tree growth. We must be back in a portion of the woods that was cultivated by the lumber company so many years ago. Suddenly, we walk onto a broad grassy path. It is the old roadbed. We must be close to the old house! I can hardly wait.

Every now and then I see a broken piece of asphalt. The county road crew had come through here at one time removing the washed out portions of the road. But the roadway that had not been damaged was left. The overgrowth has broken it up. The roadway had been narrow -- a one lane road winding through some rocky outcroppings. We follow along the road bed heading east. We will be to the old house soon.

The sun shines on us here on the old roadway. I like the warmth. We have spent most of the day on the hot, dusty rocks or along the chilly creek bed. It seems just right now.

I see the rocky ledge ahead but what I see on top of that ledge is incredible. The old house has been remodeled! Do you suppose my brother is responsible for this? It no longer looks like a farm house. The structure we are approaching looks like an ornate Mid-Eastern mosque. There are spires on each corner. The porch is lined with evenly spaced archways and the entire structure is a golden brown color. There is a large black wrought iron fence surrounding the grounds. The house is huge! It is bigger than I remember. Mark has remodeled the entire house. We are about to enter the Mongol harem that Brent had mentioned yesterday! We have been transported to the remote central plains of Asia!

***

Someone is standing at the foot of the back stairs. Those stairs go up to a large room on the northwest corner on the back side of the house. Our group walks toward those stairs and the person. The person looks to be a female but I cannot quite make her out. The gate through the fence is just past the foot of the stairs. As we approach, I recognize the woman on the stairs -- she is Jasmine. How did she get here so quickly? She was still at the camp when we left!

Jasmine opens the gate and shouts, "This way. Leave the tools here by the fence." She points at the wooden shafts between our necks. The men remove the ropes from our necks and our hands. The gags are removed.

Jasmine notes that every girl has been freed. She barks, "Follow me. Quickly, slaves!" She runs up the stairs. We all follow. She ducks into what was the main room. I walk through the door and look around -- it looks like a large dressing room. There are several chairs and three racks containing all manner of garments.

Jasmine stands in the middle of the room and says, "Sit here now. All of you!" We all sit on the rug in the middle of the room. She continues, "Stay here. I be back, then we begin." She walks out the door leading into the house and I hear her lock the door. We sit and look at each other.

Jenny moves over beside me and says, "Hi, Jean!" She sounds cheerful.

"Hi Jenny, I'm a little surprised to be meeting you here."

She looks astonished, "Why would me being here surprise you?"

"I didn't know you would be in to these kinds of fantasies."

"Au contraire! Mark and I have been bondage sex partners for several years now. I'm surprised you didn't know. Don't you and Mark ever talk?"

"Yes, but 'bondage sex' is not a topic we typically discuss."

Jenny laughs. "Yeah, you're probably right. Mark is wonderful. I never really paid any attention to him while we were in high school. He seemed so aloof. But now, he has taken charge of me. I can't imagine how I would have survived without him."

"Mark is an exceptional fellow. I brag about him all the time."

"I know Brent too. He is an outstanding person in his own right. I have admired him from afar. You are lucky that he decided to team up with you. He would have succeeded taming any woman he chose."

"I don't feel like I've been tamed. He and I are linked. He is a master and I am a slave. The relationship works out well for both of us."

"Jean, you sound so technical. Let me ask you: how many times has Brent hung you from a tree limb and whipped you hard?"

"Well, that hasn't happened. He did spank me once."

"Jean, Jean, Jean, you have so much to learn. I normally get spanked once or twice on all of my adventures. Really, I'm surprised Brent hasn't hung you somewhere and lashed you good. I imagine he will take care of that before too much longer. He is too good to make an oversight like that. Just for reference, Mark has bound me and whipped me three times -- he has let three other men whip me three other times. Brent was one of those three. This is over the last four or five years that we have been together. If you are the type who gets off being the slave -- it's going to happen."

"I'm not so sure. He's had opportunity already."

"Jean, it will happen when you least expect it. That's part of the mentality of these events. It's always the 'Surprise Me' option -- every time out!"

How did she know about the 'Surprise Me' option? My story had not printed yet. There would only be one other way. "So, you've heard of 'Man's World'?"

"Duh, yeah, this is a part of 'Man's World'. Or didn't you know?"

"Know what?"

"Mark and Hector are in business together. This house and this forest are a de facto extension of the 'Man's World' empire. Today, you are in the inaugural fantasy and the 'Surprise Me' option was selected automatically."

"No, I didn't know that." I wonder why my Master had not explained that to me.

"Mark hasn't told me a thing about this. It's been pleasant so far, but I think it will become more intense once we find out what we are doing here in the house. I know there has been a massive remodeling project going on!"

I had known that too. Mark had invited to see it. I declined to be with my Master on a fantasy which just happens to be here also! "I don't know anything about it either. It's a surprise!"

Jenny grunts. "Yeah, I get it." We look back behind us. Jasmine comes back into the room.

She says, "Slaves, rack one has clothes. You must dress quickly. You entertain the men at dinner. You serve, you clean, you serve more, then men will take you, then you please." Those were pretty straightforward directions -- it was going to be an orgy at a Mongol harem.

We all stand and go to Rack One. Jasmine pulls hangers off the rack and hand them to each of us. I receive a long pink silky harem outfit. The material is diaphanous throughout.

Jasmine shouts out, "Do not dress. Go to sink, we will fix hair." Really? My hair had been wadded up in a bun all day -- I doubt that much could be done with it. I get to the sink first.

Jasmine has me sit on the bench. She takes my hair down and sprays it with a milky yellow fluid; she combs it out. She walks to another rack just behind me and pulls off a tiara; it matches the color of my outfit. She fits it on my head and pulls hair through it in several places. Jasmine looks at me and says, "Done. Now go dress."

The harem outfit has a pair of long slacks slit between the legs, a short skirt and a small vest. I pull the slacks on followed by the skirt. The skirt does not cover my ass; the slacks fold together when I stand, but they can be easily and quickly parted for quick access. I put on the vest -- it just wraps a little over halfway around me. My breasts will be exposed completely -- most of the rest of me will merely be exposed through the flimsy fabric. I take my sandals off. A good slave will always be barefoot -- it is one less thing of contention for the customer!

Jenny steps by my side and whispers, "The costume looks great! You make a good looking slave! Just remember, that vest can be ripped off quickly in the event a whipping is in order!"

I smile and sarcastically reply, "Thanks for reminding me of that."

"Anything I can do to help!" She walks over to Jasmine at the sink.

I stand over in the corner in front of the mirror. I model myself. Not bad, I think to myself. This thing shows the customer what he is going to get and that access is easy. What more would a master want? I laugh at myself for being so smug.

***

In only a few minutes, everyone is dressed and we are ready to go to the orgy. Jasmine leads us out into the hallway. It is long running the length of the house. It looks like she is taking us to the end; that would lead us to the stairs going down to the kitchen. Perhaps one of those 'serve' items she had told us about earlier was to serve up food. I had assumed it meant to serve up our bodies.

We all go down the stairs and into the kitchen. A long wooden table holds several large bowls filled with food: vegetables, fruit, rolls, jams and spreads.

Jasmine orders, "Take a bowl!" Five of us pick up food bowls; Jenny is on the end and she gets the tray of silverware. Jasmine says, "Follow me. Quietly slaves."

We walk out and into the main room in the center of the main floor. It is opulent. The walls are draped with purple and red tapestries. There are low-flung couches spread at even intervals around the walls. There are two large chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling; they are both fitted when dozens of burning candles that light up the room. There is a balcony going around the room and I make out several doors. A long low table stretches across the middle of the room. The table is surrounded with gold pillows. There are six men sitting on some of them in a group having a discussion. My heart races; in addition to our four escorts I see Mark and my Master! I am so glad they are here!

Jasmine looks at us and says, "Set bowls on table. Serve the men." I have a bowl of fruit. I set it down and pick up some oranges and bananas. I walk to the men, kneel and hold them out in an offering. There are a few takers including my Master who takes an orange. I smile discreetly. He makes no response to me. Jasmine looks around and leaves the room.

The men move to the table and sit on the pillows. We slaves mill about them trying to keep them supplied with food. I can hear music from somewhere; it has an Asiatic sound and makes me want to sway. So I sway! The men enjoy their meal. They eat and talk and laugh. Their language is not familiar to me. I had no idea Mark knew another language.

Jasmine steps back into the room carrying a tray of pitchers. She serves each man with a pitcher. The men drink up the contents; it looks like a purplish-bluish liquid. They gesture at each other in their approval.

Jenny stands next to me holding an empty bowl. She whispers, "I see you swishing your hips -- no fair -- none of us can do that like you can."

I purse my lips and walk past her. But I do make sure my hips are swaying in a most suggestive fashion. It makes me feel good that Jenny might be jealous of me.

We have served up all the food and drinks. We walk around the perimeter of the table as the men partake. Jasmine brings out large biscuits filled with a shredded meat and green vegetables. She gives each girl one. When she gets to me she says, "Eat fast. Men will be ready for treats soon." I chomped down into the biscuit and found it to be quite tasty. The meat is spicy; the biscuit is moist and buttery tasting. It chews easily and tastes great. I watch the men as I eat. They are oblivious to us as they eat and talk. They laugh heartily. The meal is light; I do not know what they are drinking or its impact on their senses or their libidos. I am sure I will be finding that out in a short time.

The conversation begins to die down. The men relax and look around; they look for us. A man opposite us took hold of one of the girl's arms and drops her into his lap. The other men laugh. He puts his right arm around her waist, his left around her neck; he pulls her head up and kisses her fervently. Her legs angle up into the air with her feet dangling. I am hypnotized as I watch him. He moves his right hand down and massages her thighs. She wraps her arms around him and surrenders herself.

A hand taking hold of my arm awakens me from my trance. I look around and see my buyer leering at me. He pulls me down to the floor where he makes me lay with my back on the table; my head hangs over the side. I brace my feet on the floor with my knees spread for balance (and maybe to look more inviting). The vest falls away and I bring my arms to my side to help push my breasts up. I am ready for him to fondle me. Instead, he picks up a bowl of berry jam and a spoon. He dips some out and smears it onto my right nipple. He takes another spoonful and smears it onto the other one. Then he takes a small grape and tucks it into my belly button. He sets the bowl back on the table. He hollers something to the other men; they point toward the buyer and laugh. He puts his arm around my waist and leans his head down. He pinches my breast between his thumb and index finger; then he begins licking the jam off my tit. His tongue feels like sandpaper as he rubs the tip of my nipple. He sweeps his tongue around it and cleans the jam off my skin. He wraps his lips around and suctions my skin. He moves away and inspects -- the jam is gone. He moves to the other breast and begins licking there. I have never had this done to me before; the eroticism engulfs me. He scratches me with his tongue as he cleans this tit. I feel the suction as he pulls the jam off my skin. I close my eyes while works me over. When that tit is done he moves down to my belly. Using only his tongue and lips, he disengages the grape from my belly button. He holds it between his teeth and shows the other men; they cheer in approval. By this time they have all snatched a girl and are doing their business with them. My buyer sits up and gets another bowl; this one contains cream. I lean my head up to watch. He takes a brush out of the bowl and he dribbles the cream onto my pussy lips. I move my legs open wider. He brushes me with the cream until I am greasy. He sets that bowl down. He moves around and sticks his face between my legs. He laps the cream off my skin and drives me deeper into bliss. I sink into a haze as he continues to scour me. The cream is sticky and he has to work to get it off me. I do not mind at all.




News Story Ch. 05



I look around; Mark is pushing his cock into one of the girls that had been crying at the slave sale earlier today. Brent has one of the girls sucking his dick. He holds her hair and bobs her head back and forth. Jenny is standing bent over at the waist; her man is holding her hands straight back and pushing his cock into her -- her breasts ripple with every stroke of his cock.

I am being rolled over to my belly. It is my buyer. I am up on my knees with my elbows on the table. He is at my face and offers his cock; I take it into my mouth and begin rocking back and forth sliding my tongue all over it. He has a very hard cock. He leans back with his hands on his hips. He does not let me suck him very long before he gets up and steps over the table; he is behind me now. He pushes his cock into my pussy and begins to stroke me vigorously. I look behind me and watch him cycle his member into me. The sensations surging through me are unbelievable. I close my eyes and droop my head down. I am going to enjoy his pumps.

He puts his hands on my hips and speeds his delivery just a little. Unexpectedly, someone pulls my head up by my hair. I glance up; it is my Master. I smile; I am so glad to see him. I glance down; he is holding his cock in his hand. He moves it forward and puts it into my mouth. I am sucking and being pricked at the same time. This is another first for me. I love sucking my Master's dick. I caress his cock with my tongue while my buyer continues to pound me from behind. I now have no idea what else is going on in the room but I really do not care. This is phenomenal.

