1 comments/ 14981 views/ 3 favorites The Gold Digger Ch. 02 By: carvohi Carol stood in the middle of one of her company's high rise luxury suites dressed only in a pair of blue plastic shoes, short white socks, a baby blue lace trimmed dress with puffy short sleeves, and peter pan collar. The dress was held on by an unreachable locked in place zipper in the back, and it had a short little hem that only reached her crotch. Worse, her dress, face, arms and legs were sticky with mens sperm, men who until yesterday were her business partners. Worse still, to add insult to injury she was wearing a latched on metal dog collar, and her hands were ratcheted behind her back in some kind of shackle device she knew was much more formidable than handcuffs. Then the ultimate calamity, she was left in this beautiful suite to fend for herself. She was expected to find a way to get out of this horrid little child's dress, clean up, change into her adult clothes and go home. She sat down on the big chair where just the night before Bob and she had performed intercourse. That event stuck in her craw, since it was her sex with Bob that had started her downward spiral. Now Bob had left her with only a promise he might, only might he said, return later in the evening. She had all day, the whole damned day, to do what? Watch television. Oh sure, she could re-watch the video they'd made of her making a whore of herself with Bob, Hank, and Allen. She could go back to sleep, and wait all day. No she had to do something, try to do something. Carol got up and walked to the bathroom. She had to turn around backwards to open the door. Inside she found those small bars of soaps, and those tiny little bottles of shampoo usually found in motels. She wondered what if she managed to get all those little bottles open. There were five of them. She could pour the shampoo in the tub, fill it with water, and, if she was lucky, soak away all the goo she was covered with. She knew there was no getting out of the dress, but the dress was small, and in olden times women often bathed while still in their clothes. The shoes and socks could be a problem, but she had little alternative about them. It wouldn't be her first choice, but it was better than sitting around all day feeling filthy. She could even unpackage the little soaps, and let them sit around in the water adding to the cleaning potential of the bath. Then, after a good long soak, she might be able to finagle the knob that converted the bath to a shower. That's what she'd do, get good and soapy, then shower it all off. What the hell, she thought, she could go through the procedure two or three times if she got enough soap from the maids. At least, she thought, it was something to try. It would be better than just sitting and waiting all day. Who knows, she considered, Bob said he cared about her. If she showed a little initiative it might work to her benefit. Men are such stupid fools; it might just yet work to her advantage. Walking back in the living room she took another look around. There just didn't seem to be anything else she could do. At that moment a maid walked into the suite. She was pushing a cart that was loaded with food. The maid looked over at Carol and said. "Here is your breakfast." Without one more word, not even a how do you do, the maid left. Carol saw and smelled the food. She hadn't realized how hungry she was. She decided to eat, then bathe. Over to the cart she went. The food was under a coverlet. With her back to the cart she carefully pulled the soft paper away from the food. Some of the food did become dislodged, but nothing spilled. On the cart was fried and scrambled eggs, toast, strips of bacon, sausage patties, a container of orange juice, a small kettle she presumed was either filled with hot water for tea, or, preferably, coffee, and a small bowl of creamers. Geez thought Carol. This was going to be a tricky breakfast endeavor. Luckily there was a long mirror behind the sofa. She pulled the cart over to where she would be able to see what she would be doing with her hands while her back was turned. She got the cart near the sofa and turned around to smell what was in the kettle. Goody. It was coffee. With her back to the cart she gingerly lifted the kettle and poured herself a cup. Next came the creamers. It took some time but she got two of the creamers opened and their contents into the cup. Still with her back to the cart. There was no other way, what being shackled and all; she maneuvered the food she wanted as close to the edge of the cart as she could. She turned around. Now at last it was time to eat. Forks, spoons and knives were out of the question. It would have to be straight to the mouth. She had to get down on her hands and knees to get at the food. Jeez, she thought, I feel really stupid. She started with the bacon. Using her tongue and lips she got the bacon. It was awkward but that was easy enough. The scrambled eggs were a little messy. It turned out that picking up a sausage patty was a no brainer. She just leaned forward and lapped at it with her tongue, as it started to move she gulped at it with her mouth. She knew she as getting grease all over her face and the top of her dress. She could feel the grease from the sausage oozing down into the tight little collar of the dress. She was sure glad no one else was in the room. She knew she probably looked really stupid. Gee, the toast looked so inviting, and she really liked fried eggs. She sniffed around. They were still warm. Getting back up and turning her back to the cart again she got hold of a knife and fork and, backwards, managed to cut up the fried eggs. She wanted butter for her toast. Getting the butter out of the packets was the hardest thing she'd done so far, but she got it. Then down on her knees again, turning back around she nibbled on the eggs, and with her teeth picked up the pieces of toast. The coffee was hard to get. Still kneeling with her hands all locked up behind her back she had to suck then lap it out of the cup. She thought to herself, that's a good doggie. She got about half of it before she gave up. She wished she had a straw. My she thought. That wasn't so bad. Now let's get a bath. Carol sauntered back over to the bathroom. With her back to the door she got it open and went inside. She was lucky the light came on automatically. She doubted if she could have reached the light switch. She looked in the mirror. God what a mess. She had eggs, sausage grease and coffee all over her face and the front of her dress. Talk about looking and feeling silly! Using the bathroom mirror as her guidance system she lined up the bottles of shampoo and easily worked open each one. She got her fingers on two of the soaps and managed to unwrap them as well. She thought she'd get a third soap, but it slipped from her fingers and fell behind the toilet. Seeing where it landed, she knew that little bar of soap was a lost cause. Well, with two soaps, and the bottles of shampoo she reasoned there might be just enough to get her at least partially clean. She wanted to play it safe. She sat the soaps and the bottles on the rim of the bathtub. Then sitting her ass on the top of the tub she slid around and got in. Nice little swivel job she thought. She had to kneel on the tub floor and crawl backward to the faucet. She turned the hot, then the cold on. As the water came out she adjusted it. Carol wanted it a little hotter than she normally liked it since she expected to be in the tub a lot longer. Once she got the water flowing, she used her foot to kick the metal stopper in place. Squirming carefully she got turned around facing the flowing water spigot. Then, back up on her knees, twisting and turning, one by one she emptied the shampoo bottles in the water. As each bottle was drained she let it fall into the water, thereby hoping to get as much soap as possible. She reached around and got the two little bars of regular soap and dropped them in the water. Now she thought this could be great. Carol had the soap and shampoo on the bottom of the tub. She plopped back on her butt, and started swishing from side to side to get it moving. Slowly, as the tub filled, and as she continued to undulate, the water became soapier. What with her hands fastened behind her back, she allowed herself to lean back as far as she could. When that didn't get enough soapy water on her breasts and the front of the dress, she slithered sideways and got more of the good stuff on that way. The shoes were a nuisance, but not as big a problem as she originally feared. Slowly the tub filled to near the top. Carol got back on her knees and squiggled around to be able to turn off the spigots. This she did with aplomb. Now she went to work trying to get as clean as possible. She wiggled and squiggled. She rocked to and fro. She popped her head in the water and frizzled her face and hair back and forth. She rolled her chest from side to side to get as much soapiness on her boobs as possible. It wasn't a half-bad bath considering she could barely touch herself. For a moment she thought bathing in a nylon outfit wasn't such a bad idea. If she could've touched herself it might've been real fun. The warm water cruising around and between her boobs was stimulating to say the least, and when she opened and squeezed her legs together she felt the hot water go in and out of her vagina. It was close to having sex. If she could've touched herself down there she knew, for sure, she could masturbated herself to an orgasm. In fact, she twisted backwards, and by bending herself over backward she could almost, just not quite, reach her puss. Oh what a sadistic bastard that Bob was. She slapped her legs together and apart a half dozen times to try to get off. Every time she slapped her legs closed the water gushed out of her vagina, and when she opened them real fast the water surged back in. Damn it, she could almost feel it. She was really sensitive down there. It was just out of reach, and just beyond her touch. She was hot. Her labial lips were engorged, but she was helpless. With no relief in sight she tried to think about something else, like how she'd like to cut off Bob's wang. She didn't know exactly how long she took in the tub, but it was long enough to start to feel uncomfortable owing to the drop in water temperature. Finally she decided it was time to get out. How to do it? Well she decided to simply unstop the metallic stopper while simultaneously flipping the lever that would turn it from running regular spigot to showering water. Once those two things were done she finagled herself back again to the water handles and turned them on, setting them for a nice hot shower. With the shower running nice and hot she carefully managed to get back on her feet. It wasn't easy with the shoes she was wearing, but it was accomplished. Then she stood up and let the water flow all over her. As it flowed she slowly turned round and round, letting it cover every part of her body. Wow she thought, this really feels great, almost, but not quite as good as sex. She took her locked hands and lifted them up and back, thus causing her tiny dress to slide up above her crotch. She tried to lean back to get the water to ripple over her clitoris. It almost worked! If she'd had her hands free she would've been able to pull her vaginal lips apart and get the warm flow to rinse over her clitoris. Hell, if her hands were free she'd be pumping away for she was worth. As it was, it was there, but not quite where it needed to be. She squeezed her legs together as tightly as she could. Maybe that would work? It didn't. Oh she wished she had the use of her hands. If she'd had her hands she'd have gotten off an hour ago, and now, with no hands, she felt the water as it almost, just not quite reached that special warm place where everything was aglow but not quite afire. She knew what she needed. She needed a man, or a good vibrator. Carol stood there quite a while letting the shower spray her while allowing the water in the tub to drain out. She didn't know how long she was there, but eventually she knew it was time to get out. With her shackled hands behind her, and slippery blue plastic shoes locked on her feet she was still deft enough to get out without mishap. Once out she turned around backward and shut off the water. Out of the tub but sopping wet Carol made her way back to the living room. Not knowing exactly what to do, and not particularly wanting to create too much havoc she decided to squat on the carpet to dry. She leaned up against the sofa. Allowing herself this one perk, she slowly drifted off to sleep. Carol awakened with a start. "What? Who?" She said. Someone had interrupted her reverie. She looked up and saw Bob standing over her. He was glaring at her angrily. Crap. She wondered what she had done wrong. Bob looked down at her none too pleased. "Just what do you think you're doing?" Carol was just reawakening, and she was in no mood for games. "Just what does it look like I'm doing?" Bob reached down and not too gently pulled her to her feet. "It looks to me like your trying to ruin some very expensive furniture!" Carol squiggled up, on her feet, wide-awake, though shackled and collared she didn't give an inch. "What do you expect me to do? Reupholster the damn furniture?" Bob was furious. He'd left work early mainly because he was afraid she might have gotten caught on something or hurt. Now he saw her lounging against a sofa looking for the world like she belonged there. He said. "I'll show you what you can do. You can get a good spanking!" Carol simply didn't comprehend the threat. She didn't comprehend his level of anger. "You wouldn't dare! You don't have the balls!" Bob was over his limit. He yanked Carol by her long brown hair as he dropped back on the sofa. With an ease and grace that would have made a gymnast envious he pulled her down on his lap. "I'll show you balls!" He ungraciously pulled her dress up over her ass. Too late Carol realized what she'd said and where she was. "Bob! Wait!" Bob wasn't listening. "You're about to get your first lesson in who does and who doesn't have balls." Carol knew she was in over her head. She pleaded. "No Bob stop. Let me explain." The time for explanations was over. The time for a disciplined hand had arrived. The first blow came from his right hand on her left cheek. The impact issued a loud wet smack! Carol yelped. "Bob! No! Please!" The second blow fell on her right cheek. Carol yelped again. It really hurt. Before she could offer another entreaty the third, then fourth, then fifth blows fell. They were hard, mean, and painful. Carol was crying now. "Bob Oh Bob." He started pounding on her ass. The more he hit. The harder he hit, the madder he got. Carol made no pretense at courage or defiance. She was well past that. He was hurting her, really hurting her. She cried. "Bob stop. You're hurting me. Oh please stop." After he landed perhaps twenty blows, ten on each cheek, he stopped. He could see the result of his assault. Where it had first become pink, then red, it had become a vivid scarlet. It looked good! He liked the look of what he'd done. In fact he could tell, though she was crying, she probably liked it too. She was till squirming so he growled. "You better stop squirming and fidgeting or I'll give you some more." Carol stopped moving. Bob looked at her bright red ass. He took his right hand and pulled her ass cheeks apart. There it was. Wow! There it was! No hair, red cheeks, and a swollen liquid fiery red pussy. This was great. He took his hand and started fiddling with her vagina. She started squirming again. "You better hold still!" he said. Holding still was the last thing she had on her mind. All day long she'd been as close to orgasm as she could get and still not get it off. Now he was fondling and twittering her ass, clit, and lips. She could feel him getting hard under her. God she wanted to cry out. Give me a break! Bob realized she was on the verge of something big. He was too. Out of perversity he stopped. Pulling her up with him he got to his feet. He turned her around so she was facing away. "Down on your knees." He growled. Carol's hands were lashed behind her back. Her rear was aflame, and the damn dress was chaffing her horribly around the waist and around her neck. She kept saying through the tears. "You hurt me. You hurt me, and now you've got me all excited. I want to go home." But she got on her knees. Bob wasn't about to let her go home. He'd never, ever, done anything like this before, spanking a woman, playing with her crotch like that, not even in his whole life. He discovered he really enjoyed it. He'd thought a lot of this woman. When he and the others had all found out about her perfidy it had infuriated him. Before the discovery he'd been trying, in his awkward shy way to show her he liked her. He still liked her, but he had to show her she couldn't get away with the things she'd been trying to get away with. Prison was out of the question. He'd talked the others into a different arrangement. They'd all agreed not to turn her over to the police on two conditions; one she'd be kicked out of the company for good, and two they would all get one shot at her. Well, she was out of the company and they'd all had their shot, now she was his. It was time to show her she couldn't take advantage of people, people like him, and after he'd sufficiently punished her he would change her. He would remake her into the kind of woman she could be. He'd turn this scheming, little gold digging weasel into a kind caring loving woman, a good obedient little girl. Bob knew a lot about her. He'd studied her past, hers was a history of clever tricks, sly little plots, and manipulative gimmicks. She didn't know it yet, but all that was over. He wasn't planning on making her a Mother Theresa, but when he was through she'd be a woman, no scratch that, a girl, a man could be proud of. Bob looked down at her. "Bend forward, and put your head on the rug." Bob knelt behind her. Her pulled her dress up over her ass. Her ass and pussy were wet. He wondered if they were wet from the bath she'd taken, or perhaps, from the spanking, or more likely from the massage she'd gotten. He said. "Stay exactly where you are. If you make one move, I'll beat you within an inch of your life." Carol didn't budge. He sat back on his ass. He gazed in awed delight at what was in front of him, a smart little heart shaped ass all red from a spanking and a bright pink puss all ready for the baker. He took one hand and slowly started to caress her stomach. With his other hand he started to faintly rub the edges of her ass and the periphery of her vagina. With her being shaved it was easy to see the wetness didn't come from a bath. She was hot. He got on his hands and knees. Taking his tongue he started licking the rim of her ass hole. From there he started moving around. He kept slithering his mouth and tongue around between her ass, her labial lips, and her clitoris. He could sense, no feel, that rising woman's warmth all around her crotch. Her pussy was getting pinker, and her lips were starting to swell. He thought. This girl has been around the block a time or two. He didn't care. She was his now, and no one else would have her after today. No one but him! Bob sat up unzipped and pulled his trousers down. He thought how much he'd like to drill her up the ass, but decided that could wait. After the pain from the spanking the thrill of an orgasm would do her good. He moved up against her and started to press his meat stick in her puss. He moved slowly. From this angle he got to watch all the action. He went in slowly and steadily. She was hot, wet, and tight. He started pushing in and out with slow even strokes. Carol knelt there on the rug. She'd hated the spanking. It was both painful and degrading. But she'd liked the spanking follow up, and she especially liked what he was doing now. His tongue, she thought, must be at least twelve inches long. God it felt good. She couldn't decide if it only tickled or just plain frazzled her. He seemed to be able to slip it way inside her ass. It was exciting! As he licked she wiggled in closer to get more contact. He seemed to know where to kiss, exactly how to lick, and precisely when to nibble. God she hoped he would never stop. No! That wasn't right! She hoped he'd stop and put himself inside her. She wanted him. She wanted him inside her. She loved the feel and sensation of his mouth, lips, and tongue, but she had to have his penis. Then it was there. She could feel his head at her doorstep. She pushed back further against him. He didn't disappoint her. Wow! She thought. He's good! He knows what he wants to do. She wished her hands weren't shackled. If her hands were free she'd roll around and grab that mop of hair he had. Oh shit! He's going in deep. He's way inside, like all the way in. His penis was big and fat, a real sausage! The Gold Digger Ch. 02 Bob could sense how she felt by the heat of her body, the swelling of her lips, and by the way she kept quivering and shivering every time he went inside. She was great! She had a fantastic puss. It was hot, wet, and narrow, not painful narrow, but fun narrow. He knew he couldn't last much longer. This was more than a man could stand. Any other time he'd start rattling off in his head sports statistics. That always delayed the inevitable. Not today though! This was too good. She was too hot! He exploded! He let it go. He let it all go. He rammed it in as far as he could. He drove it home as deep as the laws of physics would allow, and he knew, unless she was on the pill, this sperm would hit pay dirt. Carol felt him start to ejaculate. It suddenly got hotter than even before, and it grew to like seven times its already enormous size. Then she felt it. He didn't pull out! Shit, she thought. She'd stopped taking her pills. She was biologically ripe, and she knew he rammed this one home. God! It felt wonderful! He was really way deep inside, and his goo went even further! She thought. I'm fucked! Then again she considered. Who gives a shit! If she gets pregnant, this was worth it. Oh wow! She pushed back as hard as she could. Bob was exhausted. He felt himself starting to fade as he leaned up against her, still inside. He stayed inside as long as he could feel something. Finally he knew it was time to move on. Bob leaned back. He pulled his trousers back up and re-zipped his fly. "Well." He said. "That was enjoyable." Carol listened. She thought Oh shit. This is the time when I'm supposed to become a six pack of beer. That's not what she said. What she did say was. "Bob? Would you believe me if I said I loved you? I mean it. I really do love you." Bob chuckled. "No Carol I wouldn't believe it." He went on. "Now if you told me you just had the greatest sex in your life. I'd believe that." Carol grimaced. "Crap! You want a grade. OK. It was good. I'd say it was even great. You're great. Now let me up, and would you please. I'm saying it nicely. Would you please undo these cuffs?" Bob laughed. "I like that, a moment of honesty. Stand up Carol." She stood up without a word. Bob pulled out the key and unhinged the shackles that had trapped her hands since early this morning. Before she had a chance to make a move he reached for the dress and started to pull it over her head. "Let's get you completely undressed, and though I see you've tried to bathe, let's put you in the shower and do a more thorough job." He gently pushed her to the sofa. "Hold up your feet." With another small key he swiftly removed the shoes. "Now stand back up." In an instant her hands were re-locked behind her back. He smiled. "I hope you don't think I trust you. I'll bathe you, and I'll dry you off, but you'll not have a chance to try anything." He made as if to spank her bottom again, but its bright red appearance restrained him. He said. "OK. Off you go. To the shower! I'm right behind you." Carol gave him one pleading look. Holding her arms out to the sides from her back she said. "Please?" Bob gave her an equally pleading look. "No?" Realizing any more talk was a waste of time Carol turned and started for the bathroom. Once they reached the bathroom Carol saw how the maids must have been in while she was asleep. Everything was picked up and tidied. They even left several more bottles of shampoo. Bob looked at her. "I'll bet you didn't think you'd see this. One of the maids had come in while you were asleep against the sofa. She called me at work. That's when I decided to leave work early." While he was saying this he was stripping out of his clothes. He turned on the shower and adjusted the water temperature to a setting he liked. Probably cooler than what she liked he thought, but I'm getting in too. Bob helped Carol over the bathtub stoop, and then he got in himself. He took the flexible spray handle and squirted her down, from head to foot. He watched as she kept her eyes closed. He could tell she liked was he was doing. He liked looking at her. With her eyes closed, those long lashes, that cute dimpled chin, pert little ears, she almost looked angelic, almost. He grabbed one of the shampoo containers, opened it and poured its content all over her hair. He went to work lathering her hair good and thoroughly. Once he thought he'd reached every smidgen of scalp he rinsed it off. Then he did it again. With her hair out of the way Bob went to work on her body. He took his time, starting with her face, neck, shoulders, back, and chest. He took an extra long time lathering up her breasts and rinsing them off. He did them twice. He liked the way they felt. They weren't big, but not small either. They were firm and supple. When he washed her nipples they extruded slightly. That he thought was cool. He worked his way down her stomach to her navel, her abdomen, and her vagina. He took his time around her crotch. He was careful not to risk getting any soap in her puss, but he certainly loitered around her labia as long as he could. He liked that soft smooth feel. He turned her around and washed her ass. The whole time he washed her he didn't use a wash cloth. Hands were the tool of choice. While he was washing her ass he felt his heat start to rise. He turned her around and saw she was starting to glow again. That could only mean one thing. He was a lot taller than she was, but he made the effort. While they both stood in the tub, he bent down and re-entered her. He didn't try to move, and neither did she. They just stood there. Him inside her, and her pressing up against him. Jesus! It felt great. He pulled out. Now was not the time. Bob finished washing her off, and then he gave himself a quick scrub. He stepped from the shower first, then he helped her out. He said. "Stand still." He took a towel and slowly dried her off. Carol made as if to go somewhere. "Wait a minute. Bob said. "When was the last time you brushed your teeth?" Carol blinked at him in disbelief. "Why. Not since yesterday." Bob looked at her. "I think I'll give them a brushing." Carol flinched back. "You're not brushing my teeth!" Bob frowned. "You want another spanking?" Carol wasn't smiling. That scared her. "Look, I would have brushed my teeth if my hands had been free. How could I brush my teeth when my hands weren't free?" Bob answered. "You could have asked me?" He dug into the bathroom medicine chest and pulled out a small toothbrush. As if by magic a small tube of toothpaste appeared. He poured a healthy dab on the brush and announced. "Open wide." Carol looked at him in disbelief. "What? You're really going to do it? Brush my teeth?" Bob said. "Open your mouth. I really am." And for he next two or three minutes that's exactly what he did. Feeling like a total fool Carol stood there and had her teeth brushed. When he was finished she stood stock still, afraid to move. Who knew what this creature had in mind next? An enema? She didn't say anything though. He might take her up on anything she said. Then picking up the hotel hair dryer he said. "Into the living room with you." Together they both made their way back to the living room. He directed her toward the sofa again. "I'm going to dry your hair, then we'll get you dressed." Bob was as good as his word. He plugged in the dryer and went to work. Using the dryer and a hairbrush he dried, untangled, and combed out every tress. Then he took a straight comb and parted her hair perfectly down the middle. Separated in such a way her hair drooped down below her shoulders. It was thick and rich. Bob spent the next several minutes braiding it into two magnificent pigtails. Finding a box of rubber bands he banded each braid in three separate places, one close to her scalp, one at about at ear length, and the last near the end of each braid. Bob thought her hair looked like dynamite. Carol sat quietly while Bob did her hair. Like any woman, she loved it when someone played with her locks. She could discreetly watch what he was doing because there was a smaller perhaps three by five foot mirror, atop a small table across the room. Carol wasn't a pony or pig tail person, but Bob was doing nicely. She thought it looked pretty but childish. Pretty, but definitely not her style. When Bob completed Carols coif he instructed her to stand once more. He said. "I have something new for you to put on." Carol thought hallelujah, say good bye to the blue dress. Then she saw what he had in mind. Bob pulled a pretty white apron dress off a covered hanger. "Here." He said as he opened the bag. He held it up for her to see. It was white and translucent. It was a kind of apron and dress combined. Bob said. "Here. Step into the dress." Carol stepped forward. Bob pulled the dress up around her waist. He said. "Hold the dress in place with your elbows." Carol did as she was told. Bob took the two broad apron straps in the front and pulled them up and over her shoulders. He reached behind and pulled the rear of the dress upward. She could tell there was a small flap in the back. He buttoned the apron straps to the flap in the back. He went back to the hanger and withdrew a large baby blue ribbon or belt. Carol couldn't tell exactly. He walked over and wrapped the wide blue object around her waist. He went behind her and pulled the thing tight. It was easily six inches wide, and she could feel him making a large bow in the back. She felt the ends of the bow dribble down to where her shackled hands were. Looking down she could see the hem barely reached mid-thigh. She thought, at least it was longer than the blue dress. Bob returned from the hanger bag with a pair of shoes and stockings. He ordered her to sit on the bed, while he pulled the stockings up her legs. The stockings were white, and they went all the way up just about where the apron's hem dropped. Each stocking had a blue bow on the front. Last he reached down and placed a white patent leather shoe on each foot. Helping her across the room he turned her around so she see herself in the full-length mirror above the sofa. Bob was grinning from ear to ear. He said with a kind of smug satisfaction. "There we go. Now you're my beautiful little girl." Carol looked in the mirror. She knew she looked like every teenage boy's idea of a wet dream, but she wasn't thirteen years old. She was a woman grown. He had her made up like a child. She said. "Don't you think this is a little childish?" Bob grinned even more. "Carol from now on you are a child. You're my little child. I always dreamed of having a little girl of my very own. Now my dream has come true." He gave her a phony smile. "Aren't you happy for me?" Carol didn't say anything. Bob asked her again. "Carol! Aren't you happy for your Bob? His dream has come true. He has his very own little doll baby." Carol shrugged and answered. "I'm happy for you Bob." Bob then said. "Oh my. Look at the time. It's almost time for dinner. You like liver don't you?" Carol hated liver. "No not especially." That was all she could get out. Bob interrupted. "Oh but Carol, liver is so good for you. It gives us energy, and gives us strong bones. A young growing little girl like you needs all her strength. I've ordered myself some lamb's liver, but for you I ordered the extra strong tasting beef liver. I know you'll love it." Carol looked at him like he was crazy. "I hate liver. Anyway, How am I going to eat anything if I'm locked up like this?" Bob answered. "You'll like it, or you'll learn to like, and not to worry. I'm going to feed you." To her surprise it couldn't have been more than five minutes before man arrived with a cart filled with food. "Ah!" Said Bob. "The food has arrived." He walked over to the table where the deliverer was putting things out. Bob pulled put a chair for himself, but plopped a cushion on the floor at his feet for Carol. "Come on over Carol. It's time for din din!" The man placing the food looked around at Carol in stunned surprise. Bob held up his hand. "She's a mental patient out for the week. I have to keep a tight rein on her." Bob insured the man's discretion with a fifty-dollar bill. Carol walked over and stood beside the now seated Bob. "I'm not doing this." Bob looked up and grinned. "We need another spanking?" Carol knelt on the cushion. "That's a girl." Said Bob. For the next thirty minutes Bob sat and ate and hand fed Carol. They ate the liver, a salad and baked potato. He didn't really like liver either, but he wanted to make a point. Carol accepted every portion as if she were a condemned convict eating her last meal. He made her eat every bit of it. She grimaced through every bite. For his part Bob made sure she was as uncomfortable as possible. As each morsel approached her mouth he cupped her chin to make certain nothing spilled, then after each bite he took a napkin and wiped her mouth and chin. When he proffered her something to drink he required she use a straw. He, of course, cupped her mouth during every sip, and carefully wiped both straw and mouth after each sip. Near the end of the meal Carol began to feel that pressure that comes only when someone knows they have to excuse themselves or suffer some sort of humiliating personal event. She told Bob. "I have to go to the bathroom." Bob looked down at her and frowned. "How indelicate. Where are your manners? First, you ask for permission to speak. Then you explain what you want to do. Then you tell the host whether you have to do number one or number two. Then you wait patiently for permission." The pressure on Carol's abdomen and bladder was increasing. If she didn't get some relief soon, she'd leave a puddle right there on the rug. Considering the cost of a little dampness on the sofa earlier, she cringed at the thought of a peed on rug. She politely said. "May I ask a question? Please?" Bob gave her a beautifully artificial and condescending smile. "Yes Carol you may." Carol looked up at Bob with an equally insincere smile. "May I please go to the bathroom? I think I have to do number one and number two." Bob was thinking how much fun he was having humiliating this woman. He answered. "Why yes you may Carol dear. I believe you know where the bathroom is?" Carol knew the question would bring trouble. "Would you, pretty please, unfasten my hands so I can wipe when I'm done." Bob knew that question was coming, and he had a ready answer. "No dear. You go ahead and pee and poop. Just call me when you're finished. I'll wipe your little ass and puss." Carol was furious, but time was of the essence. She scrabbled her way to her feet and headed straight for the toilet. Once there she backed around to lift the seat. Since the dress was an apron it spread away easily. She squatted, and out everything came. Once she was sure she was done she called into the living room. "I'm finished Bob." Bob called back. "Is there anything I can do for you?" Carol knew the code. "Bob would you be a dear and come in and wipe me?" He asked. "What do I have to wipe Dear?" Carol, felt humiliated, but played along. "I did a number one and a number two Bob." Bob asked. "I can't come in and wipe your little puss and ass if I don't hear the magic word?" Carol hated this man! He was deliberately trying to do everything he could to make her feel stupid. The damn shame of it was he was succeeding. Carol called out. "Bob would you please come and wipe my ass and my puss?" Bob answered. "Be right there honey bunch." Honey bunch! She thought. Once Carol had finished her ablutions, and Bob had finished with his fun he and she returned to the sofa. Bob said. "Here sit beside me." Somewhat surprised, Carol took a seat beside Bob. He turned on the television, and together they watched some sort of stupid survivor show for about twenty minutes. Then Bob put his arm around Carol's shoulder. He began to softly rub the nape of her neck. Carol nestled closer. For some reason she'd been a lot more susceptible to Bob's, and the other mens physical blandishments lately. She liked the way he softly rubbed her neck. She liked the warmth of his body close to hers. There had to be some way she could take advantage of this. Bob kept softly rubbing Carol. He leaned around slightly, took his free hand and started to rub her breasts. Carol gave an involuntary sigh. He was touching her breasts. She hoped he spent more time around her nipples and aureoles. Bob took the palm of his hand and started to rub over Carol's nipples. They started to become engorged. He took his hand behind her neck and pulled her head around so they were facing each other. Carol was thinking he was going to kiss her. If she could get him hot enough she might be able to persuade him to undo her hands. Men are asses. If they had sex and she had her hands free, he'd probably fall asleep afterward then she could turn the tables on him. She pressed against him. She closed her eyes, slightly puckered her lips, and tilted her head. Bob stopped rubbing her. He leaned back. "You want me to kiss you?" Carol froze. Her whole body became rigid, as hard as a stone. "No. I don't want you to kiss me." Bob took his hand that held the nape of her neck and started caressing her right ear. With his free left hand he reached under her apron straps and started fondling her breasts again. He gave her an evil grin. "Oh yes you do." Carol scowled. "No I don't." "Yes you do." Said Bob. "I saw that look on your face." Carol huffed. "No. I don't want you to kiss me." Bob grinned. "You want me to start kissing you, because you think I'll get all hot and bothered so then you can ask if I'll unlock your hands." Carol was pissed. Pissed to shit. "You can unlock me or leave me locked. I don't care anymore." Bob didn't answer he stood up, picked her up like a baby and carried her into the bedroom. Carol didn't fight. Hands free or not she had a hunch something good was about to happen. Bob lay her on the bed. "Roll over facing away from me." Carol rolled over. Bob reached out and unfastened her hands, but before she fully understood what he had in mind he'd pulled the short length of chain from the head of the bed down and locked that around her collar. He said. "You're free to move and use your hands, but you still can't go anywhere." Carol lay on her back on the bed. Legs askew head facing away from Bob, and arms at odd angles. "You enjoy torturing me don't you." Bob answered. "Yep!" Then he lay on the bed beside her. He said. "You know I can't trust you. I can't give you any leeway. Still, last night I told you I loved you. I wasn't lying. I think you're beautiful. I think you could be a wonderful human being some day. But right now, well right now, you're something else. Carol rolled over toward Bob. "I told you last night I thought you were special, and that I could love you. Look, I made a mistake that got me in some trouble, but what I said last night. What I said last night about you that wasn't it. With the tiny chain around her neck making a musical rattling sound she leaned forward, taking her now free hands she pulled him over close. She started to kiss him. Bob