Obeisance: Chapter 9

Obeisance

  by J T and Nye

Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

 Dinner at Tom’s

It was a chilly spring afternoon, an hour or so before sunset, when Malcolm drove Robert home from his meeting at the Harrell Clinic. He peered in the rear view mirror at his distraught employer and asked, “Something bothering you boss?”

“Yeah, but it’s nothing you need to worry about. I’m sure you have plenty of problems of your own to deal with.”

“Nah, talk to me. I don’t mind. Drivers and barkeeps. Bending an ear to the troubles of rich folk keeps us in beer money. So go ahead and punch away,” he said with a grin. “I can take it.”

“That’s good to hear,” Robert chuckled. “Confiding in you is probably a hell of a lot safer than hitting a bottle.” He then sat quietly for a while as he gathered his thoughts and tried to decide just how much he should reveal to his driver.

“You sure you want to hear this?”

“Sure I’m sure. Go ahead.”

Okay, Malcolm, you asked for it,” Robert replied with an acerbic chuckle. “Well, as you may have guessed, ever since Carrie and I took that little celebratory trip out to the cottage things seem to be falling apart all around me. Carrie’s so deep into her discipline and training programs with Abby that I literally can’t talk to her any more. Colin and Bridget took off with Andrew to the northern Minnesota territory, and now I’m starting to wonder if they’re in some kind of hot water themselves. And to top it all off, after that chewing out her father gave me before he left, I’m not sure he has any use for me anymore, and I’m beginning to wonder if he’ll still wants to grant me permission to marry his daughter when the time comes.”

Malcolm nodded his head. “Yes sir, it does seem a bit dark these days.  But I got my faith in ya sir. I mean, here’s how I see the situation. You’re already getting Miss Carolyn into that fancy Harrell Clinic and they’ll get her fixed up all proper and legal, you’ll see. Before you know it Miss Carolyn will be free from all that punishment garb Miss Bridget was ordered to put her in, and you two will be back lovin’ each other like you are meant to. I’m sure you know what I mean by that sir.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I do.”

“Right. Soon you’ll be getting married and, before you know it, you’ll have a houseful of kids of your own. And if Miss Carolyn’s father hasn’t already patched things up with you by then, I’m betting that as soon as Mister Fletcher sets his eyes on his first grandkid he’ll forgive you most anything.

“As for Mister Colin and Miss Bridget, I’ve known them a long time sir. They’re survivors, those two. A few years back they managed to survive the Dublin riots without a scratch, and I’ve no doubt they’ll be back home just as soon as they figure out just what kind of nonsense is going on over there in the Minnesota territories and they find their loved ones.”

“I hope you’re right Malcolm. I really hope you’re right.”

“Have you talked to Mister Fletcher’s business lawyer, Mister Templeton since you been back?” Malcolm asked in the casual way he preferred to put things when he didn’t want to sound pushy about something important.

“Joseph Templeton? No, I haven’t had any reason to.”

“Well sir, I been driving Mister Fletcher for a long time now, and I know of certain occasions when he’d go and seek out Mister Templeton’s advice on things, and not just legal things either, personal things. I was thinking that maybe you could ask Mister Stewart to invite Mister Templeton and that pretty wife of his to his party tonight, and maybe by talking to him in a social way you could get some of your worries tamped down a bit.”

Robert sighed and chuckled. “Templeton, huh? You know Malcolm, that’s a good idea. What I remember of him I like, and I think he did a fair amount of work for my father as well as for Carrie’s father. You know, I think you may be just about the most grounded guy I know around here. I’ll call Tom Stewart as soon as I get home.”

His driver grinned and shook his head. “Ah, sir. It’s no big deal. I’m just a step or two away from where you guys sit. Makes it easier to see some things. You’ll let me know when I need to pick you up tonight to take you on to Mister Stewart’s, won’t you sir?”

                                                                        * * *

Abby greeted Robert at the door when he arrived back at the apartment, ready to give him the run-down on Carolyn’s progress. And on a more personal note, she was also eager to show her owner several of the dresses she picked out from Carolyn’s closet to see if any of them met with his approval for the party that evening, the first party she’d been to as an actual guest rather than a slave since she was immurated.

“I’d love to hear and see it all Abby, but first I’ve got to make a couple of urgent phone calls. But I do like what you’ve done with your hair. It looks like you’ve been taking good advantage of Carrie’s shower and dressing table. You’ve cleaned up quite nicely and I definitely approve. You look very professional and very pretty.”

Blushing and smiling she hurried to open the office door for him, and once she saw him seated at his desk, she quietly closed the door so he wouldn’t be disturbed.

A quick call to Tom confirmed what he had hoped. Joseph Templeton and his wife Amanda were more than welcome. And no, nothing in the way of explanations were necessary, and he would be sure to let Joanne know to expect two more dinner guests.

The call to Joseph proved to be a little more complicated. Not satisfied with a simple invitation, he had Robert sketch out a bit of what was going on and why he was invited to this get-together at a stranger’s house. Only after Joseph understood the gist of things did he agree that the dinner was a good idea and that Amanda would be coming along with him as well. But, he added, he would make sure Amanda was in her most secure hood before leaving for the Stewart’s dinner party. “If this conversation’s going where I think it might, she doesn’t need to see or hear any of it. And dinner or no dinner, I may just charge you a consultation fee as well. I am, first and foremost, a business attorney after all, even if I was a friend of your father.”

                                                                        * * *

After dressing for dinner Robert found Abby patiently waiting by the front door. She was tightly corseted, and sheathed in one of the dresses that met Robert’s approval. It was a tight, long sleeve navy blue hobble dress that ended mid-thigh and was cut high at the bodice so that the simple neck-line rested just below, and beautifully accentuated her control collar. He also couldn’t help but notice that she had taken the time to clean up and polish her collar to a gleaming brilliance. His comment about the collar’s grimy condition must have really made an impression. Over her dress she wore a severely tailored single breasted navy blue suit jacket with locking buttons and sleeves with integrated lockable bands that could zip tightly against the jacket for proper arm restriction.

As Robert had instructed, her pale blond hair was arranged in a very neat French twist and she added just enough makeup to highlight her cool blue eyes, mask her pallid complexion, and provide some definition to her cheekbones and naturally pale thin lips. “Is this curb acceptable Sir?” she asked as she held out a rather gruesome one, though not as severe as a regulation reformatory gag.

Robert shook his head. “No, it’s too extreme. I want you to wear the simplest one we can get away with. Besides, if I’m guessing correctly, once we’re there you won’t need a curb.”

                                                                        * * *

Joseph Templeton was standing on the front porch chatting with Tom when Malcolm pulled up and parked the town car in front of the Stewart’s elegant and spacious Victorian home. “Sir, do you want me to release Miss Abby from her Female Auto Carrier and take her inside while you say your greetings to Mister Stewart and Mister Templeton?”

“Yeah, thanks Malcolm. That’d be great. And after you’re done with that, why don’t you head to the kitchen. I’ve heard Joanne makes sure they have a pretty good spread for the help back there.”