My buyer pulls his cock out of me and squirts his jiz over my back. My Master holds my hair and pumps his cock into my mouth while this is happening. My buyer slaps my ass (at least, I think it is my buyer -- I am in no position to verify that). My Master's cock starts trembling and I can taste his cum shooting into my mouth. I pull out as much as I can get; I swallow. Master pulls his cock out of my mouth. I see some more cum dripping from its tip; I stretch my tongue out to catch it. I want it all in my mouth.

Master stands up. I look around. There are only two other girls in the room who are still being screwed fiercely by their men. Jenny is not here either; and my brother is gone. Even my buyer has disappeared. I was must really have been in a daze. I look up at Master; he looks down at me and says, "Time to get up. We need to go to bed." That is the command I wanted to hear!

***

Master walks up one of the two large staircases that go up to the balcony. I follow him. We walk past two doors and enter the third. It is a large bedroom. There is a bureau to our right with a wide and short candle providing the room with its only light. We walk by the queen size bed. Master pushes me down onto it; he reaches down behind the head and pulls up a rope and collar. He ties the collar around my neck. He lays the sheet over me.

Master looks down at me and says, "I will see you in the morning." He hurriedly walks out of the room and shuts the door behind him. I lay there stunned and very disappointed. In about ten minutes, the door opens. Another man walks in with Jenny tagging along behind him. He lays her on the other side of the bed and attaches another collar to her same as me. He leaves just as quickly as Master did.

I lay there pouting. Jenny looks over at me and says, "Don't worry."

I look over at her. "I will damn well worry if I want to. He should not have left me in here. He should be in here with me. That's not fair. It's just not fair." I sob.

Jenny rolls over and moves my face to look at her. "Jean, this is a part of the 'Surprise Me' option. You don't get to choose the outcomes. Be patient. It will all work out. None of us get to spend the night with our masters tonight. You aren't the only one pining for her companion."

"I miss him."

Jenny speaks sternly, "You are a slave. Act like it."

I think about that. She is right. How I hate to admit that Jenny is right. But she is. We sit in silence for a few minutes when the door opens once more. It is Jasmine.

Jasmine is holding a small vial. She walks to Jenny first. She says, "I have ointment -- it help with pain. Spread legs!" Jenny does so; Jasmine takes a glob of ointment and spreads it into Jenny's pussy. She rubs it all around. Jenny rolls her eyes as Jasmine fingers her hard.

Jenny looks over at me and says, "This is magic stuff. You'll feel like you haven't had sex for over a week when it kicks in. This is a must for harem girls; they have to deliver on a moment's notice!" She winks.

Jasmine moves over to my side of the bed and rubs my pussy with some of the ointment. I jump as well while she rubs the ointment into my flesh. She finishes up, cleans her fingers onto the sheet on the side of the bed and walks out. At the door she turns and says, "Sleep good -- early time up tomorrow." She closes the door.

The candle has burnt down low and is beginning to flicker out. I look at Jenny and apologize, "I'm sorry. I should be stronger. I'm doing what I want to do. This is real fantasy -- the way they ought to be. I don't want to be a crybaby if it doesn't happen my way. I know that part of the thrill is reckoning with the unforeseen."

Jenny smiles, "Not to worry -- we all go through these moments. If you noticed, my master did not even escort me in here. But I know he is my master and I'm content. At the end of the day, I will be with him."

"Thanks, Jenny, I appreciate your help." I sit there for a moment and begin to feel the tingle in my pussy. "You know, this ointment does wonders. I feel like I haven't been screwed in a month."

"It is a useful tool for these fantasy adventures. We are only human, after all."

I giggle; I wipe the dampness of my tears off my face. "You know what. I was laying out under the stars in a sinkhole a couple of weeks ago with five other girls. The one lying next to me began to talk. She acted like we were on a social."

Jenny looks at me and says, "Let me guess -- I bet it was Maddie Miller with her husband Rob."

"How did you know that?"

"It wasn't so difficult. Maddie is a legend amongst the submissives. I'm not sure why she participates in these events."

"So why does she participate?"

"She has money. Her husband is a sleazy lawyer; she is a real estate tycoon and owns several low-rent apartment buildings. She is a brutal landlord. They come out to 'Man's World' every couple of months and slide through a convenient day or two of nothing. She really needs to be whipped, or, better yet, she needs to be caned. I would pay to be there. I would cane her for free! Rob, her husband, needs to be whipped too. He is a male; he should know better. With this new venture that Mark and Hector are starting, they will probably be able to make it much more uncomfortable for Miss Maddie. They will be in a better position to lose a customer if this is a success. So far, I think it's worked out very well. What do you think?"

"It has been great -- I have to admit it. I'd also like to be there to see Maddie being whipped. It would be a satisfying moment."

"Yes, it would." Jenny kicks the blanket up to where she can reach it with her hand. She tosses it over the both of us. "We had better get to sleep. They will be here bright and early in the morning. I expect more surprises tomorrow. Mark is a first-rate designer." I arrange the blanket around me.

The candle finally flickers out. The darkness encases us. I think about the day and speak once more, "Jenny, are you awake?"

"Yeah; what's up?"

"Mark has been talking like he has someone special. You know, he's acting like he's getting married. Do you know what's going on with that?"

"As a matter of fact I do. I am the girl! And, to further rattle your mind. We got married, just two weeks ago. We were going to invite you to the ceremony, but you were out camping out in some sinkhole somewhere."

I grin (and, of course, she cannot see it). "That's wonderful. Congratulations! That lousy bastard didn't tell me anything about it. Is this the honeymoon?"

"Oh, no, that will come later. Are you surprised? He thought he had hidden it very well."

"I suspected something was up; I wouldn't have ever guessed it was a done deal!"

I thought back to the day I walked in on them: she was tied up in bed and blindfolded; he was working her over good when he saw me. I had never mentioned this to anyone. I say, "I really should have known it was you."

"Yeah, in fact we decided on it a couple of years ago. We just now got around to getting it done. It was one night when Mark had me tied up for the first time -- it was at your farm house. I knew then he was the master I wanted. I have been his ever since. Our life has evolved into a romantic dream -- I never would have imagined how it could be!"

Interesting; but, enough of that line of conversation! I am going to have to digest this for a while: Jenny Ackerman is my sister! I ask, "What do you think will be happening tomorrow to us?"

"I don't know, but I'm excited about it; and a little bit scared."

"Me too," and I roll over and close my eyes. I can hardly wait.



News Story Ch. 06



Welcome to Chapter Six of News Story. This is the continuing saga of Jean Meredith and her introduction and training in the BDSM lifestyle. Each chapter tells its own story but you can get a better feel for the prevailing story lines and the characters if you start with the original News Story submission. Thank you for reading. I appreciate the comments and the critiques. Enjoy! 

***

I have just spent my first night in a Mongol harem. Well, actually, my grandparents' old farm house has been remodeled into a Mongol harem. There are six men here who used six slaves (of whom I am one) in their personal feast and orgy. The music, the food and the domination was all just like a trip to the central Asia of a thousand years ago. This is my second fantasy trip -- this time it had been setup by my own brother, Mark. Amongst other unusual happenings, I met my sister -- that is, I learned who my sister-in-law is. We had already met; her name is Jenny Ackerman. She and I were now in bed with our necks connected to a rope tied somewhere under the bed frame. We actually got to know each other a little bit better. Jean might turn out to be alright after all! My own Master, Brent, is somewhere here in the old house; I just do not know where. But he is close and that is good enough for me. It is almost morning and our adventure will continue. Six of us girls, slaves, are at the beckon call of the six men, masters.

***

Jasmine walks into the room. She had been our 'guide' on this adventure into the past. "Day time -- get up -- we have work to do." You had to listen to her closely; her English is broken at times.

Jenny rubs her eyes, "Is it morning already?"

Jasmine walks around to the head of the bed and removes the cords from our necks. She orders, "Follow me."

We walk out into the hallway and to the next room down the hall. She directs us inside. There is a huge tub, or better yet, a huge pool, in here filled with water. There is a bench on the back wall; there are three pitchers underneath the bench. Three bowls with soap, three bowls with shampoo and three plates with razors sit around the edges of the tub. Jasmine tells us, "Get in -- get clean -- wait." Okay, I look over to Jenny. We both step down into the water; it is very warm. It feels great. We wash ourselves down. I notice there is an overflow at one end and more water is drizzling in at the other end. The door opens, another girl enters and Jasmine directs her into the tub. She says nothing to us; she cleans herself off. She sits down away from us.

I look at the men's razors in the bowls, "I bet these aren't for us!"

Jenny says, "Look at the seats; they are just under the surface of the water. Who do you suppose gets to sit in the seats?" She has a beguiling look on her face.

I tip my head in the new girl's direction and whisper in Jenny's ear, "What's with her?"

Jenny looks at me and whispers, "I don't know. Say hi to her."

"What about you? I'm the shy one here."

The girl then breaks in speaking almost apologetically, "Excuse me, my name is Alexandria Missteski. They call me Allie. This is my first fantasy trip. Have you been out on these fantasies before?"

Jenny says, "Nice to meet you, Allie. I don't want to sound like I'm bragging, but my husband designed this fantasy!"

I add, "I don't want to be bragging either, but my brother is her husband."

We all laugh together.

Allie says, "That's good. I wanted to meet you two. You both seem so comfortable. How do you do it? They have messed with my mind so much I jump with every little sound I hear."

I respond, "It's easy. You have to become a part of the fantasy. These are designed for you. You must be the girl of the fantasy!"

Jenny says, "Yeah. She's right! As weird as it may sound, these programs are meant for us. You wouldn't believe the women that have participated in these in the past."

Allie looks more comfortable. "Thanks, I'll try better."

Jenny answers, "No, don't try. Just go along with the flow. It ends all too soon. Don't hold back."

Allie ponders for a moment then asks, "What are we going to do today?"

I respond, "We don't know yet. It's better not to speculate!"

***

Just as Allie was about to speak again, the door opens. Three men walk in followed by Jasmine. One of them is the man who purchased me at yesterday's slave auction.

Jasmine speaks, "Men here for bath -- attend to them." She drops a stack of towels and wash clothes. She looks at me, "You -- attend to Hamid." She points to my buyer. She looks at Jenny and says, "You -- attend to Garedan," and points to the second man. She looks at Allie and says, "You -- attend to Berdham."

Jenny looks at Allie and whispers, "Here's your chance. Go for it!" We all pick up wash clothes and towels and attend to our men. All three men are wearing robes. I untie the belt on Hamid's robe and pull it off his shoulders. He is really quite muscular; I had not really looked him over before. I lay his robe on the bench; I pick up one of the pitchers that are sitting underneath the bench. Jenny and Allie have done likewise. Allie is smiling so big -- I am so happy for her. I hope she appreciates this as much as I do!

Hamid is slightly taller than me. I wet and soap up the wash cloth then begin cleansing his back. His shoulders are broad. There are several long scars on the lower left of his back; there is surgical stitching running along a middle rib on his right side. They look like the scars of a fighter! I gently touch the stitching as I dab the wash cloth over it. I re-soap the cloth and wash down his chest. Hamid does not exactly have a weight-lifter's physique but he is splendid in his own right. He has a skiff of hair circling his chest. His stomach protrudes a bit but you would not consider him to be fat. I kneel and wash his thighs (his knees are under water). His leg muscles are like steel. Hamid has all the appearance of a man who works hard and fights hard. I gently soap his cock and balls, rubbing him ever so lightly. I lay the soap and the cloth down, fill the pitcher and rinse his body. I pour pitcher's full of water four times to remove all the soap. I make sure I walk mostly in front of him and I try to bend over some so as to ensure my breasts are dangling in front of him. It would be silly to be here bathing a man in this setting without enticing him in the process. There is a bench on the edge of the tub; I point it out to Hamid and motion for him to be seated. I hope I am not presumptuous in directing him in this way.

The water laps about his thighs and hips. The muscles in his thighs bulge; that tantalizes me! His cock is filling; I am tantalizing him too! I fill the pitcher again and pour it over his head. I soap the cloth again and wash his face and neck; I am careful not to shove any soap up his nose! He has two scars on his face -- near his right eye and below his chin. I am also careful to continue standing in front of him bent over slightly! Alluring him in this way and in this venue excites me too. Two more pitchers of water and that soap is gone. Next, I wash the hair. I take up a small bowl of shampoo sitting at the side of the tub and drip some into his hair. I softly massage his scalp working the lather. I rub all around his head ensuring I do not miss a spot. Four more pitchers of water are poured over his head and I get all the soap out of his hair.

Next, I take the cloth and soap his face again; then I take the razor and shave him. I gently slide the blade down past his ears and cheeks. I am still standing and bending in front of him. My nipples are sore and I am covered with goose bumps! I pull the razor up under his chin. He is looking at my body while I pamper him. I see his cock is getting stiffer while I work on him. Finally, I trace the razor around his moustache so as not to disturb any of it. Two more pitchers of water rinse that soap from his face. I lay the razor and soap back on the side of the tub.