rolled and leaned toward Carol. He reached around and unbuttoned the straps to her dress. Together they wiggled her out of it. Bob started rubbing her back, her ass, and her around her neck and throat. Carol reached down between Bob's legs with her hands. She started to fondle his penis, his scrotum. Bob leaned in closer, so close that his chest was touching her breasts. Carol's hands and arms were not restrained by metal, but by Bob's powerful arms. It was a comforting feeling. His arms held her trapped, while his hands roamed over the soft inviting terrain of her body. Hard and firm, but not rough, he caressed, embraced, and massaged. His hands were on her back, her shoulders, her thighs, and her ass. She felt the hard imperative presence of his manhood against her mons. His lips covered, no they overwhelmed her breasts. His tongue plucked at her nipples. His hands grasped her rear end. His fingers were slowly rubbing up and down the crack of her ass. One of his fingers kept lingering just inside her colon. God she wanted him. She wanted to pull his huge organ inside her vagina. She wanted to crawl down and swallow his massive penis in her mouth. The Gold Digger Ch. 02 When Carol tried to pull down toward his rock hard meat engine, Bob drew her back up. That wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to get back inside her, inside her like he'd been earlier that afternoon. He wanted to delve deeply in the joys and hot wet pleasures of her womanhood. It was more than one man and one woman could withstand. They had to have it. It had to happen, and it had to happen right now. These two, they needed each other. He rolled on top and plunged in hard and strong. She gasped with the pleasure of full penetration mixed with the pain of his urgent manhood pressing so insistently so deeply. She pushed back with her own renewed sense of urgency. She was now! This moment! This man, this powerful man so deep inside her! Together they rode waves of passion. A tsunami of carnal need mixed with other powerful emotions neither of them was fully aware of yet. Together he and she were a welter of arms and legs trapped in conjugal bliss. They were descending, swirling, whirling in a maelstrom of passion and something, a something neither of them was quite ready to acknowledge. Then it was over. He was exhausted, sated, empty, ready for rest and renewal. She was finished, complete, fulfilled, utterly at one with her being and the universe. Together they went to sleep, arm in arm. He with one arm hovering over her pillow while another grasped her back. She, with both arms at her sides, but her head nestled in the protective embrace of his masculinity. His last thoughts were the fading memories of last years Yankees statistics. Her waning thoughts were of his warmth, her satisfaction, and the uncertainty of tomorrow. The Gold Digger Ch. 03 Carol awakened to the sound of the telephone. Looking around she remembered where she was. Bob was gone. Sitting up she reached for the phone on the end table. The thin metal chain that attached to her neck to the headboard of the bed jingled as she picked up the receiver. It was Bob. "Good morning." Said Bob. Carol yawned and replied. "When did you leave, and why did you leave me here chained to the bed? I know I'll need the bathroom before long." Bob answered. "Questions, questions. It's nearly 9:00 o'clock. I thought you'd be awake by now. Carol asked again. "You left me chained to the bed. I have to go to the bathroom. Besides, after last night, I thought you'd start to trust me." Bob spoke again. "What are you talking about? What happened last night? How could that possibly cause me to start to trust you? Two women will be in to see you in a few minutes. They'll be with you most of the morning, or they'll leave almost right away, depending on you. I have to go now. Bye." Carol sat there holding a dead receiver. Two women he said. All morning or right away, what was that all about? And last night, I thought last night sort of meant something. Carol reflected on her situation. She'd been trying to bilk the company, but her fellow workers had caught her. One of them, Bob, had kept the others from turning her over to the police by arranging a deal. She was out of the company for good, and all the guys got a night of sex. After that she belonged to Bob. Belonged was a tricky term. She could turn herself in and go to prison, or she could continue to play along with Bob's silly sex games. So far they had been pretty inane. He'd been keeping her chained in one of the company's luxury suites, and together they'd been having sex. So far the sex had been damn good, straight sex, nothing kinky. She figured Bob had some mild fetishes, but nothing she thought were dangerous. He'd spanked her. Hard too. It had hurt. She looked at her ass and saw it was still red. Mostly though, it was handcuffs, a collar, being chained to the bed, and silly stuff like being fed like a child and wearing childish clothes. The tough part was she liked Bob. She liked him a lot. With a little incentive she could fall for him. She wondered what he was up to this morning. She hoped she'd find out soon. Otherwise she'd have a mess on the bed. Before Carol could react two women appeared at her bedroom door. They looked distinctly Nordic, which was disquieting for some reason. One spoke. "We're here to get you ready, or not, as you choose." Carol wondered what 'get you ready meant'. She asked. "What are you talking about?" The same woman answered. "We've been hired to clean you up, prep you, dress you, and take you out. That is, if you agree." Carol asked. "What am I supposed to agree to?" The woman who had been doing the talking handed her an envelope. Carol opened it and found a letter addressed to her from Bob. It was terse. It explained what these women were there to do. It also contained a copy of a document listing the things she'd be accused of if she didn't go along. She looked at the list of charges. They were pretty damning, but she already knew that. The second list contained the things these women were there to do. That list wasn't nearly as long, but it was no less daunting. She spoke to the woman. "What am I supposed to do?" The woman answered. "You can decline our services. If you do we unlock the collar, and you're free to leave. Of course, you'll bear the consequence of that decision. Or you can accept our services. You do that by signing the agreement provided there in the envelope." Carol had a choice, but neither choice looked very good. Go to jail or give Bob full power of attorney. She reread the document. If she signed this it would literally be signing herself over to Bob. With her signature on this he would have absolute control over nearly every aspect of her life. She asked the woman. "I see what I'm supposed to sign, but I don't see anything anywhere about what you're here to do." The woman responded. "You sign the paper then you find out." Carol asked. "You aren't going to hurt me?" The woman spoke again. "We're here to clean you up, prep you, get you dressed, and take you out." Carol asked again. "Clean me? Prep me? Dress me? Take me out? What does all that mean?" The woman appeared to be bored. She asked. "Are you going to sign the paper?" Carol asked one more question. "Do you have a pen?" The woman gave Carol a pen and she signed the document turning her life over to Bob. She considered the meaning of the document. Just a few moments ago she'd asked Bob if he trusted her. By her signing this paper she was showing him, beyond all doubt, where she stood. She handed the paper over to the woman. The first woman took the paper and put it away in a satchel. Already the second woman had unlocked the collar around her neck and was removing the chain from the bed. The first woman asked. "Would you like to use the bathroom?" Carol smiled and went to the toilet. Carol reflected on how quickly that their demeanors changed, once that she'd signed the paper. It had gone from bored indifference to polite consideration. She was still on the toilet when the second woman came in. She spoke. "I'd like to bathe you, and give you a complete depilatory." She reached up to Carol's head and fumbled with some of her tresses. "I don't mean this." She took her hand and touched Carol under her arms and between her legs. "The creams I'll use will be gentle, but they will guarantee you'll be hair free for several weeks." Carol looked at her and just said. "OK." For the next half-hour the woman bathed and re-bathed her. She shampooed her hair twice, the first time with a regular soapy shampoo, and the second time with a cleanser she'd never seen or heard of. When she used the second cleaner her hair felt ropy and pasty while it was in, but once it was washed out her hair never felt so light, thick and rich. It smelled wonderfully fresh too. She was guided out of the bathroom where the other woman was awaiting at a portable table. "Sit here please. I'm going to give you some facial art. It won't hurt. It won't be obscene or degrading. It may, however, seem permanent." Carol got scared. "What are you talking about?" The woman responded. "I'm going to tattoo your face. The ink is very rare and very expensive. Owing to its rarity the markings I give you could fade out, then again they might not." Carol said. "I don't have a choice do I?" The woman answered. "We could tear up the paper you signed." Carol answered. "No go ahead." The woman went to work. She'd set out close to ten tiny needles. There was an assortment of bottles each with a different color, all the colors were pale pastels, soft pinks, or the faintest blues. Carol asked. "Before you start. You're not writing anything are you? No words I mean." The woman answered. "Not on your face." Carol sort of knew what that probably meant, but thought she could handle it. "OK." The woman went to work. She was slow, painfully so. She mixed colors on a sheet of plastic. The originally soft shades were made even softer and less apparent. When she started to work on her face Carol couldn't feel anything. Carol asked. "Aren't tattoos supposed to hurt?" The woman, without looking directly at Carol, whispered. "Don't move. Don't talk. These aren't like what you see on peoples' arms." She continued to decorate Carol's face. All her work seemed to be centered around her left eye, left cheek, and up just above and around her eyebrow. Slowly she seemed to be working downward toward the center of Carol's left cheek. After what seemed like hours the woman stopped and sat back. She spoke to her colleague in a foreign dialect. It sounded German. Judging by the affirmative looks that the one woman gave the other Carol thought, it couldn't be all that bad. The tattooist said. "OK. I think we're done." She spoke to Carol. "Want to see?" Carol answered. "Yes." What else was she going to say. The tattooist got up and helped Carol to the bathroom. The mirror in there would give her the best view. Carol looked into the mirror. At first she couldn't see anything, but a closer look revealed a rather interesting and complex design. Starting below her eye a vine had been painted on her face. It was small and faint, but it was certainly there. She took her finger, careful not to touch it, she traced it up around her eye over her eyebrow to just the edge of her forehead. It was actually quite beautiful. The vine was a soft brown. Leaves could be traced spreading from it, and there were flowers, beautiful flowers. She didn't know what kind they were, not daisies, but like daisies. There looked to be three, no four, no five of these flowers. They were small and delicate. The tattooist asked. "Do you like it?' Carol answered. "It's beautiful." The tattooist started talking. "If you spend any time in the sun the painting will be completely obscured by any tanning you do. If you tire of it's appearance and want it covered I have some base make up. It's very expensive so don't use much. If you want to go out, cover your entire face with base just as you would before putting on your regular make up, but work it in good, and don't over use it. I mean don't apply too much at one time. You'll just be wasting it. The tattoo may last a week, a month, or a year. It's a kind of semi-permanent material, and completely nontoxic. It will do no harm to your skin or your general health. I must tell you though. People will notice it. They will ask questions. They'll want to know all about it. Not everyone will understand or appreciate its beauty. Last. Never try to have it removed. Any removal process would be far more hazardous and far more destructive than just allowing it to disappear on its own. Carol kept staring at it. It looked so pretty, but she wasn't completely sold on it. The tattooist started talking again. "I have more body art I have to paint on another part of you." Carol looked at her. "Where?" The tattooist reached into her satchel and pulled out a sheet of paper. "I will be painting this on your left butt cheek." Carol looked at what the woman had in her hand. It was another picture, but this time it had writing. It showed a woman, a woman chained hand and foot, a collar around her neck with a chain drooping from the collar. She was kneeling in the palms of two hands. Beneath the hands was a name, Bob Metcalf. It was a beautiful and delicate picture, but the message was undeniable. She was the chained woman, and she would be in Bob's hands. She asked. "Is this tattoo like the one on my face, something that will fade. The tattooist answered. "No this one will be permanent. It will be beautiful. It will not be large, but it will never come off. Carol sighed. "OK. Go ahead." The tattooist said. Lie down on the couch please. Carol lay down on the couch. The woman brought her portable table over, but this time with a different set of needles. The needles looked longer. The woman said. "You will feel something this time, but after the first few seconds you'll become accustomed to the feel." She wiped Carol's ass with an alcohol swab, and went to work. "Ouch!" said Carol at the first needle, but after that it didn't hurt so much. She began to settle in. The woman was a true professional. She took her time. This second tattoo took even longer than the first, but eventually even this one was done. The woman sat back. She looked at Carol. "Would you like to see it?" Carol and the woman walked to the bathroom where she could best see what had been placed on her rear. It was larger than she thought it would be. It looked to be about the size of a silver dollar, not exactly round but not square. There was no bordering or edging it just seemed to fade as her eyes drifted from the main object.The hands were life like, and the girl in their palms was equally real looking. You could almost trace an expression on her face. Carol couldn't decide if the expression was plaintive, compliant, or just downright submissive. The girl was attractive. In fact it wasn't a bad impression of Carol. The girl was made of soft colors, and the hands were light brown, but the chains were different. The chains were black and harsh. They stood out in stark contrast to the softer, humane nature of the hands and the girl. The meaning of the tattoo couldn't have been clearer if it had simply said slave. Carol felt drained, humiliated, degraded. Prison would have been preferable. Carol asked again. "This is permanent?" The woman answered. "This will never come off." Carol asked the woman. "May I have a few moments alone please?' The woman answered. "Of course." The two women quietly sat outside the bathroom waiting for Carol. She was crying. After about ten minutes Carol came out of the bathroom. "OK. What's next?" The second woman answered. "Not much. We get you dressed, do your hair, give you some jewelry, apply some make up, and then we take you to your new home." Carol was pretty thoroughly deflated. "OK." One woman said. "Bend over please. I'm going to put some ointment on your tattoo. Then I'm going to cover it with a bandage. We don't have to do this, but it's better to play it safe When we're outside, when you sit down try to keep from putting any weight on your left cheek, and don't squirm." While the one applied the ointment and bandage the other woman produced some jewelry. "I have a necklace and two bracelets. Once I put them on, you won't be able to take them off." It was a small gold chain necklace, perhaps sixteen inches long. She placed it around her neck and connected the two ends with a heart shaped padlock. Carol heard a faint click and understood the necklace's purpose. Then the woman produced two identical gold linked bracelets, each perhaps six inches long. They were affixed; one on each wrist by padlocks identical to the one used around her neck. Carol said. "OK. What have you clothes have you got for me to wear?" One of the women opened a bag. "Well let's see here." Smiling she pulled out a pair of underpants. "Try these on." Carol took the panties. They were a pale lavender set of tap panties. She pulled them on. They were a loose comfortable fit. One woman said. "They'll work nicely. They're soft and loose to minimize any chaffing of your tattoo." "Here try this brassiere." Said the second woman. Carol took the bra. It was a near perfect fit. The color matched the panties, and it was a sporty low cut cup, a soft relaxed fit, her favorite style. The first woman extracted a blouse. Carol fell in love with almost immediately. It was white, made of either soft cotton or some kind of soft acrylic fabric. It buttoned up the front, and had relaxed looking moderately low cut front collar. It had short sleeves, slightly puffed capped shoulders, and a tiny hint of lace trim around the collar and the edges of the sleeves. Carol took the blouse and buttoned it up. It was a good fit, modestly tailored around the waist so that it would fit inside a dress or a pair of pants easily. "This is very nice." Said Carol. The second woman pulled out a skirt. It was a tan color mini-skirt. Carol accepted the skirt and slipped into it. The hem came to just not quite mid-thigh. It was short and sexy, but not cheap looking or very revealing. It was a pleated number made of a lightweight and very soft comfortable fabric. Once she slipped it on Carol spun around. As she spun about the skirt twirled out around her, but once she stopped it immediately slipped back into position. Out came a pair of nylons. Their color exactly matched the skirt, and last to appear was a pair of low-heeled shoes. They had perhaps a two-inch heel with a thin strap she was able to fasten on the side. Carol paced around the room a little. The shoes, the nylons, the skirt, the blouse, everything. It all fit perfectly. She went to the mirror and looked at herself. She looked a lot younger than she really was, but the outfit didn't look childish. She thought she looked young and sporty. She looked at the two women. "How do I look?" Both smiled and answered. "You look very nice." The first woman, the tattooist, said. "We have a couple other things to address. One said. "I need to do your hair." The other said. I need to apply some make up. While one worked her hair, the other made her up. They were done in less than five minutes. The first woman said. "Take a look." Carol went to the mirror. She looked perfectly radiant. Her hair was combed and slightly teased. It flowed down around her shoulders. The woman had placed two small barrettes near the front on each side to pull it away from her face. Her make up was very discreet, a tiny bit of pink lipstick covered by a little gloss, on her cheeks a smidgen of pink highlighted her cheekbones, and a hint of blue around her eyelids and eyebrows gave a tease of pert sassiness. The make up, combined with her new tattoo gave her, what she thought, was a very appealing, fresh, clean, youthful look. Two weeks ago it would have been a look she would have rejected, but today it looked just right. It made her feel funny. She gave the two women a glowing smile. "I feel so good!" she said. The women smiled back and said. "Or work is almost over. We have to take you someplace and leave you." Carol asked. "Where are you taking me?" The tattoo woman answered. "Not to worry. It isn't far, and it isn't out of the way." Carol wasn't ready to leave, not quite yet. "When I came here two days ago I had my own car, my pocketbook, and in it I had all my personal papers and credit cards." The tattoo woman answered. "We don't know about any of that. We were told to clean you, prep you, dress you, and take out. Once we take you out, we're done." Carol listened. She didn't have a choice. Bob probably had everything. "Oh. OK. I guess." Together the three of them left the suite, took the elevator down to the lobby and went outside. One of the women hailed a waiting sedan and off they went. The drive was a lot longer than Carol had been led to believe. They'd started in the center of the city, but their travels took them well beyond the city and the suburbs. Was she being taken somewhere so isolated that people would be able to do anything they wanted to her? Now that she was marked, had Bob decided to turned her over to people who might injure her, or worse, use her in ways she would have never accepted had she any inkling of what might be coming? What had she gotten herself into? She read about things like white slavery and attractive women being sold to foreigners. Is that what Bob intended for her? Had she, through her own belief in Bob's basic decency, been duped into a life of prostitution or worse? The more she thought about the decisions she'd made this morning the more she wished she'd thought things through more thoroughly. In her heart she didn't believe Bob wanted to hurt her, but she was becoming afraid, and the further they drove from all that was familiar the more afraid she became. She looked over at the tattoo woman. "Where are you taking me?" The tattoo woman answered. "Not much farther." Carol asked. "Are you taking me someplace where they'll hurt me?" The tattoo woman answered. "Somebody spent a lot of moneyon you today. The tattoo on your butt wasn't cheap, and the body art on your face most people would consider prohibitively expensive. I know you don't know me, but I'm not a cheap tattoo artist. My work comes with a high premium. I doubt if the person who paid for your work wants to hurt you. Then again, who can really say?" Carol wanted to be mollified. The tattoo woman wasn't very reassuring. The Gold Digger Ch. 03 The car pulled off the road at a Bed and Breakfast. The tattoo woman looked over at Carol. "This is where you get off." The other woman had gotten out of the car and opened the rear door where Carol was sitting. The tattoo woman smiled and said. "Good Bye and good luck." The car did a U-turn and headed back toward the city leaving Carol standing by the side of the road. She looked at the sign, then at the front. Well, she thought. I guess this where I get off, or get on I suppose. She walked up the old wooden steps, holding the white painted banister. She rang the old-fashioned crank doorbell and waited. After a few moments a heavy set middle aged woman opened the door and peered out. "Yes?" "Hello my name is Carol. Two ladies just dropped me off. I think I'm supposed to be here." Said Carol. The middle-aged woman stepped forward and got a closer look. Carol could see she was looking at her left eye where the body art had been applied. She said. "Yes. I can see its you. Please, won't you come in?" She held the door wide. Carol stepped into the house. It was a big old farmhouse. Inside she could see it really was sort of a Bed and Breakfast. Off to her left was a large dining area, and she could see the long bureau where they probably served their continental breakfasts. A beautiful old grandfather clock sat to the right of the bureau, it's ticking could be faintly heard from where she was standing. To her right, about midway in the room was a magnificent double stairway, with a balustrade that curved around to an upper floor she could see had a balcony walkway that traversed the length of the living room. Along the back wall of the balconied stairway she could see eight doors. These she presumed were the bedrooms. The floors were richly carpeted. The carpeting looked and felt thick and plush, but they gave the impression of being older than they really were. Everything was arranged in a late Nineteenth Century décor, Victorian she guessed. Still, something didn't appear or look quite right. Yes, it was a B&B, but on closer examination the furniture seemed more ornate than quaint. In fact, she'd been to several B&B's and couldn't ever remember so many couches and love seats, and yes it was all clean and tidy, but most of the furniture was brightly colored. A lot of the furniture was red. Carol thought. Yes it was a Bed and Breakfast, but it could just as easily pass as a bordello. Suddenly, a powerful new emotion smacked her in the face. It hit her like a rock! This wasn't your typical quaint quiet old rustic family B&B. Bob had delivered her to a brothel. The tattoo on her face, no matter how discreet, marked her as a whore, and the tattoo on her rear identified her pimp. He'd delivered her up to be sold to strange men, to be traded and bartered like she was some piece of livestock. Oh how stupid she was! She looked at the woman. "What kind of place is this?" The woman evinced no sign of emotion when she said. "We have a room reserved for you upstairs. Won't you follow me?" Carol followed her up the stairs, feeling less sure with every step. They reached the balcony hallway, and walked its length to the last door. The woman took out a set of keys and opened the door. "Step inside" Carol stepped into the room. The woman, still standing at the portal said. "Dinner will be ready at half past seven." Then she turned and closed the door. Carol heard a key inserted from the outside and then a lock clicked shut. She was locked in yet another room, only this time it was far from home, in a place she knew not where, and a whorehouse to boot. Scanning the room she saw there were no telephones, no radios, no televisions, nothing. She looked around the room for perhaps a magazine or a newspaper. She saw nothing. Carol walked to a window and looked out through a series of filigreed glass panels. They might as well have been bars. Outside were fields and pasture. It was all very picturesque, but not very encouraging. Bob had her locked up, safely and securely tucked away, but where she hardly knew. Looking about the room she saw a door that certainly would take her to a bathroom. Off to the left was a large clothes closet. In the center of the room was a large four poster canopied bed. She decided there was nothing to do but wait. She flipped off her shoes and lay down on the soft feather mattress wrapped her head in a fluffy goose feather pillow and fell sound to sleep. Carol had no idea how long she'd been asleep, when someone softly kissing her cheek slowly awakened her. She looked over and saw it was Bob. "Hello." she said. Bob kept kissing her, now he was kissing her left ear. "My you are a sleepy head. Every time I find you I have to wake you up." Carol started to get up but Bob gently pushed her back on the bed. "Stay there." He kicked off his shoes and climbed in beside her. "I've had a long day and a hard drive. I think I'll join you for a while." He lay down beside her. Carol, in no mood to argue, said. "OK" She re-closed her eyes. Bob was lying beside her with her back against his chest. Excepting for shoes they were both fully clothed. He let his right arm rest on the pillow above her head. He took his left arm and rested it around her waist. Soon Bob was fast asleep. Carol lay there awake. She didn't know what to think. He wasn't acting like someone about to sell or auction her off to foreigners. His breath smelled of peppermint. His body was putting out so much heat it was like a little furnace. She took his left arm and pulled it up closer to her breasts. She pressed back against him and closed her eyes. She knew she wouldn't get back to sleep, but she didn't see anything else she could do but relax and wait. She would just lay here. She could pretend they were lovers, or young married people on their honeymoon. She didn't know what might happen, but for now she still had her fantasies. Bob reawakened an hour or so later. Carol had never gone back to sleep. As he softly rubbed her left breast he asked. "Would you like to go out for a bite to eat?" Carol rolled around and kissed him. "Is that what you want to do?" Bob answered. "I don't know. What do you want to do?" Carol kept kissing him. "I want to do what you want to do." Bob kissed her back. He started fondling her right breast too. "I don't want to tell you what to do." Carol reached down and started rubbing his crotch outside his pants. "I'm not very hungry." Bob's right hand was tracing up and down the nape of her neck. He said. "I'm not real hungry either." He pulled her closer and started kissing her in earnest. He took his left hand and reach down under her skirt and found her vagina and starting rubbing it over her panties. Carol unzipped Bob's fly and reached in with her fingers. She started fidgeting with his tumescent penis. She whispered. "I don't want to get out of bed, do you?" Bob had leaned over and was kissing the right side of her neck and her right ear. He started nibbling on her earlobe and the soft delicate place behind her ear. He answered her. "I'm uncomfortable, my clothes are all twisted around my body." Carol answered as she started kissing his neck. "Let me help." She took her two hands and undid his belt buckle. While he released his interest in her neck to squirm out of his pants she started to unbutton his shirt. Bob whispered in her ear. "You smell so good." He unbuttoned her skirt and blouse. With one hand he started pulling her blouse over her head, while his other hand started pushing her skirt down around her knees. With her blouse, his shirt, her skirt, and his pants in puddles above and below they resumed their soft rubbing and fondling. Bob found the bra snap in the back and undid it releasing her warm soft breasts from their cloth prison. Carol had pulled Bob's boxers down and was teasing his manhood with both hands, one rubbing his scrotum while the other was wrapped around the shaft of his now fully erect man stick. Bob had his right arm around her shoulders and was tickling the aureole of her left breast while his left hand was pulling her panties down. He felt the bandage where he knew her tattoo rested, and was careful not to touch or abrade it. Now both were completely undressed and feeling and rubbing all over each other. Bob felt like he couldn't get enough of her warm pink flesh. She was soft, warm, small, and delicate to the touch. Carol felt Bob's firm muscles, not muscle bound but muscular. His strong arms wrapped her in a loving embrace. His hard penis pressed against her stomach and lower abdomen. His body was hot and dry to the touch. She took one of his hands and kissed his palm. It wasn't callused and coarse, but it wasn't soft or weak. It was a man's hand, a hand that felt strong but could be gentle too. She kissed his palm again and pulled it so it rested on her cheek. She wondered, why hadn't she noticed him before? Bob held her head in one hand and started soothing over her breasts with the other. He pressed his head down on her breasts. He kissed each rosy bud. His used his tongue to whisper around her aureole. He used his lips to nibble at her engorging nipples. How sweet she is he thought. Carol used her hands to fondle and caress Bobs Penis. She tickled its head, and she wrapped her fingers around the base. She took her fingertips and traced a line up and down his scrotum. Bob reached for her vagina and her ass. He took his fingers and rubbed between the crack of her ass cheeks. He carefully wiped over her vagina. He took her labial lips and pinched each one between a thumb and a forefinger. He could feel how wet she was. He found her clitoris and, using his fingers started to titillate it gently. He could sense her growing desire. He knew she wanted him. He wanted her. He thought about anal sex for a second. No, this was all still too new, too hot, and too fresh. He wanted to be back inside her puss. He pressed hard against her. She pressed back. He eased into her about half way, and then slowly pulled out. He slowly entered again, and pulled out again, slowly. Each time he entered she pushed harder, and each time he pulled away she tried to follow with her hips. He rolled on top of her and started a steady, hard, rhythmic movement of his ass and hips against hers. She followed his strokes with strokes of her own. They rocked back and forth, harder each time. He wrapped his arms tighter and tighter around her torso, pulling her closer and closer, squeezing her as tight against him as he could. Carol responded with heat and passion. He was inside her. He was where she wanted him, where she needed him to be. Only when he was inside her did she feel alive and free. He filled her up. He satisfied her every craving, every desire. His penis was thick, hot, and big. It went deep inside. She squeezed her legs together as tightly as she could to enhance that feeling of fullness that only comes when a man is fully inside you. God she loved how he made her feel. She loved his power, his strength, and she loved his manly tenderness. She was falling for this man. She had to face reality. The tattoo on her ass was a truism. She was his. She belonged to him. She wanted to belong to him. She wanted him to want her to belong to him. She gasped. He was about to disgorge his manly juices. Into her they flooded. They poured up and in, deep inside her womb. She was swept up in a frenzy of love, lust, and passion. Bob was holding her! He was giving her himself. She loved it. She loved him She said so. "Oh Bob! I love you! I love you so much!" He heard her plaintiff cry. He felt the same sense of physical urgency. He pushed into her with all his might. He felt sure of himself as a man when he was inside. When he penetrated her he was the total man he always wanted to be. She made him feel like a man. He answered. "God I love this. I love you Carol!" It was over. They lay in each others arms. It was a warm affectionate tender embrace now. She reflected on his cry. He said he loved her. He reflected on the great sex they'd just had. He wondered if he should trust her. Naw! The Gold Digger Ch. 04 It was close to 8:00 in the evening before both Carol and Bob were stirring. Carol had experienced what had started as a traumatic day, but seemed to be ending nicely. Bob could have said much the same thing. Carol reflected on her situation. A couple of days ago she was a partner in a company she was about to bilk, but the men had caught her. They'd had a sexual picnic at her expense. The ring-leader was Bob. He'd taken over her life since then. He'd had his name tattooed on her ass, and had her taken to this Bed and Breakfast. It was supposed to be a B&B, but Carol wasn't so sure. It had the look of a whorehouse. As they both stirred around on the big four poster bed Bob asked the same questions he'd asked a few hours earlier. "Are you hungry? Would you like to get a bite to eat?" Carol answered in the affirmative this time so they both got up and tidied their appearances. Bob thought Carol looked adorable in her white blouse and pleated brown miniskirt. Carol thought Bob might be a little overdressed if they went someplace casual. He was still wearing his business clothes. Bob said. "There's a delightful little seafood restaurant not far from here. They have a good selection of fish and crustaceans. Would you like something along those lines?" Carol wanted to please Bob, not just because he presently held so much authority over her but she really did want to. Besides, she had no idea what his plans for her were. She gave him a crinkily nosed flirtatious smile. "I'd like some seafood. Let me fluff my hair a little and fix my make up, and I'll be ready." With Carol's hair and make up repaired, and their attire adjusted as best as it could be considering it had spent much of the afternoon laying on the same bed they had they went downstairs and out into the cool night air. As soon as they hit the outside Bob said. "Wow it's chilly." He doffed his sport coat and wrapped it around Carol. "How's that? Better?" Carol gave him another crinkily smile. "Yes. Much. Thanks." Together they walked the two blocks to the restaurant. Since it was early in the week and the heaviest part of the evening dinner rush was well over they had no trouble getting a table. A waitress arrived, introduced herself, dropped off some water, silverware, and menus and asked if either of them would like a drink. Bob inquired. "Carol would you like anything?" Carol responded. "I will if you will." Bob told the waitress. "I'll have a Coors Lite if you've got it." He turned to Carol. "What would you like dear?" Carol looked at the waitress. "Could I have a glass of white wine?" The waitress left to get their drinks. Bob asked. "Carol, can I ask you a serious question?" Carol looked up from her menu. She was done anyway, having decided on some broiled Rock. "Yes. Sure. What do you want to know?" Bob said. "What got into you that you thought you could get away with robbing the company?" Carol ducked back into the menu. She hadn't expected that one. She looked back up. "I didn't try to steal from the company." Bob laughed. "So much for the horse shit from the innocent lamb. I don't care if you tell me or not." Carol put the menu down. "Look I didn't. The only thing I know I got drunk, got screwed, had to go down on a bunch of guys who had been my colleagues. Then I got chained up in a hotel room, where I was spanked and tattooed, and then later driven half across the country to God knows where to eat fish with you. Have I seen any real proof other than a bunch of documents, half of which I didn't recognize?" Bob gave her a leery look. "So you are an innocent little lamb." Carol answered. "No. I'll admit I chiseled on my expense account, and I used company money to enhance my wardrobe, but the big stuff in those papers you showed me? That wasn't me." She paused. "Look Bob. It doesn't matter. I read the paperwork. If I was framed for a lot the stuff, that's OK. I had it coming." She stopped and fingered her water. "Look. I haven't been on the up and up with a lot of people. It was just a question of time before some thing or somebody would catch up with me. Maybe it wasn't something I did, but some of it was, and if I don't go to prison and have to depend on you for a while I can handle that." She stopped and gave him a look that bordered somewhere between entreaty and stoic acceptance. "That is as long as you don't hurt me." Then her countenance changed to one of genuine appeal. "You aren't going to hurt me?" Bob was staring at her not knowing what to think or believe. Carol repeated her last question. "Bob. You won't hurt me?" Bob answered her. "Have I hurt you yet?" Carol gave him a coy look. "You spanked me." Bob gave her an equally coy look. "And I might spank you again. I think you liked it." Mercifully for the both of them their waitress arrived with the drinks. Bob asked. "Do you know what you want?" Carol looked at him. "Food wise or more generally?" Bob answered. "Food wise." Carol said. "I like the Rock fish I think." Bob inclined his head. "Good choice. I think I'll have that too, along with a salad and baked potato." Carol offered. "A salad and baked potato works for me too." The waitress took their orders. Once she left Bob pushed into Carol again. "What about the more generally?" Carol answered. "I guess getting my old job back is out of the question." Bob told her. "Out of the question." Carol fiddling with her wineglass said. "If I can't go back, then maybe something else. I don't know." She stopped fiddling. She looked over at Bob who was