As promised, Joseph had Amanda tightly secured in a full leather hood, an armbinder discipline jacket, and reined in with a short electric training leash. As Joseph shook Robert’s hand and walked with him into the parlor he confided, “Amanda’s been a bit of a pill this evening. She complained about the last minute change of plans and refused to accept my decision that our trip here was necessary. So in addition to the restraints you can see, I had to hook her up to a discipline learning program with a rather aggressive correction feature. But to sweeten the pot just a bit I promised her that if she successfully completed the program before it was time to go home I’d allow her to say hello to everyone. To be honest though, I very much doubt she’ll finish in time to join us for dinner.”

“Poor Amanda,” Robert said with a touch of sadness. “From what I remember of her when the two of you visited my parents, I liked her a lot. She would sneak me sweets my mother disapproved of. Could you at least let her see me for a moment so I can wave hello to her even if she can’t hear me?”

“Yeah, she always was a bit of a rebel. But sure, why not,” Joseph replied with a shrug as he unbuckled her blindfold, “I hate like hell restraining her like this, but I’ve got to stay on top of her for her own good,” he said. “With the huge surge in millitanette activity giving the political edge to those hardliner Nationalists, they’re replacing moderates in state, territory, and local governments left and right, and the changes they’re making to the criminal code are getting more disagreeable by the day.”

Robert was surprised by the news. “Tom, have you heard anything about a surge in millitanette activity?”

“No, but then again, I don’t have much time for news. What kind of activity are we talking about?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the Conservative Action Convention bombing in Saint Louis, haven’t you?” Joseph asked.

“No, sorry Joseph.” Robert replied, then looked at Tom who also shook his head.

“Me neither,” Tom replied. “When did this happen?”

“I guess maybe it was a while ago now. With everything that’s going on, time gets away from me sometimes. As I remember, it happened just after Robert took that break from Carolyn and decided to spend some time bumming around Vancouver Island and the Western Territories, so maybe a little over a year ago. Yeah, that’s about right. And come to think of it, the news of the bombing was suppressed pretty quickly. I think the day after it happened the story suddenly disappeared. But the political effects of the bombing were terrible in a horribly ironic way. It seems that the explosion mostly killed the moderates in the party. Most of the hardliners were busy across town partying at a fundraising rally or some such nonsense. Then, with the hardliners suddenly in the majority, the empty positions were quickly filled on an interim basis with the most rigorous, inflexible, autocrats imaginable, and now they’ve reorganized and they’re calling themselves Nationalists.”

About that time Abby approached Robert and did her best to signal her curb. “Tom, is it all right to remove Abby’s curb and unbind her arms while she’s in your house?” Robert asked.

“Sure, no problem. Just make sure she stays inside the house or confines herself to the covered portion of the back deck while she’s uncurbed.”

After Abby thanked Robert for allowing her to speak she said, “I’m sorry Sir, but Mrs. Fletcher’s throwing herself about the kitchen and we women don’t have permission, or the means, to do anything to stop her. We’re concerned she might break something or possibly injure herself.”

“Damn woman,” muttered Joseph. “Tom, would you happen to have any place where I could securely park my vixen until she cools down?”

“Sure, there’s a small standing stall next to the pantry. It has hitching rings, heel locks, even an electric yoke if you need it.”

“Thanks, I’ll be back shortly. And if she’s broken anything I’ll be more than happy to pay for it.”

As they watched Joseph hurry towards the kitchen, Tom asked, “So tell me Robert, how’s Carolyn doing?”

“Well, she’s calmed down quite a bit, mostly thanks to Abby. Somehow Abby’s gotten Carolyn to actually follow signal commands without throwing a fit. She’s a real miracle worker.”

“Yeah, when I first saw her I got a feeling she knew a lot more than she let on. The biggest problem we had with her at The Retreat was that she seemed to need a lot of personal attention and, if she didn’t get it, she’d get so gloomy her attention to customer service suffered. So we assigned her to the back office and away from the customers. In fact, if you hadn’t arrived during a special event you probably wouldn’t have even met her.

“Speaking of needy girls, why don’t you come say hello to Joanne and give her one of your famous hugs while you commiserate with her about that new high security collar she’s now required to wear. I don’t know how you feel about it, but I do know she’s been looking forward to seeing you again.”

“Sure, I’d love to see that lovely freckled redhead of yours again. It’s been awhile.”

“Great. Now to find her. Even though that new collar keeps her on, at most, a one hundred meter leash, she still has an uncanny way of disappearing just when I’m looking for her,” Tom muttered as he pulled her controller from his pocket.

“Oh well, rather than chasing around trying to find her, while don’t we just wait here in the living room while I summon her,” he said as he scrolled through the menu then pressed a button. “You know, while I generally hate that thing she’s forced to wear, this summoning function has eased my stress level and added considerably to my happiness.”

“There she is,” Robert exclaimed as he watched Joanne dodge a knot of people and hurry toward them.

As he held out his arms to greet and hug her, she glanced at her husband, who smiled and nodded, then welcomed Roberts warm embrace with a contented smile and a warm hug of her own.

“I’m sorry to hear about this new collar of yours Joanne. It looks pretty massive and a bit like a really uncomfortable metal posture collar.”

“Yeah, it does,” Tom replied. At ten centimeters tall and a bit over seven hundred grams, it’s three times the size and weight of a standard control collar. By the way, please don’t take my speaking for Joanne the wrong way, that collar also limits her speech as well as her roaming privileges. Joanne, why don’t you tell Robert about the rules you must now obey in connection with your ability to speak?”

Joanne curtsied and replied, “Yes Sir. As long as I wear my new high security control collar I may only answer a direct question or command, and then only in a polite, cheerful manner. Any thing louder than a soft conversational voice, or any speech deemed off-topic is immediately punished, and each punishment is followed by a mandatory period of ten minutes of enforced silence.”

Tom nodded. “Yep, that’s the situation and I’m guessing that it’s all possible due to the magic of AI. But those damn built-in algorithms make for some crazy side effects, especially in the bedroom.”

“In the bedroom? Really? How?”

Tom grinned and bumped Robert’s arm as good friends sometimes do. “Well you see, when she was free to just be herself, like she was before the BFA sealed that collar around her neck, Joanne was blessed to be a naturally multi-orgasmic, very vocal, and very imaginative sexual enthusiast in the bedroom. However, because of this collar we can’t even turn off, she’s punished whenever she makes an unauthorized sound, and this includes any sounds she makes whenever we’re alone making love. The consequence of this is that I’m almost afraid to touch her affectionately, much less removing her chastity belt for anything other than for the purposes of personal hygiene. I’m even thinking of fitting her with a chastity bra just to be on the safe side. To be frank, I don’t know how many more of those punishments she can take before she ends up going bonkers for just trying to be herself and to be a good and loving wife to me.”

Robert glanced at Joanne and watched as her normally lovely, pale, freckled face darkened while she quietly nodded in agreement and proceeded to dramatically cover her obviously corseted bust with her hands and arms.

“It’s a lousy situation Tom,” Robert replied as he shook his head sadly. “Especially for you Joanne. I don’t mean to exclude you from the conversation, but well…” His words drifted off as he gently placed a hand on her collar and said, “I’m truly am sorry for this. Do you know how long she has to wear this thing?”

“That’s the hell of it. It’s all up to the courts. Joanne has to first attend, and pass with perfect scores, two classes, called Penitence 101 and Penitence 102. Apparently the grizzled old farts at the BFA are now sending any female who they feel has grown too big for her britches to these classes.  You know, women who aren’t afraid to take charge when life demands it, any woman who owns, runs, or manages a business, and any woman who dares to make a personal decision for herself. Anyway, the classes got pretty famous after a TV personality called Daphne was required to take them.”