I look around and see both Jenny and Allie on their knees and sucking their men with great passion. I must have worked more slowly than they! I wanted to take this all in -- we have done nothing but an innocuous bath and I am shrouded with desire. I kneel and begin sucking on his man-muscle. The water splashes as I move back and forth. His tool engorges as I slowly stimulate him with my lips and tongue. Too soon his sperm shoots into my mouth. I apply more suction trying to suck him dry. He pulls my head away and gets up. I look up at him; he smiles down at me. I know he liked his bath -- that heartens me all the more. He steps out of the tub and dries off with one of the towels. He wraps it around his waist and leaves the room. Garedan and Berdham, who had already completed their baths and personal 'treatments', leave with Hamid.

We look back at each other. Jenny asks Allie, "How did you like this?"

Allie responds, "It was fantastic! Thank you so much for helping. I have never had an experience like this."

I observe, "You know what? I have never bathed a man before. I was more into charming him than I was into getting him clean. Will I get in trouble if I didn't get him quite clean?"

Jenny says, "The enticement part was probably the idea. We are slaves in an Asian harem. We are being conditioned to pamper our masters with a full degree of servitude."

Allie sighs and says, "I have never felt so feminine in all my life! This is wonderful! Why do they call this a Mongol harem?"

Jenny explains, "The Mongol influence spread from Mongolia through most of central Russia, Iran, Iraq, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan, Armenia, Georgia, the Ukraine and other countries I can't remember for a one thousand year period from the 800s up to the 19th century. Although it is commonly related to the Arabs, the idea of the harem is a part of most historical cultures. The historical record of the 'harem' is best documented in the central Asian countries. Western history does not spend a lot of time in study of the central Asian cultures. These are not different than any others: slaves bathing their masters are a common thread in most of the historical record. So it is not surprising that we participated in that very activity here!"

I cannot believe what I am hearing. I ask skeptically, "Where did you get this knowledge? You've never struck me as being a nerd!"

Jenny smugly replies, "I was a history major in college. I specialized in Asian culture." She couldn't hold a straight face; she grins and we both laugh at her. She adds, "Undoubtedly, Mark picked up on some of this at some point while we talked. He used it as part of his fantasy design!"

The door swings open; it is Jasmine.

Jasmine looks around. She barks out, "Get out -- dry off -- follow me." We hop out of the tub and dry off quickly.

Allie looks at us beaming; she says, "I think that is interesting, Jenny. Thanks for filling us in. And thanks for the tip. This was extraordinary: bathing a man. I'm going to really enjoy the rest of the day!" She walks out after Jasmine.

***

Jenny hesitates, looks at me and whispers, "I have a bad feeling that those are words she will soon regret. I just have that feeling. The Mongol harem has many aspects -- some of those are not so enjoyable."

"I don't know. She is a part of the Mongol harem scenario. I think she will accept her duties no matter how good or bad they may be. I can see it in her eyes; she wants to be here!"

"You may be right," Jenny responds while shrugging her shoulders.

Jasmine sticks her head back in the door and snaps, "Now - follow!"

We march onto the balcony. Berdham has Allie kneeling with her head protruding through the railing and her wrists spread out right and left tied to upper rail. We stop and stare.

Jasmine punches my arm and orders, "Follow -- do not mind her."

Jenny and I turn to follow Jasmine; I hear that familiar sound: the crack of the whip and the shriek of a girl being whipped. I cannot look back. I tense up and follow Jasmine trying not to hear more. But it does not work. Jasmine leads us down the stairs as Allie's beating goes on. Crack and shriek! Crack and shriek! It is never easy to hear another girl being beaten.

Jasmine leads us out a side door and back behind the house underneath the archways we had seen yesterday. I cannot hear any more of Allie's whipping; that does not make me feel any less sorry for her. Garedan and Hamid are waiting for us near the gate.

They grab a wad of our hair and pull us out through the gate. We walk a few yards; there are two trees with a rope stretched between them. The men bind our wrists behind our backs then lift our legs over the rope so that Jenny and I are standing back-to-back with our legs straddling the rope. Hamid pushes us together so that our bound hands are touching. I look back at her. The men affix the same type of wooden ball gag we had adorned the day before. Jenny interlaces her fingers with mine; I feel her shaking. Maybe she is speculating on what is coming next.

Jasmine walks beside us. "Slaves, we will have race. You walk to trees -- first to touch tree with tongue wins -- do not lose the race."

I do not like the sound of this race. That was an ominous warning we got from Jasmine. I jump as Jasmine shouts, "Begin!" I immediately feel Jenny loosen her fingers from mine.

I walk forward. In only a couple of steps I feel the rope digging into me between my legs. I try to hop as I step in order to move over the rope. The closer I get to the tree, the higher the rope gets and the more it digs into me. I cannot set my heels on the ground. Just a foot or so ahead of me I notice a knot tied in the rope. I inch forward and work my pussy up and over the knot. Once corralled, the knot kindles the flame inside me. I struggle to get off the knot and move forward. There is another knot another foot away. I now waddle on my toes and the tree is still several feet away. The tightness and lift from the rope makes the sensations inside me surge. I can feel every time Jenny takes a step too. Her steps send vibrations through the rope between my legs that stimulate me even more. It is a peculiar symmetry between spasms of pleasure and pain. I brace up and push myself forward on the rope. I am on the knot and it sends pulsations throughout my body. I pause for just a second -- no, Jean, you have got to move on, I think to myself. I drag my pussy off the knot and move again. I am close now. One or maybe two more moves and I can reach the tree. There is one; I am close now. I lean but I cannot reach it. I step once more being careful to steady myself. I tip a bit and push myself back up vertically. I can get it now! I reach for it.

Jasmine shouts, "We have winner." No, I did not touch it. We cannot have a winner because I did not touch the tree. Jenny beat me. I should not have hesitated on that last knot.

Garedan must have untied the rope from the opposite tree because it falls to the ground. I nearly collapse as the support it had provided quickly dissipates. I turn around. Garedan pushes Jenny and they go back into the house.

Hamid walks toward me. He grabs my hair again and bends me over so that my head is by his hips. He pulls me down the trail away from the house. We walk into the woods. We go about one hundred yards; then Hamid stops. He forces me down onto my knees. He unbinds my wrists then rebinds them in front of me. He pulls me up and to a large, low-hanging limb nearby. Hamid attaches a rope to my wrist bindings and throws the other end up over the limb. He catches it coming down the other side; Hamid pulls it and pulls me up until I can't quite stand flat-footed. He ties it off on the tree. He has it curled above me around another branch and I cannot move it at all. It is time to give the loser her due.

Hamid walks around me. When he stands in front of me, he pulls a whip that is coiled on his belt. He unravels it. He moves the shank up and pokes my breasts. He walks around behind me and pushes the knob into my asshole. I jump and yelp as it burrows into my opening. He pulls it away from me and slowly walks around me again.

Then it begins. Hamid lays the whip onto my back. I squeal in pain. Again he slashes me and I scream from underneath the gag. Again and again he places the whip on a new spot with each strike. I cannot believe it. It happened so quickly. I am hanging helplessly from a tree limb and a man who bought me at a slave market is striping my back with a whip. I had lost a race with Jenny Ackerman and the consolation prize is being beaten. Smack! He put that one across my butt cheeks. I jumped. Smack, again! This lash struck the back of my legs. I pushed my left leg up as I try to ease the pain with stretching. Hamid continues laying the whip on my back. I am screaming with every strike; I hang my head in anguish.

Hamid stops and walks around looking at my face. I look up in agony; tears stream down my face. He reaches up and brushes my cheeks dry. I do not understand what he was doing. He almost looks sympathetic. Would a Mongol master feel compassion for his slave? I think not. He recoils the whip and reattaches it to his belt. He walks behind me.

I do not know what he is doing. In just a few seconds, Hamid grabs my waist and pulls me back. His right hand moves off my waist and in just a moment I feel his prick pushing into my asshole. I scream again; but I let him enter me. His hand is back on my side and guiding me back toward him. He is huge and I am convulsing as he forces his member into me. Hamid is showing me that I am a slave; I know he is. This is his way to assert his authority over me: a whipping and now his cock forced into my anus. He moves it in and out as I continue to thrash in agony. I feel like I am suspended from his dick; it is solid and stretching my asshole. It is not long before I feel him shooting his juice inside me. He pulls his cock out of me and pats my butt cheek. It is still sore from the whipping and now my bunghole throbs from where he distorted it. He walks back around to face me; his cock is back into his pants now.

I hang there from the tree; my head is bowed. I cannot look up. He has degraded me out here in the forest. I am his to use. And he has used me as he would. I want to kneel before him. This was my first whipping. He did it for me. This is the first time my bunghole ever serviced a man's cock. He did that for me too. I knew it was coming. Jenny had told me. But I had already known it would happen. I feel completed today. 

Hamid reaches up and unlatches the rope from my wrists. I fall down onto him; I hang my arms around his shoulders and try to keep my knees from buckling. He steadies me for a few seconds and strokes my hair with his left hand. He quickly smacks my ass check, and then he grabs hold of my hair and pulls me back toward the harem just as he pulled me here.

As soon as we walk through the gate, Jasmine takes me from Hamid and guides me back into the house. My back and asshole are still sore, so I hardly notice anything around me. I am repeatedly flashing back over the last couple of weeks. The 'Man's World' opened itself to the novice and converted her into a woman. I was chased through the woods, captured, bound and stripped, returned to the woods, tortured and overcome by a powerful man. He brought me back out to this place. I participated in an orgy and received the ultimate humiliation -- hanging from a tree limb and whipped. This place has replaced fantasy with reality; I am buried underneath its synergy. Jenny was right -- we are being conditioned!

***

Jasmine walks me up the stairs and directs me back into the bedroom. Jenny is in bed under a sheet; her neck is tied to the bed frame just as before. Jasmine pushes me down into the bed and restrains me too; she covers me with the sheet. She walks out and closes the door.




News Story Ch. 06



I look at Jenny, "Are you okay?"

She chuckles, "Yeah, Garedan brought me to another room, tied me to a bed spread-eagled. He brought one of the other slave girls in; she was wearing a blindfold. He had her eat me out laying there prone on the bed. It was delightful and strange all at the same time. Then, when she was done and I was raw with excitement, he took her away. A few minutes later he came back in the room. He re-tied my ankles up behind my head. I was spread wide open with my ass sticking in the air. I thought he was going to screw me; instead, he spanked me with a heavy belt. It was excruciating. It was marvelous."

"I'm sorry and jealous at the same time."

"Oh, no, don't be sorry. It's all a part of being in the Mongol harem. I wanted to be there. Just 'cause my speculation was incorrect, that doesn't lessen the fulfillment of that scene. What about you? Where did Hamid take you after the race?"

"Hamid took me deeper into the woods, hung my wrists from a tree. He whipped me until I ached then he shoved his cock into my bunghole. It was fulfilling!"

The door swung open; Jasmine pushed Allie into the room and laid her on the bed on my left. She tied her neck to the bed frame just as the rest of us.

Jenny leans up and looks over at Allie; Jenny's face looks pained. I know how she feels. Jenny gently says, "Allie, Allie - are you okay?"

Allie does not move. I look back at Jenny. I turn again to Allie and ask, "Allie, talk to us. Are you okay?"

Allie still does not respond. Her eyes are open and she blinks, but she does not react to any of our requests.

Jenny lies back down; I give up too for now. Maybe she will come around.

Then Allie speaks, "He tied me to the guard rail on the balcony. He shoved a plug into my asshole. He beat me with a strap. He burnt me with thick matches. He whipped me some more. He threw me into a room and dropped me onto a couple of pillows and hog-tied me. I stayed there until she brought me back into here." She pauses and takes a deep breath.

I look back at Jenny; she purses her lips and shushes me.

Allie goes on, "Berdham treated me like his slave. It was okay. He treated me like his property; he owned me. I liked it. I enjoyed it all. I was a true female in the Mongol harem. I became a part of the adventure and it became real. It's all so real. You told me to become a part of the story and I did. I couldn't have done this without your help."

Jenny mumbles to me, "Maybe I was wrong, eh?"

I tell Allie, "You should get some rest. The day is still young; I don't know what is next on the schedule."

Allie closes her eyes and says, "Thank you. Thank you both for helping me to experience the full power of my fantasy."

I lay back; Jenny does likewise. We both smile. Allie is smiling too.

We lay there in silence for another hour or so.

***

Jasmine comes back into the room carrying our harem outfits. "Here, put these on!" She lays the outfits on the side of the bed, walks around and removes the cords from our necks. We all get up and get dressed.

Allie sighs and comments, "I love wearing this. It feels so natural on me."