listening like he was interested which she doubted. "I'd like to have you." Bob blanched. "You have me." Carol was starting to feel awkward. She wished she could have taken back her last comment. "No. I don't' mean like it is now." She was starting to talk faster and in a slighter higher octave. "Right now you have me. I don't have much of anything." She was losing her poise. "I mean have you as an equal. A full partner, like a life partner." She was trying to recover. "I know it sounds stupid. So I'm stupid. I mean we could get married." Bob gave her an incredulous look. "Me marry you?" Carol put her right elbow up on the table and gently rested her temple on her fingertips. Her eyes were moistening. "It was just a thought." Bob had thought about it too. He'd thought about what it would be like with her before she got caught at whatever it was she did. Bob had been married before. He'd ruined his first marriage himself. Infidelity sucks. He reflected back on Carol. When the others wanted to have her arrested and thrown in prison he was the one who worked a deal to get her. He had her now. The problem was he didn't know what to do with her. He had something for the short run planned with the hope he could influence her to change, but things were happening too fast. She couldn't have changed in three days. This was Carol at her sneaky best. No. This was just female frippery. Carol hadn't changed. She hadn't changed a bit. Their food arrived, and the two ate in silence. When the meal was done, and they'd both declined any dessert, Bob escorted her back to the Bed and Breakfast. He walked her to the door of her room. He had no intention of going to bed with her again, not tonight. He told her. "You have the room until I come and get you. The innkeepers will provide you with anything to satisfy your immediate needs, like bodily functions. You're free to roam about the town. I've left a little money in the top drawer should you want to buy something, and there's a couple changes of clothes, noting fancy, in the wardrobe." Carol was standing at the bedroom door. "Won't you come in?" Bob said. "No." Carol pressed it. "Please come in for just a minute." Bob answered. "No. I've got to leave." Carol gave up. "Will you be back soon?" Bob answered. "I don't know how long I'll be gone." Carol leaned out the bedroom door and put her hand on his chest. "Don't just leave like this." Bob started to step away. "Look I've got to leave." Carol started to follow. "Kiss me good bye?" Bob was half way down the hall. "No. Get back inside. Go to bed." He was already half way down the stairs. Carol stood at her bedroom door and watched as Bob walked down the stairs, across the foyer and out the door. He didn't look back. She went back inside and had a good long cry. The next several days spun in to a week and then two weeks had gone, still she'd gotten no word from Bob. The woman and man who ran the Bed and Breakfast were indifferent to her, and hostile to any attempts she made at conversation. She'd tried several times to draw them into saying something about Bob and their relationship with him. They always responded with a stony silence. The Bed and Breakfast was everything she was afraid it was. Long about 5:00 in the evening, every evening B&B's real clientele started showing up. It was an odd assortment of older men with younger women, youngish men, truck driver types, with mature women, teenagers with their girlfriends, some gay couples, and an occasional threesome. At first, as long as she stayed out of the way nobody bothered her, but she had no food or drink in her room and no place to store any so eventually she had to come out to get to the kitchen. Since the front room usually had at least a few people that meant she had to run a gauntlet of wide-eyed stares, a once in a while a groping hand, and an occasional proposition. This annoyed the proprietors, and soon they insisted Carol take on some kind of official role. They dressed her in a skimpy French maid's outfit, and required her to work the front room bringing the customers drinks and pastries. Carol didn't mind too much. The patrons were pretty much every day types. Most of the time they were considerate politely asking for what they wanted and only occasionally making a suggestive or lewd remark. After several days she got to know some of the regulars and found them to be very nice people. One or two of the more occasional customers tried to get fresh, but she managed to fend them off pretty easily. Then one night that all changed. She remembered the night things got ugly all too well. She was just finishing cleaning off one of the tables where a couple had been eating dinner before returning to one of the rooms when she happened to look up and saw Hank. Hank had been one of the men with whom she worked, and he'd been among the men who'd had sex with her that awful night at the luxury suite. She looked up and there he was with some woman. He didn't say anything to her, and she didn't speak to him, but they'd made eye contact. He knew she was here. The next night Hank showed up alone and ordered dinner by himself. Carol saw him, but kept her distance. All she was expected to do was be polite, keep the tables clean, and bring food and drinks. She saw Hank speak to the proprietor and shortly the man approached her saying a man at a certain table wanted her company. The proprietor pointed to the table where Hank was sitting. Carol tried to deflect the invitation but the proprietor explained this man was a regular and he had influence on the town council. If they lost his business, or worse, if they lost his discreet support, the B&B might be closed down. The proprietor said he understood Carol was not there as an entertainer, but this one time, if she could just keep him happy, they didn't expect her to go upstairs, they'd be very appreciative. Now Carol knew Hank, and she didn't like him. She would have never had sex with him that night if she hadn't been drunk. Still, she wanted to keep peace between herself and the B&B owners. She had no idea what Bob's reaction would be, but she didn't think there would be any harm in having a drink and maybe a piece of pie. Hank wasn't her favorite person, but he wasn't a monster. She agreed. Carol went over and sat down with Hank. Hank said. "We've missed you at work Carol." Carol thanked him for his kind remark but didn't encourage him to continue. She did say. "A lot has changed in the past few weeks." He continued anyway. "The guys and I were wondering what had happened to you. Now I see Bob's put you in a whorehouse. What's the price?" Carol answered. "I'm not one of the whores. I'm only here until Bob decides to pick me up. You see me out tonight, but I'm only helping out with the cleaning. I don't do anything else." Hank wasn't interested in her disclaimers. "Carol you're out here walking around with almost nothing on. That tarty little maids outfit is downright sinful." Carol admitted to herself she didn't like the outfit, but she didn't have to agree with Hank even if it was tarty. The front dipped down well below her normal cleavage line exposing most of her breasts, and the bow in the middle didn't do anything but draw attention to her chest. There was no bra and everytime she walked her breasts swayed in rhythm with her stride. The material was translucent so anyone inclined to look could see her nipples and aureoles. Everyone looked. The sleeves were transparent, and the tiny corset holding the thing together was tight and pushed her breasts up and out even further. The mini-skirted bottom was translucent like the top, and only served to highlight the frilly underpants she wore. The underpants were tight at her crotch so, to the delight of most of the patrons, she was constantly trying to pull the material from between her crack. The apron was a silly little white thing that didn't protect anything, and the big white bow in the back only accentuated her large firm ass. She didn't like the uniform, and had complained about it when the proprietors first showed it to her. The only response they had was that she only had to wear while in the dining room, and everybody expected a waitress at a brothel to be sexy looking. Carol told Hank the outfit wasn't her idea, but she'd grown to like it. Hank laughed. He said. "Carol I understand. You're a whore. Whores don't make choices. You like the outfit because you're a little strumpet. You like it when men, and probably women too, look at you." He was really enjoying himself. "You're a tarty little piglet, a whore and an exhibitionist too." Carol bristled at that. "I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a whore." Hank kept laughing. "No. You're not a whore. You got us all off the other night for free. But you sure do like to show it off." Still laughing he thanked her for her company and told her she could leave. Carol was off her feed after Hank. She asked the proprietor if he minded if she didn't hang around. The proprietor told her she could take the rest of the night off. Hell he told her, she only worked till 12:00 anyway. She thanked him and went back to her room. Back in her room Carol took off the offending costume and slipped into a pair of comfortable cotton pajamas. It was a discreet two piece outfit, a tidy little button up top, and short little panties. Just as she was settling back in her bed to rest and relax there was knock on her door. She went over and opened it. There was Hank. Hank spoke. "Can I come in?" Carol answered. "No I'm ready for bed." Hank persisted. "Look I'm sorry about downstairs. I'm here with a real business proposition. It's not about sex or anything like that. Me and the guys have been looking for you. We want to bring you back." Carol fell for it hook line and sinker. "You and the others want me back?" Hank knew he had her. "Not exactly the way it had been. You were a full partner. We'd let you in as a kind of junior partner. What we really want is your expertise regarding some of the technical aspects of what we're doing." He held up a briefcase. "May I show you what we mean?" Carol answered. "Let me get dressed and I'll meet you downstairs." Hank held up his hand. "Carol I have a train to catch. This won't take long." Carol wasn't sure but she opened the door and stepped back. "Well let's make it quick." Hank walked in. He looked around the room. "This is nice. You've got one of the better rooms." Carol got a glimmer of something else in Hanks eye. "OK. OK. Now what have you got to show me?" Hank put the briefcase down on the floor. He closed the door and locked it. "You know what I've got." Carol was frightened but didn't let on. "I think I know, but I think you'd better leave." Hank started toward her. "Not yet. We have some unfinished business." Carol was visibly shaking. Hank was a big man. He might have been a real athlete once, but he'd let his body drift into fat. Still he was more than a match for her. "We don't have any business. Not you and me. Not ever. Now get out!" Hank was all over her. Her grabbed at her pajama top and ripped it open. "Look at those mams! I forgot how good they looked." Carol, pulling her shredded top across her chest, backed away. "Get out of here!" Hank gave her a sneering smile. "What don't you love your Hanky anymore?" Carol yelled at him. "Get out of here or I'll scream!" Hank laughed. "No one's listening. No one will come upstairs. Not for you! This is a whorehouse. Remember?" Carol kept backing away. Hank kept circling. He was closing in. She was the prey and he was the predator. For once Carol fully understood what it must be like to be a scared rabbit. He cornered her behind the bathroom door. Reaching down he pulled her pajama bottoms down. "My. My. What have we here?" Carol tried to use her hands and arms to push him away. He was just too damn strong. While she squirmed and wiggled he pulled her head back ready to get a kiss. She pushed against him with all her might but her hands slipped off. She ended up against his chest with her arms hanging free somewhat around his chest, completely powerless to hold him off. He leaned down to ravish her mouth with his tongue. The door burst open! Carol looked across the room and saw her savior. "Bob!" She yelled. Bob didn't like what he saw. He didn't like it at all. Carol was in a clinch with the one man he really despised. He leapt across the room. Hank turned and started to speak, but before anything came out Bob struck. Bob used his powerful his right arm and landed a massive roundhouse right on the center of Hanks nose. Blood, snot, and spittle flew all over the room. Bob followed with a powerful left-handed uppercut that mushed Hank's chin north into the bridge of his already damaged nose. Hank yelled, holding his nose with both hands yelled. "You hit me!" Bob yelled back. "You want another one?" Hank backed away. Holding his profusely bleeding nose he grabbed his briefcase and fled from the room. With one hand clutching his briefcase, the other covering his tattered bleeding nose he yelled. "You hit me over the likes of her? You asshole! You stupid asshole!" He was gone before Bob could answer. Bob turned on Carol. Breathing heavily he got out. "The proprietor called me when Hank propositioned him about you." Carol's brave front before Hank had left her an emotional basket case. With a quivering frame she started for Bob. She was crying. She held her arms up. She wanted to hug him, hold him. "Bob!" That was all she said. Bob backing away. He held up his arms. "Stay away from me!" Carol stopped. "He was trying to rape me!" Bob wasn't listening. "That didn't look like any rape scene to me. You two were in a clinch!" Carol was shaking her head. "No! You're wrong. I was trying." Bob stopped her. "I saw what you were trying to do. Hank showed up. You enticed him to your room. You were trying to use Hank get back in the firm." Carol was crying. She tried to reached for him again. "No! No! You're all wrong! I was fighting him! He was hurting me!" Bob sneered. "You stupid bitch. You stupid lying bitch." Carol pleaded. "NO! Please! Listen!" The Gold Digger Ch. 04 Bob held up his hands. "I'm out of here, but I'll be back. You're a worthless, lying, conniving bitch, but you're my bitch." He turned and fled the room. Carol followed him to the door. She shouted. "Bob! You're wrong! Please! I love you!" It didn't matter he wasn't listening. She raced down the hallway that overlooked the living room. Crying uncontrollably she called after him. "Bob!" Bob! Please! Please wait!" She saw his rapidly moving frame pass through the living room and out the front door. There was a vicious slam. She fell on the floor of the upstairs hallway. She beat her hands on the smooth carpet. "Bob. Oh Bob. Please no. Please no." She cried and whimpered. "Oh I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She sat back up, in a kneeling position with her feet and lower legs spread outward and her ass resting on the floor between. Hands at her sides she wept bitter tears. Carol spent the rest of the night lying on her bed crying. She looked at the bracelets around her wrists. She felt the necklace attached around her neck. They were his. He made her have them when the woman placed them on. She wore his name on her behind. It was his mark on her ass. Where was he? Why didn't he come back and claim what was his? She cried to herself. How could she prove herself if he was never around? She needed him to be here. He needed to hear her side. It was a long lonely night, a long lonely night indeed. The next morning Carol awakened feeling terribly sorry for herself. She'd ruined her career. She'd run off the one man who still might have had some respect for her, and she'd probably ruined her last chance at happiness. However, the day wore on. It was a bright sunny day. She reflected on what he'd said. He said he'd be back. He'd said she was a bitch. Sure she was a bitch, but she was his bitch. It wasn't over. She was down, down for the count, but she wasn't down and out. She wasn't done, not done yet, not by a country mile. She set herself some new goals. She'd stop being the conniving manipulator everyone knew she was. She would become a modern Minerva, a huntress. Bob didn't know it yet, but he was in trouble. She was resetting her sites. She wanted him. She had to think. She'd need a new arsenal; new arrows would fill her wily quiver. Bob was a keeper. She'd get him. She'd win her man. She didn't care what it might take. She was on the hunt. She was after Bob Metcalf. Once she'd made up her mind the day went a lot better. After her second day alone she'd started wandering about the town visiting the shops, buying items here and there. The town was an artificial creation designed to attract tourism to the area. It was still a new concept in this neck of the woods. Few people stopped in. Wherever Carol went, and who ever Carol tried to talk to she was greeted by the same rock like emptiness the couple at the B&B treated her to. She wasn't mistreated, and no one said anything cruel or unkind. No one said anything. If she bought something, they smiled and thanked her but never went beyond the most perfunctory greetings or expressions of appreciation. They were all just too polite. Carol didn't want for food or any other necessities. The clothing left in the wardrobe was clean, comfortable and casual, mostly denims and cottons. She liked it all, but there was no one to talk to. No one was around to tell her how pretty she was, and she knew she was pretty. The clothes were pretty. If someone would just say something? She missed the attention. She missed the deferential treatment. Mostly she missed Bob. She missed his presence. Yes, she missed the sex. Those first couple days in bed with Bob were great. Even a spanking would feel good now. Why hadn't she noticed Bob before getting into trouble? Why hadn't she paid any attention to him. She remembered now he'd tried to catch her eye. She recalled how he'd been extra nice to her, holding the elevator door, letting her up ahead in the cafeteria lunch line, even bringing her coffee when he was technically her boss. Before the incident he'd never been too busy for her. She'd blown him off like a wet sneeze. She thought about that stuff a lot now. She had the time. Bob had liked her. He had tried to get her attention. She treated him like he was some kind of limp noodle. Brother was she ever wrong. Bob certainly proved to be anything but a limp noodle. He had what it takes, and not just in bed. He was kind and considerate. She realized that now, now that it was probably too late. No she wasn't locked in a high rise suite with a collar around her neck and hands cuffed behind her back, but she knew she was caged. Her purgatory was just a little larger now. Where was Bob? Why didn't he come back? Why didn't he at least call? Bob was coming to a decision. He needed time away from Carol. He seriously doubted if she and Hank had anything going on when he barged in. He saw the torn pajamas. He saw the fear in her eyes. His reaction had been reflexive. His dislike for Hank and he feelings for Carol had congealed. Hank got a bloody nose. Carol got a vicious dressing down. He needed to think this through, and he realized she needed an opportunity to see how the other half lived. To that end he made arrangements for her to gain experiences of a sort that might give her a different perspective on her circumstances and things in general. He had something in mind. After a fortnight at the bed and breakfast a car drove up. It carried a message and a messenger. Carol was to prepare herself for another trip. This time she would be going even further afield than before. She was to leave dressed as the messenger found her and to take nothing else with her. She got in the back seat, all the windows were rolled up and heavily tinted, her seat was a deep plush, very comfortable, fifteen minutes on the road and she was asleep. Late in the afternoon the car pulled up in front of a very large very stately old hotel, it was one of those old hotels that had been constructed back near the end of the Nineteenth Century. More than fifty rooms, a vast and beautiful green lawn, enormous old shade trees, tastefully pruned flower beds, occasional ponds, and strategically placed gazebos. It was beautiful. Encircling the building was a wide hardwood veranda accoutered with dozens of oak rocking chairs, rich looking tables, chairs, and gliders. The whole scene was like something from an elegant by gone age. The driver opened Carol's door, awakened her with a tap on the shoulder and announced. "Where here." Carol brushed the sleep from her eyes and looked out at the panorama. "Where is here?" She asked. "This is where I leave you." The driver reached in and helped her get out. "Over toward your left you'll see a door. That's where you should go." "Please tell me where I am?" Carol asked again. "You'll find out." Was all that the driver answered, returning to the front of the car, he got in and drove away. Carol looked for and found the door. Well she thought, here we go again. She went up to the door and knocked. After perhaps ten minutes and two more knocks someone responded. "Can I help you?" said a prim looking young woman dressed in a maid's uniform. Carol responded. "I hope so. My name is Carol Lambert, and I've been brought here. I am an associate of a gentleman named Bob Metcalf." "Wait here." Was the response from the maid, she closed the door. After perhaps another ten minutes an older, austere looking woman opened the door. She held out her hand. "Yes. We've been expecting you." She held the door open for Carol to enter. Carol walked past the woman and peered about. Intricate little wall lamps stationed about four feet apart down the length of a long white corridor lighted the hall. It had a hardwood floor with an aged looking carpet runner. Carol turned and looked at the older woman. "Could you please help? I don't seem to know where I am." The older woman gave no hint of having heard what she said. Carol noticed she was wearing a black satin dress. It had long black sleeves with what looked to like three-inch stiff lace-trimmed cuffs and a high ruffled collar. The hem came down to mid calf, and she had on black laced high-heeled shoes with black nylons. She gave the appearance of someone who had just emerged from an old Gothic Novel. She had a calm but disquieting demeanor. "It's not important to know where you are. Do you know why you're here?" She asked. Carol answered. "I haven't a clue." The woman told her. "You're here to work. We're currently short of domestic help and you've been sent to help fill the gap. We're at the beginning of our busy season so you'll have a lot to do. We've decided to start you as a chambermaid and general housekeeper. You'll be assigned several rooms, and it will be your responsibility to keep them spotlessly clean, that will include the linens, the bathrooms, as well as the floors, windows, furniture, and curtains. Most of your mornings will be dedicated to your rooms. After a lunch break you'll receive additional orders each day depending on where our needs are the greatest. That could include the laundry but I doubt it, most likely it will entail vacuuming floors, collecting dirty plates, cups, and bowls, emptying ashtrays, dusting for cobwebs, and cleaning up after the guests if there's an accident. In the evening you will be expected to bust tables in the dining hall. At that time you'll be afforded a short break to eat yourself. At no time are you to talk to any of the guests beyond a yes, no, or thank you. There will be some exceptions. If a guest needs you to carry something, help with something, or help with directions you are to drop everything and serve them. At all times avoid direct eye contact; be polite, quiet, considerate, and obsequious. The entire time you're on duty you'll be in the presence of our clientele. You are here to wait on and serve those people. If you fail to live up to our standards, or make an avoidable mistake you'll be punished. Your colleague." She placed added emphasis on the term colleague to remind Carol they knew of her relationship with Bob. "Has informed us that you are accustomed to various forms of physical discipline. We try to avoid spanking, but if you fail to measure up, you'll be given the cane, and caned in front of any guest your conduct offended. How severe the caning is will always be at the discretion of the guest. I don't expect any punishments. However, some of our older guests are a bit rigid in their expectations. This is just a warning so you'll know there are consequences for everything you do, and that will include rewards for exceptionally good service. We have special treats for our exceptional staff members. Treats I'm sure you'll like." Carol listened. They knew Bob. He had told them about her, at least that he'd spanked her. She surmised Bob had hired her out as a form of punishment, or more accurately as a way to humble her. She wasn't worried about that. She knew she could handle most anything that was dished out. Her only real concern was that she not be used sexually. Since that one drunken night and subsequent humiliation she'd more or less considered herself Bob's. Not Bob's because of some stupid tattoo, but Bob's because she wanted to be his. Since that night and the loss of her status he had become the center of her world. Did she love him? She was pretty sure. She thought she did. He said he couldn't trust her, the thing with Hank didn't help, but if he'd thought about, and she was sure he had, she'd already gone the distance. She'd allowed the tattoo, and she'd signed off on all but her most essential personal freedoms. If all that wasn't a commitment to him, she didn't know what was. Carol had drifted off, and the woman had asked her something. "Have you eaten?" Asked the woman. Carol answered. "No, and I'd like to use the bathroom if that's all right." The woman gave her a puzzled look. "That remark wasn't meant to be intemperate was it?" Carol answered as sincerely as she could. "Oh no. I just didn't want to sound demanding." The woman gave her a smile. "Good. By the way I'm your supervisor. My name is Ruth, but when you're working with our public you'll refer to me Miss Ruth. All our guests should be referred to as either miss or sir. Occasionally a guest will ask that you use their name. Always preface a female name with miss and a sir should follow the name of a male. This is not to embarrass you. You'll find the bulk of our guests are much older, and they appreciate a little deference. They feel they've earned it, and you'll find the greater deference you give them the greater their respect will be for you." Carol smiled at Ruth. "Yes Miss Ruth." Ruth smiled back. "That's nice. Let me show you your room. We'll get you something to eat, and get you dressed. Later this afternoon we'll give you some time on the floor." She turned and started to walk away. Looking back she said. "Follow along." Ruth took Carol upstairs. "This is your room." She said. "Down the hall is a bathroom you share with the other maids. While you clean up and get changed I'll send someone up with something for you to eat." The room was tiny, not much more than a closet. It had a narrow bed; a clothes rack with several uniforms, a small chest, and a sink, a full-length wall mirror, nothing more. She opened the chest found a cleaning kit, tiny robe, and a towel. She took the kit, robe, and towel down the hall where she showered and returned. Reopening the chest she found a bra and a pair of panties. Both were her size. The bra was simple and comfortable. The panties were equally comfortable, but they were copiously trimmed in lace around the rear. Both bra and panties were white. A delicate pink bow trailed off near the bottom of the panties. She also found several beautiful, very feminine, white camisoles, trimmed in lace. She put one of them on as well. It fit comfortably, and peering in the mirror she thought she looked very pretty in it. She pulled one of the uniforms off a hanger and held it up. It was a simple, mid thigh, modified French maid's affair. It was nothing like what she'd worn at the B&B. This outfit had three quarter length sleeves with stiffly starched white wrist cuffs that were trimmed in lace. Both shoulders were slightly capped and trimmed in small black ruffles. It dress buttoned up the front, and had a bright white well starched peter-pan collar, also modestly trimmed in lace. She thought the collar was too tight and too stiff. The dress, excepting the cuffs and collar was black. She found a bright white apron that she had to pull down over her shoulders. It fit comfortably in front. It was tied off with a fancy bow in the back. Last was a pair of black stockings and black patent leather two-inch high-heeled shoes. Once dressed Carol stood and looked herself in the full-length mirror. She looked the very prim and proper maid, like something out of a Victorian novel. Then taking a ribbon she tied her hair back in a braided bun. She sat on the side of the bed and awaited any food Ruth might send up. Shortly another woman dressed as she was appeared with a tray. It looked delicious but looks can be deceiving. It was freshly broiled fish, hot spinach, mashed potatoes, a half-pint of skim milk, and jello. Though tasteless she wolfed it down like a hungry tiger. Also on the tray was a small envelope. Opening it Carol read, report to the west veranda. Well thought Carol, it was time to go to work. Taking a small map also in the envelope Carol found the west veranda. One of the other women dressed as she was smiled. She said. "Finally." As the other started to walk off Carol asked. "What am I supposed to do?" The other woman turned and answered. "Don't worry. You'll find out." No sooner had the other woman spoken then Carol got her first notification regarding her new responsibilities. An elderly woman from the distant end of the porch called out. "You! Girl!" Carol looked down the length of the porch and saw her. She had to be ninety if she was a day. She had her left hand in the air waving toward her. Carol scooted down the porch. The old woman whispered. "Oh you're a good girl. Get me a frappe, and a blanket. I'm cold and thirsty." Carol looked at the porch thermometer. It read eighty-three degrees. Who was she to argue? The woman said she was cold. Using her politest possible voice Carol asked. "I'm new here miss. Could you tell me where the blankets are, and what's a frappe?" The old woman laughed. "A frappe is a sweet fizz drink. You get them right inside. Get me a cherry. Comforters are on the inside as well, along a wall." Carol smiled at the old woman. She didn't know why but she curtsied. "Thank you miss. I'll be right back." She scurried off to get the items. Carol couldn't have been absent more than five minutes, but when she got back there were three more old ladies and two old men sitting with the first woman. Carol tucked the blanket around the woman, and handed her the sweet drink. The old woman smiled. "Thank you dear. What your name?" Carol answered. "You're welcome miss. My name is Carol." The old woman was sipping her drink through a straw. She stopped and said. "You're a sweet girl Carol." Carol thanked her. Another woman gave Carol a twinkly smile. "Could I have a drink also." A third woman chimed in. "I want one too." Carol held up her hand. Smiling she said. "Why I don't I bring everyone a drink?" One of the old men posited. "Tell em you want a cart." Carol, not knowing exactly why, curtsied again. "Thank you sir. I'll do just that." She stood there and made a deliberate count. "Let's see. I'll need six more drinks." The first woman looked at her. "There's only five more people." Carol smiled at the old lady. "You might want another." She curtsied for the third time and dashed off inside. It took no time at all and Carol was back with six fresh frappes. She handed one to each person, and gave her first customer her second drink. She asked. "Will there be anything else?" Her first old customer said. "Come over here Carol and sit beside me." Carol slipped over and scooched down on the hardwood floor beside the old woman. The old woman asked. "Tell us about yourself Carol." Carol answered. "Well there's not much to tell." She went on to very briefly describe her childhood, education, and business career. Since no one seemed to be listening very closely she didn't need much detail. The old woman with the questions reached down and gave her a gentle pat on the head. "You're a good little girl. I want you to wait my table tonight at dinner." The old woman looked away lost in thought. None of the other people seemed to have any more interest. Carol quietly got up and walked toward the other end of the porch. Carol considered. This is what it's like to be old, really old. Throughout the rest of the afternoon Carol found herself picking up dropped items, cleaning up small accidents, and running small errands for a variety of people for a variety of things. Nothing she did was especially hard, but they sure kept her busy. There seemed to be a steady flow of old people coming in and out to the porch. As long as she was extra polite and curtsied every now and then everyone seemed to be very happy. Around 5:00 the porch emptied. Ruth appeared and told her she had twenty minutes to eat before dinner would be served in the main hall. Carol told her about the woman who wanted her to wait her table. Ruth said not to worry she was sure the woman would have forgotten by dinnertime. Carol went inside and had her dinner, this time it was tasteless chicken, cooked carrots, sliced boiled potatoes, and more skim milk. Dinner for the guests was the same fair. Carol moved about the tables assisting six other maids as they brought the foods, the waters, and desserts. Dessert this evening was a single scoop of orange sherbet. She realized she was being asked to serve and work at what was probably a very high priced nursing home. Dinner went off with out a hitch, but she had to admit she was getting tired. The Gold Digger Ch. 04 About the time dinner was winding down Ruth appeared again. She gave Carol a list of seven rooms. "You'll be helping the people in these rooms get to bed. I must warn you, some like to talk. You should go back and see each one but only after all have been completely tucked in. Make sure all the preliminaries are taken care of first. Don't spend too much time with one early, while others haven't had your help at all, and remember, give them what they want, no matter how distasteful it may seem." Carol said she understood. Bed time came, and what a surprise it was for Carol. Each room had only one guest. Only seven people for Carol. But all her seven suffered from incontinence in some form. That meant a diaper for each room. These were old people, but they were still people. Most were terribly embarrassed by their circumstances. One was an old man who wept as she cleaned his under trousers. She worked as quickly as she could, and she spoke only in the most flattering terms about how handsome he looked and proud his children must be. It broke her heart to see these old people, so proud and yet so vulnerable. The women seemed better off. The men, she had three, were the weakest and most dependent. Carol's most difficult, and most tragic person was an old man. When she was helping ready him for bed he kept trying to touch and feel her. His feeble old hands were easy to push away, but he kept coming back. She was almost at the end of her wits. This old man still fantasized about something he'd lost long ago. She knew she had to do something. When she'd finished all her other people Carol went back to his room. He was still awake, and he was trying to get an erection. Tears were streaming down his face. He looked at her with pleading old eyes. Carol took his gnarled old hand away and said. "Here let me." She must be crazy she thought. She took her hand and slowly started to manipulate his tired old engine. To her surprise he started to experience some modest tumescence. She looked at his face. He had one of the happiest countenances she'd seen. Like Lazarus he was being raised from the dead. She kept working on him using her fingertips and the palms of her hand. Slowly his tired old flag reached half-mast. Then to her great surprise, she felt his left hand at the back of her head. He was trying to force her down on his penis. What was she to do? Carol thought. What did it matter? One old man more or less. She leaned over and took his soggy old spigot in her mouth. She worked as fast but as gently as she could. She worked it in shifts; first a hand job followed by a mouth to wang, then completed by tongue around the circumference. It took forever, but to her dismay and his satisfaction he finally got it off. It wasn't a lot, mostly doggie water, but he sprayed her face and the top of her uniform with unrestrained joy. She sat back, tired, bored, and a little put off. She looked at him. It dawned on her. She was looking at the happiest and visibly the most grateful man she'd seen in her life. She bet he old son of a bitch hadn't done anything like this in twenty years. In spite of her personal disgust she wept. This might have been the nicest thing she'd done for anyone, ever. Imagine, she thought, a blow job at an old peoples home. Carol, finished with her evening duties, and went back to her room. After disrobing she made a straight course for the bathroom where she thoroughly rinsed off. God she was exhausted. That night she slept like a baby. The next morning, after making her seven beds, and helping everyone dress she went to the dining area to help with breakfast. Once in the breakfast room she got the surprise of her life. There he was, surrounded by six old cronies. He had the biggest dirtiest most self-satisfied smile she'd ever seen on any man. Worse, there were six other old codgers all smiling at her too. She thought. That old bastard! He's been bragging. And look at them. They're all smiling at her. Carol's face got as hot as the surface of the sun, and she bet it was twice as red as the reddest beet. Oh No! She thought. What had she gotten herself into? Bob! I need you! The Gold Digger Ch. 05 Bob was stunned! He'd just gotten an e-mail from Ruth at the nursing home. They were asking him to come and get Carol as soon as it was convenient. She wasn't working out. This was a real surprise. He thought for sure a stint at a place like that would have done Carol a world of good. Taking care of the elderly, people who were weak and vulnerable he expected that would have inspired a little humanity in someone he considered an otherwise pretty selfish woman. What could she have done wrong at a place where all the guests were geriatric? He returned Ruth's e-mail hoping to get some answers. The response he got was unbelievable! He was incredulous! Ruth wrote that Carol had been having sex with the guests. The way she explained things it had started with one very old man for whom she had given a blow job. Well the old man, to no one's real surprise, had bragged about his rediscovered vigor. Within days several other old men were trying to become Carol's clients. At first Ruth, ignorant of Carol's shenanigans, thought nothing of it. She replaced two of the older ladies with two men. Then it turned out she tried to shift the man whom she later discovered was Carol's original sexual client. He'd thrown the most violent temper tantrum anyone had seen in years, so they decided to move one of the remaining women. As it turned out Carol had started servicing the women as well, and the old woman also refused to switch. Quite frankly no one knew what was going on. After all, these were very old people, and even remembering a maid from one day to the next was unusual, but to have not one, but several of the old people so vigorous in their insistence on one particular maid, it was unnerving. Ruth explained she started watching Carol's daytime