“Yeah, Carrie mentioned how much she admired Daphne. She want’s a septum ring like the one Daphne now wears.”

“Well, apparently that’s the least of Daphne’s problems. The regime apparently intends to make an example out of her. You know, I usually don’t waste any emotional energy on celebrities, but I really do feel sorry for that girl. She rolled the dice that her celebrity status would protect her and she lost big time.

“But anyway, the classes. Apparently they’re only offered twice a year at the local Mansom Center and I have Joanne registered to start Penitence 101 in about six weeks. After she successfully completes both 101 and 102, I’ll need to petition the court for a hearing. Assuming the judge rules in our favor, the collar can finally be removed but only at an approved BFA regional office, or privately, for a substantial fee, at the same local Hopfield Center where Carrie got her fiancee belt. As you can see, the halves are joined so tightly it looks seamless, and there nothing like a keyhole anywhere.”

“Sorry about that gentlemen,” Joseph broke in, as he returned looking a bit frazzled. “Thanks again Tom and oh, hello, I take it that you’re Joanne. It’s very nice to meet you, and thank you for the invitation to your lovely home,” he said as he took her hand, bowed slightly and chastely kissed the back of her hand as she smiled and curtsied deeply in reply.

“Tom, that standing stall of yours really did the trick. As soon as I tossed her in, snapped her heels into the heel locks, and put her blindfold back on, all that mutinous nonsense just evaporated. And again, I apologize for the ruckus.

“You know, ever since I sent Amanda to the local Mansom Training Center for her latest control file training she’s become more and more difficult and I don’t know why. A couple of weeks ago she pulled such an egregious stunt right in the middle of the front lobby of the Western Pines Country Club that I legally had no choice but to act on it. So now she’s back on probation and she’s required to wear one of those new interconnected control harness devices. You know the kind. If her arms aren’t restrained tightly enough this new system sees it as a violation and her whole body gets a correction until the damn thing determines she’s restrained properly. It drives her nuts and it makes her want to fight even more. And now, as a condition of her probation, if the device’s internal system logs too many violations and corrections she’ll be sent back to the Mansom Center to not only take another round of control file training, which is pretty standard, but also a new two week program called Recidivist Discipline Training. I have no idea what the program involves, or how it’s supposed to help her, but I have a feeling she wouldn’t like it one bit.”

“Perhaps Abby could help,” Robert suggested.

“Abby? Oh yeah, that statuesque blonde with the killer blue eyes who just told us about Amanda antics in the kitchen. Where did she come from, and how’s Carolyn by the way?”

Tom invited them out to the sectional conversation pit under the back deck’s softly illuminated pergola where they could relax with drinks while Robert caught them up on the recent events. “So, you’re taking Carolyn in Friday morning for her septum ring, which she actually wants for some weird reason, as well as these implanted controlling devices?” Tom asked.

“Yeah, they seem to be a bit like those new implanted curb devices you’re using at The Retreat. I’m hoping that once she gets these implants, she won’t have to wear as many restraints. At least that’s how it’s worked for the surgeon who’s doing the work.”

Joseph looked surprised. “You mean to tell me that you’re having this done by a female surgeon? How’s this possible?”

Robert shrugged. “What can I say? From what she tells me it’s all perfectly legal. Her husband owns the practice and she works for him. Apparently, because she wears those special implants, she doesn’t have to wear as many physical restraints while working at the clinic and she can continue to work as a surgeon.” He paused, chuckled, grabbed his nearly empty drink and polished it off before continuing, “You know, one of the incredible things about those implants is that you can’t even tell she has them in her. From the little I could see, her body appears flawless. No scars or anything. Who knows, perhaps they might be a good solution for Amanda. Invisible but effective instant control when you need it.”

When Joanne rang a crystal dinner bell the men paused their conversation and made their way into the dining room where they were greeted and shown to their chairs by their individually assigned serving girls borrowed from The Retreat’s hospitality staff.

                                                                        * * *

“I don’t know anything about what’s going on with Andrew Fletcher, or for that matter Colin and Bridget O’Leary,” Joseph told Robert as the main course was served and the wine glasses were refilled. “Much of what you told me over the phone this afternoon, and the stuff I heard tonight is news to me. But I’ll try and look into it and get back to you with anything I’m able to find out.”

“Thanks Joseph, I appreciate that.  Now, are you sure you don’t want Abby to take a crack at Amanda this evening? Abby’s impressive, and if she can do her magic perhaps Amanda will be able to join us for dessert.”

Joseph laughed and threw up his hands in a grand gesture of defeat. “Sure, why not. I can’t seem to do anything with her tonight other than tossing her in that standing stall and closing the door on her. What would you need Abby?” he asked as he turned to her. “Her controller and what else?”

Abby quietly sighed as she quietly placed her knife and fork on the dinner plate next to her perfectly done, and still untouched, veal cutlet. “Yes Sir, the keys to her restraints would be useful, and I’ll need the code to her heel locks.”

“I’ll give either of you, or both of you, odds of two to one that she can’t tame Amanda by the time we go home tonight.” Joseph said with a friendly smirk as he emptied his wine glass for the third time.

“And I’ll wager ten dollars that Abby will have Amanda compliant within the hour,” replied Robert as he drew a ten from his sport coat pocket and laid it on the table.

“Ten of those new gold backed dollars huh? At a dollar a gram that represents, well, ten grams of fine gold, son. I’ll take that bet,” Joseph said as he pulled his wallet from his jacket pocket and tossed a twenty on top of Robert’s ten. “You know, since we’re busy tossing money around, it’s too bad we don’t have enough people to get up a decent game of poker tonight.”

The table grew quiet and a bit melancholy for a while, with the only break in the silence being the sounds of utensils tapping and scraping against fine china as they ate.

“You know, there could be a fourth.”

The others glanced up and looked at Tom. “What do you mean, there could be a fourth?” Robert asked then drained his water glass.

“Well, there could be a fourth if we all agree that whatever goes on in this house stays in this house.”

Robert pursed his lips then ventured the words, “Tom, you’re talking about ignoring the female congregation laws.”

“At the very least,” Joseph added in a deep lawyerly timbre.

Tom nodded, “Look, as long as we agree to keep what happens here, in this house, just between us, we can have our fourth. I happen to know Joanne’s a very good poker player. She honed her skills while working as a junior account executive before the plot and I’ve seen her run a serious table more than once. Hell, that’s how I first noticed her, she did it with such grace no one at the table, including me, resented emptying their wallets.”

Joseph looked over at Joanne and studied her quiet, expressionless face as she finished her strawberry cheesecake while waiting for the men to decide whether she would be permitted to play cards that evening. “Hell, it’s just poker. And besides, you’ve got me curious about this card shark you’re married to.” Joseph finally declared. “Sure, why not.”

By the end of the sixth hand, Joseph heard a shuffling sound emanating from down the hallway. Soon, the others noticed it too.

“Joanne, do you have you any idea what’s going on?” Joseph asked.

“I believe you’re about to lose twenty dollars as well as this hand Sir,” Joanne said as she laid down two pair, queens high.