Jenny adds, "This is probably the normal clothing that a harem girl residing in a wealthy man's harem would wear."

"That's fine with me. It is so easy to entice my man dressed like this!"

I jump in, "Would the rich men's harems be this fancy?"

Jenny responds, "If your master is royalty, you are probably living in a harem that spans an acre or more. There will be several buildings, courtyards and gardens. And you are walled in and will never see the outside world. As you go lower in the hierarchy, the size of the harem gets smaller and the security is not as tight."

I loudly whisper to Allie, "It's so nice to have an expert with us." All three of us giggle.

Allie chimes in, "I feel so stupid." We three giggle some more.

Jasmine snaps, "Come quickly -- we must go." Jasmine never giggles.

Jasmine leads us out onto the balcony. The six men and the other three girls are down in the main room. It looks like the men are eating some sort of meat at the table; the girls are seated across from them about four feet away from the table. The three girls are seated directly in front of their original escorts. Jasmine takes us down the stairs and has us sit beside the other three girls and in the appropriate position; I am seated across from Hamid.

Jasmine walks behind us and, in turn, binds our wrists behind our backs with cord. When she finishes she takes bowls of water off the table and sets them in front of us. When each girl has her bowl she orders us, "Drink!" We all lean our faces down into the bowls and slurps up some water.

The men continue to eat and act somewhat disinterested in our activities. We look at them and at each other. Jasmine lingers around us but says nothing. There is some green vegetable that the men chew on along with chunks of meat the size of meatballs.

Abruptly, the man on the far end flings a small piece of green vegetable toward his girl. It lands just in front of her. She looks at Jasmine who nods her head downward. The girl leans down and picks the vegetable up with her lips; she eats it. This is going to be gratifying. Again, a situation that is so erotic in its simplicity and so uncomplicated in its mission: the male dominant feeding his female submissive.

The men periodically toss pieces of vegetable or meat our way and we each lean down and eat it off the carpet. The meat tastes like simple sausage. I think about that for a minute -- what kind of meat would they eat in central Asia? Possibly this would be ox or yak or camel! The meat is spiced and produces an unfamiliar but pleasant taste on my palette. The vegetable tastes somewhat like celery -- it is seasoned in a salty mixture. The meal is delicious. The method of serving is thrilling. We must provide an interesting picture as we girls bob up and down snatching the parcels of food from the floor.

After the men finish all the food, they stand and walk over toward us. My Master stands behind me and sternly says, "Finish your water." I drop my head down quickly and finish drawing the water from the bowl. He takes hold of my hair and gently pulls it to make me stand up.

I quickly stand and face him; I bow my head slightly and do not look at him directly. Master takes a short leather strap with a large metal ring on it from his belt and wraps it around my neck; it is a collar. He takes another leather strap that is coiled on his belt. I tighten up in fear; is he going to whip me? I breathe easier when he connects the end of the strap to my collar; it is just a leash. I did not want to be whipped again; at least, I did not want to be whipped again this soon. He gives the leash a tug and walks toward the door towing me behind him. When we reach the door leading outside the house he stops and turns toward me. In a few seconds, Mark and Jenny come over and stand beside us. Master and Mark look at each other. They each take hold of our outfits and rip them off us. These costumes are so dainty that it hardly takes any effort for them to rip them off. It is enlivening. I glance at Jenny; she has rolled her eyes back into her eye sockets as she sighs.

Mark pulls Jenny outside and heads toward the trail back to the farm house. Master pulls my leash and we follow them. Just as quickly as that, we are on the path and walking back to civilization. This all transpires much too swiftly. I do not want the fantasy to end. But on we traipse.

The woods are beautiful. The trees are decorated with a multitude of greenery. The brook splashes alongside the trail. Every now and then I see a squirrel or chipmunk scurrying about. The sun is shining brilliantly, warming me as we march along. Master had mentioned before about getting lost in these woods. I was ready to get lost with him now. But this is not the real world. What a shame that is.

***

We reach the clearing. It was just yesterday that we dropped off my clothes and Master gave me a plain white garment to wear. Master picks up his back pack and pulls me to the edge of the clearing. Mark and Jenny walk to the opposite side of the clearing. Master turns me around so his back is to the forest and my back is to Mark and Jenny. Master drops the back pack to the ground. He releases the leash and drops it by the back pack. He instructs me, "Kneel."

I swiftly drop to my knees. I look up at Master. I feel compelled to spread my knees and I do so and widely. I am not going to let this fantasy end just yet. He steps closer to me so that I have to arch my back to look up at him. My breasts heave up toward him for his visual delight.

Master speaks, "Slave, you may speak freely. Have you enjoyed your visit to the Mongol harem?"

"Yes, Master, I had an incredible time as a harem girl -- from start to finish."

He pierces me with his look. He asserts, "You were treated like an animal."

"Please no, Master, not as an animal -- I was treated as a woman serving her man."

"You were beaten."

"Yes, Master, I lost a race. I was given the appropriate punishment. The harem girl cannot dispute anything her man does to her."

"You were taken by someone who was not your true Master."

"Yes, Master, I am a harem girl. I am obliged to serve my man, whoever it may be and whatever he wants."

"You are now bound, naked and kneeling before your Master. How do you feel about that? Speak!"

"Yes, Master, there is no place I would rather be." There could not be a more honest answer. Kneeling here, looking up at him, gave me such an erotic sensation -- much more so than anything I had done on either of my fantasies. What could be more normal than being here under the dominion of my Master?

"What do you want to do now?"

"Master, I want to suck you cock." No need to hesitate on the answer here either. It is what I wanted to do.

Master unbuttons his pants and pulls out his member. He lean up and guide it into my mouth. I pull on him and try to take him as far into my mouth as possible. I work him slowly; I did not want to finish any time soon.

I pretend his cock is covered with the oatmeal gruel he had fed me back at the 'Man's World' compound. I roll my tongue around his flesh and keep him wet as I moved back and forth over his muscle. His member is hard and stiff, but I will do whatever I can to handle it like a true harem girl!

Master takes hold of my head with both hands. He thrusts his cock down my throat with quick hard strokes. In a few minutes, his cock pulses and coats my mouth with his cum. I swallow every drop he loads onto my tongue. The sucking goes on. He finally pulls his cock from my mouth and moves my lips to his balls.

I begin licking with the same fervent effort I used on his cock. I roll my wet tongue around each ball back and forth. I lean down lower and run my tongue underneath his scrotum and between his legs. Then back to the balls; swallowing each in succession and massaging it with my tongue. I release them and roll my tongue up the underside of his cock and suck him some more. I have got to keep this going; I do not want the weekend to end.

Finally, sadly, he steps back away from me. I look down; I know what is coming. He picks up the back pack and tells me, "Stand!" He releases my wrists and removes the collar from my neck. He hands me my clothes out of the back pack. Reluctantly, I put them on. I turn around and notice that Jenny is putting her t-shirt back on, too.

Master asks, "Turn around please." I look into his eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am, Master."

"No, no, you must call me Brent now. We have left the harem. I'm sorry, we have returned to the real world - you are still mine here!"

I jump up and wrap my arms around his neck. We kiss passionately. He holds me in his arms. The fantasy may be over, but I am still his woman and will continue so. We unlock our lips but I stay close to him.

"Jean, I love you." He makes me melt.

"I love you too, Brent. I don't want today to end."

"I know but we have to. Let's get back to the house. We have to get ready for an important trip; we can talk about the particulars in the car on the way back to Hemmingsburg." He turns and looks at Mark and Jenny. He shouts over to them, "Are you ready to head back to the farm house?"

Jenny has her head resting on Mark's chest and has her arms wrapped around his neck. He holds her close to him. She looks so serene in his arms. They seem like a nice couple; yes, they are a nice couple. Mark answers back, "Yeah, let's get going." He reaches down and pinches her ass. She looks up at him with a smile.

Brent picks up the back pack and we start walking. I put my hand around his arm and walk beside him. I ask, "This trip you mentioned -- where are we going?"

Brent looks down at me, "We are going to the visit with Senator Melvin Johnson. We are going to Washington D.C. Mr. Billings is sending us on a secret news story assignment!"

***

I wave at Jenny and Mark from the car. Brent is driving out onto the highway as we head back to Hemmingsburg. Jenny and Mark walk back into the farm house. Brent is taking me back to my apartment so I can get ready for our trip to Washington D.C. I cannot wait to hear all about it.

We are driving on the highway. I am tired; these two days have been so busy! I snuggle up to Brent's arm. He puts his right hand on my left knee. I point out, "You should keep both hands on the wheel."

"I'll take my chances. This highway is not very busy." He pauses for a second then continues on, "We haven't had much time to talk about our trip to 'Man's World' a couple of weeks ago. What are your impressions?"

I think for a second, "I only went there for an interview with Hector. Before I knew it, I was running through the woods trying to avoid a pursuer. I had no possible way of knowing what I was to become. Why did you not speak to me during that time?"

"It was the appropriate thing to do. I had to make your mind work out the answers. Any man can tie up and beat a woman. I didn't want it that way. I wanted you to want to be tied and want to be beaten. If I am going to enjoy my dominant male personality, it was only going to happen if you were really living your submissive female personality. It could only happen that way and work. Playing out roles is just acting. We both want more than that."

"I really do live it. I love being your slave!"

"Once that was done, it was a simple matter to enter into the Mongol harem fantasy. Mark had been working on this for a long time. To some extent he had you in mind for it."

"How could that be? Mark had no way of knowing what I was thinking." I am puzzled. "He couldn't have known I was interviewing Hector."

"Why not? He is your brother. He knows you better than you think. And, he was the one who asked Billings to send you on the interview. In fact, he recommended you to Billings in the first place -- he knew you were a journalism major and he knew of Hector's association with the female fantasy industry."

"You've got to be kidding. Why would he recommend me for such a backwater newspaper?"

"Mark has known Billings since your parents died. Billings covered that story. Your brother was still in high school when he became 'acquainted' with the 'Man's World' operation."

"But there was no 'Man's World' operation back then," I protested.

"The facility was not there. But the operation was already in progress. Hector generally set them up in the basement of a building he rented downtown. It was a small time operation and did not turn a profit. Hector is an entrepreneur. He canvassed rich females who wanted to escape the real world. His sales skills were obviously effective. You have lived the results."

"So how did Mark get into this?"

"Mark knew he wanted a girl of his own. He had been doing odd-jobs for Hector already -- painting, cleaning, shredding paperwork and what-not. He has sales skills of his own. He had Hector training him on how to be an effective dominant. In no time, he targeted an appropriate young lady and worked his magic on her."

"And that young lady was Jenny Ackerman?"

"Yes!"

"But how did he really know that I would be a good client for the 'Man's World'?"

"Mostly, it was his intuition. He watched you and listened how you talked. He watched how you responded to certain stimuli. After a while, he figured it out. The fact that the job with Billings popped up was an unexpected opportunity. It was simple to get you started -- a simple visit and interview assignment. You got that assignment over a senior reporter who was also a male -- he was greatly disappointed. Mark was overjoyed at how this all worked out!"

"He's a brigand."

"Really? Why that term - brigand?"

"Just a brother-sister thing! Nothing really. Anyway, it all worked out for the better. I'm not complaining, even if it was my pesky brother!"

"Well, Mark will be glad to hear that!"

"So, tell me, what about this trip to Washington. What are we going to be doing there?"

Mark took a deep breath. "Jean, this is a significant assignment for the both of us. Senator Melvin Johnson is an important person and a very powerful Washington politician. He is starting his second term as senator and does not have to worry about re-election for five more years. He has built a significant array of allies both inside and outside Washington. He is also an occasional dominant at 'Man's World'. Hector McDougall is one of his old-time business partners. The Senator got Hector out of some trouble with the Securities and Exchange Commission back in their younger days. In exchange, Hector has made very tightly secure accommodations so that the Senator can relieve some of his own anxieties. The Senator is known as the 'Whip Meister' among the submissives who know him."

"What is it about the Senator that Mr. Billings wants us to investigate?"

"There are subtle rumors going around that the Senator may be involved in some indirect way funneling grant money to bogus manufacturing operations. The money props up the phony business for a short period of time drawing in ignorant investors. Then the phony business somehow goes belly up. The initial investors are protected, the ignorant investors lose big, and the taxpayers pick up the tab. Coincidentally, the initial investors are all close friends of some lobbyist who bends the Senator's ear. We are going to make our acquaintance with the Senator as representatives of 'Man's World' -- not as reporters."

"We are going to be undercover?"

"Much more than you might think."

Suspiciously I ask, "What do you mean by that?" I probably already know the answer.

"We just want to nose around and ask innocent questions. Inadvertently the Senator may say something important. The Senator may also ask for an indulgence of some sort."

I raise an eyebrow on that comment. "Indeed! Are we looking to bring the Senator down?"

"Maybe. It is still innocent until proven guilty. For us to get on the inside, we will have to appeal with our only card to play."