routines. Ruth didn't get it at first, but she soon realized Carol spent much of the day setting up a nighttime schedule. Then in the evening she'd go from room to room either eating out some old woman's linty crotch, or sucking off some old man's raggedy penis. The remarkable thing was that, though these were all wealthy older people, Carol wasn't taking any money. She seemed to be enjoying it! Even more remarkable, some of these old people were in very serious physical condition. Some had heart ailments so severe any physical activity was deemed extremely dangerous. Yet not one of these decrepit old poops conked out, in fact they seemed to be thriving. It reminded Ruth of the movie Cocoon. Had Carol discovered some elixir of life? Were these old coots somehow rejuvenating? Had she been injecting them with some new, probably illegal, medication that was giving them a renewed, but expectedly, short lived, recovery? No one knew. What everyone did start to notice was an increase in appetite, and an insistence on more seasonings. Two of the old men had ordered a case of Old Spice. They had been discreetly selling individual bottles to their geriatric peers. What was happening? More food? Spicier food? And then all the men started smelling like old pimps. Ruth went on. It got worse. In the days that followed it seemed like the old men and women were starting to pair off. Old men and old women, and even old women with other old women! Worse, certain types of foods not generally desired were disappearing. None of these old women ate cucumbers anymore, but suddenly they were impossible to find, and the bananas were disappearing too! Virtually all the women were widows, and most of the men were either widowers or had wives who'd lost all interest in any physical companionship. That was when the shit finally hit the fan. It seemed one of the old men whose wife was still alive had negotiated a kind of menage-a-trois. The trio would have gotten away with it except that one of the other maids noticed one of her female clients slipping out of her room well after midnight. The maid followed the miscreant old pokey to a room where a complete couple still resided. She waited for over an hour, and, becoming worried, she knocked on the door and entered to insure nothing was wrong. Well she got the surprise of her life. There were these three old people in a tangled heap on the bed engaged in all sorts of lascivious behavior. She, of course, reported the incident, and that's when Carol's late night adventures surfaced. Carol was brought in and confronted with the confessions the old threesome made. Carol didn't deny it. She even tried to excuse it citing she considered her actions more along the lines of charitable work. She even called what she was doing therapy! Bob had to step away from the computer and get a cold drink before going on. Everything he was reading seemed so incredible, so improbable, so utterly indecent! Ruth further explained Carol absolutely refused to assume any guilt for her behavior. She defiantly asserted she was only helping people. No matter how hard they tried to explain that what she was doing was not only dangerous for these old people, but that it was a direct contradiction of everything these strictly puritanical people had believed all their lives. Carol just wouldn't budge. Ruth went further. They decided to try to curtail Carol's nighttime activities by giving her other duties late at night, but she wasn't dissuaded. She started mid-afternoon sessions with what she started calling 'her people'. Ruth then explained there was nothing left to do but physically limit Carol's freedom of action. The problem was they needed Carol's labor. She was a very hard worker when not performing these various lewd and perverted acts with people her grand parent's age. The hotel came up with the only solution it could. During the day Carol was forced to wear a wide spiked collar and then a bride's scold at night. The spiked collar during the day kept her away from the penises and pussies. At night the scold still enabled her to make beds, help with bedpans, and change diapers, but when it was time for her to sleep it still allowed her to lie her head, even if uncomfortably, on a pillow. Ruth tried to explain they'd probably still be able to keep Carol under those circumstances if she had the sense to keep her hands to herself, but she was still fondling old penises and tickling old pussies with abandon. The hotel had reached the end of its rope when they found her with her fingers up an old woman's skirt in the middle of the afternoon. They had to not only restrain her mouth, but her hands as well. All day and all night long Carol had to walk around with solid metal spheres locked over her hands. This had succeeded in keeping Carol from fondling her clients, but it had made it impossible for her to perform all but the simplest tasks. In short, Carol had become a liability, and she had to be removed. Would Bob please come and collect his property as soon as possible. Bob was seriously disappointed with Carol. He knew he had to go get her. Bob didn't quite know what to do with Carol, but he knew he had to teach her a lesson, and everything he'd done so far had been a joke. He set out a plan of action. First he made a direct call to Ruth and asked that they lock Carol in her room for three or four weeks while he made his arrangements. Second, he made several phone calls to clothiers and ordered a completely new type of apparel, then third he contacted a hardware wholesaler and sent in an order for a specific set of supplies that would meet the precise needs he required. Then he sat back and waited for the clothiers and the metallurgist to call back. Ruth decided they had to get Carol away from the old people so they locked her in a room in the cellar. They told her they wanted her to be as far away from the guests as possible. Ruth said they had to make up some lie about her having to leave to take care of her mother, and that she probably wouldn't be back. All Carol's people had expressed their sadness, but it wasn't too long before they were all back to normal, like Carol had never been there. Ruth had smiled at Carol and told her we were all like a finger in a glass of water. Once you take the finger out it was like you were never there at all. Carol regretted that, but she regretted her current circumstance even more. They'd locked in her what had once been some kind of closet or storage room. It smelled of musty old forgotten things, long unused old rags, and decaying food. The ceiling was too low to stand up in. She found that out when she bumped her head. One tiny naked incandescent bulb hung from the ceiling. It was barely twenty watts, just enough lighting to see how small her new domicile was. The floor was gritty old tile. It felt like it hadn't been swept or mopped in years. The walls felt dry, but when she touched them she knew it was due to the current dryness of the season. Once wet weather arrived these walls would become slimy with green mold. She imagined the floors were in the same condition. She was kept in by a thick old wooden door, narrow but certainly sturdy. It looked intimidatingly so. Directly ahead was a narrow slit window in the door. On the outside was a sliding cover. Periodically someone would slide open the cover, look inside, then slide the cover closed again. No doorknob or handle greeted her, only the back face of the old door lock. Not even the most enterprising person could have escaped this miniature tartarus. But she was at an even greater disadvantage. To guarantee that she wouldn't somehow trip the lock and get out Ruth had, by way of a short length of chain, perhaps three feet, and a stiff metal collar, attached her to the back wall. By stretching as far as she could Carol could just barely reach her fingers to touch the door. It was the worst kind of cruelty, for she was convinced the door was never really ever locked. All day she could hear people outside her cell walking up and down the hall. At first she called for help, but after hours of repeated entreaty and the eventually loss of her voice she had given up. What was even more intimidating was the obvious fact that she was not alone in her new dungeon. Tiny creatures, German Cock roaches, water bugs, centipedes, and some vicious big red ants shared her filthy pen. She prayed they didn't bite, though she knew roaches and ants had an inclination to that type of behavior. At any rate she felt them as they insisted on crawling all over her calves, thighs, and arms. She knew it was a question of time before they would be in her clothes. Her clothing was another lesson in senseless cruelty. Ruth had given no inclination where Carol was being taken when she was invited to the cellar so many days ago. Ruth had insisted Carol dress quickly since everyone was very busy. Ruth explained she wouldn't be out of her regular room long, and not to bother with some articles. Ruth rushed her so hurriedly she didn't even have time to put on socks or underwear. She was walked downstairs in only a pair of leather open toed slippers, a loosely fitting white polyester button up blouse and a very short pleated mini-skirt of some equally flimsy fabric. She remembered Ruth opening the door of some dark room telling her look inside. As she'd stepped into the darkened cubicle, Ruth had pushed her against the back wall and fastened an already wall connected metal collar around her neck. She remembered turning in surprise only to see Ruth's rapid retreat to the far side of the room. Ruth told her to relax, for she was in her new home. She'd reached put to Ruth, but her new restraint forbade it. Ruth only laughed, stepped back into the hall, and closed the door. Through the tiny window Ruth had told her to try to get comfortable, for from that place she would never leave. She remembered trying to remain standing, even if hunched over, but her position was awkward. After hours of discomfort she'd given up and tried to sit. The collar and length of chain made it just possible to sit, but her back was firmly against the wall. For a long time she tried to just kneel, keeping her unclothed rear off the gritty floor. Eventually she had to give up on that too. Ultimately she did have to sit in the grit and grime. She hadn't considered it at first but worse was to come. Like any living organism Carol's body soon be called upon her to release those certain things all life forms had to surrender back to the external world. She recalled from some long past college course that all humans had several fundamental biologic drives. She tried not to think about them, but she couldn't put them out of her mind. She remembered there was sleep. People needed to breathe. Then there were the twin needs of hunger and thirst. It was the fifth thing that trapped her imagination and revealed her most unmentionable horrors. She scanned her cell. She'd even started calling it her cell. She saw no evidence that anyone had considered the possibility that she might need to perform those certain human bodily function that came as a result of natural necessity. Was she to retreat to one of the corners, the chain disallowed it. What if she was simply to squat and deposit some discharge where she was? What then? What then if she felt the need to clean herself. There were no materials, no paper, no rags, not a scintilla of scrap available to provide the least measure of decency. She was to remain locked away in a room with her own filth piling up, not in a corner, but precisely where she sat, or stood. She was to be trapped in her own excrement with soiled cloth chaffing against her soft skin. After a while it seemed relief might come, at least there was some level of awareness that she still existed in her private horror chamber. Every several hours the door was cracked open and someone posited a morsel of stale bread and a cup of tepid water. It took all her physical verve to reach the distance where the nourishment was placed. Often, to her chagrin, she missed its immediate arrival. Then she had to battle the ants and roaches for a share of the horrid mess. Even so, she knew they weren't just leaving her here to die. Someone, somewhere wanted to keep her alive. Carol had no idea how long she'd been there. Days? Perhaps a week? Two weeks? Three? She couldn't tell anymore. As the time dragged by Carol became increasingly disoriented. Every waking hour, every minute, every second brought her closer to that border which marked the difference between rationality and insanity. Was it day or night, rainy or sunny, warm or cold? That wasn't the worst. Her nostrils were constantly assailed by the filth around her. It was her filth! The physical immediacy of her circumstances would have been terrifying enough if extolled only in some fanciful tale one might have read on some obscure Internet site, but to live it, experience it, suffer it! Every waking minute was it's own nightmare. There was no escape. Each day the soft damp burden of her suffering increased. Each stretch of an arm to retrieve a morsel of stale, now immediately filthy bread was a visceral reminder of her misery. Each roach bite required some defensive retaliation, and each retaliatory flick left its own excretial blemish. To scratch a dirty nose, to rearrange lank limp hair, to wipe a tear-stained eye all only invited more discomfort, more suffering, and increased fecal dispersal. Carol wasn't completely sure, but she had an idea Bob would understand what she'd done. He'd understand her motives. He'd understand how her short time at the old age home had changed her, had made her more caring and more considerate of other people. Bob would understand how through her efforts a bunch of old people had been given a few days of unexpected happiness. Bob would know. He would see how she'd changed. But did Bob know she was here? Did he know she was incarcerated in this savage lowly place? What would he do if he did know? She knew. He would rush to save her! He'd find her, open the door of her Gahanna, and clutch her in his arms. He'd find her circumstances repugnant, but not her. He'd know her condition was not by choice, but something brutally thrust upon her by evildoers. He'd see the filth, he'd see the tiny cell of confinement and he'd grow furious! He'd find her torturers, and like Hank's nose, he'd flail them within an inch of their lives. He was coming. She knew it. He would rescue her, punish her tormentors, and restore her to life, love, and most of all some real sun light and that blessed reprieve only a thick soapy bath could provide. But where was he? Had Ruth lied? Had she misled him about her whereabouts? Had she, in a wicked attempt to punish her, misdirected Bob away from the hotel? No! Bob would know! He wouldn't be duped. He'd read through the woman's lies and misrepresentations. Bob was coming! She cried. Bob! Bob! Please come. Bob I need you! No one came. No one offered her solace. No one came with any warmth or compassion. She was trapped in her tiny prison. Trapped with the ants, the centipedes, the filth, and the awful clackety sound of roaches crawling across the grimy floor. First it had been a luxury suite, just she and a set of cuffs. Then she'd been left in a smaller room in a bed and breakfast garbed in regular street clothes wearing a tattoo signaling someone's ownership coupled with a part time stint as whorehouse maid, now this, the grimmest and most despised site of all. Carol really believed in what she'd been doing. She was convinced she hadn't done anything wrong. Of course, at first she'd felt what she'd been doing was distasteful. Old people are, after all, old people. They're old, warty, molly, smelly, and spotty, with thinning old blue and gray hair that grew out of noses and ears, and they had bad habits like sneezing, wheezing, and drooling at unexpected times. Yet after a while she started to see results. She'd seen tired old people who'd lost all interest in life and self start to regain lost poise and self confidence, She knew she'd had everything to do with it. She couldn't understand why everyone else didn't see it. She couldn't see how people like Ruth wouldn't understand how a little toddle on the end of a rangy old dick or a quizzical tickle inside a dried up old puss could make someone feel young, pretty, virile and worthwhile again. Were old people supposed to act old all the time? She didn't think so. Then the real ball busters came when they first locked her head in that little cage and spiked collar, and then to keep her away from her clients altogether they'd locked her hands in metal balls, that was cruel and unusual. Not to her, but to the old people who'd come to rely on her! Ruth had locked her in the room in the cellar, and sent for Bob. She had taken it upon herself to punish the woman. Mr. Metcalf said he'd call before he decided to come. That would give her plenty of time to get the perverted little degenerate whore out of the cellar and cleaned up. Meanwhile, she sort of enjoyed keeping her locked up. She liked periodically walking by the tiny closet, smelling its content and hearing the soft rustle of its trapped occupant. It's what she deserved. Filth begets filth she always said. She just wished she had the nerve to put a cane to her filthy backside too. It was three weeks before Bob had everything ready to his satisfaction. When he did call Ruth at the hotel he thanked her profusely for her kindness, consideration, and willingness to care for Carol. He said he'd be out in two days to gather in her person, and to please have her ready. He didn't want to tarry any longer than absolutely necessary. As he explained things to Ruth, he had plans for Carol, plans that would significantly alter her current life style, and more importantly it would place meaningful new constraints on her current freedoms. Ruth assured him she would be ready when he arrived. After they hung up, she laughing to herself, wondered what meaningful new constraints Bob could place on Carol that would limit her freedoms even more than they were already. Oh well, she thought. What Bob won't know won't hurt him. All she had to do was guarantee Carol didn't share any of her experiences with Bob. She believed that it wouldn't be too difficult. The Gold Digger Ch. 05 Bob reached the hotel and called on Ruth, telling her he was there to pick up his parcel, the parcel being Carol. Ruth brought the girl to an outside bathhouse. She had been hidden in the cellar. She was cleaned up and dressed in one of their maid's uniforms. Bob paid Ruth the money they'd agreed upon and left the hotel office. Ruth explained the girl was already at his car waiting for him. Bob was secretly excited about seeing Carol again. It had been five weeks since he'd dropped her off, and he'd missed her. He'd especially missed the sex. When he reached the car he opened the front passenger's door and allowed her to slip in. Bob walked around and took his place behind the wheel. For the first several miles neither said anything. Carol had given Bob a quietly tentative smile, but said nothing and made no attempt to move from her first placement. Bob had a lot to say to Carol, but kept quiet. He wanted to criticize her silly, sexually immature, even stupid behavior regarding the old people. He wanted to threaten her with dire consequences were she to try something that stupid at any future place he decided to place her. He also wanted to get in her pants. It had been weeks since his last go round, and he was tired of walking around with an ever-present bulge in his pants. As they continued driving something about Carol's demeanor seemed puzzling. They'd been traveling quite a while, perhaps forty-minutes. She hadn't moved once. She sat there, next to the door, rock solid and still. He didn't like her appearance. She looked like someone who hadn't seen the sun in days. Her corneas were so rippled with red they looked like a state road map. Her complexion was a pasty sickly white. He also detected a faint trace of some odor. He couldn't quite pin point what the odor was. It smelled a little like body odor, maybe some other trace smells. Urine maybe? Old caked blood? Maybe the residual smell left behind from some old pustulant wound. He couldn't get it right. Then he got it. She smelled like shit! Finally he asked. "You all right?" Carol gave him a faint smile. "I'm fine." That was the trigger. She wasn't fine. "OK. What's wrong?" Carol responded. "Nothing. I'm fine." Actually she wasn't fine. She was in excruciating pain. She was desperately tired. Her body ached from a hundred wounds, and she was afraid to move. Bob pulled the car over to the side of the road. "Christ you look like shit! You smell like shit! I thought you'd be glad to see me?" Carol put her hands to her face. She placed them to her nose as though she was in a posture of prayer, but she wouldn't look at him. "I am glad to see you. You have no idea how glad." Bob was getting pissed. For the first time he noticed the red welts on her hands. There was an ugly red sore on her lower lip, and her nose was red looking around her nostrils like someone who'd been obsessively wiping it. "Did you bother to take a bath this morning?" Carol was a beaten young woman, but she was still Carol. The question scraped across her psyche like a set of fingernails across a chalkboard. "Yes I took a bath! Of course I took a bath!" Bob said. "Well you smell like shit." Carol answered tartly. "Well I took a bath." Bob reached over and took her upper left forearm. "Come over here and sit closer" Expecting a cuddling, he'd driven a vehicle with a bench seat this morning. As he touched her and started to pull her arm she gave a reflexive jerk away, followed by an involuntary gasp. Bob took another look. She'd broken out in a sweat, a cold sweat. He didn't say anything else. He pulled back on the highway, threw transmission into high gear and sped along as fast as he could. He didn't have to drive too far till he saw a Motel Six along the side of the road. He pulled in. Looking at Carol he said. "Wait here." He went inside, got a room and came back outside. Opening the passenger's door he held out a hand. "Come with me." He and Carol walked inside and down the hall to the room he'd rented. For the first time he noticed her troubled gait. There was something wrong. Something was terribly wrong. They went inside the motel room. He told her. "Take off your clothes." For Carol the moment of truth had arrived. She had no choice. Not Ruth's threats, not her own misgivings, not even her fears for Bob. Nothing could conceal what she was about to reveal. She slipped off the maid's dress. Undid the bra. Pulled down the nylons, and slipped out of the panties. Bob stood there, aghast. "What did they do to you?" Her body was pocked with horrible red bite marks. They covered her body from head to foot. He could still see the residual excrement between her toes, and the shit slathering between her legs. There were terrible chaff marks under her arms, between her legs, all over her precious breasts, but especially around her neck. Her pussy was a mass of vicious bites and red puss filled scabs. He felt nauseous. He wanted to throw up, but fought it off. This was the worst case of abuse he'd ever seen, and, being a veteran, and an army corpsman, he'd seen a few. He was quite literally afraid to touch her. Afraid he'd hurt her more. "Carol? Who did this?" Carol was crying, not heavy boo hoos, just tears and sniffles. "I promised. They made me promise not to say anything." Bob was furious. "Who are they!" his anger was overriding his self-control. Carol whimpered. "Oh Bob." Bob regained control. It had to be Ruth and her superiors who were responsible for this. He controlled his fury. "It's not important. We'll get to that later. What's important is getting you straightened out." He went to the bathroom and turned on the tub water, setting it at a mildly warm level. He called out. "Come in I want you to soak in the tub." Carol sort of swiveled her way into the bathroom and stood beside the tub. Bob said. "I have some experience in these matters. Not a lot, but some. You know better than I do what you can and can't touch. Don't use any soap. Just let's climb over the rim here and sink down in the water. It's warm and won't hurt you, though I'm sure it's going to sting. I have to step out a second." Carol gave him a woeful look. Bob grit his teeth in empathy. "I'm not leaving you. There's a CVS back about a mile. They'll have the cleansers and disinfectants we'll need. While I'm gone you just soak, maybe you can swish back and forth a little." Carol started crying now. "Bob I've missed you." He wanted to hold her, hug her, but knew he couldn't. "I'm here now. You just soak. I won't be long." He left her in the bathroom and drove back up the road. The selection at the CVS was better than he anticipated. He need gentle soaps, creams, salves, camphor, aloe, medicated creams, soft comfort gels, and antiseptics. He could clean up the worst and get pain-relieving salves and other medications on what he was sure were insect bites, but he understood she'd need some serious professional medical attention tomorrow. With all the damage done to her body, the bites, the chaffings, the abrasions, she'd certainly need some antibiotics. He'd see to it. He'd call his personal physician first thing, get an a.m. appointment, and get her started on a recovery regimen immediately. When he got back to the motel room she was still resting in the tub. He checked the water temperature. It cooled somewhat, but not enough to add any heated water. Even without soap he could see grime and filth in the water. She'd clearly suffered some serious mistreatment. He carefully reached in and took her hands. As gently as he could he helped her to her feet. "Let's get you up so I can wash you off a little." Carol wanted to cry but held back. "She locked me in this tiny little room in the cellar. They never let me out." Bob interrupted her. "First things first. Let's get cleaned up and put some medicine on those bites. Then we'll talk about what happened, and then we'll talk about getting even. How's that?" Carol looked over and gave him a soulful look. "I don't care if we never get even. I just never want to go back there. And I never want to see that woman again. Not ever." Bob had turned the shower on and set the temperature. It was a soft cascading flow. Using his hands he very softly, very gently, and very carefully started washing down her abused flesh. She was quite a trooper. She was putting up a good fight. He knew the soap and wiping hurt. She winced some, but didn't cry out, and she didn't flinch back. He kept her in the soft flowing shower for more than an hour before finally helping her out. He half carried and walked her to the side of the bed. Jesus he thought. He'd never seen so many bites. He started rubbing in the medicated creams he'd purchased. He considered. This is going to be a long slow recovery. He said. "I hope those old bastards appreciated those blow jobs." Carol laughed between the tears. She was telling herself he was her knight in shining armor. He'd finally come and rescued her, but there was something else that was even more deeply troubling. Something she had to tell him. Something she was afraid would change everything. She'd been at the old people hotel for a cool five weeks, and she'd been at the Bed and Breakfast for three. Add two days at the luxury suite, and then add another two weeks before that, it all came to nearly eleven weeks. Counting it up it came to two and a half months. That's nearly ninety days. Ninety days was a trimester. The men had screwed her two weeks into her cycle. She'd stopped taking the pill two weeks before, figuring she'd never need it again. "Bob." She said. "Yes." Said Bob. "Do you like children?" Carol inquired. Bob was carefully rubbing a thick medicated cream between her severely chaffed legs. "Never thought about it. Why?" Carol said. "Just wondered. That's all." Bob's curiosity had been tweaked. "I like kids I guess. They're all right I suppose. I was married once. We never had any. Never tried. She was on the pill. Have a dog though." Carol was grateful in a way. He hadn't caught the inference. "What kind of dog?" Bob answered. "A lab, big black one, kind of fat. Her name is Annie. Stupidest damned animal you ever saw. Do you like dogs Carol?" Carol answered. "Oh yes. I especially like labs, big fat black ones." Bob laughed. "Why'd you ask about children?" Carol had to get it out on the table. She had to tell him. How to do it? Oh hell. Just do it. "I think I'm pregnant." Bob hesitated a second but continued applying the cream lotion. He started counting now. He wondered whose it might be. If she'd fooled around before that night of nights it could be anybody's. If not then it was either his, Hank's, or Allen's. Hank and Allen were married men with children. Something like this wouldn't fly with them. That left him. He didn't know what to say. He tried to make a joke. You think you're pregnant? You're sure it's yours? How sure are you?" Carol ignored the stupid remark but answered. "Well I'm not always regular, but I guess I've missed two periods. I'd stopped taking my pills two weeks before. Well two weeks before, you know. That puts me about ten, maybe eleven weeks along." Bob asked. "Had you done anything? You know. Before?" Carol resisted her rising anger. "No. Nothing before that night." Bob went on. "That sort of narrows it down doesn't it" Carol answered. "Pretty much." Bob said. "Have you decided what you want to do?" Carol replied. "Do about what?" Bob stammered a little. "You know." Carol lit up the sky with her next line. "It's yours Bob. Allen pulled out, and Hank was a limp wiener. You were the one with the hammer. You're the one that hit the home run. I get a paternity test it'll be your DNA. I know it." Bob stopped rubbing. He was out of places anyway. He didn't know what to say. "Well at least we know who the father is." Carol started to cry. "I'm sorry. Tell me what to do. But if I'm pregnant I'm keeping it." Bob was still afraid to touch her, but he tried to console her the best he could. "I'm calling my physician n the morning to get you some antibiotics anyway. We'll get him to do that rabbit test or whatever it is you women do. If you're pregnant, we'll work something out. Hell." He said. "There's always adoption." Carol stood there beside the bed. She reflected on what had been happening. She'd suffered a gang bang followed by a group blow job. Then there'd been a spanking, tattoos, a B&B brothel, going down on geriatric men and women, then locked in a roach infested closet sitting in her own feces, having repeated wanton sex with a man who just decided his child ought to be put up for adoption. Not to mention a second attack by Hank a former colleague. Carol's water bucket just burst open. She cupped her face in her hands and allowed the floodgates to open up. Name it, Niagara, Victoria, Yosemite, and now Carol. Out the tears flowed. Once the dike was pierced nothing was going to hold it back. It was loud. It was ugly, and it was wet. Bob just stood there. There wasn't a single spot on her body he dared touch, but he had to do something. He grabbed her hair. He gently shook her head. He said. "Go ahead cry. Just let it out. So we won't adopt." Carol heard that. We won't adopt. We, he said. We won't adopt. She cried even harder. Bob held her by her hair and made her face him. What the hell! He pulled her up against him, sores, bites and all. She leaned into him and cried her little heart out. He'd never heard such mournful wailing. No baby's cry ever sounded this pathetic. Slowly the rate of suffering began to ebb. The once free flowing torrent weakened to a steady stream, then a trickle, and finally errant sniffs. He kept holding her until she was fully finished. He pressed her back on the bed. He thought shit, no sex tonight. He leaned over her. He had to say something. "This doesn't settle anything. You know I still have to punish you." Carol heard him. What he said sounded like a great relief. "Oh Bob. Punish me all you want. I want you to punish me. I've got your name on my ass, and your flowers on my cheek. Punish me. Do what you will. Chain me up. Lock a collar around my neck and walk me like a dog. Put me on the rack. Shave my head. Strap me spread eagled on a bed, as long as it's you that does it. I'm yours, do as you will. Punish me Bob. Any punishment from you could never be enough. I need your punishment. Punish me. Punish me good." Bob knew she was approaching hysteria. She needed to get some rest. "OK I will. You're really going to get it! Right now though I want you to go to sleep." He pushed her down on the bed. "Go to sleep little reprobate. Tomorrow we'll start to get you well. Then I'll singe your little miscreant's heart and blister that perverted little ass. But right now go to sleep." He stepped away and watched as she drifted off. Brother he thought. We've got our hands full now. He thought again. Hell! She had some good ideas! The Gold Digger Ch. 06 The first thing the next morning Bob slipped down to a nearby Walmart and bought Carol a soft robe. It was a cheap polyester product, but it felt soft and ran smoothly through his fingers. It was a lovely bone colored sleeveless item with a belt that would gently wrap around her waist. There were other more concealing robes, but he wanted to reduce skin contact as much as possible. Returning to the Motel Six he got her up, into the robe, and they were on their way. He got Carol to the doctors early; she was his first patient. The doctor gave her a shot of penicillin, and a prescription to be taken over the next two weeks. A pregnancy test was given and Carol was indeed with child. The doctor estimated she was probably about eight weeks on. That would have made the time of conception, much to Carol's relief, most likely some time after the big three-guy night. The bites, chaffs, and sores were all severe but not life threatening. After the examination the doctor asked if he could speak with Bob privately. Carol obediently stepped back into the outer waiting room. Carol walked out and sat in one of the hard wooden chairs typically found in a doctor's waiting room. The chair was more like a bench than anything else. It was hard to stay in any one position. Carol found herself repeatedly slipping and sliding around on the wood. This changing of positions was troublesome for every change, thanks to the skimpiness of the robe, caused the exposure of some part of her body. Bob was longer than she anticipated. She grabbed a magazine and started to leaf through it. While sitting there on her wooden torture seat other patients drifted in. First in were two teenage girls, then a mother with a young daughter, and last two teenage boys. As each new patient rolled in Carol felt increasingly self-conscious considering all she had on was a silly polyester bathrobe that slid all over the place at her slightest movement. She could tell the teenage girls were looking over and whispering about something. The mother was discreetly trying to keep her daughter occupied so she wouldn't start staring. The two boys were another matter. They openly and giddily stared. The robe left little to the imagination. With no sleeves the armpits hung down temptingly too low, and with no buttons, and only a thin belt at the waist, it took all her determination to keep the thing from gapping out. The soft polyester rubbed across her nipples, and of course, since this was the worst possible time, they started to distend. It was impossible to sit comfortably and pretend to be modest in what she had on. Every little squirm revealed something. The boys enjoyed every moment. She wished Bob would hurry up. Carol thought he'd been alone with the doctor a long time. What were they talking about? Was there more to her situation than they wanted her to know? Then she heard the little girl ask her mother something. "Mommy. Why doesn't that lady have any clothes on?" Her mother answered. "She's here to have a check up honey." The little girl asked. "We always wear clothes when we get check ups." The mother responded. "Well different people do different things sweetheart." Little girl pointed. "Mommy I can see her boopies!" The mother spoke to her daughter softly. "Shush. Don't talk so loud." The little girl wouldn't give it up. "But I can! Look!" She pointed again. The girl's mother scolded. "Be quiet honey." The little girl wasn't finished. "Mommy! She has flowers n her face! Look! See!" The mother scolded. "Sit here, and turn around." The little girl did as she was told, but by now everyone was looking at Carol, and in her wan condition, the flowers, the vine, and the leaves on her left cheek all showed up clearly. One of the two girls walked over and bent down for a good look. "They're tattooed on aren't they." Carol looked down and away. "Yes." The girl went on. "Where did you get it done?" Carol responded. "I don't recall." The girl sniffed. "Well, if that's the way it is." Carol looked up at her. "I'm not being nasty. I really don't recall who did it." The girl turned and walked away. "Yeah right." Carol was doing all she could to keep covered up, but the damn robe was too slippery. She couldn't keep up with it. When she tried to cover her breasts the bottom flanged out. When she tried to fix her legs she lost control around her breasts. If she tried to pull the damn thing tighter anyone interested could see right through it. By now both girls and both boys were openly staring at her. Carol's face bled a bright crimson. Where in the hell is Bob? The doctor had a grave look on his face when he began. "Bob. This girl is seriously ill. Those are the worst kind of roach bites, and, as you certainly know, she's literally covered in them." Bob interrupted. "Well tell me what to do." The doctor held up a hand. "It's not that easy. I've taken a blood sample, and I'll get it out right away. If she's suffering from blood poisoning, and I'd be surprised if she wasn't, she'll be on a strict regimen of antibiotics and other medications for quite some time." The doctor reached out a hand and put it on Bob's shoulder. "She's going to require constant care, lot's of skin care, and oodles of TLC. I'm going to give you the name of a dermatologist. Call him as soon as you get home. As soon as my secretary gets in I'll have her call him so he'll be expecting to hear from you. We can't waste any time. Believe me Bob. It looks really bad. Don't be upset when I tell you its worse than it looks." Bob asked. "She's pregnant. Will this affect the baby?" The doctor responded. "I don't know. I just don't know. Let's cross that bridge when we come to it. Bob breathed a deep sigh. "Jesus." The doctor continued. "She doesn't need to know anymore than she already knows. I wouldn't mention any possible threats to the fetus. Comments like that would only worsen her condition. Keep her inside, out of the direct light of the sun. Keep her cool and comfortable. Do you have a big tub?" Bib answered. "Yes I do." The doctor said. "That's good. For the first days keep her in it at least twice a day. Cool water, and use the cleansers I've prescribed. Don't let her get too active. Keep her in if you can. Keep her off the Internet. She'll undoubtedly want to research her condition. She'll read the worst cases and panic. Keep her in loose fitting comfortable clothes. She's to wear nothing tight and nothing that might abrade her skin. Naked would be best. Satin sheets if you've got em." Bob was listening, taking it all in. The doctor went on. Let's go over this. Keep her in bed as much as possible the first days. No direct sunlight. Cool health baths twice a day for two weeks then once a day for the next two. She needs rest. For the next three, maybe four weeks she stays inside. Soft loose clothing. Minimal exercise. Keep an eye on her abrasions, especially behind the