Everyone agreed to pause the game and turned to face the kitchen hallway. Before long they saw the bound, and fully hooded form of Amanda shuffling towards the dining room with Abby close behind. Upon reaching the doorway, Amanda stopped. She then advanced one more step forward, turned to her right, walked two steps along the wall, turned a quarter turn to face the wall and froze in place.

Satisfied with the results, Abby walked over to Joseph, curtsied, handed him Amanda’s controller and the keys to her restraints. “I believe she will now behave properly Sir.”

Astonished by what he just witnessed, all he could think to do was to grab her hand, shake it, and say, “Well done!”

The others at the table also applauded the performance. Abby stood in disbelief as she watched this table of free, powerful men applaud her, an immurated property, just for performing the same sort of task she had been ordered to do at the reformatory on seemingly countless occasions. Emotions she thought had been whipped and tortured out of her began to stir and tears began to blur her eyes.

“Abby, do you know how to play poker?”

The question somehow broke through the haze of her spinning mind and she forced herself to parse the words to make sense of them. “Yes Sir, Mister Templeton. I know how to play poker.”

Joseph pointed to an empty chair. “Well, have a seat and I’ll stake you some chips. It’s the least I can do for someone who’s managed to tame that wildcat over there. Even if it does mean that I just lost two-thirds of an ounce of fine gold,” he said as he grinned at Robert.

By the end of an hour’s play, the two collared women owned well over half of the chips on the table. But no one seemed to mind. Somehow the men took the fact that they were, metaphorically speaking, losing their shirts with humor and good cheer.

“Abby, I’ve been studying you,” Joseph said as he folded his cards for the third hand in a row, “It’s obvious to me that you know how to count cards. I suspect any reasonably competent poker player can see that. But the thing is, you also seem to follow a well thought out strategy which tells me that you’ve received some formal training in the fine art of thinking. So tell me, where were you educated?”

Abby considered her hand for a couple of seconds, folded, and watched Joanne take the pot with a full house, jacks high. “I earned a graduate degree at MIT Sir,” she replied.

Joseph nodded. “That seems to fit. What kind of degree did you earn?”

“I graduated with a masters in computer engineering Sir.”

“So you’re not much for the humanities then?”

“No Sir. Though to survive, I’ve had to learn to read and manage people during the years I was incarcerated.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you did,” Joseph replied. “Well Robert, I think you stumbled onto a real treasure with Abby. I’m thinking I need to get her a governess license, and as soon as possible. She’d look rather splendid and quite formidable wearing the purple sash and quirt of a commissioned governess. What do you think? Would it be okay with you if I did a little grunt work and made your Abby a governess?”

“You can do that?”

“Sure. I know a guy. In fact, it’d be one of the easier things I’ll do next week, and it’ll tickle the hell out of me to tell Amanda that she was ramrodded by a real honest-to-God governess. Well, it’d be stretching the facts a bit, but still –” He glared at Amanda who was still standing frozen, deaf, curbed, blindfolded, and facing the wall, then turned back to the table, “Tom, you wouldn’t happen to have another one like Abby here over there at The Retreat would you?”

Tom mulled it over for a few seconds before replying.  “Well Joseph, if you’re serious, then maybe. Joanne, you know the staff and the market better than I do. What do you think?”

Joanne stopped shuffling the cards and began to deal. “Well Mister Templeton, first of all tell me if you’re really serious about looking for someone like Abby. My contacts are a bit touchy about anyone, especially a female, who wastes their time with pointless inquiries,” she added as she touched her relatively new, and quite formidable, high security control collar and cringed a bit.

At that, Abby piped up, “Mister Templeton Sir, be sure to select one with great care. Some of the penitentiary matrons are certifiably insane. But not me Sir,” she hastened to add.

As he studied his new hand, Robert said to no one in particular, “As I recall, someone recently told me that if a person feels the need to say they’re not crazy then they probably are.”

All eyes shifted to Abby who wrinkled her nose at Robert, picked up her new hand, then grumbled, “Dealer, when you have time, I’ll take three.”

Joseph chuckled. “You know, at first I was just making a joke about wanting someone like Abby. Just a little joke. But with all this crap swirling around Amanda’s unfortunate mistakes and indiscretions, coupled with the fact that I’m staring at the possibility that she may be court ordered back to the Mansom Center for an extended stay while she undergoes that new deluxe program of theirs … well it leaves me frustrated, scared for her, and just plain dead tired. And now that I’ve a little time to mull it over, then yes damn it, I am serious. If getting someone like Abby can keep Amanda from getting into any more serious trouble then yes, I’d like to get someone like Abby.”

Tom nodded. “Well, that makes sense.”

“So Joanne, do you think you can find someone for me?”

“Yes Sir, Mr. Templeton,” Joanne replied with a nod as she gathered her winnings from the last hand, gathered up the cards and passed them to Robert, “I believe so. By the way Sir,” she added, while looking sweetly and hopefully at her husband, “are these chips still worth real money? And if so, will we mere girls be permitted to keep our winnings?” she asked, then clutched her collar with both hands, grimaced in pain, and fell silent.

As Robert dealt the next hand he chimed in, “Well I can’t speak for Tom, and to be honest I haven’t really given any thought about the girl’s winnings, but as far as I’m concerned, sure, why not? It’s just a couple of hundred dollars or so. Besides, who knows, maybe we’ll win it back next time. By the way Joseph, you never did finish telling me your theory on how the millitanettes are somehow inadvertently strengthening the hardliners power base. The only thing I’ve heard about any of this is what Carolyn’s father said about the hardliners forming a new political machine called the Nationalist Party.”

“Well, that’s not exactly what I said. What I said was the reason things are getting tougher is because the hardliners are winning most of the elections. Now one important reason the hardliners are winning so many of these damn elections is due to the voter’s reaction to the highly visible and very bloody millitanette attacks. The millitanettes attack with guns, bombs and various kinds of sabotage, and the hardliners’ response is to crack down on everyone and further tighten the rules, especially the rules governing the conduct of women, who, let’s be fair, are the brains and backbone of the insurrection, as well as comprising the overwhelming majority of the guerrilla shock troops in the millitanette organization. In response to the hardliners’ crackdown, the millitanettes attack again and so it goes. The two extremes feed off each other and we moderates caught in the middle pay the price.

“So, what does that mean for those of us caught in the middle? Well, it means the range and scope of our personal liberties are shrinking. Look, the hardliners began chipping away at things by tightening up those parts of the criminal code that addressed irritating low-level stuff. I’m talking about things like jaywalking, public intoxication, indecent exposure, and loitering. Most people applaud that sort of crackdown. After all, who doesn’t like clean streets, and safe neighborhood parks, schools, and children’s playgrounds? But the problem is, from that humble start the Nationalists are now climbing their way up the metaphorical ladder and broadening their focus. They’re now concentrating on issues like public morality, public order, and some rather nebulous notions that are sometimes referred to as the crimes of Public Sin and it’s little brother, Private Sin. The interesting thing is, this new campaign has even ensnared some of the more careless Nationalist supporters who so eagerly applauded the crackdowns, and it’s really beginning to complicate their lives.

“That’s why Tom had to add more security at The Retreat and that’s why Carolyn and Amanda are in the messes they’re in, and that’s why Joanne’s locked in that bulky, uncomfortable, and extremely irritating high security control collar. Hell, that’s why we had to pledge to keep quiet about allowing these two lovely ladies to join us at the table to play a lousy game of poker tonight.