"I suppose that would be the 'Man's World' fantasy land."

"That's one of the reasons I love you -- your deductive capabilities are beyond compare!"

I sarcastically reply, "You are too kind."

"Our task is simple. We will talk with the Senator and some of his personal staff people -- we will glean what we can. Mixed in with that will be an invitation to the Mongol harem fantasy and, perhaps, a teaser commercial to further advertise what we have to offer."

"Are you planning on me being the main object of the teaser?"

"No, not just you. The Senator's Chief of Staff is a woman. I will also be providing my services as required. She has been a participant at 'Man's World also."

I am not sure how to take that. "Oh?"

"Jean, we have got to be convincing. This is our line of work. We are investigative reporters. We have a chance to do something big here. You really want to do this, don't you?"




News Story Ch. 06



"I hate to share you with someone else."

"Just consider this our third fantasy adventure. We only need to be ourselves and enter into the fray."

"You make it sound so easy. There are so many complications. What if we are found out?"

"It could be embarrassing, but we do have a way out."

"I'm all ears."

"Didn't you pay attention? The Senator is a customer of 'Man's World'. That's not the kind of thing a Senator wants on his resume. We just play our hand expertly and if he is not connected, then no-harm-no-foul. In that case we have just spent a few fun days in Washington on another improbable fantasy trip."

He, of course, is going to convince me that this is a great and patriotic opportunity for us. And, of course, I am going to relent. I observe, "It's still so complicated. How can we know we have covered every base?"

He squeezes my thigh a couple of times. He assures me, "I know you are apprehensive. You really don't need to worry. We are going to be in the middle of a Washington dinner party at a swank country club. We will mingle. Then we will leave. Jenny will visit you early in the morning and help you pick out some appropriate attire. Our plane is scheduled to load at 11 AM."

"You are expecting me to go, aren't you?"

"Why of course."

"But what if I decline?"

"In that case I will have to whip you, and then we will go."

Now there is another complication: I am going to have to decide whether I will decline or not.



News Story Ch. 07



Welcome to Chapter 7 of News Story. This is the continuing saga of Jean Meredith as she evolves in the world of domination and bondage. If you haven't yet read them, please check out Chapters One through Six to get up to date on how we got to where we are today. Enjoy and don't forget to vote! As always, any comments and critiques are greatly appreciated! 

***

We are finally on our way to Washington D.C. It is no small task getting a connecting flight from Hemmingsburg to Houston; but we did it. Now we are in the air and heading for the capital. Mark and his wife Jenny are seated directly in front of us. Brent is seated to my left on the aisle. I am Jean and I am on my way toward a big, big story.

Mark is my brother and runs the old family farm. His wife, Jenny, was a high school classmate of mine who I never cared for much but who has now become a close friend. Brent is my partner, my companion, my mentor, my manager, my friend and my Master -- and those attributes are in no particular order. We are both reporters for the Hemmingsburg Report newspaper: a small town paper looking for the big stories.

Up to this point our most significant common connection is the 'Man's World' fantasy compound. Focused on providing females with BDSM fantasies, it has served us as a recreational diversion as well as a business opportunity.

We are now flying to Washington for a potentially serious news story. Our subject will be Senator Melvin Johnson and his staff. The story has yet to be fully defined and is based only on some fuzzy rumors.

***

I am glad I had agreed to go on this trip with Brent. It did not seem that I had the opportunity to choose but Brent let me make the decision anyway! There were conditions.

It has already been a long day: flying out of Hemmingsburg to Houston and then laying over waiting for our flight out to Reagan International. I am leaning my head on Brent's shoulder. He is reading the in-flight magazine. We are surrounded by the dull buzz of conversations going on throughout the cabin and the hum of the engines. Half of the people are dozing. The man to my right has drool oozing out of the side of his mouth. I scoot over as close to Brent as I can -- so much for flying the friendly skies! 

This plane is packed. I wonder what they are all doing; I wonder where they are all going. I am just a small town girl; it is hard for me to comprehend where all these people live and work. Even the airport at Houston was strange to me. Angry, pushy people everywhere are trying to get somewhere else in a hurry as if the world actually depended on it. I cannot feel that sense of self-importance; the world does not care about me nor does it depend on what I do. Why is everyone so frenetic?

Brent puts the magazine back into the seat pocket and holds my hand; we interlace our fingers. He loves me!

I ask Brent, "What is our itinerary once we get to D.C.?"

"Mark and I have a couple of business meetings with the government small business agencies early in the morning. You and Jenny should go sight-see and shop downtown -- there won't be anything specific for you to do until evening. You and I will be attending a private reception with the Senator and his staff and some select business people. Mark and Jenny will be meeting with Representative Coontze on the House side. They are a decoy team, of sorts, and will be talking with Coontze about the farm and some pertinent pending legislation. Beyond that, our schedules will depend on how these two dinner parties turn out. Our task is to try and steer the conversation toward the bankruptcies."

"But how will we do that? What companies are going bankrupt?"

"There are several: first of all we have Dixon Enterprises out of Orlando. The company is a manufacturer of fuel cells for high-MPG vehicles. It was started up two years ago by a lobbyist for the Senator. I can't remember his name off the top of my head, but that is not important to us at this time. He received a huge loan guarantee from the government on behalf of Dixon Enterprises. If we can identify the top of this heap, these other guys will get plucked up in no time."

"What does that mean -- he got a loan guarantee?"

"It means the taxpayers have co-signed for a loan to finance Dixon's business plan. If Dixon's plan fails and they cannot make loan repayments, then the taxpayers pick up the tab."

"Why would the Senator sign up to that?"

"It's called payback. The lobbyist has been a big contributor to the Senator's two election bids. This is a commonly recurring theme throughout democratically elected governments around the world. Ours is no different; in some respects, it's the benchmark."

"So what about the taxpayers? How do they get their money back?"

"They probably won't. That's part of the magic of working within a government bureaucracy."

"Where is the fishy stuff is going on?"

"Almost everywhere; Dixon has some reports and studies showing slow progress and deficit cash flows. The primary investors cashed out four months ago with a modest profit; the company filed for bankruptcy two months ago. The casual investor lost his shirt. The taxpayer will never see the loan paid back. This reeks of an insider information network that is incredibly extensive."

"But is that not just an unsuccessful company? Wouldn't that be a possibility for anyone in business for their business plan to fail -- especially in a slow economy? Companies fail all the time."

"You're right, but the catch here is that Dixon Enterprises never existed. It is a sham company. It's merely a black hole where money goes in and no one knows where. Somewhere there is a thread that will lead us to a trail that nails someone. It might even be the Senator himself. Something this big has got to be managed by someone in high places."

"I understand and I'm disgusted. Any other companies involved?"

"Actually, we think there are ten companies altogether. Two other companies have filed for bankruptcy this year: Edison Engineering out of Boonesborough, Kentucky, and Miller and Sons out of place called Jaysville, Texas. I don't think Jaysville, Texas, even exists!"

"How can they get away with this? Don't they have to pass audits or inspections? Their books can't be that good."

"The tax filings and business reports are all filed and in order. There are not enough inspectors to check all this kind of thing out on site. Given a good inspector and sufficient time, he would ferret the truth out. But that's not likely to happen. It's so unlikely to happen that the conspirators consider it a low percentage risk. Plus the money is not so great that it's going to raise a significant red flag. That's our angle -- it should be easier for us to get close up because the conspirators believe it's off the radar. The Jaysville mistake is what got Billings' attention; he has sniffed this one out from that trivial detail. But his facts are not enough to raise the alarm. That's our job. Breaking this story will be a big prize for the Hemmingsburg Report; it could mean the revival of the newspaper world."

The last statement sounded somewhat sarcastic but I elected not to pursue that thought. "Are they that sloppy to make a mistake like using a town that doesn't exist?"

"Sure, money flows in Washington faster than the speed of light. No one knows where it all goes. Someone got in a hurry, made a stupid mistake and let it go. Two of the key features of any bureaucracy: crassness and arrogance."

"How do we get in?"

"Once we get into the dinner party we'll have to improvise. The Senator is my prime suspect so we'll start with him. You may have to soften him up!"

"How am I going to do that? I'm not a detective."

"Your country charm will appeal to the Senator. He's used to slick city girls. You will seem to be an easy target for the Senator's carnal desires."

"You think he'll try to seduce me into the sack with him?"

Brent grins slightly, "No, I think he'll tie you up in a sling and beat you mercilessly!"

I ponder on that response. Brent did mention that the Senator was a 'Man's World' participant. "This is another 'Surprise Me' option opportunity, isn't it?"

"You should look at it that way! And I can speak from first-hand experience: you are the best." He kisses me on top of my head.

"I suppose. Do you have any other suspects? This sounds like a big operation."

"I have two others, but I don't have anything of enough significance in either case."

I look up at him to ask more questions when I hear that familiar 'ding' sound; the 'seatbelt' light goes on. The pilot's voice pipes up on the intercom, "Please notice that we have activated the seatbelt light. We request that there be no unnecessary movement in the cabin. We are beginning our approach into the Reagan International Airport airspace. We estimate that we will be on the ground in twenty minutes. The weather in Washington is cold and blustery; it is fifty-three degrees Fahrenheit with a fourteen mile per hour breeze out of the west. The skies are partially overcast. The time in Washington presently is four-thirty P.M. Eastern Standard Time." The intercom goes silent. I hear people snapping their tray tables back into the locked and upright positions.

I cuddle up to Brent a little closer and close my eyes. I would like to snooze a bit before we land. In fact, I would like to snooze a bit while we land -- I do not particularly care for flying, especially the landing part!

I close my eyes and imagine myself hoisted in the air in a rope swing. This might not be such bad way to conduct an investigation after all.

***

The air temperature has increased since yesterday; it must be in the high sixties or maybe even seventy today. Jenny and I are walking along the National Mall; it is really pleasant -- maybe just a little cool but the sun is out and the wind has died down. The Lincoln Memorial is off in the distance. Jenny and I have spent the morning walking and talking. The buildings along the mall look so impressive; they provide a relaxed backdrop for us to stroll along and chat. It is late in the season so there are not many flowers or pretty foliage to speak of. We never made it to shop.

Jenny says, "What time is it?"

"I don't know, maybe two o'clock."

"Shouldn't we be getting back to the subway? I don't want to rush about getting ready. Mark is really nervous about tonight's dinner parties."

"Okay, let's see, the station is about four blocks that way." I pointed to our left. "Brent is a little nervous too. He says the Senator has friends everywhere. He said he once pulled Hector out of some issues with some bureaucrat." We turn and start walking back to the station.

"Yes, he did. Hector was charged with fraud over some land deal he was involved in. The property was partially owned by the Senator's brother. And the brother was a part of the fraud -- as a co-conspirator. The Senator made some calls and it all went away. That was all before Hector moved here last year. I don't really know any details. Mark never likes to tell me too much. Sometimes, I think he thinks I'm a bit ditzy!"

"Why would he think that? Why, you were a blonde cheerleader who just managed to graduate from college cum laude."

She smiles. I am glad she went on to bigger and better things than cheerleading! I am getting to like Jenny more and more as I have gotten to know her. "What's Brent telling you about the parties?"

"Very little, he says for me to act normal, friendly, let the conversation flow and to listen for any information. Anything might be useful. Pay attention. Don't forget the details."

"It sounds like we're in for quite an exciting evening." She sarcastically adds, "It was so much easier when I was just a cheerleader."

"From what I've heard, Congressman Coontze relishes the camaraderie of cheerleaders!"

Even more sarcasm, "Yeah, Mark told me I was fully qualified to be a member of the Congressman's staff by the time I graduated from high school. At that time my resume read: young curvy blonde female with skimpy cheer outfit available for consultation. I met all of the requirements!"

We titter and walk on toward the subway station with our elbows interlocked.

***

I am standing in front of the mirror wearing only a towel wrapped around my waist loosely knotted, trying to get my hair dry with one of those premium hotel-supplied hair dryers. This hotel room is nice but not frilly. There are two large rooms: a living room and a bedroom. The bathroom is large with a walk-in shower (Brent and I took advantage of that last night -- we were, of course, only trying to save on water use! Ha!) There is a large sink and mirror outside the bathroom door.

Brent strolls in and stands behind me leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. He is only wearing his underwear. They are black. He tugs on my towel and it drops to the floor leaving me naked.

"You'd better not bother me. I'm a woman AND I am trying to get dressed! Now you know that that is not a good combination!"

"Oh, excuse me, you're not dressed yet? I was hoping this was it! Will I get the sink sometime before the party starts? I would like to at least brush my teeth."

"Be patient, just a few adjustments to the hair then I'm going back to get dressed." I look back at him through the mirror; he is looking down and checking my backside! I innocently ask, "What are you looking at back there?"

In the mirror I see his face light up in amazement. He fakes the voice of shock and says, "I have never seen anything quite so big."