knees, under the arms, between her legs, her neck, and waist. Not a lot of excitement. Call me if anything looks wrong. If she starts to drift off, say lapse into a sense of lassitude go straight to an emergency room. Call me when you get there. She's to get lots of fluids, but no booze. Bob answered. "OK." The doctor continued. "I presume the Bob on her backside is you. She gives the impression of being a nice girl. I don't know how she came to be this way. Don't get me wrong. I know you. But if I thought it was you who did this to her I'd bring it to the police." Bob responded. "She is a nice girl. No I didn't do it, and yes I'm the Bob on her backside. About who did it? I didn't do it, but I'm responsible. Don't bother about the police. I'll take care of that in my own time. Then Bob asked. "What about sex?" The doctor smiled. "Not right away. Let her rest up. Maybe in a week?" He said. "Treat her nice. She's been through a lot." Bob looked down. He was a little embarrassed by his last question. He put his hands on the doctor's shoulders. "She'll get the best. You can count on it." As they walked out the front door the doctor's demeanor abruptly changed to one of bright optimism. Bob knew it was for Carol's benefit. The doctor said. "OK. You know what to do. Take it easy, and I'll see you in two weeks." He waved over at Carol and smiled. Bob shook the doctor's hand, turned and smiled at Carol. "Ready?" Was she ready? "Yes I certainly am." Together they walked to the car. Bob held her hand and walked beside her ready to intercede if she looked unstable. Carol asked. "What did he say?" Bob mumbled. "About what?" Carol squeezed his hand. "About our baby." Bob squeezed back. "Whose baby? I'm not pregnant." Carol hoped he was teasing, but she couldn't be sure. "Please don't tease." Bob got serious. "OK. It's our baby. Adoption is not an option. I'll be there when you deliver, and I'll be there with a wallet when whoever it is grows up. Don't worry about the rest. We're talking the best schools. Best care. Best colleges. But I'm not getting married, ever again." Carol hadn't asked for that. She'd been awake part of the night kicking that one around. She'd figured it out. She had seven months to change his mind. If that meant seven months of slavery, humiliation, and submission, she figured to would be a small price to pay. Ever since that late night gang bang right down to this morning's doctors visit there had been one constant in her topsy turvey life. Whenever, and wherever she needed a hero Bob was there. He loved her. He'd even admitted it twice. Albeit in the heat of passion, but an admission's an admission. He'd said he was out to change her. He didn't know it, but that was already accomplished. Now the easy part. Get him to buy into what he'd already said. She saw it this way. The doctor made it clear about her probable conception. The baby was his. She was his. The baby was her anchor. She would be the dutiful what ever he wanted her to be. Yet regardless of what that might be she'll be the mother of his child. She held his future in her womb. She tugged at his hand. "Did the doctor say anything about what has happened to me possibly hurting the baby?" Bob didn't want that question. He didn't want to lie to her, but he didn't want her to worry. "The way he explained it the most important thing is what you do from today forward. It's not the baby's health; it's your vulnerability. You get stupid; the baby suffers. You do what your told, things will be fine." Carol leaned her weight against him. "I'm going to make you a healthy baby. You'll be so proud. You'll be proud of me, and most especially, you'll be proud of our child, our dear child who's growing inside me." Bob listened. He wasn't a nitwit. He figured he'd hear a lot of crap like that over the next months. He'd already decided he wouldn't let it get him. But on the other hand he considered, she's been through hell these last weeks. She could use a break. He told her. "Just shut up and do what you're told." Carol pressed against him as hard she dared considering her frail health. "Yes dear." Bob grumbled. "Shit." Carol looked up smiling and pressed even harder. They walked back the rest of the way to the car in silence. As he drove, Carol stayed awake and alert. In light of her last three road trips, she was determined this time to see where they were going. They traveled an interstate for maybe forty minutes before turning off on a high-speed two-lane highway. After another fifteen minutes or so Bob turned into a wooded side road. They drove along for another fifteen minutes till they reached a pot holed gully infested dirt path. She saw the mailbox and read the name, Metcalf, she knew they were nearly there. It was a slow go now. The road was rough, part dirt, part macadam, mostly stone and rock. It finally vomited out into a magnificent clearing. Carol was flabbergasted. She'd known Bob, at least casually, for two years. She always thought of him as the classic staid, middle-brow, gray flannel, no risk, unimaginative, perfunctory type. The kind of guy who belonged to a book of the month club, drank Sanka, ate Rice Krispies, and had a team of Mexicans do his landscaping. Nothing about the man she's been acquainted with prepared her for what she was looking at! He looked at her. "This is it. Home sweet home. Hope you like it." They were maybe forty miles from center-city. Here it was! Bob's house, his domicile, the place he called home. She looked over at him. "I had no idea." Bob smiled. "Do you think it'll do?" "Bob." Carol said. I would have never dreamed; not in my wildest fantasies. You own a log cabin." Bob smiled. "Pretty nice don't you think?" "It's beautiful." That was all Carol could get out. Bob stopped the car, got out, walked around and got her door. "I'd show you around outside, but you're shoeless, and the doctor gave some pretty strict instructions. You're inside for at least two weeks. Then, maybe, on cloudy days I'll let you out." He held out a hand. "Here. I'll carry you. I promise to be careful." Carol leaned out of the car and Bob lifted her up. Carrying her like a baby he glided up a broad set of oaken steps to a magnificent double front door. Gently putting her down he said. "Hang on while I open up." He got out his house key, opened the door, lifted her back up and carried her inside. Carol was swept away. She'd never seen anything so remarkably beautiful. Her arms ached desperately from the bites and chaffings, the backs of her legs burned where Bob' right arm was holding her, but she refused to relinquish her hold around his neck. She just didn't want to let go. She'd had her fantasies. Every woman had fantasies. Fantasies about the perfect man, the perfect home, the perfect life. She thought, this couldn't be true. This can't be real. He'd even carried her over the threshold! Bob didn't want to put her down. She fit so snugly in his arms. She was so light and frail, delicate even. He could smell her hair, her skin. He glanced down and looked at her soft cheeks, the soft wisps of hair at her temple, her warm lips, those vividly flashing eyelashes. Still he leaned forward to let her down. "There's a bedroom with a bath over to the left. Though the sheets are cotton and the doctor wants you on satin for a while, the bed's all made. Follow me." He took her hand and guided her toward the room. Opening a door he stepped aside. "After you." Carol stepped into the bedroom. Nothing in her whole life prepared her for this. Wherever she looked she saw beauty. Not rich gaudy beauty, but a natural rustic kind of beauty no one would have ever dreamed of associating with this man. She walked over and sat on the big king sized bed. It was firm but not hard. Like everything she'd come to find about him. The bed was neither too hard nor too soft. It was just right. "Bob is this yours? Is this really yours?" He grinned and answered. "I think so." Carol stammered a little. "Did you have all this built?" Bob answered. "Actually no. Tell the truth I built most of it myself." Carol was stunned. "You built this?" Bob responded. "I built the cabin. I had others put in the electricity and the plumbing. I know my limitations." Carol asked. "When did you find the time?" Bob smiled softly. "I'll tell you about it sometime Right now let's get you in the tub." The next several days and nights were a steady routine of baths, naps, short walks around the house and brief stints on the porch. He kept a big rocking chair on the porch, its thick soft cushions and gentle rocking was a tonic to her. To Carol's delight Bob had gone into the nearest town and bought some satin sheets. He kept her completely naked all the time. It wasn't difficult to do since there were no womens' clothes on hand, and he disallowed her the use of his clothes, though she had taken many a longing look at his boxers. There was one down side those first days and nights. Carol had frequent nightmares. Bob stayed half-awake during those first evenings. She would cry out and attack her bites scratching at them viciously. She scratched so furiously one night Bob had to take matters into his own hands. The next day he went back into town and bought a woman's manicure kit: scissors, clippers, files, and emery boards. The whole works. Carol didn't like it but he spent a good part of the next morning cutting and filing her nails down. He scrubbed, soaked, clipped, filed, and buffered until her hands and fingers, small and delicate anyway, were like a child's. She said as much, claiming he was using her dreams as an excuse to punish her in a new way. He didn't argue. When he'd finished her hands and fingers did look like a child's. But she was unable to scratch anything. He didn't care what her opinion was. None of her scabs were reopened. He liked the look anyway. The nightmares didn't go away. After her first two weeks they returned to the doctor's. Still wearing only the Walmart robe, Carol continued to be the source of casual curiosity in the waiting room. This time Bob was present. He interceded with perverted gusto. He was a veritable icon of waiting room care and concern. He enjoyed everyone's interest in his 'significant other's' ailments. While Carol struggled to retain her modesty, pulling and tugging at her flimsy polyester sheath, Bob discussed her condition. She was amazed by Bob's detailed description of a skin condition that was entirely a product of his own overactive imagination. Carol supposed it would have been fun if she was just one of the waiting room spectators, but she was the center of Bob's attention, and he made the most of it. He played the doting companion. He pretended to brush errant locks of hair from her neck. He adjusted the robe on her shoulders. He carefully straightened the soft, always moving, short folds of polyester across her thighs. While pretending to wipe a stray tress from her cheek, he kissed her ear. Pretending to tidy the robe's lapels he caressed a cheek. Of course, Bob's attentions were intended to tease and embarrass, and they did. Yet his true intentions were really thinly disguised excuses to grope her comely shape, and Carol, scantily dressed in a flimsy little robe was vulnerable and exposed. Brushing back a little hair meant fingers tracing along the nape of her neck just below the line of the collar where the hair was softest and skin most sensitive. Adjusting her shoulders meant pulling the robe tight across breasts causing her nipples to push against the robe's silky fabric. Straightening the cloth at her thighs included a caress of the inner side of an exposed ticklish knee, and the gentle wisp of a fingertip just a fraction of an inch from her innermost treasures induced an involuntary moistening in that special secret place. Tidying lapels included the passing of a palm across a nipple just when the fabric revealed a hint of aureole. Wiping a cheek meant gentle fingers across her chin and a thumb just inside her lips. He was horny, but she was more so. The more he pretended to dote the wetter she got. She had to play along with his not too subtle subterfuge by pretending to receive his attentions with appreciation. Her red cheeks betrayed her embarrassment and discomfort. Bob didn't care. Though several of the other waiting room occupants pretended to be scandalized none turned away. Why should they? They were being treated to a show any soft-core pornographer could have taken pride in. When the doctor eventually called them, she left a vivid little damp spot on the bench. Bob made a public note of her treasonous body by pointing to the dampened wood. He even offered to assist her to the bathroom before going directly to the doctor's lab. The doctor's diagnosis confirmed the worst of her fears, but also the brightest of her hopes. They'd discovered some blood poisoning, and added more medications to her regimen. The dermatologist had been helpful regarding concerns about permanent scarring. Most of her wounds were healing nicely. The damage to her face had cleared up. The chaffings were now only darkened reminders and would soon disappear. Even her vaginal area was nearly healed. The doctor even told them she could allow her hair to grow back. There was no mention of possible damage to her unborn child. The doctor didn't volunteer, and Carol was too afraid to ask. The Gold Digger Ch. 06 Together Bob and Carol stepped from the doctor's office. A generous cool breeze whipped up the air. It caused her skimpy robe to further acts of betrayal. Bob stood her against a post. He wanted to explain what her future held. There were no people around to see them so he pressed against her. He held her by the shoulders and kissed her lips. God she tasted good! He took his hand and pressed its palm against her cheek. She was looking up at him with the eyes of a young doe. His mind cried out! She's so beautiful! He reached beneath the thin robe. He liked the soft velvet feel of her denuded vagina. There would be no vaginal hair in her future. There would be a minimum of clothing, and all of it would be soft and feminine. The days of harsh womens' business suits, stiff slack sets, and austere shapeless dresses were over. She was a woman. He'd dress her the way a woman should be dressed. He would keep her busy though. There would be chores, all listed by him, gentle chores, no heavy lifting, no onerous drudgery. He would supervise. There would be lots of free time. He wanted her to rest, enjoy his home. He hoped to make his house her home. There would times when he'd keep her in restraints, nothing harsh or brutal, but restrictive enough to keep her off guard. There would be punishments. He hadn't forgotten the spanking. He liked it, and he thought she liked it too. He would condition her to associate spanking with good sex. He wouldn't hurt her though; no hard spankings, no angry red welts, just bright pink cheeks. He thought about her pert little ass. She was carrying his baby. He'd keep her under control, not as a slave, more like a cherished pet, a well-loved child. There would be parties and there would be guests. On those occasions she would serve as maid or occasionally as companion and hostess. He started to explain his plans. "Carol I want you to understand..." Carol didn't wait. She interrupted. She knew what was coming. She was prepared for the restraint, the humiliation, even for physical pain. She expected nothing more than the bitter pill of slavery. She could take it. She'd handle it. No matter how cruel, how vicious she'd weather it. She was prepared for a future of toilsome drudgery. She had only one question. "Bob. I'm ready to take whatever you dish out. I told you before. You can spank me, chain me up, or work me until I'm frazzled. You can put a collar around my neck and walk like a dog. Put me in a cage if you want. Strap me to a bed. Make me suck on your dick. I'll lick your ass clean if you want me to. Make me suck off every friend you have. Screw me till my pussy is raw. Line your friends up, and I'll take them all on if you want. You want to shove your meat stick up my ass. I'll take it. Do what you want to me. But just don't do anything that will hurt our baby." Bob listened in silent frustration. She was such a stupid woman. Didn't she know when to shut up! She was asking for something he had decided against. Did she want slavery? If she did, she'd get it. Or was she trying to pull another 'Carol' on him? Was she trying to manipulate him by pulling on his heartstrings? Hadn't she learned anything? When she got to the baby he was convinced. If she wanted to play martyr he'd oblige. If she wanted to play slave, he'd provide the chains. If she wanted to play sex toy, he'd give her everything she asked for. Well. Not everything! She'd get the anal. She'd have plenty of opportunities to take him in her mouth. She get her reward, just as she requested, but he wasn't in the mood to share. She'd be his slave, his pet, his toy, his whore, and no one else's. He looked at her and said. "Shit." Then he said. "Shut up and get in the damn car." They drove back from the doctor's in silence. Carol sat silently. She was girding herself for the imminent onslaught. Bob couldn't come up with anything to say. He knew what he had to do. He'd put her through her paces, but he never once dreamed, not even in his wildest most perverted fantasies, of doing anything that would harm their child. Yes, damn it. It was their child. Half way through town Bob pulled the car to the curb. They were outside a small, very discreet, clothiers, a family boutique. "Well. I guess we better get you your slave clothes." Carol said nothing. Bob went on. "Let's go. The owner is expecting us." He went around, got her door, and helped her from the car. Carol thought. He was always the gentleman, even with his tattooed slave. Especially with his tattooed slave. Up the sidewalk and through the front portal, a small bell attached to the door announced their entry. Out burst an attractive, slightly overweight, middle aged woman. She had a generous smile. "Oh Bob. I'd almost given up on you. Is this the young lady?" "Yes." Said Bob. "This is Carol. Carol. This beautiful young woman will be assisting us this morning as we select your wardrobe." The woman spoke. "Her name is Carol; such a pretty name, nice ring to it. We'll have to dress her to match her name." Bob interjected. "Have you got anything she can wear right now? Maybe, if you could, gather up a few more items for the next few days." Carol said. "Yes. This robe is all I have." Ignoring Carol. The woman asked. "We selected some things via the Internet. Will they do?" Bob answered. "Yes. Sure." The lady gave Bob a fulsome smile. "Wait here. I'll only be a moment." She slipped into the back room. Bob pointed to a chair. "Kneel beside the chair, while I look through some of these swatches." Carol obediently knelt on the floor beside the chair. Though it was early the store started to bustle with customers. Carol got several idle looks as she knelt near Bob's feet. Out came the woman. She had a pile of clothes in her arms. "Here. I think I've found something appropriate for right now. She held up an oyster white blouse and plaid mini-skirt. Go in the back and put these on." With Carol dismissed she carried the rest of the apparel over to Bob. He sat down while she started to show him what she'd brought. Carol had little to do but drop the robe and put on the blouse and skirt. The blouse was pretty. It buttoned up the front. It had no sleeves but it did have a pretty little scalloped collar that, once on, hinted dangerously at how its texture might expose her breasts. The cloth was soft and filmy. It wasn't transparent, or even translucent, but you could still discern the outline of her breasts, and the darker shades her aureole were visible. Her nipples peaked out tremulously against the material. The stitching up the sides failed to reach her underarms. The space between allowed a peak at her breasts from that angle if she bent or leaned in any direction. The skirt was short, just barely reaching mid-thigh. Worse, the material was so soft it tended to billow at every movement. With no underwear, she was in danger of showing all her womanly charms at the slightest hint of a breeze. The skirt was fastened with a tiny zipper on the side. It fit snugly at the waist, but not uncomfortably so. She stepped into the front of the store. Bob looked up and whistled. "Wow! Now that's a cute outfit. Do you have any shoes to go with it?" The clothier already had a pair of shoes and socks in her hands. She handed them to Carol. "Sit down and put these on." Carol looked around. Bob was in the only chair, and he gave no inclination of moving. There was nothing else to do but sit on the floor. Carol slowly dropped to the floor. Kneeling was out of the question. If she wanted these shoes and socks on she'd have to sit on her butt. Very carefully she swiveled around and got on her ass. There was another customer barely two feet away. With one foot under her rear Carol slipped the sock and then the shoe on one foot. Then she practiced the same maneuver with the other foot. The clothier said. "Stand up. Let's see how they look." Carol had to swivel to her knees and then gingerly rise to her feet. The socks were white and just covered her ankles. The shoes matched the blouse, they were opened toed, and had a narrow three-inch heel. With the shoes on the dress rose what seemed like another two inches on her thighs. The woman said. "Walk up and down the aisle. I want to see how everything looks." Carol did as she was told. She could feel the skirt rising dangerously high, and with no bra, the blouse offered minimal support. Her breasts swayed gently when she walked but bounced naughtily when she stopped or turned. The movement of the skirt, the blouse, and her breasts were betrayed by the redness of her face. Bob said. "Come here." Carol walked to where he was sitting. Pointing to the floor he said. "Kneel here between my legs while the clothier shows us what else she has for us." Carol did as she was told. While Bob kept a proprietary hand on her shoulder, his hand dangling dangerously close to a breast, the clothier took the next two hours to bring out dresses, skirts, blouses, jumpers, chemises, camisoles, panties, bloomers, teddies, scarves, shoes, and stockings. All the apparel was made of the softest silks, satins, and selected acrylic fabrics. Everything selected was designed to reveal as much as it concealed. Some things left little to the imagination, but most of the outfits were more alluring and naughty than vulgar. Every outfit had its matching shoes, socks, or stockings. Some things they made Carol try on and model, but most things Bob accepted with little or no comment. Once they'd run the gamut of womanly and feminine apparel Bob gave the clothier another list. "We'll need these too." The clothier looked the list over and gave him a quizzical look. He reaffirmed. "Yes. I want those thing too." Carol wondered what was on that list. After all his selections were made he wrote out a check, and together Carol and he left the store. Assisting Carol into the car he said. "I have one more stop to make, and then let's go home." His last stop was at a hardware store. They had a storage chest waiting for him. They plopped it in the trunk with a heavy metallic clang, and then they sped back home. Back at the house Bob got the door and sent her inside. After managing a few outside affairs he went inside and joined her. "Carol." He said. "You haven't had a chance to see much of the house. Would you like a tour?" Carol glowed. "I'd love a tour." For the next thirty minutes Bob showed her every room, every closet, every nook and cranny. It was a spacious log cabin, and it lacked for no amenities. As Bob led her from room to room she could tell he'd put his heart in it. Every room seemed to further confirm what she'd come to understand about Bob. He liked nice things, but not ostentation. Everything had a clean look, a clarity that bespoke of a no nonsense forthright kind of guy. The house had four bedrooms, one down stairs; that's where she'd been staying, and three upstairs. There were three bathrooms; a large one with a sunken tub in the room she'd been in, another large bathroom upstairs, and one small one in the back beside a rear door that lead outside. The front of the first floor was the main hall, and directly behind it, separated by a waist high shelved wall was a magnificent country kitchen. Excepting the kitchen and a small laundry room, which were linoleum all the floors were hardwood, real hardwood. While he was giving her the tour he explained the difficulty he had towing in each floorboard. There was a laundry room in the far back where a washer and dryer sat strategically waiting for dirty clothes. The main hall had a stately stone fireplace at one end, and a more functional wood stove at the other. Sofas, love seats, and chairs sat in casual disarray around each heater. Rich thick carpet covered areas where one might expect the heaviest traffic. When they finished the tour Bob said. "You look tired. Why don't you lie down a while." Carol was a little weary, and a nap did sound like a good idea. "Yes. Thank you." She said and started for her bedroom. Stopping briefly she turned. "Bob?" "Yes." He said. Carol asked. "Where's Annie?" Bob gave her a broad smile. He laughed. "She's at my sisters. I'll be bringing her home in a day or two. Why do you ask?" Carol looked away demurely. "I just wondered." She turned around and went into the bedroom. Bob sat down. She's all right he thought. Picking up the remote control, thankful for satellite; he turned on the television. While flicking the channels he considered. First I'll take a nap out here. Later tonight was as good a time as any to start putting Carol in chains. First though they were going to have some sex. He'd been thinking about her ass for weeks. He said to no one in particular. "Tonight's the night!" The Gold Digger Ch. 07 Carol was awakened again by a gentle tapping from Bob. She was groggy and slow to wake up. It seemed like he was always waking her up. Using her soft pink closely manicured fingers she wiped the sleep from her eyes. They'd been having one of the strangest relationships. He'd gained nearly complete control of her life thanks to her stupidity. He'd shared her with their coworkers, farmed her out to a local brothel that seconded as a Bed and Breakfast. He'd shipped her off to an old people's home. That last experience was especially hellacious. The vindictive supervisor, a dour old woman named Ruth, had locked her in a basement closet where she became roach and ant food for weeks, unable even to escape sitting in her own feces. The old supervisor had only done it because she resented the fact that Carol had been providing sexual services to old people. Carol had to admit it hadn't been much fun, but she knew she'd brightened a lot of very old peoples' lives. Bob had rescued her. He'd brought her to his cabin. Technically it was cabin in the woods, but in reality it was a beautiful spacious 'almost' mansion. Other things had evolved over the past weeks that were closing in on the both of them. Carol was pregnant, and it was a sure bet the baby was Bob's. He was prepared to pay the costs of a child, but he was disinclined to make a commitment to her. Coincidentally she'd become his defacto property. His name was tattooed on her ass, and she'd signed a paper giving him full power of attorney over her and everything she owned. She supposed, if he wanted to he could lock her away an asylum, or auction her off to real brothel. Worse he might simply dispose of her by selling her to some foreigner. He might make her the property of some middle-eastern potentate leaving her trapped in a seraglio for the remainder of her days. If he wanted to he might even farm her out on the streets! She didn't think any of that would happen. She had her reasons. She believed in his fundamental decency, and she knew, and he did too, that he loved her. Though she had to admit love was a powerful and unpredictable aphrodisiac. Love had driven stronger men than Bob to extremes of cruelty. Still she was more inclined to believe he would use her to satisfy his own perverted sexual fantasies. If that was the case she was fine, since she didn't think his sexual hang-ups were that unusual. If he kept her around as a toy, or pet, or slave, that would be fine with her. Time was on her side. Every day their baby was growing inside her. Sooner or later the real man, the protective hunter-gatherer would emerge. With the arrival of that happy day her most dreaded fears would recede, extinguished by Bob's love and guardian instincts, those good instincts that distinguished civilized man from his base primitive urges. Carol understood manliness conferred power, but it also tempered power with responsibility, even affection. Meanwhile for her it was mostly a question of waiting him out. She was lying in his king-sized bed on the first floor of a magnificent log cabin most of which he'd built himself. He was trying to wake her up. "Carol. Carol." He said. "Wake up Carol." She opened one eye and smiled. "Bob. My hero." She reached out and tried to pull him down. Bob responded like any man when a beautiful woman wanted him in bed with her. He climbed in. "Carol it's been two weeks since I brought you here. It's been almost six weeks since we've made love." She listened to the resonant tones of his man's voice. She liked what she heard. That was the first time he used the term love to describe their sexual activities. Bob went on. "I think you're healthy enough that I won't hurt you." Carol leaned into him. She didn't think he could ever really hurt her. Maybe a little embarrassment, perhaps a spanking now and then, but hurt her, not Bob. They embraced and shared a long languid kiss. Bob had firm warm lips, like his strong hands and muscular arms they exuded a restrained power that was both comforting and intimidating. He was security and threat at the same time. Carol was still in the blouse and skirt he'd selected for her earlier. It was a nice outfit. The soft bone color of the blouse and gentle swish of the skirt accentuated her delicate sexuality. He slowly undid the buttons of the blouse. Like an artist, an explorer, a child on Christmas morning, he peeled away the blouse slowly, revealing gently sloping cleavage, rounded breast, darker aureole, and delicate nipple all a little at a time. He allowed the skirt to slip down her legs exposing her thighs, heart shaped nether cheeks, the soft twin hillocks of her labia. Then there was that especially sensitive northernmost protrusion that was the center and source of so much feminine gratification. The bite wounds from her earlier ordeal were still there, but becoming faded memories. Bob took the palms of his hands and rubbed over her arms, her stomach, and her precious breasts. One gentle pendular swing of a palm and her nipples started to engorge and press outward. He pressed his chest against hers. She responded with lithesome grace. God he thought, she's adorable. He kissed her cheeks, her neck. He kissed that special place where her clavicles converged producing that gentle depression at the base of her throat. A depression of flesh that beckoned north to a beautiful doll like face with haunting eyes, pink cheeks, turned up nose, moist pursed lips, and impertinent little dimpled chin. Or southwards to two dainty glands genetically purported only for the secretion of milk but were much more, being the source of so much sexual joy. He rubbed down the sides of her torso to her hips, those magnificent softly smooth rounded outriders that enticed hungry hands either forward to a well-loved crevice where so many excitements had been offered and shared, or rearward to an as yet unexplored cavern, a virgin font of carnal delight. His hands wandered over her abdomen down to her waiting vagina. He felt her warmth as it exuded from her labia and swollen clitoris. He fondled her clit with his fingertips. He sensed her growing willingness to receive his manhood. She pushed her vagina against his hand. She wanted him. He could tell she wanted him to re-explore that lush hot wet familiar flesh. It had been too long for her too. But her vagina wasn't the object his desire today. His fantasies and cravings were directed at another entry, that other orifice that stretched out behind her woman's hips, hidden between two fleshy cheeks, a secret, even sacred, cavern no woman willingly shared. He wanted her anal cavity, and this was the day he would have it. Bob kissed her neck and settled his mouth on her beautiful crimson lips. The kiss was only a feint to distract her from the main event. He took the fingers of his right hand and slowly began to work around her rectum. It was soft and warm like her pussy. And like her puss, it was small and tight. They lay side by side, man and woman, kissing, nibbling and fondling. He used one hand to caress a breast, toy with a nipple, tease a labial lip, but his the other hand was about the business of conquest, with its determined fingertips he concentrated on her last yet to be pillaged fortress, her anus. First only one finger around the edges, then two, then one lone finger slowly began to forge its way into that new virgin territory accustomed only to departures, not entries. His fingers began their inexorable exploration into her anal cavity. Mining a new opening, he was careful, gentle, and considerate, but he knew there was inevitability to the pain that awaited later imminent penetrations. He had one finger in and around her anus. She was beginning to feel those mildest of sensations of discomfort that can only come when some new, as yet unexplored, pathway was being enlarged for the first time, enlarged for the fleshy leviathan that waited only inches away. She pushed against his hand with hers trying to forestall its fearsome approach, but he refused to relinquish his claim. They kissed, they embraced, their free hands wandered the well traveled terrain of their upper bodies, but Carol's attention kept drifting to that other region, that nether zone of still untouched purity, her one remaining virginal orifice. Two fingers hurt. He could tell, but this was just a preliminary probe, a reconnaissance. Real invasion was still over the horizon. Bob rolled Carol on her back. He dropped down to her vagina with his mouth. With his mouth at her labial crevice he began to induce further arousal in that most natural of all places. Yet while his lips were on hers, his fingers were at that other gateway. While she rejoiced in his frontal assault, she felt with growing trepidation that other, that rearward march. Bob pressed his face against her puss. He struck hard with his tongue, craving those juices that were flowing so freely from her frontal cavity. She was approaching that moment when all her joys and all her pleasures would find fulfillment. Still, there was that nagging, that niggling unresolved issue to her rear. Carol's clitoris was fully erect. She could hold off no longer. It came in a heated rush. She jerked. She flexed. She quivered. She flooded his mouth with her womanly fluids. He lapped it up. It was fluid from which great new energies emerged, the nectar of the Gods. Carol orgasmed. It was a moment ancient Deities prayed for. She climaxed with a power and strength she didn't know she had. Bob had brought her to fruition without full penetration. It was a fire like she'd never withstood before, a new kind of conflagration. Still, there was that awkward furtive fondling at her rearward entry. For her it was over, at least for the moment. For Bob the adventure was about to begin. He rolled her so she was on her stomach. He started kissing the nape of her neck. His manhood though, slowly searched for her other opening. There it was! He discovered that soft pliant single folded circular cavern. He started to push. Slowly, oh so slowly. At first Carol felt no serious discomfort. He was only at her doorstep. But gradually his manly power began to press further into her rearward cave. It started to hurt. It hurt a lot. She began to pull away. She couldn't get away. On her stomach, and him on top there was no place to retreat. She whimpered. "Bob. It hurts." He pulled back. He started kissing her neck. He rubbed her nipples from underneath. He leaned backward slightly. He gently massaged her ass cheeks, he planted a gentle a loving kiss on her tattoo, his tattoo, but he didn't pull off. As she recovered he renewed his assault. He pressed in again. A little farther this time, a little deeper. "Bob" she cried out. "It hurts!" He whispered tenderly in her ear. "It will hurt. You're a virgin Carol. This has never happened to you before." He pushed a little harder. He went a little deeper. He could hear her faint whimpering. He knew it hurt. But it was supposed to hurt. He was a man. He was taking what was his. He'd do it with tenderness, but he'd do it. He'd do it tonight. He slowly withdrew again. Though barely inside, a soft suction was being created. He withdrew to the faint sound of a gentle squish. Carol was under him. She was weeping. "Bob. This hurts." He whispered. "I know darling." He pressed in again. Each succeeding assault took him a little further, but even so he was barely inside. Less than a full inch of his powerful manhood had entered the breach. He, and she, still had a long way to go. He pushed further. She wept. He pressed again. She cried out. "Bob stop. This isn't any fun for me." He cupped her breasts with his hands. He leaned into her ear. "I know. This is the price you pay for being a woman." He pushed again. Now he was inside by two inches, still a long way, a dreadfully long way to go. She was openly crying. No pretense at love and sex. She was in pain. Bob rolled off. He curled her shaking body to his. She dropped her head into his chest. "Please no more Bob. It hurts so." Bob responded. "Rest a moment sweetheart. Let me kiss you." He took his right hand and lifted her chin. He saw the tears as they trickled down her beautiful face. He knew he was going to hurt her tonight. He'd been looking forward to it. This was what a man sometimes did. Women were meant to be soft and pliable, malleable in a man's arms. But a man was supposed to be made of sterner stuff. Yes it would hurt, but her pain would be worth his ultimate satisfaction. He rolled her over on her stomach again. She pleaded. "No Bob." He wasn't listening. This was it. He found her anal opening and pressed in the previously forged three inches. Now he pushed on, harder. Harder! She cried! She winced in pain. She tried to pitch him off. It didn't matter. He was on a mission. His destiny and hers was inside her anal cavity. He kept pushing. She screamed! She screamed again! They weren't cries anymore. She wasn't pleading for respite. These were harsh, guttural, unearthly screams of genuine unalterable agony. She was small. She was smaller even than he expected. It didn't matter. He couldn't stop. This was what he'd wanted since that first night when everyone was on her, in her. This was what he was meant to have! This was his chamber. No other man would be allowed to have this! It was his, and hers, at least for now, her chamber of unmitigated horror. He'd done it! He reached full penetration. He felt his scrotum press against that fleshy area between her ass and puss. He'd burst her anal cherry! He sensed the faint traces of some new fluid, not vaginal womanly juices, not sweat, no this was a new fluid, a red fluid. It still wasn't over. He reveled in his power. He'd crushed her! He pushed in and out several more times. He did it because he wanted to. It felt good! Her pain was like a tonic. No matter how he would care for, cuddle, and cherish her in a few moments, her pain was too exquisite to forego! Bob plowed in four no five more times. She screamed each time. Then the last time he ejaculated. She felt the sperm. It was