“And Robert, I think that’s why Andrew jumped all over you about the activities you and Carolyn enjoyed back at that damn picnic of yours. He wasn’t upset that the two of you frolicked by the lake. Hell, truth be told, he even admitted to me in one of his rare bouts of sentimentality that he’s tickled pink that you and Carolyn found each other again after she was finally released from Westminster. He’s thrilled by the idea that the two of you are madly in love, are about to get married, and maybe, assuming you both are fertile, you’ll give him some grandchildren to spoil. But he also knew that if you didn’t do something to demonstrate contrition for behaving like normal randy adults, and the hardliners found out about it, under these new laws Carolyn could very well end up cloistered in a modern iteration of a medieval nunnery for the rest of her life, and you could, at a minimum, lose your guardianship over her. Those big brothers are really starting to crack down on men who go easy on their wives, wards, daughters and numbered property.

“And that folks is all I meant to say except to add that I also vote yes to the girls keeping their poker winnings. God knows they’ve earned it. And Joanne, I’m really sorry about that punishment collar you’re forced to wear. I have a sense that while unhindered, you can be quite the charming hostess, very entertaining, and a sparkling conversationalist, and we’re all poorer this evening because you are no longer permitted to even hold a private conversation in your own home. And that’s a crying shame.”

            Chapter 10 “The Procedure” coming soon

Obeisance: Chapter 8

Obeisance

by J T and Nye

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Hopes And Plans

Robert wasn’t a bit surprised to find Doctor Lindsey Harrell standing beside the receptionist desk,  severely dressed in a tailor-made black dress suit coupled with a matching, form fitting jacket, a properly buttressed high collar white corseted blouse with pearl buttons, exquisitely arranged well lacquered hair, and subtle yet flawlessly applied makeup. As rigorously and meticulously fastidious as the doctor was in both presentation and character, he couldn’t imagine her greeting her clients any other way.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again Mister Morris,” she said with a business appropriate smile as she offered an impeccably manicured and polished hand. “If you would, please join me in my office where we can speak privately and without interruption.”

“Yes. Of course.”

Did you have a chance to read through the material I gave you yesterday?”

“I did. It was…interesting.”

“Really?” She paused their walk for a moment, and her quizzical expression somehow managed to blend the virtue of thoughtful curiosity with the compulsory rectitude of an absolutely virtuous and piously chaste professional woman. “Interesting?” she asked as she guided him through her office door. “I’ve found that’s often a rather loaded word Mister Morris. In what way did you find the material interesting?” she asked as she offered him one of the big, overstuffed leather chairs, a bottle of sparkling water, and a fresh glass.

“Well, first of all I was amazed to learn just how far implant technology has advanced in the last few years. And I was also left with the feeling that the potential of this technology to manipulate and control human beings might trouble some people.”

“Yes, you’re quite right. The field has made some incredibly impressive and fascinating advances in recent years. But how could it not? After all, the reservoir of scientific knowledge doubles every year,” she replied, her voice clear and vibrant, with passionate affection for the discipline of scientific inquiry. “The reason I’ve raised the subject is because I fully understand and appreciate your discomfort at seeing Carolyn locked in those crude, appallingly unsanitary, and extremely uncomfortable mechanical restraints which, and let’s be honest here, are hazardous to the health of a patient when used for any length of time. Simply put, I believe implants can provide the ideal alternative to some of the more dreadful devices Carolyn is often required to wear.

“But before we discuss implants, why don’t we first talk about Carolyn’s passionate desire to wear a septum ring. Have you thought of anything else that might help me understand why she’s so set on having this done?”

Robert inwardly winced, as the doctor’s request for details about their personal life clashed against his innate desire for privacy. “Do I really need to get into all our personal stuff?” he asked, hoping that her question was simply an annoying aspect of polite conversation.

“I’m very sorry Mister Morris. But yes, I’m afraid these questions are necessary. While it’s true that Carolyn has a well documented pre-plot history of promiscuity and profligate behavior, which would normally negate any need for an inquiry, I cannot dismiss, or simply ignore the fact that she’s also a prominent and well-established member of elite society. Her father’s a very distinguished and powerful man after all. So, before I can proceed, I’m required to have on record at least a few of the particulars that brought her here. I’m also required to verify and document that you, as her legal guardian, fully understand and consent to the procedures we’re discussing. After all, as her guardian, your decisions are her final decisions. This is what passes for due diligence these days.”

“Covering yourself, Doctor Harrell?”

“Proprieties must be observed, Mister Morris.”

“And the regulations.”

“Obviously.”

“Okay,” he muttered. “I don’t know what good it will do, but if you’re sure it will move things along, I’ll give it a go.”

Robert paused, relaxed into his chair, and searched his memory for an example that would make more sense than any of Carolyn’s quips and offhand comments that sprang to mind. Finally, he leaned forward and took a sip of sparkling water. “Maybe this will do,” he began as he placed his glass back on the table. “A few days ago Carolyn and I celebrated receiving our engagement license by taking a weekend at her family’s country cottage.  But while we were having a lakeside picnic, and probably because she wasn’t tightly controlled for the first time in a very long time, she began to feel insecure and things suddenly went south. Then we had a spat.”

“She became angry.”

“Yes, very.”

“What was the trigger?”

Pulled up short by the interruption Robert paused, not quite sure how to answer. “How’s that important?”

She made a wry smile and briefly tapped her immaculately polished nails on the face of her tablet. “I can’t know until you tell me. What made you think of mentioning this incident? Why was it important? What set her off? Let’s begin with an easy question. Was it something she did or was it something you did? Come on Mister Morris, humor me a little.”

Robert remained silent for a while as he considered his options. Finally he shrugged and said, “Oh, what the hell, I don’t know. She was fussing about her appearance and just to shut her up I made a silly joke about getting her a septum ring.”

“And then what happened?”

“Well, she took it seriously. But when I told her it was just a joke she blew up and accused me of making fun of her.

“Interesting. And how did you deal with her outburst? Or did you?”

“Well, actually I ended up doing my best to give her a sound spanking through the heavy leather skirt she was wearing.”

“You gave her a hand spanking? Over her clothing? And that did the trick?” she asked with just a hint of an incredulous smile.

Robert grinned and shrugged. “Well actually, it just pissed her off more. But after lots of cursing, she ran out of things to say and we began to talk.”

“I’m curious. What did you say? Do you remember?”

“Well, at first I just let her talk until she ran down and was ready to listen. Then, when I suggested that our relationship may have run its course and, if it had, we should probably recognize that fact before we booked a church and invited a bunch of guests to a wedding. Carrie got really quiet and thoughtful after that. A bit later she apologized for her lousy temper and brought up the subject of the septum ring she still maintains I owe her. She said that she needs it for the wedding ceremony. But she also said she had a bone to pick with me.”

“Really, Mister Morris?”

“Yeah. Carrie insisted that if I had properly fulfilled my duty as her guardian, I would have already given her the ring she wouldn’t have gotten into trouble.”

“Okay. Here’s something I don’t understand. If she wants the septum ring to serve as her wedding ring, how does she square that with wanting to wear the ring now, before her wedding?”

Robert smiled a kind of lopsided grin and nodded. “Yeah, that’s Carrie for you. She isn’t very consistent or logical when it comes to anything to do with her most intimate fantasies.”