I turn around and throw my wet washrag at him. He immediately evades my attack and the wet rag hits the wall, goes 'shplort' and rolls down to the floor.

"What was that for?" he innocently inquires.

"Don't talk about my behind like that. Don't you realize I'm the most perfect woman you could ever have?"

He quickly recoups his normal mien and snaps, "Oh, excuse me, I wasn't referring to your ass as being big; it isn't all THAT big! I was admiring my spectacular pecker!"

I drolly reply, "Hey, don't flatter yourself; it's not all that great."

"That's not what you were moaning last night. Anyway, where could you find this kind of quality?" He was waving his hands around like some kind of TV-sales guy.

I speak as sultry as I can, "Your incredible pecker only achieves its magnificence because of me. It's nothing without me." I turn to face him looking as seductively as I could. I slide my hands down into his underwear and fondle his balls.

He looks at me and unconvincingly says, "This could make us late. I'd hate to keep the Senator waiting."

I alluringly purr, "I think we have the time." I recede to my knees looking up at him in obeisance. "I'll be no time at all, my lord."

I pull his shorts down and start sucking his already large cock. It does not take me long to get his member rock solid. I pull on it back and forth. I hear him groaning, "Dammit, you are the best." Finally, he gushes his juice into my mouth. I swallow it all. I lick the head of his cock as the last few dribbles seep out. I look up at him as I pull his undershorts back up.

I stand and look at him haughtily, "Now, are you still worried about the Senator?"

"I doubt that he would notice if we were a few minutes late."

I shuffle my ass as I walk back into the bedroom. I glance in the mirror; Brent has that satisfied grin on his face. He does not think my ass is too big; I can tell! I close the door behind me. I hear him brushing his teeth.

The dress Jenny and I picked out for tonight is hanging in the closet. She was a big help packing. The dress is black with a black belt that has gold highlights. The belt is wide and rides high. The dress is gathered under my breasts and folds over them. The neck is not open; an elastic band at the top holds it snugly on my skin. The gold highlights continue at half the intensity above the belt and all the way to the neckline. The hem runs just below my knees. The sleeves are quarter the length of my arm. The entire dress is form fitting and zips up the back. There are no decorations, buttons, ribbon or any other add-ons beside the belt and highlights. It is simple. I am sure I can distract the Senator in this dress.

I slip into my bra and pull on some black panties. I drop the dress over my head and slide my arms into the sleeves. I cannot quite get it zipped all the way up, but I am sure Brent will do the honors. I model the dress in the mirror; it fits great! I pick up my black coat and head for the door.

Brent is standing there by the mirror adjusting his cuff. He is dressed in a tailor-fit black suit with a white shirt and black bow tie. I make a mental note: we need a fantasy where we are dressed formally -- he really looks delectable.

He turns around. When Brent sees me, he has that look on his face again: it is the face that every girl wants her man to have when he really takes a good look at her. I think he is drooling! He says, "Outstanding! You clean up very well!" He lowers his voice and tries to sound regal, "Twill be an honor to escort you to the ball, milady."

I answer in the shrillest voice I can muster, "What do you mean by that -- 'the ball'?" I cannot keep up the façade anymore; I never could do that. I walk over to him dropping the coat on the desk, "Will you zip me please?" as I turn my back to him.

"No problem." He uses both his hands to poke around on my ass while he asks himself, "Now where is that zipper?"

"It's a bit higher than that, dear!" I reply in fake disgust. He reaches his hands upward and comes around cupping each of my breasts. I need to come to Washington more often. This is the kind of treatment I like. I lean my head back on his chest for a momentary indulgence then remind him, "We are really going to be late if you keep this up."

He pushes me off him and says matter-of-factly, "Okay!" Then he zips me up, firmly pats me on the behind and says, "Let's go! The taxi is probably waiting. What's taking you so long, woman?" I punch his shoulder. He grabs hold of his arm and feigns injury; I ignore him.

Brent picks up my coat and helps me put it on. He lays his trench coat over his arm, opens the hotel room door and we step out into the hallway. The elevator is just around the corner from our room. Brent hits the 'Down' arrow button. I hold onto his other arm wondering just what we have gotten ourselves into.

***

We are standing in the swanky lobby of the country club. Black marble tiles cover the floor; there is a small cement fountain in the center of the room with a naked female sculpture holding a pitcher. Water pours out of the spout into about four inches of water. Pennies, nickels and dimes line the bottom of the pool. It is already dark outside, but the curtains are still open in the windows. The drapes are dark yellow. There is a small chandelier hanging from the ceiling providing a dim light for the room. The attendant at the door is talking to Brent while I admire the furnishings.

In a moment, the attendant opens the door and motions for us to follow. Once inside he speaks loudly, "Excuse me, everyone, excuse me please." The conversations quiet down and everyone looks at us. I feel like every eye is ogling us as we stand there at the door.

The attendant waits until everyone is quiet, and then continues, "Please welcome Mr. Brent Adams with his companion, Jean." There is some light applause, after which the conversations pick back up. The banquet room is dark. I hardly see the faces on the other guests; I guess there are twenty other people in the room. I do not recognize anyone.

A small string quartet in the far corner begins playing chamber music. They are very good.

Tables are set up with white tablecloths, white china and silver, large crystal glasses. The salads are already at each seat. Maybe we will eat soon; I am hungry!




News Story Ch. 07



The floor in here is wooden slats. The walls are half brick, up from the floor, and the other half is stucco up to the ceiling. Behind two open doors I see two long hallways radiating away from the banquet room. I can see three other doors that are closed. To the left are two large buffet tables. The steel food trays are there covered with steel lids. I can see blue flame flickering underneath several of the trays. There are wisps of steam popping out from under a few of the lids.

Brent says, "The Senator has not yet arrived. It seems we actually had time to frolic some more; how about you and me on a table over there in the corner?"

I whisper back to him, "Don't tempt me. It's dark in here and the tables -- they look fairly sturdy. Do you think we would annoy the guests?" I answer my own question. "Well, maybe but keep that thought! Where's the Senator?"

"The Senator will not ever arrive at a dinner party until all the guests have arrived. It's not stylish. There is one more couple yet to arrive: one of the ministers from the Mongolian embassy." That amuses me; we had just spent a couple of days at a Mongol harem!

The entry door opens and the attendant walks in with another couple. He declares, "Excuse me, everyone, excuse me please." I am admiring the table settings and the décor; I am not paying attention to the newly arrived guests. The room gets quiet.

The attendant announces, "Please welcome Mr. Hamid Villankahn with his companion, Jasmine." That catches my attention! I look to the entryway and see them walk in. Jasmine looks gorgeous dressed in a long Mongolian gown: even in this darkness I can see the color array of her dress. It is fabulous. Hamid looks strong and virile, just as I remember him.

Brent softly jabs me and whispers in my ear, "Quit drooling!"

I discretely slap his arm. "I'm not drooling. What are they doing here? Are they gonna squeal?"

"Oh no, not at all. Hamid got this dinner invitation set up for us. Obviously, he has connections that neither Mark nor I have! And I'm sure he wanted a little more of your action, too. He undoubtedly has never had someone like you. Do you know how much he paid for you at that auction?"

I would like to know how much, but I portray embarrassment instead, "Shut up! We're here on assignment." I look back toward Jasmine and Hamid. "I'm surprised to see them. Why did he bring Jasmine?"

"She is the Deputy Minister. Hamid is her escort. He is someone she likes to keep around; you might say Hamid is Jasmine's 'handy man'." Brent walks to Hamid. I stand there still shocked and confused. Brent and Hamid bow to each other, and then grasp hands in a solid handshake.

Jasmine walks to me smiling as big as can be. "Good evening, Jean. So good to see you again, yes?" She bows and offers her hand for shaking; I bow in return and shake her hand.

I am pleased to see her. "Yes, I am very surprised to see you here. No one told me you were going to be here -- or Hamid for that matter."

Jasmine laughs. "You see Hamid, yes?" I nod. "You no have. He my husband! He no speak English. So sorry -- fantasy time over!"

I am surprised again and now I am genuinely embarrassed! What more am I going to find out tonight?

Jasmine says, "Please excuse, I go to talk with others. Have good dinner. Maybe we see each other again, yes?"

"That would be nice; I'm happy to see you again, Jasmine." She looks at me with a bit of snootiness, turns and walks away.

It is just a couple of more minutes and the attendant opens the doors once again. He walks in with a single man. This must be the Senator. He declares, "Excuse me, everyone, excuse me please." The place goes silent immediately.

The attendant announces, "Please welcome Senator Melvin Johnson." The attendant immediately turns, leaves and closes the door behind him. The Senator has not brought a date with him.

The guests lightly applaud as the Senator walks in, motioning with his hand he pleads, "Please, not necessary. I am so glad to be here. I am very happy you could attend. Please, continue to mingle -- we will be eating momentarily." The Senator has the look of a football linebacker: strong and lean. He walks with an air of authority. I am surprised he does not have a lady friend with him. I had heard he was not married; he certainly must be one of the most eligible bachelors in Washington.

The second he stops speaking several people dressed all in white come out of a door just behind the buffet. They look around then approach people as if they are on a mission; they are. One man comes up to me and says, "Miss Meredith, please come with me. We will be seating you for dinner." He offers his arm to me.

"Thank you," I reply and hold his arm with my hand. I need to come to Washington more often. This is the kind of treatment I like.

He walks to the table opposite the buffet and seats me on the third table setting. There are eight settings on this table. Right behind us is another man escorting Brent to sit beside me at the second position; Brent stands behind the chair. A few seconds later, another man escorts a lady who is seated on the other side of Brent. He takes no notice of her; he just stares out across the room. Two other couples are escorted to our table leaving an empty seat next to me. The men stand and the ladies are seated.

The men in white all scurry about getting the guests seated except for the Senator; he is still standing in the middle of the room. The men in white all retreat to the buffet table standing behind it.

He speaks, "Again, let me welcome you all to this little dinner. I'm so glad you could all come. I hope we can be friends tonight and talk about fun things. Leave the business of the day for the day time. Let's fellowship now and get better acquainted, shall we? I will do my best to make sure I don't miss anyone before we are done this evening. But first, let's enjoy the meal the club has prepared for us." With that he walks around the perimeter of the room to our table. He stands behind the chair and commands, "Gentlemen, please be seated." The men all sit.

One of the men in white comes back to our table and says, "Please follow me to the buffet. After you are seated again, we will serve the beverages."

We all stand. Brent offers his arm to the lady on his right. Confused, I begin to say something when the Senator taps my arm. He offers his arm to me and politely asks, "May I have the honor?"

I am taken aback but brace myself in an instant. "Thank you, Senator. The honor is mine." We walk from behind the table and on to the buffet.

"I would like to introduce myself -- Melvin Johnson -- politician, concerned citizen, outdoor enthusiast, activist and, currently, United States Senator." Interesting -- a five tick point resume. He thrusts his hand out; I daintily put mine into his and we shake.

"Pleased to meet you, Senator -- I am Jean Meredith."

"Excellent, Jean. How are you enjoying the city of Washington? Is this your first visit to the capital?"

"Yes, it is! The city is magnificent. I walked around the mall all morning just taking in the monuments and memorials. It is breathtaking."

"I know what you mean. I had not been here before my first term. In the last six years, I have grown very fond of the city. Still, I miss the country -- walking in the forest -- sitting by the creeks -- camping under the stars; I am a country boy at heart."

"Really? I did not know that. You were very young when you were first elected."

"Yes. I was thirty-six, just one year past the minimally required constitutional age. It's been tumultuous ever since. Ah, hear we are. May I have your plate please?" I hand it to him. "Let's see what we have to eat."

He looks over the buffet and begins dropping helpings onto his plate. Without skipping a beat he asks me, "What would you like? I will get it for you."

I look ahead of me, Brent is filling the plate for the lady he is escorting -- this must be the way it is done. I need to come to Washington more often. This is the kind of treatment I like.

"I will have some green beans, and, is that grilled pork? A small slice would be good. And I would like to have a little corn casserole and a little pasta salad -- not too much, please. It all looks just too delicious. Thank you, Senator."

"You're welcome, Jean." He sets his plate down, takes my plate and fills it exactly as I requested. He picks up his own plate and says, "Let's go back and be seated, shall we."

I try to pick up our conversation where we left off, "So, you are only forty-one or --two now? That is still very young for the average Senator. What's the secret of your success?"

"It's simple; I have the best staff. My people are on top of everything. It's almost like they don't need me around. This is a very busy job I have here and I wouldn't be able to survive without them. The office functions effortlessly even when I'm not around!"

"Do you really think your staff is special? At this level, I would think everyone has to have an above-average staff to survive."