hot, and it went deep inside, but it wasn't like the joyous celebration of a vaginal ejaculation. This was only pain. She was glad it was over. He might stay in, but now mercifully he would begin to shrink. As he shrank she would recover some, but not all. Her self-confidence, her aplomb, her belief in him was devastated. As she had suffered excruciating pain, he had exulted. Bob was satisfied. She'd had the experience of a lifetime. It would never hurt this much again. She didn't know that yet, even if she had it wouldn't have helped. He wasn't supposed to hurt her, not really. Not like this! She would have been grateful if he'd beaten her with a stick. She only knew it was ending, but the end of his penetration of her anal core meant the end of something more for her too. Something of her self-reliance, her confidence, her independence was receding as his manhood receded. She would never be the same. It wasn't like her lost virginity of so many years ago. That was high school. This was deeper, more profound, more complicated, and immeasurably more degrading. She was no longer the receptacle of mutually shared joy. She was the receptacle of his dominance. His power required her submission. By taking her in the ass he'd simply taken her. Nothing like love or passion was shared. It was his pleasure, her pain. Somehow things could never be completely the same. Never, ever again. Bob rolled over on his side. He pulled her close and crushed her to him He kissed her tenderly. She slid into his arms, but not as an equal, not as a coconspirator in an act of love. He was a man, she but an object, an opening for his sperm. She never felt so degraded. She finally understood what inferiority meant. She cried the bitterest of bitter tears. He'd crushed her. Had he crushed her spirit? She couldn't stop whimpering. Her ass hurt. It really hurt! Her pride was hurt. Most of all she sense of self-assurance was a shambles. She never believed. Never really believed Bob was capable of inflicting this much pain, not on her. She lay there and wept. Bob was tired. He'd had a very fulfilling evening. It was time to go to sleep. "Carol. Will you stop crying?" Carol sniffed. "I can't. It hurts." Bob was losing his patience. What did she think was going to happen? "Look I want to get to sleep." Carol whimpered back. "I'm sorry. I just can't seem to stop." Bob growled again. "OK. Look shut up." He took his right hand and flicked a three fingered slap on her left cheek. It wasn't a hard slap, more a wake up call. Like no more nonsense. "I said shut up and get to sleep." Carol was stunned. He slapped her. He slapped her in the face. Where she came from you just didn't slap people in the face. Men didn't hit women! Not even a slap. Now she knew she really was nothing. Fighting to control her tears she sniffled. "OK Bob. I'm sorry. I'll be quiet. I'll be good." Bob felt reassured. Nothing like a little nip on the cheek to shut up a naughty girl. "Good night Carol." He took his arms and forced her to roll over so her back was against him. He wrapped his arms around her upper torso, grabbing and squeezing a breast in each hand. He pressed against her back. His penis pressed against her ass. He liked the feel. His was starting to get hard again. He didn't want to do her, but the idea of pressing his hard shaft against the cleft between the cheeks of her wounded ass made him feel more masculine. Together they drifted off to sleep. Bob drifted into slumber with thoughts of Sir Edmund Hillary, Neal Armstrong, Columbus, Genghis Khan. He slept the complacent sleep of the victor, a man with his pet. For Carol it was Anne Bolyn, Joan of Arc, Boudica of the Iceni. For her it was the sleep of martyrdom, of defeat, of slavery. A sleep that was a long time coming, the pain was still too real. Both Bob and Carol slept through the night. It was a tough start for Carol, but once she finally drifted off it became a deep REM sleep filled with disquieting nightmarish images. Bob, of course, had only sweet dream. The sun was shining the next morning when Carol awakened. Bob had been out of bed and had already fixed breakfast. Carol rolled over and immediately remembered the night before. Her rear end felt like it was on fire. She tried to move but the effort was too painful. He came in with some coffee and toast. Carrying it to her side he said. "Well good morning to you. I know you slept well. How do you feel?" Carol was afraid to say too much. She was reluctant to say anything for fear of betraying her uncertainty after the previous night. She rolled a little, wincing as she rolled. "Good morning." Bob recognized the pain. "A little sore? Roll over on your stomach. Let me rub on a little salve." Carol was afraid to disagree. She rolled over on her stomach, but turned her head so she was facing away from him. Bob took a tube of ointment and started rubbing her ass cheeks. "It's always hard the first time. At least that's what they tell me." He continued rubbing working his way around her rectum. "They say you get used to it, and after awhile even start to like it." He was rubbing the outer edges of her ass hole. He saw the dried blood, could tell she was swollen and sore. Carol lay there, perfectly still. Bob went on rubbing, pushing his finger in as he rubbed and talked. She winced and tried to pull away, but he took his other hand and used it to pull her body back toward his finger. There was no escape. Her ass was torn, tired, and sore, but, like an army of occupation, it had to suffer his middle-finger's penetration. Ostensibly the insertion was to massage her aching rectum and fill it with a comforting balm. The balm was comforting, but there was another motive, a reminder that the innermost parts of her behind no longer belonged to her. The Gold Digger Ch. 07 She lay stiffly against Bob's knees as he pressed in and out with his finger. It hurt, but not as badly as the previous evening. Bob loved looking at her pink ass cheeks. They were so round and plump looking without actually being fat. As he used one hand to insert the cream, his other hand rubbed her cheeks. He leaned down and planted a kiss on her tattoo. He said. "I love that tattoo. A girl, you, in the palms of a man's hands, my hands. I have you in my hands Carol. You're mine." Carol pretended she didn't hear him. She lay there, stoically, on her side, hoping this would end soon. Bob smeared some cream all around her cheeks. "You're mine Carol." She lay there, as still as she could. Bob said it again. "You're mine. You're my property. I own you." he was starting to feel frisky. His meat log was starting to grow. "Say it Carol. Say you belong to me." Carol lay perfectly still, pretending she was half-asleep, pretending she didn't hear him. Bob pushed his finger in a little deeper. "Say it Carol." Carol responded. "I belong to you." Carol was lying on her side. Bob lay down beside her. He started to press his penis against her ass. His other arm held her against his chest. "My ass is yours. Say it Carol." Carol was tensing. She felt nervous. She wanted to escape this situation. She whispered. It was barely audible. "My ass is yours." She was afraid he was going to use her again the same way he had the night before. Her fears were real. Bob pressed his manhood tightly against her ass. He started to squeeze into her rectal cavern. It was every bit as tight as it had been the night before, only now it was lubricated. He pushed in slowly, deliberately, cruelly. Carol lay perfectly still. God it hurt. Tears trickled down her lovely face. She held her hands together in front just below her throat. She squeezed her hands into tight little balls. She squeezed her cheeks together and squinched her eyes as tightly closed as she could. Anything to ameliorate the pain. He kept pulling her abdomen closer to his stomach. The closer and tighter he pulled the further in he went. The further in he went the more it hurt. He wasn't trying to pump in and out like earlier. He was just pushing in. Further. Further. God it hurt. Bob was in a heat of passion. He was near that point where he would reach climax, but he was alert to what he was doing. He knew how deeply he was penetrating, and he knew how intense the pain had to be for her. He cared that it hurt. He wanted it to hurt. He wanted it to hurt her. He would hurt her so she would know and understand what if felt like to be helpless. To be out of control! To be someone else's! At the very last second, before he ejaculated he pulled out. He wanted to pour it in like he'd done the night before, but wanted to show Carol something else too. By holding back he was showing he not only completely controlled her, but he had complete self control as well. He pulled out and let his still fully erect hard penis rest against her ass cheeks. He felt her body shaking in his arms. She was crying. He'd hurt her, and hurt her good. He kissed the nape of her neck. He took one hand and gently rubbed one finger up and down the side of her neck, the side of her face. He softly rubbed his fingers over her mouth. He placed one finger in her mouth and let it sit there. Mercifully Bob had pulled out. He put a finger in her mouth. Carol got the message. She started to suck on it as though it were his penis. She'd talked the talk about slavery, about being a pet, about being property. Now he was making her walk the walk. She understood. She understood, and she hated it. This was slavery. Real slavery! He could be kind and gentle. He could harsh and cruel. He could be any way and anything he wanted. No matter what he chose to do she was at his disposal. She didn't know if she could live with that. But she knew she had to. She had to because somebody else needed her. That somebody was inside. It disturbed her. Suddenly she had a new awakening. Her having a baby had been turned around. Yesterday it was her baby for her to use to make him change. Today it was still her baby, but all her choices had evaporated. She had the baby. He had the freedom. He would do whatever he wanted, and she would take it because the baby needed her to. She mistakenly believed the baby was her wedge to control him. That she knew was wrong. The baby was his wedge to guarantee his control over her. She started crying. She'd lost it. She'd lost the most meaningful thing! Now she had nothing. Absolutely nothing! Bob could be cruel. He could be harsh, but it generally wasn't in his nature. Carol had assumed he'd do all the things she feared most. Well he'd done something. He'd gotten her up the ass, and it hurt. She got the message. Now it was time to lay off a little. He cradled her head n his arms. She was still crying. "Carol I know it hurts. I know you're sore. Still, I'd like to take you outside. It'll hurt to walk, but it's better to walk it off than lay around feeling sorry for yourself. Maybe you'd like to see where you'll be living the next months, where you'll be raising our baby. I think you'll like it." Carol sniffled again. "Will we have to walk very far?" Bob answered. "Look. You can walk until you can't. You get tired, or it gets too sore, I'll carry you." Carol snuffed and then hiccuped. "Could you carry from the start." Bob stood up and reached down for her hand. "Get up. I'll carry you all day and all night if you want me to." Carol struggled to her. "I'm not dressed." "Here let me help." Bob reached around and found the skirt and blouse she'd worn the previous day. "This looked very comfortable, and you looked awful pretty in it." She held out her arms while he slipped the blouse around her shoulders. "It's not too wrinkled?" "No not at all." As he helped her get in the skirt. "Now how do you want me to carry you. I can carry you like a baby. You could go piggy back, and I could try to carry you on a shoulder." Carol hiccuped again. "Like a baby." Bob scooped her up. She wasn't a little girl, but she was light as a feather to him. "Tell you what. I'll carry awhile, then sit you down. We'll talk some, and then I'll carry you to a new spot. Then we'll talk some more. How about that?" Carol wiped a stray tear. "OK." For the next two hours Bob carried and sat. He carried and sat Carol all around the yard. He showed her the barn, the sheds, the garden, the pond, and the place where he was going to have a pool dug. He showed her the woodpile, the wood splitter, and where the logs were that he would soon be splitting for winter. He talked about how much she was going to like living here. He told her about the feel of a warm crackling fire. Being wrapped in thick cashmere sweaters and heavy woolen blankets. How she could help with the gardening. Assist him when he cut the grass, and how much she would enjoy riding the tractor and swimming once the pool was in. He talked about all the fun they would have. Bob gave her a run down of what was in the closest towns, and how she would be able to shop, join a spa, choose a church, and do anything she wanted. Carol listened to everything he said with a sense of gratitude. He owned her. She understood that. He also could afford to be kind, sweet, and generous. She understood that too. What he'd done last night and again today had hurt terribly, but now it was like he was showing her it wasn't all always pain and suffering. Carol wrapped her arms around him more tightly each time they picked up and moved to a new location. She was getting past last night. It was a new paradigm, and she had to move on. The way he was talking and treating her now was like a doting parent, a person deeply in love. Either way, she liked this Bob. Bob went out of his way to be kind. He'd wanted her ass, and he took it. He took it like he wanted to take it. That didn't mean that she had to cringe or shrink back every time he was near her now. She had to see, though things were different, they still could be pretty nice. He wanted her to be happy. Right now that might mean happiness in her chains, whether they were real or psychological. Later the chains could be discarded, forgotten. For now though, he didn't feel she was completely broken. It was a hard comparison. She might be like a spirited filly, a filly that needed to be tamed, broken. He just had to break her without breaking her spirit. It would mean lots of love and tenderness, but it would also mean more discipline, and more constraint. Oh well, he thought. No pain no gain. They returned to the house. Bob set Carol on one of the big sofas and left her with the television remote. He went back to the kitchen to fix dinner. She needed some serious TLC tonight; because starting tomorrow there would be some tough days ahead. He brought dinner in on a tray. He'd taken some microwave bacon, heated that, cut up some tomatoes, and ripped off some leaves of lettuce, and toast, and made some bacon lettuce and tomato sandwiches. Hell. He thought. Everyone likes BLTs. He wasn't disappointed. Carol tore into one like she hadn't eaten for week. He enjoyed his also. They washed them down with sprite. Then they sat back on the big soft sofa and watched some television. It was only the middle of the day, but Bob still hadn't gotten his rocks off from her earlier ass pump. While they watched the tube he started to lazily tickle her neck. Just a finger on the left side, around the neck, under the chin, and over to the opposite ear. Carol dutifully lifted her head to allow him to continue to pay attention to her collarbone, shoulders, and breasts. He used his fingers to slowly sweep around her breasts. He did so over her blouse, allowing the fabric to work its soft magic on her skin. She let out a gentle sigh. Bob leaned close and started nibbling on her ear while his right hand found its way under her short skirt. Slowly skimming over her labia he felt her growing warmth and wetness. He carefully lifted her so that she sat comfortably on his lap. He kissed her lips. She responded to his kisses with a tentative femininity that betrayed a little of this morning's fearfulness. He pulled her blouse from her skirt and started to whisper over her stomach and around her navel with his fingers. It tickled and she squirmed slightly. He stood up and dropped his pants. Returning to his place on the sofa he lowered her onto his lap. As she sank, allowing her legs to straddle his waist his hard fully erect penis slowly sank into her vagina. She lowered herself on his penis. Carol felt more at home with him facing her and his penis slowly sinking into her puss. It felt good, a lot different from the previous night. This to her was the natural order of things. She could look at him and feel him enter her. She kissed his lips, and rested her two hands behind his head on his shoulders. As she sank further into his lap she rested her head on his chest. She breathed a rested comfortable sigh. He was all the way inside her. He was big inside, and he felt hot. His whole body was like it had its own generator cranking out the heat, but his penis was always extra hot. She liked the feel of the heat it put off, especially where it was now. Having him inside was like being a part of him. It was though they were two people they were only complete when conjoined by his penis and her vagina. It was a remarkable sensation. It provided a completeness she could feel in no other way. Bob took his hands under Carol's rear cheeks and slowly lifted and lowered her in his lap. She recognized the subliminal signals and joined him in their slow rhythmic dance. He loved the shared movement of her body with his. She delighted in the slow cadence call of his body as it joined with her physical lyric. He could feel her wet juices as they lubricated his penis and made travel in and out easier and more sensuous. She exulted in the rise and fall of her hips on his erect member, its wet suction and his hard presence. He was overwhelmed by her powerful aroma, the erotic scent of a woman in the metamorphical throes of sexual excitement. She craved and lusted for the sweet sucking feeling of his hard organ as it first impaled and then withdrew from her innermost physical being. Together they panted, thrust, pushed, and finally exploded. He poured his life's force into her womb, and she received every drop into the very soul of her being. They gasped for air as they both reached that final moment of sexual fulfillment together. Then it was done. All that was left was to rest in each other's arms enjoying the moment just past and relishing the moments of sweet harmony and cherished companionship that lay ahead. She fell asleep on his lap, in his arms, and with his penis slowly receding inside her. She lay contented, relaxed, and exhausted, not knowing that in a little he'd leave. He would soon leave. He had to go pick up Annie and the new housekeeper he'd hired. The housekeeper would not only maintain the current physical setting, she would oversee Carol's time while Bob returned to work. The ravishment of the night before, the rapprochement of the afternoon and the honeymoon just ended were in need of perspective. Carol still needed discipline, and he still had to make money. Today was today. Tomorrow the unknown. The Gold Digger Ch. 08 Bob had acquired Carol as a result of her own stupidity. She was one of those women who thought they were always smarter than the men whom they worked with. She was smart. She was smarter than most men. She had just become too overconfident. That was her undoing. She got caught trying to swindle their company. Bob had fixed it so she wouldn't go to jail, but that meant a different kind of trouble. He had to share her with other men in the company. Men he didn't like! It had required getting her drunk and in bed with men she normally wouldn't have had anything to do with. Then he'd bought them off. Now he had nearly complete control over her. Oh she could leave anytime she wanted, but if she did, then the long arm of the law would wrap itself around her. Besides, with her granting him such extensive powers of attorney he could create all kinds of problems, even arrange to have her committed. He'd thought of that. He'd thought of a lot of things. He'd wanted her. He loved her. He knew that. He'd wanted her as a wife and an equal, but she seemed intent on thwarting him every time he started to soften. She kept getting in the way. Her mouth kept getting in the way. If she'd kept her mouth shut he wouldn't be making the plans he was making now. What Bob had decided was Carol needed some kind of epiphany, something had to happen that would be a kind of sensory overload. She was pregnant, pregnant with his child. He couldn't afford some kind of long drawn out travail. Forty days and nights in the wilderness seemed like a good idea in the Bible, but what Carol needed was a massive, Damascus like, Bob inspired, catastrophe. She needed something so dramatic, so cataclysmic that she would collapse. And it had to be something that came directly from him, something back breaking, inescapable, emotionally exhausting and highly visible, but not, and this was most important of all, physically dangerous. After that, they could afford some sort of short-term denouement, followed with the happily ever after he knew she wanted and he knew she deserved. And when he was honest with himself. He knew he wanted too. Bob had been gone the better part of the day, and Carol was beginning to wonder. Had he gotten into trouble? Was he all right? She thought about Bob all the time. He confused her. She'd thought she had him figured out, but every time she thought she knew him she'd talk to him and he'd change. He could be so affectionate one minute, then the next he'd turn cold. He could be warm and cuddly, and then he'd be blaming her for something. She just wished she knew what that something was. He was more slippery than an eel. She only guessed at that, never having touched an eel. Carol had dressed today in a way she knew would especially please Bob. She had on a smart looking little matching blouse and skirt outfit. The top was baby blue, short sleeved, and buttoned up the front to a perky middy collar with a discreet little white bow at the center. White piping edged both the collar and the short sleeves. Her breasts were held in place by a thin low cut bra, low enough to tease, but still firm enough to provide the necessary stability. She squeezed her arms together in front to force her boobs forward just to check the affect. They pressed up and out provocatively. She reminded herself to find some nonchalant way to do that in front of Bob when the opportunity arose. The skirt was a mini, pleated, and a slightly darker shade of blue than the blouse. She had a pair of white silk panties on underneath. She tried leaning forward with her knees locked just to check how far she would need to lean to get the hem of the panties exposed. She'd do that too. She had on low-heeled shoes of the same color with white lacy ankle socks. Her hair was pulled back with a similarly shaded ribbon. She flipped her head back and forth in front of the mirror. She wanted and thought she got a neatly coifed but casual look about her face. She applied make up to match the outfit; a little pink blush on the cheeks, a hint of blue eye shadow, a glimmer of eyelash liner, and just a tad of pink lip-gloss. She blinked into the mirror. She thought she looked pert and saucy, just a little like a schoolgirl. This was going to be her big impression day, the day she got Bob to accept the inevitable. He'd ask her a big question today. Maybe not marriage, but a big one anyway. He might say, Carol would you be my wife, or he might chicken a little and say something like, Carol I want you to be my exclusive and permanent girlfriend. She'd prefer the first question, but the second one would do. She was convinced he was just a sigh, just a hair's breath away from making the commitment. She was as excited as she'd ever been, but she'd try to play it cool. Play it close to the vest today Carol. That's what she told herself. This was going to be her day. This is what she told herself. About 4:00 that afternoon Bob drove into view. Carol breathed an apprehensive sigh. Well here goes! She stepped from the house to the porch, and then down the porch to the driveway to greet the man she would marry. Looking in the car she could see he had another person with him, a woman, and she thought she saw a dog. She bet the dog was Annie, his Labrador retriever. She hoped the other person might be his sister, the one who'd been watching Annie. Bob pulled up, opened his door, and the dog leaped out. He walked around and got the door for the woman passenger. Carol thought, that Bob, always the gentleman. They made their way up the porch to the front door. Bob opened the double doors and all three came trundling in. He saw Carol and, pointing to the dog that already had run over to her he announced. "This is Annie." Then waving in the direction of the woman he said. "And this is Dora. I've hired her as a live in housekeeper while I'm at work. She'll sleep in one of the back bedrooms and take care of the house, you, and Annie. Carol chimed up. "Bob. You didn't need to hire anybody. I can take care of things for the both of us." And scruffling the back of the dog's fur she added. "I think I can handle Annie too." Bob gave Carol an enigmatic smile. "Dora will take care of things." He turned to the new woman. He walked her up the porch past Carol and into the house. "Come over here let me show you the kitchen." Carol followed the two of them inside. Bob was up to something. She wondered if he had some special surprise for her. Ignoring Carol Bob walked Dora to the kitchen and explained to her his meal habits and where to find the necessary accouterments for food preparation. He walked Dora past Carol again and showed her the rooms downstairs and described the upstairs layout while discussing cleaning and maintenance expectations. He handed Dora a set of keys and described the best routes into the nearest town and what stores offered the best buys on food, cleaners, and any other things she might need. The whole time he did this he behaved as if Carol wasn't there. Then he started to describe Dora's responsibilities as they related to Carol and to Anne. Bob walked over to Carol and put his arm around her. "This." He said. "Is Carol. She and the dog are my most valued possessions. While I'm away I want you keep a close watch on both. The best way to do that is to tether them together. I have materials in a bag for that purpose. Keep them off the furniture, and see that both are walked twice a day." Carol was listening to what Bob was saying, and she was dumbfounded. Bob continued to explain what he expected of Dora. "I suppose, since Carol can be trusted not to run away, she could walk Annie herself. Just see they are both tethered together when they go out. When you feed them do it in the kitchen. I've obtained a low table where Carol can eat. Just put Annie's bowl on the floor. If Carol needs to use the bathroom it's OK, but see to it that Annie goes into the bathroom with her." Carol interrupted. "Bob! What are you talking about?" Bob continued to ignore Carol. "As far as behavior is concerned I know Annie will listen. Carol might be a problem. If she misbehaves, use the fly swatter, but only on her butt. I don't want a lot of red marks where they can be seen. There will be times I'll have company, and it would look bad if she were bearing the visible proof of bad behavior. People would think I didn't know how to discipline." Carol was stunned! "Bob?" Bob finally turned around to acknowledge Carol. "Sweetheart. Don't interrupt, and don't say anything unless someone asks you a question. You've heard the old adage. 'Children are seen and not heard.' Let's apply that to you from now on." Carol was indignant. This was taking things too far. First bringing in a housekeeper. Then being paired with the dog. Now being categorized as a child. "Bob. You can't mean this!" Bob lifted his right hand and waved her over. "Come here Carol." As she approached he walked over to the bag he'd mentioned to Dora. He reached in the bag and pulled something out. Carol gasped. "That's not for me!" Bob said. "Kneel down." Carol answered. "I will not!" Bob reached out and grabbed her. He pulled her to the floor. "I said kneel down!" Carol knelt on the floor. Bob took the collar. It was made of metal. It was bright and shiny, about an inch wide and quarter inch in thickness. Carol could see a hinge at the back, a clasp at the front, and an o-ring beside the clasp. He leaned down and snapped the collar around her neck. It closed with a soft, but definitive click. It was a perfect fit. "The collar is stainless steel, and the hasp has its own locking mechanism. I have one key. The other is for Dora." He walked over to the housekeeper and handed her a key. "Put this someplace safe." He reached back onto the bag and pulled out a length of chain. It glistened in the soft household lighting. It looked like the type of chain a girl might buy and wear as a bangle bracelet, but this chain had a different purpose. Bob reached down to Carol's collar and attached it with a small-elongated lock. He called Annie. As Annie frolicked over he attached the other end of the chain to Annie's cloth collar. Carol could see the other end was attached to Annie with the same type of lock. He walked over to the nearest sofa. He called. "Come here girls." Annie jumped up and pranced over to her master. As the dog moved toward Bob the chain was pulled taut. Carol had no choice but to get up and walk over as well. Bob was scratching Annie's head when Carol reached him. He reached out with his other hand, pulled her to the floor, and started to scratch the top of Carol's head in exactly the same way. "Carol. You don't have to crawl around on all fours, but remember this. Annie pulls you. You don't pull Annie. If Annie goes into the kitchen, you go into the kitchen. If Annie wants to lie down by the door, you lie down by the door. What she does. You do. Understand?" Carol's so well prepared intellectual mien as well as her clothing were both unraveling. Her pretty blouse was pulling from its protective sheathing from around the waist of her skirt. The top button had come undone. Her hair, thanks to his tousling, was all mussed. Carol was completely shaken. "Bob. Why are you doing this?" Bob answered. "Why? I'm doing it because I want to. I think it's fun. I like seeing you on the floor. I like having you underfoot. You're pretty. You're fun. Like Annie, you're one of my playmates." Bob took his hand and cupped her chin. He leaned forward and looked at her. She'd never looked so pretty as she did right then. For a split second he wondered what the hell he was doing. He gave her a kiss on those luscious lips. They were soft and delicate. He thought. She really knows how to kiss. For ten cents he'd drop the whole charade and just curl up with her on the sofa for an afternoon make out session. For a quarter he would have sent Dora home in a cab and just settled in with Carol for good. She was just so gosh darn pretty, gorgeous, and innocent looking. Then he remembered. She could turn on him. He couldn't trust her. He'd seen her in action. He had to go through with the plan. He didn't tell her what he was thinking. He told her something else entirely. "You're my little doggie girl Carol. Now be a good little doggie girl." Bob kicked his shoes off. He almost hated himself for doing it. That is, almost hated it. "Good girls lie down. Lie down and put your head on my feet." He pointed to the floor next to his feet. "Go on. Be a good girl." Carol wanted to cry. She started to tear up, but she did lie down, and she did put her head on his smelly feet. She sniffled and said. "Your feet stink." Bob heard Carol's complaint, and responded. "They do? Well! We'll have to do something about that!" He called. "Annie! Come here girl." Annie, who was right beside them anyway, sidled over to Bob. He unlocked Annie's end of the chain. "There you go. Run along!" With a gentle push Bob shoved Annie away. She started to amble over toward the kitchen where all the snackies and goodies were. Bob whispered to Carol. "She's one smart doggie. Are you a smart little doggie Carol?" Carol kept her head on Bob's smelly feet and her mouth shut. Her eyes were filled with tears. What was wrong with this man? Bob asked again. "Doggie Carol girl? Are you a smart little doggie?" He was enjoying his smart sarcasm. "Come on little doggie girl tell Bob." Carol didn't budge. Bob wiggled his toes under her nose. "Carol. Tell Bob you're a smart doggie girl, or Bob will have to give his little doggie girl a spanking." Carol answered this time. "I'm not a dog, and I'm not answering your stupid question" Bob stretched back and found the television remote. He turned on the television and started to graze. "Dora! Fix us a cup of coffee, and then would you mind going upstairs?" From behind Carol could hear Dora scurrying around in the kitchen. Carol wondered how long this would have to go on. Dora fixed some coffee and brought Bob a cup. Then she disappeared upstairs. Bob sipped his coffee and asked Carol. "Now are you my good little doggie girl?" Carol was determined to stand her ground. "No." Bob asked again. "Do you want a spanking?" Carol answered. "Spank me all night. I'm not a dog." Bob leaned down and unlocked the lock holding the chain but not the collar. He pulled her to a kneeling position. He surprised her and himself. "You looked really pretty standing outside in front of the house today. For a minute..." He stopped himself. He was going to say something like, for a minute she looked like she could have been his wife waiting at the front door, but that would never do. He stopped himself. He said. "Get out of those clothes." Carol took off the outfit, folding it neatly on the floor, and sat still in front of him. He moved to the side of the sofa. "Come up here." Naked but more confident Carol climbed on the sofa beside Bob. He put his arms around her and started kissing. While he kissed her sweet lips, his hands found her breasts. He pinched her nipples, and rubbed his palms over her aureole. He pulled her closer so he was able to reach around and hold an ass cheek in his right hand. He gripped her cheek and felt between those twin clefts until he found her rectum. He fingered her ass hole all the while he continued to kiss her. Carol found the buckle to his pants and released him from their restraint. She worked his pants and boxers down around his ankles. She started to caress his manhood, squeezing gently and stroking at the same time. He got very hard very quickly. They both fell side by side on the sofa. He'd torn his shirt off, and their chests pressed against each other. It was his hard paps, against her soft pliant breasts. He pressed against her abdomen until his rock hard man engine found her vagina. He didn't bother with any more fore play. He started pushing inside. Carol responded by pushing back with her hips. With every push he penetrated deeper. They lay there, pushing and rocking. He was completely inside Lying on the sofa the way they were there was little room for much more than a few inches of movement either way, but it still felt glorious. They were so close. Every inch of their bodies touched. He pressed in as hard as he could. She pushed back. It didn't take long. He was filled with pent up emotion and desire, she was engorged with unreleased desire and emotion. He jammed in one more time, and up inside her his man's juice rushed. She pressed back as hard as she could to receive every droplet of that precious fluid. It went deep inside, hot and wet. They lay beside one another. He, still inside, but slowly receding. She pressed as closely as she could, refusing to surrender a single second of physical contact. Together they dozed off, still in tight embrace, him, though totally flaccid, still hovering in and around her sticky smoothly shaved puss. After perhaps an hour of joyous loving gratification Bob broke the spell. "Carol. Are you going to say it now?" Carol moaned. "Oh no." Bob said. "Come on." Carol responded. "OK. I'm your doggie." Bob smiled. "Good girl." Inside he felt stupid, but he was determined to play it out. He called Annie back over and reattached the girl and the dog. Carol asked. "Do you really have to do this?" Bob answered. "Yes Carol. I do." Carol, Bob, and Annie spent most of the rest of the evening at the sofa watching television. Bob eventually stretched out, and let Carol sit up. She sat on her butt with her head even with Bob's chest while they watched the tube. Bob fiddled her breasts. They watched the golf channel. Though the fondling felt good, Carol was bored to tears. Bob called upstairs and, much to Carol's chagrin, told Dora she could come back down. Bob spent most of the rest of the time using his right hand to tickle Carol's breasts and rubbing her face. Now with Dora nearby to watch and see Carol hated it. Twice Annie got up and ran into the kitchen. Both times Carol had to get up and follow. She had no choice. She and the dog were chained together again. The second time Annie sat in front of Dora and held up her paw. Bob yelled in that Annie was begging for a treat. Bob told Dora to give Annie one of the doggie treats, and to give Carol a grape from the refrigerator. Carol said she didn't want a grape, but Bob made her take it anyway. He also made her kneel on the floor and hold up her hands like a dog before she could have it. Once Annie went to the back door, and Dora let her out. Carol had no choice. She had to go outside and wait while Annie peed. Carol never felt so humiliated. She was just glad only Bob and Nora were around to see it. For the next week Bob and Carol slept together in the big bedroom on the first floor. Each evening they shared some of the most warm and loving sex imaginable. Bob was a caring and dutiful lover. Not once did he misuse her. He touched and rubbed her behind, and his fingers played in and out her anus with regularity, but not once did he try to invade her rectum with his penis. That weapon he reserved for her vagina. He was the consummate gentleman lover. Each evening, as they finished, and she lay snuggled in his arms he'd talk about his work, his plans for the house, or his plans for their child. Everything he discussed included her. She felt warm and loved. Then every morning when he left for work he saw to it she was attached to Annie. All day long she had to crawl or scoot around like a dog. He allowed her clothes while he was at work. He'd bought her several simple little rompers. They zipped up the front, had short loose pants, one-inch wide shoulder straps, and a small bib front. The bib was just barely large enough to hold even her smallish boobs in place. If she became too active or frolicked too much with Annie her boobs had a habit of popping out. Beyond the romper she was only allowed socks. The Gold Digger Ch. 08 Dora was a gentle-person. She was polite and considerate, but Carol found out the first day Dora was all about business. When once Carol refused to do something Dora immediately produced the fly swatter and smacked her several times on the rump. It didn't really hurt, only a little sting. It was more the embarrassment of being swatted that got her to move. Dora was asked each evening if she'd had any trouble with Annie or Carol. Carol couldn't get over being categorized with the dog, but Dora never mentioned the fly swatter incident. Dinnertime had its own challenges. Bob had bought a small low table where Carol found she was expected to kneel and eat her food. She ate everything Bob ate, and she used a plate and condiments just like Bob. Only her plate and condiments were made of plastic and thrown away each evening. Following dinner there was the customary visit to the sofa where Bob watched television, played with Carol's breasts, nibbled on some snack, a snack he dutifully shared with both Carol and Annie equally. Then there was bedtime. Carol and Annie were detached. Bob always left Carol's collar on. Carol took a