The doctor suddenly giggled, which surprised them both. “Forgive me Mister Morris. That was very unprofessional of me. But the idea of any level one girl creating and expressing her own fantasy is both beguiling and scandalously humorous to me. An immurated girl’s personal fantasies are certainly not something the authorities approve of. In fact, it’s something they work very hard to discourage, and they’re usually very good at suppressing and supplanting them.

“Well, no matter. So why don’t we try heading back into the adult lane Mister Morris,” she suggested, as she struggled to regain her disciplined and fastidious composure.

Robert tried to suppress the urge to return a grin without much luck. “Sure, why don’t we do that. Which reminds me, and I’m just following your lead here, but have we dispensed with using first names?”

The doctor laughed. “No, of course not. Sometimes I, well… I slip,” she replied. “Anyway, do please call me Lynn,” she replied before clearing her throat, taking a sip or two of water, and continuing, “So Robert, have you given any thought about what Carolyn actually needs in order to comply with the most recent changes in the law? I’m referring to the most recent changes made to the public order and moral decency sections of the criminal code, as well as the latest directives and regulations issued by the Office of Public Morality.”

Robert shook his head. “I’ve given it quite a bit of thought, but the best idea I’ve come up with so far is to pack Carrie in a travel container and head the hell out of town. I was thinking that we might retreat to my family’s estate on Lake Como.”

“Lake Como? In Italy?”

“Yeah. But that isn’t very practical. And I think you can imagine how well that would go down with Carrie. Besides, from some of the stories I’ve been hearing lately, in other parts of the world, including much of Europe, the laws and regulations are even harsher and more restrictive than what we’re having to deal with here.”

The doctor nodded. “I’ve heard that as well, and from some very reliable sources. Look Robert, I think you’re making the issue far more difficult than it needs to be, so let me break it down for you as I see it. You’ve told me what’s foremost on Carolyn mind, which is that she wants some kind of proof that you care for her. The tangible and symbolic nature of the septum ring is an obvious example of that. And you’ve spoken of your aversion to the kinds of heavy restraints she’s now required to wear. But what do you think she needs right now? Not in some idealized fantasy world on Lake Como, but in this world, in all its brutal and unforgiving glory?”

Robert didn’t answer right away. He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, slumped in his chair, clasped his hands together, and rested his elbows on his knees. “Well, okay. This is how I see it. Carolyn is complicated.”

Lynn feigned surprise. “Really, Robert? Your young, rich, well educated, and extremely privileged fiancee is complicated?”

He glanced up at her and seeing her broad smile, grinned in return. “Well, I guess it’s safe to say everyone’s complicated, especially the members of the feminine sex. Probably even more complicated than most men from what I can tell.”

“Please don’t quote me on this, but I honestly believe you’re right.”

“I promise, I won’t. After all, a bridled and silenced surgeon convicted of the grave offense of ‘wrongthink’ wouldn’t be much help to Carrie and me.”

She laughed and nodded. “Quite right. Please continue.”

“But anyway, here’s my opinion. Carrie really is complicated. First of all, even though she finds it useful to hide it from most people, she’s got a good head on her shoulders. She can be exciting to watch when she works on ways to skirt the female control rules and restrictions she finds irritating and stupid, and I enjoy watching her when she jumps at the chance to play around in the creative arena, even though I don’t get half of what she’s interested in.

“But Carrie’s got this darker side too. At heart, she’s a progressive idealist. A dreamer like her mother. She can get really sullen and moody about a world she sees in terms of black and white with no room for any of the complicated gray bits in between. And she can get really self-absorbed and demanding of other people’s approval when things don’t go her way. Doctor Wright, this trauma therapist who worked with her for awhile said that her personal growth regressed a lot after she was arrested and incarcerated for a couple of years at a labor camp when she was in her early twenties.”

He paused again as he searched for what to say next. “Carrie often retreats into a romantic world, which is may be something people have to do when they’re trying to recover from trauma and trying to rebuild their lives,” he finally said, his voice soft, almost a whisper. And I love her quirky, sometimes over the top approach to life, but I also know that if I don’t do something now to rein her in, her freewheeling heart will probably destroy her and, I’m guessing, me as well.”

Robert straightened up and took note of the vast chasm between Lynn’s prim, restrained, immaculate bearing and Carolyn’s messy approach to life and said, “So there it is. If I’m honest with myself, I have to admit that Carrie needs a quite a bit more oversight, guidance, and control than what I’ve been able to provide for her so far.”

She leaned forward and gently touched his arm until he looked up at her gentle smile. “If I were a psychologist I would say that you’ve just taken an important step in your relationship with Carolyn. What you’re talking about is assuming responsibility for Carolyn’s protection and well being, rather than simply taking control and running her life without any regard for her feelings and needs. These days, in this world that so often seems to reward bullies, not many men are willing to take a stand like that, and I admire you for doing so.”

His grimace belied any notion that he was happy with his sudden boost in personal growth, and the inevitable responsibilities that would surely arise from it. But it also suggested that Robert acknowledged the possibility her observation not only had merit, but reflected some of the thoughts that had been churning in the back of his mind for some time. Lynn on the other hand was simply delighted to take Robert’s grudging acceptance as a personal win, and felt eager to move forward.

“Let’s talk about the procedure itself. But before we do, I’m obligated to call your attention to a breakdown of our services and prices,” she said as she handed him an elegantly produced tri-fold brochure.

“Now here’s the sales pitch. As you can see, from our obsessive attention to detail to the fine quality of the materials and products we employ, everything is designed to meet the exacting demands and expectations of each and every one of our premium clients.

“Let’s take Carolyn’s septum ring as an example. What we do here isn’t as simple as incising a hole, cauterizing the wound, and installing a grommet, although you can easily find plenty of services and practitioners who are perfectly happy to do it that way.

“In simple terms, the procedure we employ here at the Harrell Clinic involves inserting several strands of a special surgical grade carbon fiber just behind her columella and up through her septum cartilage. We then fix the strands to stable locations in and around her nasal bone. The result is a strengthened septum that provides a strong and reliable platform for the titanium alloy grommet to seat.

“Please be aware that this procedure will require a minimum six to eight weeks of healing time before the device will be available for unrestricted use as a control instrument or mooring ring. Speaking of which, the Harrell Clinic offers an impressive catalog of very high quality rings that range from a wide selection of beautifully ornate, jewelry grade options to an extensive selection of discipline and training models similar in function to the one Melissa is currently wearing. Is the degree of time and expense acceptable to you?”

Robert smiled and shrugged. “The time? Of course. And the question of expense is absolutely not an issue. I just want it done right.”

“Wonderful. And now, you suggested an interest in exploring our implant offerings?”

“Well, as I said earlier, the literature about micro-implants is quite interesting, especially the section about how implants can replace many mechanical restraint devices such as straitjackets, armbinders and even shackles. But what really caught my attention was the curb portion of that system.  I saw something like it in use at a business I frequent and the whole idea of a curb that isn’t some form of messy, conventional gag appears to be exciting a lot of the clients. Would you happen to have a sample of an implant I could look at and explain to me how the implants work in terms I can understand?”

“Of course,” she replied. A gentle brush of her fingertips opened a recessed panel door in the wall next to her and she took out a white box about the size of a deck of cards. After tapping the door closed she set the box on the coffee table, opened the lid, and carefully picked up a small glass vial that contained what looked like a slightly flattened white pearl just a bit larger than a mustard seed. “They look so simple and insignificant don’t they?” she said as she held the vial so Robert could get a better look at the tiny object.