"Yes that is true. However, if you're lucky enough, as I have been, to get several extra-sharp people, then it pays dividends in the long run. I am always prepared for votes, I am briefed on my committee duties and my schedule is run with impeccable precision." He pauses as we approach our seats. "Well, here we are." He sets the plates down, pulls out my chair and seats me.

"Thank you, Senator." He gently pushes the chair forward.

"You are most welcome, Jean."

Just then, Brent and his lady come back to the table. Likewise he sets their plates down and seats her. He turns to me and says, "Jean, please let me introduce you to Christine Zimmerman." He nods back to her; she extends her hand and we shake. "Christine, this is Jean Meredith."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Jean."

"Nice to meet you too, Christine."

Brent interjects, "Christine is the Senator's Chief of Staff."

"That's wonderful! The Senator has been ultra-complementary when speaking of his staff. He has given you all the credit for his success."

"The Senator is modest. We do our job, but he is still at the helm making the big decisions, participating in the debates and crafting the solutions. We fill in the blanks and follow-up on the details." I suddenly get the feeling that I am listening to a campaign speech.

"From all appearances you and the staff are doing an outstanding job. I find it amazing that the Senator is so young and already in his second term. You all have already gone through two successful election cycles."

"The Senator has a lot to offer to his state and to the country. That makes it so much easier when you have a message and viable solutions."

Brent takes his seat and asks Christine about her food selections. That was my signal to attend back to the Senator; and not a moment too soon. The Chief of Staff is making me nauseous with her bubbly endorsement of the Senator; she needs to save that stuff for the next election campaign.

The Senator and I resume our discussion as we enjoy the fine food.

*** 

The waiters have cleared the tables leaving only our drinks. The orchestra begins playing again. The Senator stands while holding my hand, "May I have the honor of your presence on the dance floor?"

I stand and reply, "Certainly, Senator." We walk out to the dance area. Several other couples are joining us and the others who were already there. The Senator puts his hand on my waist and continues holding my opposite hand as we begin to dance.

"Jean, dinner was excellent, don't you think?" So, here is a fellow who is among the most powerful in the entire country, and he is asking me about dinner. He is not so intimidating standing here holding onto me as we dance; maybe he is just another guy.

"Senator, It's been a while since I've had such a good dinner. Everything was delicious."

"Tell me. What it is that you do when you aren't visiting us here in the capital?"

I think to myself: be brief, Jean; do not talk about yourself; you are here to talk about the Senator. "I've just graduated from college. I started working as a newspaper reporter just a couple of weeks ago for a small local paper."

"That's outstanding. So many graduates are having difficulty finding any work nowadays. I really feel badly for them."

"It's been challenging. My first front page story will be published this week." Why did I volunteer that? Senator, please do not ask me what the story is about. I do not want to talk about the 'Man's World' fantasy enterprise tonight. That is not why we are here!

"What is your story about?"

Augh! It is my fault: I opened the door and he jumped right in. "It's about a new business that's moved into town. It has appealed to a client base that stretches over many states. I wrote a story describing their services and the mindsets of their customer base." Please do not follow-up.

"What services do they provide?"

Augh! He is doing this on purpose -- I just know it! "I really cannot tell you before the story is published. That would be an unethical breach of my client's privacy and the editor's proprietary ownership of the story." He is not going to fall for that stupid excuse is he?

"Okay, I understand." Huh? Where is the follow-up question, Senator? "But it sounds wonderful, Jean. I am so glad you are succeeding so early in your career. You must be proud."

Enough about me, Senator, let us talk about you. "Senator, if you don't mind me asking, how do you cope with the everyday grind here: voting, keeping track of bills, writing bills, debating, committee meetings and everything else that goes with it?"

"The staff keeps me up-to-date on the details. I am a champion debater, but not a lot of that goes on during Senate proceedings. The decorum only allows the most civil discussions. We roll out the punches on the Sunday news shows!" He chuckles.

I smile and go on, "How about the lobbyists? I've heard that one of your lobbyists has a company that is filing for bankruptcy. There is a lot of money involved. What's up with that?"

The Senator looks confused, "What are you asking? I'm not aware of any bankruptcies like that. Your information must not be accurate?"

"Dixon Engineering out of Orlando, Senator, haven't they filed for bankruptcy?"

"Oh, Jean, your information is definitely not any good. Christine has just spent a few days with the boys at Dixon. Everything is going well. She can fill you in." Senator, I would rather that you tell me; I do not want to ask Christine. This is a significant event and a big pile of money is at stake.

"When was the last time you visited Dixon Engineering?"

"I'm not sure, maybe two years ago. I'm not sure, Jean, but Christine would know. I can ask her later. And you've heard they are in bankruptcy. That is amazing. As far as I know, they are sailing along famously!"

The orchestra finishes its number; everyone claps politely. Brent joins us and asks the Senator, "May I break in, Senator, and dance with my girl?"

"Yes, Brent, my apologies for monopolizing her time!" the Senator looks at me, "Thank you for the dance, Jean, I thoroughly enjoyed it."

"Thank you, Senator." He walks back to the table. The orchestra starts playing again. Brent holds me close to him and we began to dance.

I wrap my arms around Brent's neck crossing them behind his head. I lay my head on his shoulder. "Thank you for call me your girl."

Brent snorts and then asks, "What did you and the Senator talk about?"

"Mostly nothing. He's incredibly polite. I've relished in his valiant courtesy. Otherwise, this guy is a buffoon. He ought to run for President. I have never heard someone talk so long and say so little in all my life. Do you think he's being coy?"

"Maybe. I've been talking to Christine. She is very, very evasive but I've managed to find out a couple of things. She flinched when I asked about the bankruptcies. They've been buried in the press. For someone like me, who is so close to the Senator, to know about them has made her nervous. We will be dancing in a few minutes; I have a few more lines of questions to ask. It will be interesting. I'm not so sure about the Senator and being coy -- he may very well be a buffoon. But you need to be diligent."

"Don't scare me, Brent. I'm not as cool as you are."

"Don't worry, you'll be fine." He strokes the hair on the back of my head. "Anything else?"

"He did say he thought Dixon Engineering was in business and chugging along. I think he used the word 'famously'. He says he hasn't visited in a couple of years. But he says Christine was just there. You might want to ask her about that? The Senator said that she had a good ole' time with the boys!"

"That is interesting. Keep pushing him for information. He's a Senator. He may not break very easily even if he is a buffoon. No one gets the position he has reached without some sort of personal charisma. Try this: say you heard about a new operation called Suns-Up Energy. Tell him you read their by-line. Ask him who you might contact for a job with them. Okay?"

"Yeah. Suns-Up Energy, I got it."

"Are you very sure?"

"What is Suns-Up Energy's product or service?"

"I don't know; I just made them up."

"I will do it. Now let me just hold onto you for a while." I push my body against his as closely as I can.

We continue dancing and holding each other until the music ends. We walk back to the table hand-in-hand.

The Senator is already there talking to Christine. Brent holds the back of Christine's chair and asks, "May I have this dance, Christine?"

"Thank you, Brent, I'd be delighted." She stands and they walk to the dance floor.

The Senator says, "Would you like to dance some more?"

I timidly ask, "Can we stay here and talk for a while?"

"Sure, that's okay with me."

A waiter walks up and refills our water glasses. "Any drinks for you, ma'am?"

"No, thank you."

"And you, Senator?"

"No, thank you good man. Water will be fine." The waiter goes on to the next table.

The Senator asks, "What shall we talk about?"

"If I may be so bold, I would like to ask you about a job prospect. I read about them not too long ago. They are a government contractor that is listed on your website. The name is Suns-Up Energy."

"Why would a newspaper reporter want a job with an energy company?" He is stalling, I know he is. He is trying to figure out just what Sun's-Up Energy does!

"Do you know what small-town newspaper reporters get paid? Energy is the future! Suns-Up Energy sounds like a good prospect."

The Senator mumbles, "Oh, yeah, Suns-Up Energy. I tell you what, Jean; I will check with the staff and have someone call you in the next couple of days. We should be able to help you out somehow. Is that okay?"

"That would be great! Thank you, Senator." He does not have the foggiest notion about Sun's-Up Energy. But he made a sort of promise to me. That was not a good idea on his part.

Hamid and Jasmine step to the table. The Senator stands and says, "Deputy Minister, you are not leaving already?"

Jasmine responds, "Yes, Senator. We thank you for, uh . . . for hospitality. Yes."

"Why thank you. I was honored to have you here tonight. If you don't mind, please wait a few more minutes in the lobby. I need to speak with you privately for a few minutes before you depart. I will be right there." He extends his hand and shakes with both Jasmine and Hamid.

Jasmine looks at me and says, "Good night, Jean. So nice seeing you."

I respond, "Good night." We shake hands too. Hamid looks at me. I bow and offer my hand. He smiles big and shakes my hand, but does not bow (and I remember that he did pay a handsome price for me at an auction a few days ago); then he walks out into the lobby with Jasmine.

Several guests stop by the table to bid the Senator a good night. It is now about nine-thirty and two thirds of the guests are gone. Brent is over by the buffet talking with Christine. 




News Story Ch. 07



The Senator pulls a card out of his pocket and hands it to me; it is a room security key-card. "Jean Meredith, if you don't mind step back to Room 212 there to the right." I look down the long hallway. "There is an ante-room to the office. I will be right there -- I must talk to the Deputy Minister for a moment. Please excuse me." He drops his napkin on the table and walks toward the lobby.

I have no idea what he wants to do in the ante-room. Or maybe I do, but here, with these people milling about? This guy must be impervious to fear! I lay my napkin on the plate and walk to the hallway. I notice Brent watching me; he has a slight smile on his face and subtly nods. He takes hold of Christine's arm and whispers something into her ear. They both walk out to the lobby.

I use the key-card to open the door. I glance down the hall; no one is paying attention to me. The ante-room, Room 212, is nothing special. There is a small couch and two folding chairs. There is another door opposite the one I had entered. I do not see a sling anywhere (Brent may not be right on this one). I look at the pictures on the walls. They show political people, I suppose, at big dinners here; some of the pictures are dated in the 1920s and 30s. I do not recognize any of the names. There are people in the pictures of many ethnicities and some apparently wearing local native garb.

I hear the key-lock click. The door opens and the Senator enters closing the door behind him. "Thank you for joining me." He sits on the couch. "Please, come here and sit. We definitely need to talk." He points to his right side. I sit down beside him on his right. I discretely cross my left leg over my right.

He puts his arm on the back of the couch behind me. He says nothing.

I ask, "Jasmine, the Deputy Minister, seemed uncomfortable tonight. Did you notice that?"

"The only thing that makes her uncomfortable is if someone calls her by the name Jasmine." Oops! "It seems Jasmine does not like her name. It's an old cultural name that is generally considered to mean belonging to a lower caste."

"Oh, my! I had no idea. I insulted her, didn't I?"

"Not to worry. She's the least of your problems."

"You don't seem to have any problems, do you?"

"Jean, my dear, I am a U.S. Senator. My days are filled with troubles. Oh, well, it still pays pretty well."

"Your staff keeps you out of trouble, don't they?"

The Senator looks at me and chortles. "Oh, Jean, always the reporter, aren't you? You know what? We have met once before."

"I don't remember us ever meeting. I'm pretty good with names and I never forget a face."

He chortles again. "Jean, the last time we met was three weeks ago; I was wearing a mask. You were lying on a mini-bed with your arms behind you and your legs up in the air in a V-shape. I came into your room and probed you with my whip."

I was flabbergasted and I immediately felt humbled. "Are you serious?" Brent, my Master, had tied me to the bed and pulled my legs wide apart with ropes hanging from the rafters. He had left me alone in that room. In just a few short minutes, I heard someone walking around the house. In just a few more minutes, I listened to a girl being savagely beaten in the room just across the hall. When it was over, the whip wielding brute strolled into my room, roaming around me lying prone on that bed. He poked me and tormented me with his whip; and yet he did not strike me with it a single time. Even so, I still felt the terror and anguish.

"Yes, I am serious. You looked mouthwatering lying there. Had I not been focused on the end game of my prior activities, I might have worked you over then and there." End game? That is an unbelievable allusion to what I heard in that room.

I am getting nervous now. "So, what are you saying?"

"Did Brent tell you my nickname: Whip Meister?"

"Yes, he did." I pause and look away. He moves his right hand (which is behind me) onto my shoulder; I look at his hand. "So, what are you proposing?" I insist.

"Jean, I am not going to whip you, it that's what is worrying you. 'Man's World' dominants do not exclusively whip woman. At least, there won't be a whipping here -- it's not secluded enough here."

"Then what?"

"Jean, you don't need to be worried. You are asking a lot of questions and I have been answering them as best I can. I also that know you are a rep for 'Man's World'. I think it's time for our demo run; I was promised a run through with a beautiful young lady."