shower, sometimes she and Bob showered together, or sometimes he showered first. She would be given a soft negligee or a pair of pajamas, and there would be their usual evening's love making. This odd arrangement lasted for a week. Tender caring love in the evening, treatment like a dog, or more accurately, a pet all day long, eating with the dog at dinner, and shared pet treatment between her and Annie afterward. Then on the sixth day, a Saturday, things changed, and they changed in a horrifically different way. Around 9:00 a.m. that first Saturday after Carol had begun her pet training a large truck and four workmen appeared in the back yard. For the next six hours they worked tirelessly building something. A team of electricians even showed up and laid an underground wire from the back of the house to the edifice under construction. By 5:00 they were all finished and had left. An hour later Bob invited Carol outside. He walked her out back to the new structure. Bob turned and took her in his arms. "This is yours Carol. I want you to have it" Carol looked at what he pointed to. It was a smallish structure, about six feet long, four feet high, and perhaps four feet wide. She asked. "What is it?" Bob kissed her on her cheek. "It's your house." Carol looked up at him in utter disbelief. "My what?" Bob expanded. "This is your doggie house." This hit Carol a stunning blow. "My doggie house!" Bob explained. "Yes. This is your doghouse. Go ahead get inside. Try it out." Carol looked at the little wooden frame structure with the metal door and small glass window near the top. It had a small window on each side. It immediately reminded her of the closet she'd been locked in at the old hotel. She immediately and resolutely told Bob. "I'm not getting in there." Bob answered. "You have to get in." Carol responded. "No I don't have to get in there!" Bob explained. "Yes you do. See here Carol. Though you're like family, you're technically not a person, not in the person sense of say Dora or a friend. You're more along the line of a pet, like Annie. You can understand that. Still you are a human being. What if I had a party? What if I had forty or fifty people here?" Bob was holding her by the shoulders and pointing her toward the tiny house. "I couldn't let you run around tethered to Annie now could I? No. If I had a party I'd have to keep you penned up, out of sight as it were." He turned her around. With greater vehemence he said. "Can you imagine how embarrassing it would be for you? Imagine being outside running around? Outside? Side by side? Tethered to my dog? Think of the dog. You can't keep up with her. But if I had a party I could keep you out here. You'd be safe and sound. Look!" Bob pointed to some wires. "I had electricity installed. If it's hot you'll have air conditioning, it it's cold you'll have heat. All the amenities! Carol was thoroughly confused. How could one man be so gentle, so loving and caring one minute, and then turn into someone so awful next? Carol answered. "Bob I'm not getting in there. You can't make me get in there." Bob smiled. He held her in his arms. "Just look inside." He opened the door. "Just lean down and look inside." He pointed. "Look. I've got you a bed; there's a small toilet in the back. It even flushes! There's a water dish, and a small electric ice chest. The floor is linoleum, but I've got a thick rug in place near the back for your comfort. It'd really quite nice. A little small I'll give you that, but you'd only be in it say seven or eight hours at a time. Never longer than that." He gently pushed her forward. "Go on. Try it." Carol tried to back away. "I'm not going in there!" Bob would have none of it. He kept pushing her forward. "No. Go on. Go on in!" Carol kept trying to pull back. She kept trying to pull free. She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he held on tight. She cried. "I'm not going in there!" Slowly, inexorably Bob moved her closer and closer to the front door. The closer she got the more terrified she became. Bob insisted. "You're going in Carol." Carol started to cry. Once she started she completely lost all control. She fell on her knees at his feet. She wrapped her arms around his legs. She was losing her grip. Panic gripped her like an anaconda. It was sucking the life from her. "Bob! No Bob! God no! Please God no!" She was hysterical. She grabbed at his pants fly. "Bob look!" She tried to pull his pecker out of his pants. "I want to be your cocksucker! Look! Give me your big hog!" She flipped around and tried to pull off her little romper. She struggled with its zipper! She spastically tried to undress, to get her ass in his face. "Look Bob. Fuck me! Fuck me up the ass! Give it to me! I don't care how much it hurts!" She squirmed around. "Here give your big dick. I want to suck you off." She threw dirt on her face. She cried out. "Look I'm your pig! I'll oink for you." She was losing her voice but she tried to oink like a pig. "I'm your whore!" She re-wrapped herself around his legs. "God Bob. Don't make me go in there! Please! Oh God Please No!" Bob kept pushing her steadily toward the door. Her face was inches from the entry. Carol wailed. "Oh No! Bob! Oh No! Please God! No!" Bob stopped. What was he doing? In another second he was on his knees beside her. Her wrapped his arms around her. He held her head in his hands. He kissed the top of her head. "There!" He started kissing her head. He took her head and squeezed it between his two hands. He pulled her face up. Oh that red tear stained face! He spoke softly to her. He used his most endearing voice. "There now. It's over. Stop now Carol. Don't cry. Stop crying. Calm down." He turned her head up toward his face and kissed her tenderly on her forehead. He kissed both eyes. He kissed her cheeks. His mouth found hers and smothered it with kisses. She was crying uncontrollably. "Bob Don't put me n there! Oh please don't do that to me!" Bob kept holding her. He said. "I thought you wanted to be my dog. Isn't that what you said? Don't you want to be my dog anymore? Tell me what you want." Carol was like a crumpled toy doll. "I want to be your wife. I want you to marry me. I want to be your helpmate. I want to raise our child together. That's what I want. That's what I really want." She kept crying. "Don't put me in there. Bob I don't want to be a dog anymore. I want to be your girlfriend. " Bob stood up. He felt like a shit. A real shit! He didn't have to do this. What was driving him on? He'd won. He knew it. He'd won one, no two weeks before. Hell, he'd won two months ago. She was his. She'd been his for the taking all along. Was this just his own meanness? He wasn't a mean person. He was beginning to understand. She might have been a manipulative bitch at one time, but he wasn't any better. Shit! She was only manipulative at work. He was worse. He was a sexual manipulator. He was being senselessly cruel. But why? Why was he being so cruel to this girl? He loved this girl! But he knew! He knew why! He did know! He'd known all along. Every time he got especially close, especially affectionate he remembered her with Hank and Allen. He remembered the blowjobs. He remembered the night at the Bed and Breakfast. He kept seeing her in Hanks arms. Of course, she was pushing him away! But she was still in Hank's arms. He was jealous. He resented what the others had done, but he blamed her. He was blaming her for being drunk and getting laid by guys she didn't even like. He blamed her because he got her drunk. He blamed her when it was him who manipulated the other men, and her, into getting what he wanted. What did he want? He wanted her! He'd wanted her from the start! But he wanted her to be pure. She wasn't pure. She was no virgin before the night of the gang bang. He wasn't either. He needed to get this right! As he stood he picked her up. He stood her up beside him. He brushed back her hair. He kissed her again and again. He lifted her up like he'd done the day he brought her to the cabin, like the day after he'd taken her anal cherry and carried her around the yard. "Come on." He held her closely, tenderly. Carol wrapped her arms around him. She was afraid to let go. She was crying. Her tears hurt him so much. Yes! Bob realized. Someone had had an epiphany! It wasn't Carol. The scales had fallen from his eyes, not hers! That evening Bob made certain Carol had the warmest most completely comforting sexual and personal experience he could deliver. If he'd ever been tender and caring before, this night was his premier performance. He treated her like she was a princess, and Egyptian queen, a goddess. They went to sleep, arm in arm. He caressed and held her tightly all night long. When the sun rose the next morning it dawned on a new day. Significant things were about to occur. Before Carol awakened Bob roused Dora, paid her off, and saw her off in a taxi. A little later a truck, larger than the truck of the preceding day arrived. The workmen pulled out a tow-motor, loaded up the big dog house, and hauled it away. By 9:00 a.m., about the time Carol awakened the object of her terror was many miles away. Carol woke up and knew she was alone. She knew it was Sunday. The frightful events of the previous afternoon zoomed back with alarming clarity. The dog house, that horrid place waiting outside in the back yard. Then there were the wonderful events of last evening, the warm embraces, passionate kisses, tender caresses, Bob's hard manhood, her receptive womb. Then there was the past week to consider. She remembered a week of nighttime love followed by daytime humiliation. Then yesterday! Yesterday? If today was like yesterday, then she'd choose prison. She would. She really would. What would happen today? She turned to her closet to dig out another romper. When she passed the mirror she looked at her image. She looked tired. Haggard. But there was something else. Something was missing. Then she saw. Or didn't see! The metal collar that had imprisoned her neck was gone. Bob had removed it sometime during the night. That could only be good. It had to be good. There couldn't be some other, worse, obstacle ahead. The disappearance of the collar was part and parcel of last evening's love. Carol opened the closet and found masking tape had been drawn across everything inside. Bob didn't want her to wear any of the outfits. She pondered what this had to mean. Most of the things in the closet were nice outfits. Only a few related to the past week. There were still a couple of the little rompers there, but she could see the nicer things, the pretty things, were blocked off too. Bob was up to something. Carol was in a quandary. What should she do? With the masking tape serving as a roadblock she had nothing to wear. Well. She thought. I'll take a shower. If I make enough noise Bob will know I'm awake. Then he can take the initiative. Bob heard Carol rummaging around in the bedroom. He heard the shower. He knew it was time to take action. This, he considered would be the final installment of his up to now sort of confused, mutually destructive, plan to put Carol where he wanted her. He smiled. He probably didn't have to do what he planned. He was pretty thoroughly convinced now the real job was to make sure Carol would be able to trust him. He'd figured her out. He'd figured himself out too. That last escapade with the doghouse was pretty vicious. No that was wrong. It was the meanest damn thing he could've done, but he thought she needed it. He knew now. She didn't need it. He did. He just hoped it wasn't too late. He hoped he hadn't scrapped what he really wanted. He needed to reshape events, repair the damage. He only hoped he hadn't over done it. "Carol!" He called. "Carol honey. I have something for you!" The Gold Digger Ch. 09 Carol awakened to find Bob already out of bed. Yesterday had proved the most horrific yet most exciting day in her short-lived romance with Bob. If romance was what one could call what had been happening. She and Bob worked as executives in the same company until she'd been caught trying to skim some of the profit from one of their business activities. Bob had fixed it that the other executives wouldn't seek criminal action if they got a night of sex with her and a guarantee she would forever remain outside the company. The agreement meant exile, a gang bang, and a group blow job for Carol. In exchange Bob got effective control over everything she did thereafter. Since the arrangement was initiated she'd been tattooed, spanked, held hostage in a bordello, induced to grant sexual favors to geriatric patients in an old age home, locked in a roach infested closet for weeks, forced to play doggie by wearing a collar and leash, and last to be humiliated by being exhibited in a semi-nude state in a doctor's waiting room. Throughout these traumatic times Bob and she had shared some of the greatest sex imaginable, including an anal rape, which was not great at least for her, and her becoming pregnant. That was the carnal aspect of their adventure. Looking back now, she saw there was a lot more to what had been happening than just sex and her periodic embarrassment. She recognized, now, she'd been attracted to Bob even before her long ordeal had begun, but she considered herself too cool and him too staid for a serious relationship. She also knew Bob had been enamored of her early on, and he probably wanted to make something serious happen even before fortune intervened in his favor. However, since his emergence as the dominant person in her life, even though she knew, deep inside, he loved her, he kept behaving in odd, even contradictory ways. First he'd be all warm and cuddly, but then he'd shift into someone who could be mindlessly cruel, even vicious. He could be loving and caring one minute, and a sadistic monster the next. He was a real Jekyll and Hyde. Yesterday provided the most vivid example of Bob's spasmodic behavior. For a week they'd been the loving couple by night and the dog girl-master by day. At night he would be the most tender, caring, loving partner a woman could want, but with the rising sun she was compelled to wear collar and chain, be attached to his black Labrador retriever, and eat at a small table while kneeling on the floor. Then yesterday afternoon Bob pulled his most vicious trick ever. He tried to put her in a doghouse out in the backyard. Designed to look like a miniature house it was the most terrifying experience she almost had. The thing was nothing more than a glorified cage replete with tiny windows, linoleum floor, and front door with an external hasp padlock. Bob's insistence on her using it nearly broke her. It was the worst thing he could have done. But at the last minute he relented, took her in his arms, carried her inside and made love to her almost all night. He was so sincere and tender; it made her heart skip just thinking about it. Now here she was. The sun was up, and he was gone. Already things didn't bode well. He'd blocked off all her clothing with masking tape. The message was clear and stark. All the clothes she possessed were off limits. They weren't really her clothes anyway. They were things he'd purchased from a boutique in town. Without exception he had selected everything she had to wear. Now they were even forbidden! There was nothing else to do but make a lot of noise in the shower, and hope Bob would hear her and respond. Carol's fear was, though the goods had been getting increasingly better, the bads had become increasingly more cruel. What bad thing did he have planned for her today? Last nights love was the best. It could only be followed by the worst. Carol was at her rope's end. One more vicious thing like the doghouse, and she'd give it up. She'd give up on Bob, and go to jail, baby and all. After a thorough shower, with lots of loud clamoring with the soaps, toothbrushes, and hairbrushes Carol heard Bob's call. He wanted her to step into the living room. He said he had something for her. What would it be? More chains? More collars, leashes, and manacles? Another spanking? What would be next? What could be worse? Still drying off Carol stepped into the living room. It was adjacent to the big downstairs bedroom so it was a simple two-step trip to get where he wanted her. When she reached the living room she saw Bob had retreated to the back area where the kitchen was. He turned in her direction and said. "Carol. If you don't mind, I already set something out for you to wear today. You don't have to rush, but try not to tarry there's someplace we have to go." Carol tried to smile. Having to go someplace could mean almost anything. She desperately hoped he hadn't planned on anything too hateful. She answered. "I'll do the best I can." By the front door hanging from a hat rack she hadn't noticed before was a coat hanger and affixed to it was a maroon plastic bag. It was the typical kind of hanger bag one would carry on a trip. Carol breathed deeply. Well here goes nothing. She opened the bag. Inside she found something totally unexpected. It simply took her breath away. There concealed in the plastic was a beautiful dark blue dress. She felt it. It was made of the softest silk, and it was polka dotted. Not big garish dots, but small indistinct little dots. Mini-dots! It was short sleeved, and looked as though it would come slightly below mid-thigh. There were several discreet dark buttons up the front that trailed off to a delicate vee-necked collar trimmed modestly in tiny dark blue ruffles. There was a small dark blue bow at the center. The short sleeves, slightly capped, also had the same tiny ruffles with the same tiniest of bows on the outer edge of each cuff. The hem of the dress was also trimmed in the same discreetly delicate lace work. What a beautiful dress she thought. This was no Walmart special off the rack. This dress had to be tailor made! There was no belt, but it was gently tapered at the waist. Carol held it up in front and looked in the full-length mirror that stood beside the front door. This was a dress designer's dream! She thought, if Bob selected this he had to have done it days before. Of course, she reflected, Bob had to have picked it out. No she thought. He didn't pick it out. The woman at the boutique had all her measurements. This dress was a one of a kind! It was made just for her! Carol bit her lip. She took the index finger of her right hand and put it to her lips. Something was amiss. The dress was creating some mental confusion for Carol. This was such a beautiful piece. Why did he buy something like this? She felt the material again. She looked closely at the stitching. It wasn't just a dress. It was a work of art! Looking further inside the bag she found a pair of dark blue panties,a dark blue bra, a pair of dark blue nylons, and an equally dark pair of high-heeled shoes. She couldn't wait to put everything on. She picked up all the apparel and rushed back to the bedroom. She dressed as fast as she could. The outfit was just too beautiful! The dress curled in at the waist, and flared out gently from her hips to mid thigh. The front, once buttoned up, gave only a hint of cleavage. The bra was a perfect fit, and held her breasts comfortably, pushing them up and out only slightly. She leaned backward. Hands on hips she leaned forward. The softly clinging material of the dress, the pouting shape of the bra worked to accentuate the tear shaped geometry of her smallish breasts, giving them a kind of carefree insouciance that bordered on the impertinent, even being perhaps a little naughty. She tried moving around a little. If she turned or twisted the cloth of the dress gave just a hint of sensual invitation around her increasingly well-rounded hips. It was a soft sexuality not noticeable until recently, one of the splendid little perks of pregnancy. The dress was a marvelous piece of apparel! She donned the shoes and stood up again. She twisted and turned again and again. This was a beautiful outfit. The shoes were magnificent! The heels were high enough to tighten her leg muscles, highlighting their natural firmness and graceful shape. The shoes bore a single strap across the front, and had a low cut line that revealed, just barely, the upper bridge-line of her toes before spiraling to a sharp and shapely point. The dress, the shoes, the nylons, the panties, they all made her feel self consciously pretty. It wasn't an embarrassed self-consciousness, but a self-consciousness born of the surety that whoever might see her would have to take a second glance. She'd always known she was pretty, but this morning, in this stunning outfit, she felt it in every inch of her being. The dress and its ancillaries made her feel vibrant, feminine, beautiful, and vivaciously alive! Carol hurried to the dressing table, applied a tiny amount of make up. She puckered her lips. Just a smidgen of lip-gloss! She brushed out her hair. It was soft, thick, and wavy. At the very bottom of the hanger bag she found what had to be a hair ribbon. She tied off her hair with it, but just to make sure, she added two small barrettes, one on each side of her head, near the temples. The ribbon tied in a neat bow in the back, and the barrettes revealed her small heart shaped ears. She took a small pair of earrings. They were tiny hoops, and affixed one in each of her single piercings. When she was a child her mother told her never have more than one piercing, and that only in the ear lobe. Ladies were allowed one, and only one piercing. Now she thanked her mother. The single tiny gold hoop added to her feminine fragility, a fragility she increasingly felt with each added day of her pregnancy. Fully dressed, feeling like a newly minted coin, almost virginal in demeanor she rushed back out the main room. Bob had left the kitchen and was fixing his tie. He was dressed in a matching dark blue suit. He stood there waiting for her. Looking up he saw her. His jaw went crashing to the floor. Not in his wildest fantasies! Not in his most vivid day dreams had he imagined her like this! In his mind's eye he knew she'd be beautiful when he'd ordered the dress, but now, in the flesh, she was ten times, a hundred times, no a million times more stunning than he ever imagined. The dress looked terrific! She looked terrific! Exquisite! Adorable! No words could describe what he saw. He was looking at a work of art. No Venus de Milo here! She was the full package. Carol was the real deal! He had to say something! He was speechless! All he could get out was a stupid lame comment. "Are you ready? There's some place I'd like to go." Shit! He wanted to kick himself in the ass! Here he was in the presence of perfection, and that was all he could get out. What a fool he was. Carol was flustered. She knew she looked good. She was hoping for a little more than, are you ready? She responded. "I'm ready. Where are we going?" Bob didn't hear her at first. He couldn't stop staring. He walked over. He asked. "Would you kiss me?" Carol didn't know quite how to react to that question. She said. "Of course." Bob said. "I'm afraid to touch you. You're so beautiful. You're so God damned beautiful!" He reached out and carefully wrapped her in his arms. He didn't want to do anything to muss her appearance. He had perfection in his grasp, Anything he did could only damage it. He and she shared a quiet moment and a long tender kiss. Carol asked again. "Where did you say we were going?" Bob answered. "I didn't say." He stammered a little. "And don't ask a lot of questions." He just kept looking at her. He couldn't take his eyes off her. Carol didn't say anything else as Bob helped her outside and down the steps to the car. As he walked her down the steps to the car he kept finding ways to touch her. He felt like a fool. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off her beautiful face or his hands off her precious body. God! He thought. Look at the way she swishes when she walks. Her hips sway with such grace, and her breasts, her breasts undulate like waves on a rippling sea. Once in the car they drove off. Down the private dirt path to the side road, and then out to the main road they traveled. Both sat silently. Bob seemed to be intent on something so Carol decided not to pry. She wondered what he was up to. Looking for some way to break the monotony of a long silent drive she did say. "It's a lovely morning." Bob glanced over and gave her a little smile. He watched as she breathed, her breasts rising and falling with each inspiration. "It is a beautiful morning isn't it. And you make it that way." Carol asked. "Do you want to tell me where we're going?" Bob was noncommittal. "You'll find out soon enough." He smiled and chuckled. "I might take you back home. I don't want anyone else to look At you. I think I want to keep you all to myself." Carol grimaced. "Don't be foolish." They traveled on for perhaps another twenty minutes when Bob turned the car to another side road. Carol noticed a sign. It read New Brunswick United Methodist Church. It startled her. Were they going to church? This would be something of a new experience for Carol. She was raised in one of the Protestant Churches, but hadn't bothered going since she was in her middle teens. At the time church seemed sort of juvenile. It had been what her parents wanted her to do. But once she was off the college, and later the world of work church just didn't fit in. She wondered. Is that really was where he was taking her? It turned out that church was exactly where Bob and she were going. He drove them to a smallish Methodist Church set back in a classic rustic setting. When they pulled into the parking lot there were already several families out of their cars and heading up the steps. The church was an older granite building with a vaulted arched front door, a corbel arch. Down the exterior side-walls were spaced intricate stained glass windows. A stately bell tower decorated the front. As they stepped from the car someone inside started to ring the bell. It had a deep melodious tone. Carol had forgotten the sweetness of that sound. There was a fair sized cemetery off to the right. It was home to a variety of types of stones, some large, some small, some garish, some understated, and some incredible old. They each probably bespoke something of their owners. She would have liked to get a glimpse of some of the names on the stones. Would any of the names be from Bob's family? They got out of the car, and walked up the sidewalk. Bob held her hand. Well, not exactly her hand. He held her hand, but he seemed to be pulling her so she was pressed against him. She recognized it as a kind of proprietary clutch and hold at the same time. Like he was afraid she would run. No way was she running today. As they approached the front doors no one seemed to pay any attention to them, and she thought this was a little odd. Remembering from her own younger church going days new people usually got the once over. That typically meant the casual side-glances, a few nonchalant smiles, an occasional hello, and at least one or two fulsome greetings from among the more energetic members. Bob walked her inside and down a side aisle. The church wasn't very big once they got inside. It was wider than it was long, perhaps fifteen pews, about twenty feet wide on either side of the main aisle. There was seating set aside on the front left for a choir, and an organ, it looked like a nice one, maybe a Mueller. Though the place was fairly crowded, the pew Bob selected was empty, and that was odd. To Carol's recollection people liked to put a little distance between themselves in church, and after a fashion families tended to stake out parts of the sanctuary as their own. Bob had put them smack dab in the middle of an unoccupied and apparently unclaimed pew. From her seat Carol was able to give the place a more thorough examination. Off to the right of the choir loft was the pulpit, and three chairs, ostensibly for a pastor and perhaps a reader or two. The cloth coverings were green, and Carol, reflecting on her childhood training, recalled that was the appropriate color for the season. In fact the whole setting brought back memories of her childhood. She remembered her years as a child and an early teen. She remembered her confirmation, and how proud her parents were. She reflected on the pastor at her old church, some of the older people, and the other kids her own age. She remembered the nice older boy who died of leukemia and how Mrs. Newland, their Sunday School teacher tried to help them make sense of it. She recalled, excepting for the long, usually boring, sermons, church was a pretty fun place. She remembered the girl gossip, and the boys with their stupid lack of manners. She remembered the tricks the boys tried to play on them at summer retreat. There had been parties and outings when she was in the youth group. It had been a happy time. She thought about all that now as Bob proffered her a seat about halfway down the right side aisle. She tried to remember why she stopped going. It wasn't because she'd stopped liking church. It was more because it was something her parents did, and she wanted to be grown up. She had wanted to become more independent. That was why she stopped going. Now here she was again. In a church with a man whose behavior was a cross somewhere between a caring reassuring suitor, and an overbearing beast. The very thought of what was happening this morning was somehow unnerving, then reassuring, and but terrifying all at the same time. Here she was reliving a time from her past she'd thought she'd put away. She was with the man she thought she was in love with. She was carrying his child, but she still wasn't at all certain whether she and he had a future together. Carol looked over and up at Bob. He looked as nervous as she felt. She wondered what he was thinking. What his plans were. What were his plans for her? Did his plans even include her? The church services began. Nothing seemed to have changed. She sat rigidly through the time of fellowship, glad no one came over to introduce him or herself or ask any questions about who she and Bob were. She dutifully processed through the call to worship. She sat patiently while the minister, an older man, read the scripture lesson, did the children time, and blunted her senses with a long tiring sermon. Of course, just as she remembered, each event was interrupted by either a hymn or an anthem sung by the choir. And the choir, just like when she was a child, had its good and not so good voices. And just like she remembered, no one seemed to care how well or poorly they sang. Every song got its polite applause. While she sat, transfixed by events she'd long since put behind her, Bob, again the gentleman, kept his arm protectively on the back of the pew. When they sang he found the hymn, and held the hymnal for her. She remembered some, but not all the songs. Bob seemed to know them all. Finally, as if by the usual customary spiritually ordained signal, after precisely one hour, the service was over. She and Bob lined up like everyone else and slowly processed down the aisles to be greeted by a deacon, and given a friendly shake of the hand by the pastor, who very politely thanked her for coming and asked if she wouldn't consider coming back again next week. Then another odd thing occurred. The pastor never spoke to Bob. Didn't even look at him, and never mentioned his possible return. All in all, the church thing went just about the way Carol remembered it. Bob walked her back to the car where he made a few inquiries. First he asked. "Did you like the church?" The Gold Digger Ch. 09 Carol not knowing what to say, responded. "It was OK, I guess." Bob asked. "If you don't like this one, there are other denominations. Do you have another preference?" Carol answered. "No the Methodist Church is as good as any." Bob asked. "What church were you brought up in?" Carol answered. "Presbyterian." Bob asked. "There's a Presbyterian Church down the road. We could go there next week if you want to." Carol answered. "No this one is fine." Bob asked. "You don't care much for church do you?" Carol answered. "I like church OK. I just haven't gone in a long time." Bob commented. "You're going to have a baby. Don't you think it should be brought up in a church?" Carol answered. "I guess so. I hadn't thought about it." Bob responded. "Don't you think its time to start thinking about it?" Carol answered. "Look Bob. I don't even know where I'm going to live. I'm not married. I don't have a job. I don't have much of a future." She stopped, turned and looked him straight in the eye. "Yesterday this time you wanted to put me in a doghouse in your backyard, and now I'm supposed to be thinking about the kind of church I'm supposed to attend?" Bob opened the passenger door and helped her get in. Then he crossed the front of the car and got in on his side. "Look. I'm not proud of the doghouse thing. Shit Carol. I still don't know what I want to do with you." Carol sat slumped on her side of the car. The whole conversation since they'd left the church seemed to be going nowhere. In fact, they seemed to be going nowhere. What was she supposed to say. Oh joy! Instead of locking me in a doghouse, you took me to church! O happy day! I'm not a dog. I'm a church going unwed mother! She wanted to tell him to marry her. Hell! She'd already said that's what she wanted a dozen times. If he hadn't gotten the message by now, it was because he didn't want to get it. She could see it coming. Doghouse, church, now some off the beaten path shit hole! What was she supposed to say? Here's what she did say. "Look Bob. I don't care what you want. I'm through caring about anything. Do what you want. I'm tired. Worn out. I'm just not interested." Bob was dumb-struck! He didn't let on though. He'd hoped going to church would stir up those marital juices she'd been spitting at him all this time. He thought a trip inside a church would trigger something more than an 'I don't care'. Well he cared. He cared a lot! But he was nearly out of ammunition. He turned on the ignition and started the car down the road. He considered his options. Shit! The doghouse was a really bad idea. He figured it would blow her lid off, and he'd pop the question. She'd say yes, and that would be that. Happily ever after! Shit again! The doghouse worked! It had blown his lid off! He'd figured himself out, but had overdone it with her. He was down to his last idea. Only one bullet left! He pulled the car over to the side of the road. "Carol." He said. Carol looked over at him. She thought. He's getting ready to dump me. Where did this go wrong? I do love him. I know he loves me. All she could say was. "Bob?" Bob sucked it up. Here was his last chance. "This is Sunday. Right?" Carol responded. "Yes. It's Sunday." Bob said. "OK. Let's give this thing one more week. If by the end of the week things haven't worked out, I'll let you go. I'll find a job for you someplace. Set you up in an apartment some place. And then I'll get out of your life." He held up a hand. "I'll still pay for the child. Don't worry about that." Carol was crushed. He was dumping her! The whole church thing was just so it would be a soft landing. She wanted to scream, but she didn't. He was killing her, but she wasn't about to let him see it. Not after yesterday! "That sounds fair." That was all she said. Bob could see the handwriting on the wall. He'd lost her. Just when he'd found himself, he'd lost her. Well. He'd play the string out to the end. There was still one last chance. "All right." He said. "I need you for the week. I'm planning a big do this Saturday evening. I want you to come. If things haven't been worked by then, we'll kiss and say good bye. Meanwhile I need you for the week. I won't make any demands other than to ask you to stay on as sort of a housekeeper till then." He sighed. "Does that work for you?" Carol turned her head and looked out the window. She told herself she'd cried enough over this man. She was done crying. So her last week with him would be as a maid. All right. If that's what he wants! She said. "OK." They started to head back to the cabin in silence. The low thrum of the engine was like a shrieking siren to both sets of ears. Bob glumly thought that there was so much he wanted to tell her! He was so sorry about the stupid doghouse. He was sorry for the damn Bed and Breakfast. He wished he'd never dropped her at the stupid old peoples' home. He was really upset about letting the other men have her that night. Still! He thought. He wasn't sorry about the spanking. And he really enjoyed the anal. Even if it did hurt he didn't regret that at all. Hell, he'd already decided he'd never do it again. It was too degrading. He only wanted to worship her now. All he wanted to do was extol her virtue, advertise her beauty, and praise her goodness. Carol bit her lower lip as they drove back to the cabin. She was afraid he might say something, because she knew if he said anything she'd start begging. She'd beg him to let her be his dog. Let her suck his dick. Crap! She thought. He'd never once asked her to do that, and in her whole life the only time she'd ever done anything like was that one night. Holy Hell she said to herself. There's only one dick on the planet she'd willingly suck, and now she'd never get that chance! She thought. She still had a week. She'd be a good housekeeper, a good maid. She doubted it now. But maybe things will turn around. "Oh shit" Carol lurched forward and started to lean out the window. Bob looked over. "What's wrong?" Carol pointed to the side of the road. "Pull over. I think I'm going to be sick." Bob gave her a bewildered look. "What?" Carol was holding her hand over her mouth. "Pull over damn it! The baby moved. I'm going to be sick." Bob still looked confused. "The baby moved? So what. I thought morning sickness came earlier than this." Carol answered. "How do I know. I never had a baby before. Pull over will you?" Bob had the car on the side of the road. Carol opened her door, gagged, but nothing came out. She looked over at Bob. "I'm gagging on an empty stomach. It's just a queasy feeling; like one you get before throwing up. I'll be all right now." Bob asked. "You sure?" Carol gave him a surly look. "What do you mean? Am I sure." Pointing to her still flat, but no longer waspish waist she said. "Ask him. Or her." Bob leaned over and put his hand on her belly. "I don't feel anything." Carol grumbled. "Well I did." Bob turned the car off. He turned around so he could face her more fully. "Would it be all right if I leaned down and listened?" Carol looked at him like he was an idiot. "I don't see why not. It's yours as much as it is mine." Glad he'd used the car with the bench seats, Bob leaned down and put his head up against her stomach. "I don't feel anything, but I hear something." Carol had her hand on his head. His hair felt soft. Her impatience was beginning to vanish. She told him. "That's the baby's heart beating." Bob pulled his arms around her waist so he could get closer to the sound. She felt so warm and soft. He pressed his face in near where her navel was. He hadn't said anything, but he'd noticed she'd started to glow. He never told her, but he was an uncle two times over, and he'd seen how his sister glowed each time she got pregnant. There was something about pregnant women. They had a kind of sheen about them. He'd seen how Carol had been glowing for at least a month. He wished he'd told her. He could hear the heartbeat really well. It was a good steady thump ta thump. He kept holding her close. He could feel now how her hips were a little bigger and a little softer. His head was right below her breasts. He looked up. He gave her an excited smile. "I can hear it! I can really hear it!" Carol didn't let go of his head. "I've been listening to it for weeks. I should have told you." Bob sat back up, but he kept his arms around her waist. "You know Carol. This may sound square, but