“As for explaining how they work, I find that most of my clients find the literature a bit daunting and uninviting. Terms like Neurosymbolic Programs and Analog Neuromorphic AI are ridiculously unhelpful, even though the material is factually accurate.” She carefully placed the vial in the palm of Robert’s hand and continued, “You’re holding a vial containing a single primary micro unit. The main functions of the primary units are to route information to and from the nervous system while concurrently managing and directing the much smaller auxiliary units, or ‘slaves’, which do most of the actual work of controlling the body.

She then showed him another small glass vial. “It may be hard to tell with the naked eye, but this slave unit is about half the size of a primary. Each primary can run up to sixty-four slaves. From a surgeon’s perspective one of the trickier things about these devices is that once implanted they are incredibly sticky. In other words, they tend to stay exactly where the surgeon places them, so it is critical to position each unit exactly where it needs to be. That’s why those tests and scans we perform prior to surgery are so extensive and important.”

“Thanks,” he said as he handed back the vial. “I’m definitely interested, but I’m not sure about having her whole body done. To me it seems excessive, and I’m not particularly interested in exerting that degree of control over Carrie. Providing Carrie with a way to ditch her reformatory gag is one thing, but the rest of it seems a bit much.”

The doctor nodded and tapped in something on her tablet. “We can of course just do the curb implants if that’s all you want. But before you make your final decision, please allow me to offer you another perspective on why I believe installing the whole suite can be a really good idea and will benefit Carolyn greatly.”

She tapped open the panel door again, replaced the small white box, and pulled out a stiff card the size of a piece of printer paper and handed it to Robert. “In this blister pack is one entire standard suite of implantable micro-controllers. The Chinese army started developing these little jewels as part of what we in the west informally and, from the Chinese perspective, incorrectly call their super-soldier research project. Till now the implants haven’t produced the results the military services have hoped for, but early on the Chinese did find that the implants worked extremely well in discouraging and correcting certain undesirable behaviors in their prison inmate test subjects. In fact the implants worked so well that the need for shackles and other traditional restraint and control appliances in Chinese prisons and work camps has been dramatically reduced. As their research progressed, Chinese researchers learned more, expanded and fine-tuned the implant’s capabilities, and eventually developed a product suitable for export. This export product is what we in the west generically call the implant suite.”

The doctor waited for some kind of response, perhaps a question, but Robert simply waited for her to continue. “All right,” she said. “Now what’s an implant suite? I’ll answer by first asking you to do something for me. Please point to a processor in this card.”

“Sure,” Robert replied and pointed to a primary unit.

The doctor smiled and shook her head. “Actually, it was a trick question. Each and every primary and slave unit in this bubble pack serves as a constituent part of a single processor. They work together a little bit like honey bees in a healthy hive. Every unit sees itself as an element of the larger suite. That feature plays a significant role in where they get their processing power, by working together. But that’s just the start. The suite is designed to connect and pair with the body’s nervous system, which is also where and how they draw their energy, and through which they communicate with each other. The suite also integrates with the nervous system by connecting to other elements in the body, such as the brain, the spinal cord, and the sense organs. And finally the suite connects to each of the patient’s mechanical control devices, such as distance monitoring sensors, voice control sensors, the control collar, the chastity belt, and of course, the patient’s wireless controller.”

Lynn sensed that Robert might be losing the point she was trying to make and decided to try a different approach. “Let’s use an obvious example. Beginning with the introduction of the model three chastity belt several years ago, chastity belts began to utilize a lot of electronics such as sensors, processors, and integrated software, both built in the belt and implanted in and around the vulva. Most of these embedded devices are designed to prevent the patient from fiddling with herself, or tampering with the proper functioning of the belt. When a suite is installed in a patient it automatically connects to, and integrates all of the belt’s defense and monitoring systems into the suite’s system. Should the patient be silly enough to, let’s say, fiddle about under the faceplate of her belt, the suite’s AI system will immediately engage not only with her chastity belt, but with all the other restraint and control devices she’s wearing. It will then evaluate the character and nature of the violation, develop a solution, then mete out the proper response, or punishment, for the offense. Remarkably, the system is so efficient that, from detection to the onset of punishment, the entire process will have taken less than two seconds.”

Robert shook his head in wonder. “Wow,” was all he could think to say.

“Would it surprise you to learn that I have an entire suite implanted in me?”

He studied her trim well toned body searching in vain for any sign of cyborg-like technology and nodded. “Yeah, it would.”

“Well I have. They’ve been resting quietly in me for almost five years. I was one of the early western test subjects for the export product line, and as you can see there’s nothing to see. The entire suite is implanted with a computer guided robotic hypodermic system, so there’s no more scarring than you would get from an ordinary blood draw or inoculation jab. And because my suite isn’t ‘active’ it doesn’t limit me at all. I couldn’t be an effective surgeon if it did.”

She could tell Robert was carefully noting everything she said, but he still seemed unconvinced. She hiked her skirt up as far as her garment’s built in restraints allowed and displayed her well toned calves. “Look, I had a number of primaries implanted to control my legs. Many of them are in my buttocks, thighs and calves and also in and around the base of my spine, with many slaves running off each primary. When the suite was active an operator could, with a simple voice or menu command, have me approach him and curtsy. When one particular operator was finished tasking me, one of his favorite things to do, among the many options he had available to him, was to shut down my ability to speak for the rest of the day then command me to high step out the room like a fully harnessed pony girl prancing towards her cart.

“Once, when this same operator was in a really prickly mood, he directed me to switch from wearing my usual six centimeter heels to wearing a certain pair of fifteen centimeter black stilettos for the next three weeks. Needless to say I learned to master that particular set of fetish heels flawlessly.

“Those commands, as well as many others, were used on me by researchers while I was a part of the research project, and it should be added, for a few minutes by my husband. Apparently, Stan wanted to be sure the implants were actually in me and that they worked as promised. But as the project wrapped up my implants were shut down. And now, most of the time I forget that they’re even in me,” she said as she lowered her skirt back down to a more respectable and modest level.

“But if the suite is ever needed it’s available. The suite’s irreversible presence helps satisfy the authorities that I am well under control, and it’s available for my husband should he ever choose to use the suite system. In Carolyn’s case, if you, as her guardian, would rather not use it, I see no reason to even tell her about the suite. But given Carolyn’s turbulent history, bestowing this suite in her, even if she never learns she has it, may be one of the most loving gifts you could ever give her. It may even save her life someday.

“So, my suggestion to you is to think about having the entire suite installed while she’s in for her septum procedure. This way the procedure won’t cause Carolyn additional psychological stress, and the injection sites can heal unnoticed while she’s recovering from the more invasive septum procedure. Does that make sense to you?”

Robert sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I hate like hell to admit it but it does. Carrie’s father told me not long ago that if I was serious about protecting Carrie from the most recent changes in the law, I would need to provide her with whatever extra layers of protection I could find. I didn’t know at the time what he meant, but this seems to be something that fits the bill. And too, Carrie made me promise that I would do whatever was needed to keep her in full compliance with the authorities. This seems to help meet that promise as well.”