I think for just a second. I uncross my legs and roll over onto his lap. I pull my skirt around so it does not inhibit my movement. I put my hands on his shoulders and look down into his eyes. "Is this the correct way to start?" He beat a woman in the room next to me. She pleaded because she had not pleased him. She was in agony. He was angered and demanding correction on her part. I am not going to make her mistake. He looks like he would be an efficient 'Whip Meister'. Today I did not really want to find out first hand.

He smiles and runs both his hands underneath my skirt into my panties and begins squeezing my butt cheeks. Suddenly, I liquesce under his touch. He comments, "You have such a nice physique." I need to come to Washington more often. This is the kind of treatment I like.

I pull his jacket off his arms. I remove his tie and unbutton his shirt pulling it up from inside his pants; I unbutton his cuffs then pull the shirt off and lay it aside.

He presses himself into the back of the couch and says, "Turn around and sit here on the couch between my legs." I twirl around and pull my skirt up again so that I (1) show him my 'nice' ass and (2) have the skirt up from underneath me so it does not get in the way. He pushes my head down slightly and unzips my zipper. He pulls the dress up and over my head; he sets it neatly on the couch arm away from us. Then he removes my bra and lays it on top of the dress.

I am wearing only panties now. It is a little cool in here; my nipples stiffen and stand erect. I am seated on the edge of the couch between his legs. The Senator runs his hands up and cradles my breasts. "Here, let me check out these nice tits." He rubs them and pushes them up. He squeezes my tits between his fingers. I lean back against him; I hold my hand behind his head. I am breathing heavily as he arouses me even more.

The Senator slides his hands down my belly and into my panties. He directs me, "Spread your legs." I spread my legs wide; he pushes my pussy lips apart and fondles each lip with an index finger. He moves his fingers up and down whirling them around in the process. "Wider!" he orders. I sink further into bliss as I extend my legs even further apart. He pulls his left hand up and runs the middle finger of his right hand deep into me. "Keep your legs widely spread," he says. I groan as he moves his finger inside me. He rubs me forcefully and I groan over and over.

He moves his hands up to my waist. The Senator pushes me down twisting me off the couch and onto my knees. I pull his shoes off. I unbuckle his belt, unbutton the pants and pull them off. I can see his cock bulging in his underwear. I pull them off; he scoots down on the couch and opens his legs wide. I hold onto his cock with my hand. I stoop down and start licking his balls. I lick between his legs going back almost to his asshole. I make his entire crotch wet. I lick on his belly around the base of his cock. I am going to take my time and make sure he is satisfied with me.

The Senator takes hold of my hair and pulls me away; he takes his cock and aims it toward me then pulls my head back forward. He is changing my plan. I open my mouth as he feeds it to me. He bobs my head back and forth. He is watching me suck his dick. I look up at him as he keeps me focused.

After just a few minutes he enjoins, "Climb up here." He pulls his dick from my mouth and waves it back and forth. It is long and thick; its head is round and smooth and wet from my tongue.

I whisper, "Yes sir," and pull myself up. It is strange, but I notice he is only wearing his black socks and his wrist-watch. That is the way it always is on movie sex scenes. What an odd thing to notice here and now.

I am up on the couch; I face him, on my knees straddling his legs as he aims his cock for my clit. My hands are on the back of the couch and my breasts hang in his face. I slowly ease myself down on his member; I whimper as it moves inside me. The Senator holds my waist and moves me up and down. As I get going to the rhythm he likes, he moves his right hand up to my breast and softly massages it. I feel something pulling on me; I look down -- he is sucking on my nipple as I rock up and down. I am enchanted and cannot stop. I keep on rocking and start revolving my ass.

I ask him, "Do you like that?" He lurches a little and I hear a soft moan. I drop all the way down onto his lap and start grinding. He puts his hands on my waist and leans back to enjoy the ride. I writhe in my own pleasure and I can feel his stiff member moving about my insides.

Quickly, the Senator leans forward moving me down off his cock. He sets me on the floor and takes hold of his cock. He barks, "Open your mouth wide! Tongue out!" He rubs his member; I open my mouth and set him a target. He begins moaning; his white juice begins streaming out and into my mouth. He aims two more good shots into my mouth. No wonder he is a Senator. His cum drips down off my chin. I have never had so much cum in my mouth at one time. I swallow what I can. I bend forward and suck on his still-hard cock pulling more sauce out and into my mouth. I swallow more. I lick his cock all over; I want it to be clean when I am done.

The Senator stands up. He pulls on his underwear and his pants. He puts on his shirt. He looks at me and says, "Jean, it's about time for us to leave. A staffer will call you a taxi to take you back to the hotel. I have a car out back, actually out this door here. Please hurry and get dressed. It's been a long day. I'm sure you would like to get some rest. Thank you for a remarkable evening, Miss Jean Meredith." He continues buttoning up. This is very abrupt!

He pauses and watches me put my dress on. He says, "By the way, you have a very nice technique -- you must be an outstanding submissive. Thank you."

I dutifully reply, "Thank you, Senator." I am glad he did not demonstrate his skills that earned him the title: 'Whip Meister'. On the other hand, it might be useful for a future fantasy -- another mental note.

He picks up his coat, slips his shoes on and walks out the back door. I hear a car rev up and drive off. What a quick exit! I would have wanted to talk to him more.

He knew who I was. I wonder if he was wondering why I was really there. Someone in his position must be suspicious of anyone who walks in the door and says hello. I sense that my line of questioning was bothering him.

Dammit. I cannot get this dress zipped all the way up. I will just go to the lobby and put my coat on.

There is a knock on the door. "Yes."

"Miss Meredith, it's Jefferson. The Senator sent me over with the limo."

I thought the Senator had said taxi. No matter -- I want to get back to the hotel. "Okay. Come on in." I slip my right shoe on. The door swings open. "Thanks. The Senator said you would be here. Just let me slip my other shoe on then I'll be ready to go."

"No problem, ma'am. Please excuse me for being so brazen, but I noticed your dress is unzipped. May I zip it up for you?" He seems honorably self-conscious.

"Sure, I would appreciate that." I rotate my back toward him. He gently tugs the zipper up to the top. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Miss Meredith."

I straighten my dress and walk out of the room. I speedily walk to the lobby; he trails behind me. I go to the coat rack and get my coat. I pull it on hastily.

The large black limousine sits in front of the lobby doors. Jefferson holds a door open for me; he is so polite. Just like the Senator. I climb in; I hesitate when I see another man sitting at the end of the seat on my left. I look back at Jefferson just as he pushes me to move over and sits to my right. This does not seem right.

"I hope you don't mind, but the Senator asked me to make sure you get into your room safely."

I am not sure I feel any relief; but he does seem so gallant. But this looks to be overkill under the circumstances. "Thank you; I appreciate yours and the Senator's concern."

I look at Jefferson; suddenly a cloth is pushed over my mouth and nose. Jefferson swiftly pins my arms back against the limo seat back. I cannot get away from Jefferson's grip. This cloth over my face is wet and it smells strangely; the other man presses it tightly over my mouth and nose. I feel woozy; something is wrong -- everything looks so fuzzy. And then everything goes dark.

***

I cannot move. My wrists are bound behind my back; my ankles are also bound together. I am wearing a blindfold and a gag. Otherwise, I am stark naked. I can hear muffled voices but I cannot quite make them out. It sounds like I am inside a moving vehicle but I cannot see. I am lying down on stiff carpeting with a smelly blanket thrown over the top of me; it is chilly nevertheless. They have thrown me into the trunk!

Every time the limo hits a bump I bounce on the hard floor. It is very uncomfortable in here.

I am petrified in horror. I do not know where I am or where I am going. I can remember Jefferson pushing me into the limousine and the cloth sliding over my face. That is all I can remember. They must have chloroformed me. How long I have been lying here conked out? I have a headache.

I struggle to loosen my bonds. They are securely tightened. I cannot budge them.

Abruptly, I start sliding; the limo is turning left -- and it is turning off the pavement onto what must be a dirt road. This road is very rough; I am bouncing everywhere. The driver is in a hurry. Where is he going in such a rush? I am scared. I think I am scared for my life. I do not know what will come to pass.

The limo is slowing down. It does not bounce quite so much now. We are turning again -- to the right. There is the sound of wood knocking against itself; that sounds like a cow-catcher. Maybe we are on a farm. The car moves slowly for another minute before slowing to a stop.

Two doors slam shut; they must be out of the car. There are at least three of them -- the two that were in the back with me and the driver. I cannot move. I am terrified.

The trunk latch clicks and I hear the creaking sound of the trunk opening. The cold night air rushes in and envelopes me; I am already scared -- now I am shivering too.

I hear a voice say, "Hey look; Sleeping Beauty is awake!"

"Shut up and bring her in the house!" That was Jefferson speaking; he is not the polite man who picked me up at the club.

Someone takes hold of my arms and pulls me up. He drags me over the lip of the trunk. Once out of the trunk, he stands me on my feet; I cannot keep my balance. Someone pulls me forward and I feel something press against my stomach. Suddenly I am being lifted in the air -- he is putting me over his shoulder. He drops me onto his shoulder; I grunt upon the impact. He wraps an arm around the back of my knees. My bare body is hanging off someone's shoulder.

I feel his steps as he walks. He takes about one dozen steps then he goes up three steps. The sound of steps changes to a hollow wooden sound; we must be up on a deck or patio. I can hear a second set of steps and then a third. A door is opened. We are now inside; it is warmer in here but there is still an echo of emptiness. I cannot let my anxiety cloud my senses; I have to stay alert. I am frightened and alone. This is not a fantasy; I am in grave trouble.

Another door is opened. We walk in; the man gently lays me down on a cushion on a table or platform -- I cannot quite tell. He laid me down on my side.

I hear Jefferson speak, "You two get out of here and wait for the other car. I will start the interrogation. Leave us alone until the second car shows up." I hear two sets of steps leaving the room; the door slams. I assume Jefferson has stayed in here with me.

I feel a hand rubbing the back of my thigh; it moves it onto my ass. His fingers burrow into the furrow of my cheeks and tickle my bunghole. I flinch.

"So, Miss Meredith, here we are. . . .You and I need to have little talk." He pulls his hand away; Jefferson unties my gag.

I clear my throat and scream, "Get me out of here! The Senator is not going to stand for how you are treating me!"

"Jean, you are in no position to be giving orders. In point of fact, you are here to answer a few questions. Then we will see what transpires. It all depends on how cooperative you really are. I intend to see how cooperative you are for me." I feel his hand back on my thighs. He pulls my panties down onto my bound ankles.

Jefferson climbs onto the platform with me; he rolls me over onto my stomach and orders me, "Push your ass up into the air." I do so. I am scared. I feel the air on my skin. I hear a zipper. He probes between my legs with his hand; and then I feel his cock pressing on me. He moves it about looking until he finally hits the target.

His cock slides into my bunghole stretching it open. I scream again, "Get off me, bastard." He pushes further into me -- back and forth. I rock with all my might; he rolls off me, including his dick, and he falls off the platform. I hear him hit the floor with a thud while my momentum takes me over the side as well. I land on top of him; he grunts loudly when I land on top of him.

"You stupid slut," shouts Jefferson as he pushes me off of him. His hands wrap around my throat and he starts choking me.

The door opens and I hear another voice, "Jefferson, take your hands off her!" Jefferson complies immediately. "I thought I told you, we need to talk to her. Is there anything besides shit in your skull?"

"I'm sorry, sir; I was only trying to get some information from her."

"Jefferson, you're an idiot! You don't get answers from someone while you strangle them. Get the hell out of here. Go help out with the other subject."

Someone leaves the room (presumably Jefferson) and the other person steps closely to me. Hands lift me up to a sitting position; he removes my blindfold. I do not recognize the man staring at me. He is dressed in black slacks and a black shirt. He is bald and appears to be forty or fifty years old.

I ask, "Will you untie me, please, and return my clothes."

"That's not going to be possible just yet. We have some business to discuss."

"What do you want from me? I don't know anything," I plead.

"We will discuss that shortly."

"Who are you?"

"My name is David Bassett. You will be in my custody for the time being."

"What do you want with me? Under what authority are you detaining me? I demand an answer immediately!"

He gets up and looks out a window; and then he briskly leaves the room, leaving the door open.

I sit there alone; my asshole is sore where Jefferson penetrated me. I am confused. I am scared. I cannot imagine what they want to know. Jefferson is a member of the Senator's staff. Are we snooping to close for comfort for them? Maybe one of us hit a live trail. I do not want to be here. I wish Brent was here holding me in his arms.

Bassett walks back into the room. Behind him is another man and he is carrying a woman over his shoulder. She is laid down next to me -- it is Jenny! Bassett removes Jenny's gag.

I ask her, "Are you alright?"

She whimpers, "Yes, and. . ."

Bassett interrupts, "I'm going to have to delay this joyous reunion. We are just going to talk now. I think you both know what we want to know."

I snap at Bassett, "What do you want to know? We don't know anything that is of use to anyone."