I think I sort of knew. What I mean is I noticed that you started to glow about three maybe four weeks ago." He was getting in over his head, and he knew it. "I can't exactly explain it. Pregnant women give off their own light. I've also noticed how your body's been changing." Carol voice had completely lost its earlier edginess. "What do you mean?" Bob tried to explain. "Well you have a softer look, and your skin is pinker. Like right now. When I was holding you. Your body gives off more heat. Last night I could tell your hips are rounder then they were just a week ago." He held up a hand. "I don't mean you're getting fat. I mean it's like your getting more womanly." He was stumbling. "I don't mean you weren't womanly before. You're a very feminine person, but you're pregnant now, and you're even more feminine." Carol was feeling fluttery. "I know what you mean. I've felt, not weaker, but more laid back." She paused. "I didn't know you noticed." Bob pulled her over to his side of the seat. He was feeling pretty proud. He felt more like a man. He nodded his head slightly. He pressed his cheek against hers. He looked at her with wide eyes. His pupils had dilated so that they covered the entire retina. He spoke in a soft tone. "I've noticed Carol. I guess I should have said something. You've always been a beautiful woman, but lately there's more of an inner beauty. Looking at you in that dress anyone can you're ravishing. But it's on the inside too. I can see it." He thought. Shit! Why not lay it all out! "I'm a man. But when I see you now I feel more like a man. I can't explain it. It sounds stupid. Your body looks softer, and it makes me feel. Well just different! I feel more masculine" Carol was leaning against his chest. "I have your baby inside me." Bob took her in his arms. He wrapped her up. He leaned down. He kissed her. It was a long, deep, warm, loving kiss. It was a passionate kiss, but it wasn't sex passion. It was a caring kind of passion. He whispered. "That's my baby. Our baby." Carol felt the warmth of the kiss and she responded. Her kiss was generous and warm, not sexy, just warm and real. After about five minutes of steady kissing Bob said. "Whew." We better get home. I forgot to let Annie out before we left." Carol sat back up, but she stayed pressed over close to Bob. She kept thinking. We might make it yet. She peaked her head up at Bob. She whispered. "I love you Bob." Bob got the car rolling down the road. He breathed a deep sigh when he heard her say she loved him. He kept thinking. He was going to be a Daddy. If it were a girl he'd have to spoil her. If it were a boy he'd, well he'd spoil him too. Then he thought a third big idea. I'm going to spoil the shit out of the mother too! He took his right hand and cupped her head in it. He pressed her head against his chest. He said in a gruff voice that betrayed his strong feelings. "Me too, you." This was unconscionable. He felt like crying. Together they drove on down the road. Carol thought. Together they'll enjoy the week. Somewhere along the way they'll start to make some plans. Bob held her snugly in his right hand. He was thinking too. First he thought. This is going to be a great week, and we'll end it in a way Carol will never forget. Then he thought. Crap! How was he not going to touch her all week? Well. That was one promise he knew he would have to break. The Gold Digger Ch. 10 Carol sat silently as they drove along. With a little fear mixed with regret she thought this could be it, one way or the other things will be changed forever after this week. Thinking back on she and Bob's experiences it seemed like such a long time, but in reality it had been just over four months. She'd been caught trying to steal from the company they both worked for. A deal had been struck! The men had used and abused her. All the men excepting Bob. He had cleverly, or foolishly, acquired an unexpected and unfair influence over her. Since then he'd alternatively humiliated, cherish, angered, enthralled, despised and loved her. Now it was all coming to a head. She guessed it all boiled down to her love, his love, and their pregnancy. By the end of the week she'd find out if it all were worth it. In her heart of hearts she believed it was and things would turn out well. Sometimes he could be so decisive. That punch in the nose Hank got was pure Clint Eastwood. Getting to the core of the matter about her time in the closet was genuine Johnny Depp. The care and concern he showed getting her well, that was real! Going straight for medical help was all man. He didn't hesitate a second! There was no thought about his situation, and no cowardly fears about ramifications for him. It had all been about her. Yes, he could be a real action figure when the need arose. Today they even went to church! To church! Then again! Yes. Then again he seemed to slip up. When he brought her to his home he had her. He knew it too! He must have known, but he still had to play games with the dog, and the dog house gimmick made absolutely no sense. Sure she guessed all men have their stupid fantasies. Women do too. But the doghouse was crazy cruel! Even now, she had a hunch Bob wasn't completely finished playing games. She bet he was still up to something. This time though, she'd play along. There was so much to be admired in Bob. She knew he was going to make a great father, and given half a chance, he'd be a terrific husband. She believed that. She wasn't trying to make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. Bob was raw silk. He just needed to be molded and shaped, and she was the woman to do it. It was only for another week. Hell! She'd invested too much in this relationship to just quit. Bob glanced over. "How about something to eat?" "What about Annie?" Annie was Bob's dog, and he'd said they needed to get home because Annie had to be let out. Bob gave her a sheepish grin. "I lied. Annie will be fine. She has a bladder like a metal drum. But I'm hungry." Reflecting on Carol's recent bout of dry heaves he added. "And I know you are too. I bet a nice sandwich and a cool glass of milk would do you good. What'll you think?" Carol smiled at her erstwhile lover, tormentor, and someday husband. "Sounds great." Bob commented. "There's a great little eatery just down the road. They only serve breakfast and lunch, but I think we'll just make it." Carol agreed. "Lunch it is." They drove perhaps another mile and a half before turning off on a side road that led them to a little spot named Elmer's. Bob got out and checked to see if they were still open. He saw by the sign and the crowd inside they had another hour so he went back and helped Carol from the car, and into the restaurant they went. It was a seat yourself operation so they opted for a booth about midway down the aisle across from the lunch counter. Several men and women were seated at the counter, some drinking coffee and others just enjoying a Sunday afternoon out of the house with nothing to do. Bob helped Carol into a seat, and sat down across from her. No sooner had they seated themselves than one of the men at the counter made a remark. "This place is getting to be a real dive. I can't believe some of the people they let in here now a days." Bob looked up and shouted. "Red! Is that you?" The man Bob called Red spun around in his seat and walked over to Bob and Carol's booth. "Hi Bob. I haven't seen you around here in months. Where have you been keeping yourself?" Bob answered. "Oh here and there." Then he said. "I want you to meet someone." Pointing to Carol he said. "This is Carol. She's a very good friend of mine." Then he introduced the man. "Carol. This is Red MacKeithan. He's an old friend from high school. Pull up a seat and sit with us a while." "Glad to." Said Red. By then several other people had gathered around the booth. Bob had to stand up and shake several hands. He gave a couple of the women robust or gentle hugs depending on their age and what he considered appropriate. He even kissed a couple, only on the cheek though. Every time he introduced Carol it was as his good friend, very good friend, very special friend, and once, to her inexplicable delight he introduced her as his very special person. Every one seemed to be genuinely glad to see him, and everybody seemed equally glad to meet her. For the next several minutes, between the arrival and departure of the waitress, they all exchanged a dozen stories from years past. Everyone wanted to talk at once. Carol could tell they were all glad to see Bob. Everyone had a different story they to wanted her to hear. They were usually about something either incredibly clever or unbelievably foolish. To Carol it sounded like Bob had done a lot of dumb stuff in his younger years. None of the stories were especially bad; rowdy would have been the most appropriate word. Most of the stories involved something about alcohol, and had something to do with automobiles. Every story always ended with the same admonition that, if Carol were a smart girl she'd drop Bob in a hurry before he got her in trouble. She laughed to herself, if they only knew. Carol nodded and laughed at each story. She noted in nearly every tale Bob ended up in some silly peccadillo, not infrequently including a girl. Occasionally one girl was mentioned, but for some reason those stories got short-circuited. Carol wondered if Bob was giving them some kind of high sign, or if they were simply being polite in front of her. However, Carol did notice one girl and one boy cropped up frequently. The girl's name was Jennifer, and the boy's name was Gary. Carol couldn't quite put the pieces together, but it sounded like a youthful competition between two boys over one girl. She thought that Gary eventually got the better of the contest, but she wasn't sure. At any rate, she was glad Gary had gotten the better of whatever it was. If Bob had won, she might not be sitting here with him now. Slowly the group dispersed. Only a couple people hung around, and then even they left. Carol had heard an ear full. She wanted to know more. "Bob. Tell me about this girl Jennifer." Bob was busy eating his B.L.T. and pretended he didn't hear her. She asked again. "So who's Jennifer." Bob chuckled. "Oh she was just a girl from school." Carol asked. "Who was Gary?" Bob kept eating, but between bites he brushed it off. "Jennifer and Gary were high school sweethearts. I tried to play devil's advocate for a while, but they resisted. I hear they got married and manufactured a couple kids." Carol reached out and put her hand on Bob's wrist. "You loved her didn't you." Bob took his hand and covered hers. "We were in high school. Everybody fell in love back then. Didn't you?" Carol pulled her hand away. "Yes. I guess I did too." Bob smiled and digressed a little about his high school romances. "Jennifer was a big deal in my junior year. I was what, seventeen? She was pretty. Like you. She was popular. She had a boyfriend who was my best friend. He was senior though. He had more money, a faster car, and he'd been accepted to a swell college. I guess you might say Jennifer looked over what was on the lot and opted for the older, more mature, and better prospect." He grinned. " I got over it." Carol listened. She was trying to imagine Bob with a broken heart. Crying bitter tears in a pillow late at night. Or perhaps an angry beaten suitor taking his failure out on a case of beer. She envisioned Allan Jackson's pyramid of cans in the pale moonlight. Maybe there was a disjointed fist fight with the older boy getting a punch in the nose? She asked. "How did it affect you and Gary? I mean did you two remain friends? Bob answered. "It hurt a little at first, but Gary has always been my very best friend. Now, he and I are inseparable." Carol looked at Bob quizzically. "I never knew much about you until today. Will I ever get to meet Gary?" Bob gave Carol a quick wink and a smile. "I don't know. He's lucky in love. He beat me once. I don't think I could handle another whipping from him. I may never introduce you two." Carol giggled softly. "Smart man. I just might weigh my options and go with the better prospect." Bob laughed loudly. "You done?" He started to get up. "We have some things to take care of back at the barn." Carol smiled and got up. It was time to go. She'd found out a little about the guy who'd been mistreating her. He seemed more like a real human being now. They both got up and left. Bob kept a proprietary arm around her waist. His hand holding her and resting lightly on her hip. He loved the way she swished in that dark blue dress. It was made for her. It was! Literally! He'd had it made for her. Bob and Carol drove back to the cabin. Once they got inside Bob suggested they put on something more comfortable and take a walk. Carol liked the idea. Bob went to his closet and pulled out an old pair of torn jeans, a faded Tee shirt, some white socks and scruffy tennis shoes. Carol went to her side of the closet and looked around. Her wearing apparel was much too feminine for real hiking, but she did pull out a pretty pale blue cotton blouse and a dark blue mini-skirt to match. Picking out shoes was a trickier matter. She had to settle on a pair of black and white saddle shoes with matching white socks. She sure felt youthful and pretty, but for any real walking or hiking she was clearly in a disadvantaged situation. Bob looked her over. "Come on beautiful. We won't go far." Carol took his hand and together they sort of promenaded sort of skipped down the dirt path toward the woods. She felt light hearted, free. As they turned the first corner, a corner Carol hadn't turned since the day after that terrible night he had taken her in the rear, she saw something new. Bob had built a wooden swing. It hung gracefully from a long thick branch of an oak tree. Bob looked at the tree. "My." He said. "What do we have here? It looks like a swing." He turned around to Carol. "Are you a swinger Carol?" Carol got the double meaning, laughed and answered. "I can swing with the best of them." For the next thirty minutes Bob gently pushed Carol as she sat comfortably on the swing. He thought how pretty and natural she looked. Her hair floated back and forth. The ribbon and barrettes made it flutter so attractively. The short sleeved blouse revealed her soft arms. The mini-skirt flowed up over her lap, and, even though Bob was behind her, he enjoyed looking at her upper thighs. Without any stockings or nylons, but with the skirt on, she seemed even a little more naked than if she were truly nude. He thought it was funny how a little clothing was often more provocative than no clothing at all. Throughout her swinging he was careful not to allow the swing to glide too high or too fast. He was afraid it might have a bad affect on their baby. He was proud she was pregnant. He couldn't explain exactly why. Maybe it was because the changes taking place in her body was because of what he did? Maybe it was because it was something they were sharing? He couldn't explain his feelings. With each pull of the swing she seemed to make a noise. Sometimes it was a giggle, sometimes a soft sigh, then sometimes it sounded like she was singing something. She had a beautiful voice, a perfect voice. He loved the sounds she made. They were her sounds, her voice, and her song. After a little while swinging they meandered back to the cabin. Carol noticed another old oak that was so big it offered a generous shaded canopy. She said. "Let's go over and sit down a while." Bob thought, anything that will keep her out here longer is great. "All right. Let's sit some more." He said it in a funny way, since she'd been sitting for close thirty minutes the whole time he'd been pushing her on the swing. They ambled over and sat under the tree. Bob dropped to the ground, and invited Carol to do the same. Already seated he helped her find her seat by holding both hands as she leaned down. He got a great breast shot. God! He realized. She's mine. He said. "Well Carol, you got an earful at the restaurant. Now I already know a lot about you, since we investigated you before this all started, but maybe you'd like to tell me a little about yourself anyway. What have you got?" Carol looked off in the distance. "What do you want to know?" Bob smiled. She had this way of looking off in the distance that added color to her personality. He knew it didn't make any sense to think that, but she was so vibrant, so full of life, so expressive, how could anybody not fall in love with her? "How many guys have you had sex with?" He laughed. "No I'm only kidding. That's your business. But I would like to know a little bit about you childhood. You have a sister and a brother, and I know your parents are still alive. Do you keep in touch?" Carol checked for ants then leaned back on the ground. "I have kept in touch. I used to call my sister every four or five days. I don't talk to my brother much, but I know he's there. My parents? They haven't heard from me since this all began." Bob gave her a thoughtful but concerned look. "I haven't kept you from calling them have I?" Carol answered as honestly as she could. "Would you want your parents to know if you were in the kind of trouble I've been in?" Bob interrupted. "You're not in any trouble now." Carol went on. "Thanks. I'm glad you said that. Yes. I used to talk to my parents a lot. I miss them. I know they've probably been worried about me. I should at least let them know I'm still alive. It's been more than four months." Bob listened to the lilt in her voice. There was concern there, but dread too. What a beautiful resonant soprano she must be. He wondered if she were ever in the church choir. He wanted to slap himself. He kept day dreaming. He knew he must be sick. She was all he could think about. He interrupted again. "And now you're pregnant. You want them to know that don't you?" Carol answered. "I don't know how they'll take that." Bob interjected. "Why don't you call them?' He fumbled around in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. "Here. Call them right now." Carol stared at Bob. This was shocking. She slowly reached over and took the phone. She held it in her hand. She shook it a couple times. She stared at it. She tried to hand the phone back to Bob. "No. I'll wait." Bob sat there. He declined to take the phone. "Call em. Go ahead Carol. Call em." Carol took the phone back. She opened it. Her hand was shaking. "I forgot the number." Bob said. "Dial 411." Carol closed the phone. "Let me think about it." Bob asked. "What's to think about? Your parents haven't heard from you in four months. Your sister and brother have no idea where you are." He sat up in a squat. "Look. Just dial the phone number. They're probably not home anyway. Leave a message. Tell them you're alive and all right." He stumbled on. "If you get an answer tell whoever picks up the phone they can kiss your ass. Tell them to fuck off. Tell them you wanted to call, but can't talk right now. Say anything. But at least let them off the hook. Let them know you're alive. You owe them that much." Carol burst into tears. She threw the phone at Bob's feet. "I'm afraid." Bob scolded. "Shit Carol. It's your mom and dad. They'll be so glad to hear your voice it won't matter what you say." He shifted his weight. "Go on! Call your parents." Carol was crying. "This is cruel. You know that. This is as bad, no worse, than the damn doghouse." Bob yelled at her. "Your damn right it's cruel. You're damn right it's worse than the doghouse. Ten times worse." He leaned right into her face. He took his hands and held her face by her cheeks. "So stop doing it to them! Call them! Tell them you're all right." He was getting worked up. "Tell them where you are. If you want, after you get them on the line, I'll talk to them." Carol was crying. She got up and started running for the house. Bob didn't follow her. He walked around behind the tree where she couldn't see him. He dialed a number. Someone on the other end of the line said something. He said something. He waited. Then he said something else. Someone else talked. Bob put the phone back in his pocket. He slowly walked back to the cabin. He kept whispering to no one in particular. "Stupid girl. Stupid frightened little girl." He stepped up on the porch and walked inside. Bob walked inside and found Carol had recovered most of her aplomb. Her face was still tear streaked and she was still sniffling, but otherwise she looked pretty good. Bob walked up and put his arms around her shoulders. He made sure it didn't feel like one of those power holds men sometimes liked to use on women. He didn't want her to feel threatened. Not by him! Not anymore! He said. "I want to check you out." Carol turned around and asked. "What?" Bob continued. "You were pretty messed up not so long ago, and I think I saw some residual scarring on your back and legs. Let me give you a nice warm bath, and then rub some balm on your back and legs." Carol looked at him a little superciliously. "Bob. That's silly. I'm fine. You just want to make me feel better." Bob answered rather glibly. "No. It's not for you. It's for me. It'll ease my conscience." Carol laughed a little. "You're such a fool." "OK. I'm a fool. Now get in the tub." He walked into the bedroom and starting drawing water for a bath. Carol followed and started taking off her clothes. She was thinking. He's silly, but I'll let him have his way on this. Bob helped her undress. He lifted her into the tub. Using only his hands and the soft soap he had in a bottle he started washing her down. She wasn't really dirty. She'd showered just a few hours earlier. Just before church. Carol liked it when Bob made over her. She reflected upon when she'd just come out of that awful closet. He'd been so good to her. He bathed her twice a day. Half the time she looked like a prune, but he really got those sores and bites under control fast. He took care of her. Now he was at it again. Bob loved this woman. He took his time. He washed her hair, and then washed it again. He let her soak while he took a comb and brushed through it. He found that helped in making sure there were no knots. Then he took his hands and washed her face, her neck, her ears, and down her back. He got her to lie flatter and gently washed her stomach. He took an extra long time on her upper chest, especially her breasts. He liked using his fingers and the palms of his hands to caress her aureole and her nipples. Today he gave himself a special treat. While he washed her breasts he leaned in and kissed each beautiful little nipple. She sighed. Carol was in seventh heaven. He really knew how to make her feel special. No man had ever done anything like what Bob did, at least not for her. Of course, she didn't have that many opportunities to make the comparison. Bob thought she was a lot more experienced than she really was. If he only knew the truth! Bob got down to business when he reached her legs. He got her to roll over and kneel in the tub. The little body art that had been on her face, the flowers and leaves, were almost completely invisible now, but his tattoo was still bright and crisp. The picture of the girl in the man's hands would always be there. He would always be there. He wiped around her ass cheeks, and took his fingers and washed just inside her ass. He was careful not to penetrate too far into either crevice, front or back. He was concerned the soap, even though it was very mild, might cause some kind of infection. While he wiped soap on her vagina he noticed the tiniest trace of stubble. It had been a long time, but now he could tell she needed another depilatory. Well he had the stuff, and she'd get it this afternoon. He looked at the clock. He meant this evening. After several more unnecessary wipes around her ass cheeks and her labia he announced. "OK. Almost all done." The Gold Digger Ch. 10 Carol looked over languidly. "What do you mean almost?" Bob responded. "I need to cream my toy box. It's got a little stubble." Carol looked at Bob curiously. "Your toy box?" "Yes." He said, tickling her labia. "My toy box." Carol laughed. "You idiot!" She splashed him with some of the tub water. Bob responded by pushing her head under the water. Then he pulled her up just as fast. "Come on girl. Out of the tub." She stood up, and he lifted her and carried her to the bed. "Lay down on your back. He turned on the overhead fan, got the depilatory cream and lay down beside her. I'll rub this on my toy box, while the fan dries you naturally." For the next fifteen minutes Bob softly applied the cream, and slowly let the fan dry her off. All the while he took his time kissing her all over. He also took a few seconds to lean down and listen to his baby's heartbeat. Carol lay there and let the cool breeze from the fan and let the gentle touch of his lips and fingertips lull her into a relaxed state. They lay together, side by side exchanging kisses. Bob asked her. "So tell me about when you grew up." Carol took her right hand and fluffed his hair. "There's not that much to tell. I went to public schools. Got pretty good grades. Belonged to 4H, FFA, and FTA. Raised a sheep. My dad bought me a car for my sixteenth birthday. I never had an accident. I seldom went on dates, and when I did they were always to school functions. Bob interrupted. "What's FFA and FTA?" Carol grinned. "Future Farmers of America and Future Teachers of America. Do you want to hear about me?" Bob answered. "Go on." Carol returned to her story. "I took piano lessons, swimming lessons, dance classes, and did some crafts. I wasn't popular like some of the girls. Boys never paid much attention to me. I think some of them were afraid. I had an older brother. My mom and dad are still married. My dad runs a meat market and a small farm where he raises cattle. My mom is, or was, a schoolteacher. See nothing special." "I think that's a lot of pretty special stuff Carol." Bob chided. "You come from a good family. Your mom and dad took the time to get you active in stuff. Your mom's a teacher. You're a Presbyterian. You've got siblings, although being the middle child must have been a trip, and you did all the stuff girls are supposed to do when they're growing up." Carol perked up. She hadn't said anything about a sister, and she never mentioned she was a middle child. "I never told you that I was a middle child." Bob back tracked. "I had you investigated. Remember?" "Oh yeah. I forgot." Was all Carol said. Bob changed the subject. "Tomorrow I've got to get to work. There are several things I want you to do. This Wednesday I've got company coming. They don't know who you are, and I want to keep it that way. At least for now." He saw the eyebrows go up. "It's not what you think. This is not business exactly. It's something else, and believe me, you'd just be a distraction." He side-slipped. "Not that you wouldn't be a good distraction. I just want to concentrate on what's at hand. If you'll just serve and stay out of they way Wednesday night I'd appreciate it. I promise no embarrassing moments and no tricks. Later things will be clearer. OK?" Carol thought about his work. Not so long ago they both worked at the same company. She wondered what it was like now. She wondered about the men who'd taken her. How did Bob handle working with them? She wanted to ask, but thought better of it. For now she'd stay with the program. She simply answered. "I can handle that." Bob went on. "I have a few little jobs for you for tomorrow. Nothing big, just a little cleaning and polishing." "That could work." Was all Carol said, but she was a little put off. She'd hoped there wouldn't be any more walls. It looked like some things still stood in the way. After several minutes, with the cream gone, and her vagina a little tender from it's abrasive affects Bob decided it was time to give her a little more home cooking. He leaned down over her and started to kiss her pussy. He was careful, but he was firm. He licked across her labia, but took her clitoris with his lips. He gently sucked on her clitoris. At the same time he used his hands and fingers to rub and tickle her ass cheeks and ass. He let one finger, just one finger, slip inside her anal cleft and that only in a little way. He'd decided he'd never take her in the back again, but knew it felt good if he gently inserted a finger or perhaps two every now and then. He could feel her growing warmth. He lay his head carefully on her belly while he took his fingers and rubbed her puss. He listened for and heard the heartbeat of their child. It was a good sound. He leaned over again to her puss and started to tongue the inside. He tongued, licked, pinched, nibbled, and twiddled away. Now that she was completely hair free again he could take his tongue and lick right up the middle between her two lips without any abrasion. Every time he did that she would move. When he licked up like that he could feel her get a little wetter, and her puss lips would get a little bigger. It happened every time. Sure enough she started to respond again. She pressed her crotch into his face and pulled his head in with her hands. He pressed right back. He took his tongue first, then his lips, and then his teeth and gently bit at her clitoris. She started to inadvertently jerk and swivel. She was trying to maximize the feeling. He let her. She was getting the release he wanted her to have. Her pussy started gushing. He loved it. He smothered his face in her vagina. He lathered his mouth and face back and forth across her labia. She exploded! And then it was over. She started giggling and pushing his head away. "Stop it! Stop it now! I'm too sensitive!" Of course he didn't stop right away. He kept licking and nibbling. She kept squirming and trying to push him away. "Bob! Cut it out! I'm too sensitive. Come on now! It doesn't feel good anymore!" He rolled off. He crawled back up beside her and lay down. Carol rolled over on her hands and knees. She gave him a silly look. He hair was all disheveled, cascading down around her face. She started to work her way down to his man meat. Bob grabbed her hair and pulled her back up. "Oh No you don't. This jobs for you! Only you!" He held her tightly. She felt so warm and soft. They both fell sound to sleep. When Carol woke up Monday it was already past 9:00. Bob had been long gone, but he left a list with a few chores. Carol studied the list. Nothing especially hard, but she saw some things might require care in the selection of her attire. She looked over her wardrobe. Inside she did find several things that would be appropriate. One item was a dark brown one-piece cotton dress. It zippered up the back had short sleeves, and a modest peter-pan collar. She washed up first, slipped into some lingerie, and put the dress on. It was what she would have considered a pretty typical maid's outfit. She decided to go with that. First on the list was the cleaning. She found the vacuum cleaner and gave the floors a good one. Waxing would take a little longer. She got out the wax materials, and down on her hands and knees went to work. She remembered how he'd talked about putting these floorboards together. He was so proud of the job he'd done. It was hard, but it was the kind of work she'd done at home. It wouldn't kill her, and if Bob needed it to be done, who better then she. The waxing was harder on her knees than she remembered, but she took her time, and after a couple hours they were shining like new. The next things on the list were a lot easier. He wanted her to change the bed in the main bedroom. That was the one downstairs, wash the linens from the bathroom and bedroom, and hang everything on the line out back. The note said he liked the fresh smell of clothes that had dried on the line. She agreed, but to get this done would require shoes. She went back to the closet and found a pair of brown lace-up womens' work shoes. Putting on a pair of brown socks first, she laced up the shoes. They were a comfortable, if not a particularly attractive fit, and went to work on the linens. The linens went quickly, and by 1:00 she'd gotten everything on the list done. Carol thought she'd have the rest of the afternoon to herself. She went back toward the bedroom. She thought she'd clean up a little, and change into something Bob would like. She expected he would get home around 4:00. Just as she reached the bedroom she heard the front doorbell ring. Who could that be? Carol went to the front door, and to her surprise there was the woman who operated the boutique in town. The woman held out her hand. "Hello. Bob said you'd be expecting me." Carol was surprised. Bob hadn't said anything about this, at least to her best recollection. She answered. "I don't. I'm not sure. Oh. Won't you come in?" The woman was pulling a small handcart. It had black rubber wheels. "Thank you. I'm here to drop some things for Bob. He's supposed to take some brochures and catalogues to a woman friend of his tomorrow, and he asked if I might stop them off." Carol thought. This ought to be quick and easy. "Sure. Why don't you just leave them over there on the end table? The woman looked at the corner table. She put her hand to her chin in a thoughtful manner. "No. I don't think so." She looked at Carol. "Why don't you look some of these things over. I'm not sure if Bob wants all this stuff anyway." Carol didn't want to be impolite, but she did want to get herself straightened before Bob got home. She also noticed the black rubber wheels of the woman's cart were leaving little marks on her freshly waxed floor. She said. "I don't have much time. I have to." The woman interrupted. "Excellent! Let's sit over on the sofa. I'll show you what I've brought, and you can decide what I should leave." Before Carol could answer the woman had already walked over to the sofa pulling her cart with the thick black rubber wheels behind her. Carol asked. "Can I get you something to drink?" The woman was busy opening her cart and getting out stacks of catalogues. "Yes. A coffee would be great, just a little cream, and no sugar." Carol thought. My. She doesn't mind making herself at home. She went ahead and started to fix the coffee. Carol brought the coffee over. The woman had a dozen catalogues stretched out on the floor and on the coffee table in front of the sofa. "I'm not sure what to leave. Why don't you and I look through some of these things together?" Carol responded. "I really don't think." The woman interrupted. "You're a woman. I'm a woman. Between the two of us we ought to be able to select what Bob would want. Here let's start with these." The woman was holding several bridal catalogues. Actually they were dress catalogues. She said. "Let's the two of us look through some of these. We can sort of check off in pencil what we think would be good choices." Carol interjected. "I don't know. These are bridal books. I'm not getting married. What do I know?" The woman held up a hand. "Nonsense. You're a woman. Just pick what you like, and I'll pick what I like. We'll check off what we like, and Bob can take those pages over to his friend." She held up the first book. "Here see. We can take the pages out." Carol wasn't sure about this. She knew she wasn't comfortable trying to select things for some woman she'd never met, but she was certain the only way to get this woman out of the house was to go along. She said. "OK. But I'm not really." The woman interrupted again. "Good. Let's get started. For nearly two hours the two women went over book after book. They excerpted page after page of gowns, veils, shoes, lingerie, negligees, bride's maid's dresses, and going away dresses. Finally, thought Carol, she'll leave. But the woman wasn't through. The woman looked at Carol. "Hey. I have an idea. Let's sort this stuff. We can put the bridal gowns and veils and match them with the bride's maid's gowns. We can sort it all out. That would be a great help to the woman who needs this stuff." Carol tried to offer her opinion. "I don't think we should try to tell." She was stopped again. "I know the woman who this is all for. She's a busy career woman. Believe me. We'll be doing her a favor." So Carol and the woman went back over everything they'd pulled out. They wrote notes describing how the different things could be mixed and matched. They left notes about color schemes, and types of material. The woman had even brought several books of cloth swatches. She made Carol choose the types of materials she liked best. Again it looked like they were done. They had a stack of pages. Stacks of notes, and a pile of cloth swatches. The woman looked at Carol and made one more comment. "Let's rank this stuff." Carol was completely out of patience. She saw the clock. The room was a mess. The waxed floors were scratched. And she was tired. "Look I think." The woman wouldn't let her get in a word. "All we have to do now is place this stuff in a pile from top to bottom. What we like best on top. What we like least on the bottom." Carol liked it all. In fact she loved it all. She wished she could some day wear some of the things she'd been looking through. Fond hope, but she said. "OK." They took a few more minutes and placed each category of items in piles by rank order. At last it looked like everything was finished. The woman said. "Are you sure you like this arrangement?" Carol was ready to say anything. "Yes. I really do." The woman hesitated. "I mean, just between you and me, you think this dress and these outfits are the one's you like best?" Carol answered. "Without a doubt." The damn woman wouldn't quit. She held up the items on the top of the pile. "You're telling me this dress, this veil, these shoes, this lingerie, and these bride's maid's gowns are your favorite?" Carol wished the woman would leave. "Yes." The woman wouldn't leave. "You're sure." Carol answered. "I'm sure." The woman asked. "Positive?" Carol answered. "Positive." The woman looked at the stuff Carol had picked as her favorite. "I don't know. The woman this is for might not agree." Carol was tired. She was completely out of patience. She interjected. "Look! She has all these other choices!" The woman finally surrendered. "You're right. This is great. Let me leave this stuff over in the corner like you said a little while ago." Looking at her watch she said. "My. You've kept me here much too long. I have to go." Carol looked at the woman like she'd been hit with a hammer. The woman said Carol had kept her! She kept her cool though. "I'm sorry. "Let's just put this all over in the corner. Bob will get it when he gets home." The woman pulled the cart to the corner, leaving more tread marks as she went. Together they walked to the door. The woman balked and started to talk some more. "You know I missed my next appointment so I have a couple minutes still. I just want to thank you for your help. It was nice working with you. I didn't get your name?" Carol told her who she was. The woman smiled and held out her hand. "I've known Bob a long time. I'm glad he finally broke down and got a maid. I'm sure you'll do a good job." She stepped down from the front porch, got in her car, and pulled away. "Maid!" I guess that's what I am now. She looked at herself. What she had on. She looked the part. She knew, after today, she sure felt the part. She closed the door and hurried to repair the damage to the floor, re-tidy the living room, and hopefully get cleaned up and redressed before Bob got home. As she walked toward the sofa she heard Bob's car pull in the driveway. She exploded. "Shit! I'm in trouble." Bob pulled into the driveway, and parked his vehicle. He hoped Carol had gotten everything done. He smiled. He bet she hadn't. He reached to the back seat and grabbed the boxes. They were very neatly wrapped in that shiny paper that places use for gifts. They had big ribbons tied in nice big bows on one corner. He chuckled as he walked up the steps. "We'll start the week off right. First the punishment, then the presents."