Robert paused and thought for a moment before continuing, “It’s just occurred to me that this implant procedure is a bit like getting a vaccination. She may never need it, but why take the risk of not having it? So okay, as much as I hate to say it, let’s do the whole package.”

“Excellent, I’ll draw up the paperwork and schedule the lab techs to run the tests and scans just prior to the surgery. It will mean about two hours of lab time and about an hour and a half in surgery, so if we start at eight o’clock we should be done around noon. Carolyn will also need to be on a water only fast beginning the night before the procedure. Is that all right?”

Robert nodded.

“Excellent. Then, I’ll walk out with you to the business office and set up the appointment. We have an opening Friday morning. Will that be all right? Will two days be enough time on your end?”

            Chapter 9 “Dinner at Tom’s”

Obeisance: Chapter 7

Obeisance

by J T and Nye

Chapter 6

 Chapter 7

Training Day

It was not quite dawn when Abby shut off the alarm. Sighing heavily, she crawled out of bed as she braced herself to take on Carolyn’s first training session. Mindful of her new owner’s concern over Carolyn’s lack of preparation for her trip to the Harrell Clinic, she hurried to the bathroom, and said a silent prayer of thanks that her new owner graciously unlocked the valves as she fixed the evacuation hoses to her chastity belt. As the machine did its work, Abby pulled her hair into a ponytail and secured it with one of Carolyn’s old hair ties she found discarded behind a half filled trash bin. After disconnecting the evacuation hoses she turned to face the mirror and studied herself.

Pale, emaciated, blemished with the marks of her last whipping still evident on her back and thighs, and nearing thirty, she had to admit she wasn’t much of a prize. What’s worse, she was in desperate need of her owner’s permission to take a hot shower followed with a long hot soak in the tub to try and clean out the sticky bits of grit and filth that crept in under her belt while she was mucking out the stables in preparation for the polo semi-finals at The Retreat.

Setting all that aside, she couldn’t help but wonder why her new owner believed she was the right girl to prepare and train this spoiled and entitled heiress he had assigned into her care. While Abby didn’t have anything against him, he didn’t seem to be a particularly bright, practical, or sensible enough person to make such a decision. If there was anything remotely positive to say about him at all, it was that he seemed to be a fairly affable guy who just had the good fortune to be born into a family with too much money. And now, for some reason she was still struggling to understand, it seemed that he ended up caring for a rich, spoiled, and somewhat troubled heiress, and now he was overwhelmed. But if things got tough, if her charge fought back, would he actually allow her to do what was necessary to fulfill the tasks he had assigned to her? For the moment there was no way to really know the answer to that question. In the meantime however, she had a nagging feeling it was going to be a very long and tough day.

By the time Robert poured his first cup of coffee, Carolyn had been in training for over an hour, laboring to master the keyed commands Abby issued through Carolyn’s universal controller. The controller was a fierce device which, when applied skillfully, could render the most obstinate ward or rebellious inmate fully tractable in less than an hour. In Carolyn’s case, due to her earnest desire to learn and obey, it took less than five minutes for Abby to have the girl reasonably responsive to her commands.

At Robert’s request, Abby voiced her commands as she keyed the pulse commands through the controller. “Turn right,” she ordered.

Abby glanced at her owner as he perched on the back of the couch, sipped his coffee, and watched Carolyn execute a half turn and curtsy crisply and without hesitation. After her owner smiled and gave a brief nod of approval, she picked up the pace and ordered her charge to rise, back up, sit, kneel, and finally, stand at attention in quick succession.

As he watched Carolyn struggle to perform while blinded, deafened and gagged in her formidable penitentiary hood, tightly bound in her strict reformatory straitjacket, and shackled with the same narrow set of hobbles Abby wore when she first arrived at the apartment, it seemed to Robert that many of the commands were unreasonable, as they appeared to be impossible to fully and properly execute. However, Abby explained, that was exactly the point. Even when precise obedience was physically difficult, it was important for Carolyn to know, with perfect clarity, that full compliance was not only expected of her, but that it was necessary for her to continue her struggle to carry out any order, no matter how onerous, until the command was either rescinded or countermanded by a new order.

“Sir, from what I’ve been able to gather, Carolyn’s greatest obstacles in achieving the kind of unconditional compliance and absolute obedience expected of every properly trained level one girl, is her stubborn willfulness and her belief in those things she holds to be true and dear.

“In order to survive the kind of official scrutiny her father warned you to expect and prepare for, your ward must mentally and physically accept the fact that she is not permitted to form, hold, or express an opinion, nor can she examine, evaluate or disregard any order given by her legal guardian or designated authority,” Abby explained as they watched Carolyn kneel, then when ordered to do so, struggle to her feet.

“How do you think she is doing Sir?” she asked, anxious that her owner might not be fully satisfied with her efforts.

Though Robert was shaken and somewhat appalled by the arduous, though necessary training Carolyn was undergoing, it didn’t diminish his appreciation of Abby’s hard work. He placed his empty coffee cup on the end table, walked over to Carolyn’s new drill instructor, and gave her a warm hug and gently kissed the top of her head. “You’re doing a wonderful job,” he replied.

To suggest that Abby was stunned and thrilled by her new owner’s physical and verbal expression of approval, such an assumption would fail to adequately portray the full impact this trivial bit of praise had upon her. Beginning with her first arrest, and her subsequent demotion to less than the status of a shabby footstool, experience taught her that any hint of official affirmation, encouragement, or commendation was vigorously frowned upon and routinely crushed. Absolute, unquestioned obedience to every command, no matter how capricious, was the only correct response demanded from any immurated chattel, according to every reformatory authority she had ever served, suffered and labored under. In fact, Abby couldn’t recall a time when she ever felt the warmth of a compliment of any kind since that horrible morning ten years before when she was suddenly and brutally arrested, and her life fell apart.

But bolstered by Robert’s gentle kindness and praise, a glimmer of hope began to scrape against the hardened shell she had built, layer by layer, over many years out of despair, depression, and suppressed anger. It began to dawn on Abby that this new place, and this new owner, just might offer her a unique opportunity to move up the ladder to a slightly better level of hell. If her new home even came close to what she had been praying and hoping for, she promised herself that she would redouble her efforts and prove to her owner that she was clearly the perfect and indispensable slave he needed. She would relentlessly condition and train Carolyn into the perfectly drilled, perfectly compliant and perfectly submissive immurated fiancée and future wife he commanded her to create.

But there was a question, a dilemma, that troubled her. How should she properly respond to her new owner’s generous gesture of praise and extraordinary benevolence? Should she fall to the floor and kiss his feet? That was the obligatory response at the reformatory when her flogging was reduced from fifty to forty lashes, or when her time in the pillory after a horsewhipping was reduced by an hour.

However, what if the whispers she heard in the darkest corridors of the reformatory were true? Could it actually be true that in a private home, while serving under the boot of a private owner, a more intimate response such as an oral caress, or an act of sexual or anal penetration, was expected? Her new owner did own her key and her controller after all. And her old overseer, Miss Martin, did tell him, while she was standing next to them, that the title he held certified that he had full rights to every part of her, and that he could do anything he pleased to her.

And yet her new owner’s comportment offered no suggestion that he expected anything of the sort. It was all very confusing. Finally she decided to risk a beating and acknowledged his praise with a simple, “Thank you Sir,” then held her breath and waited for fire to rain down upon her.

“You’re quite welcome,” he casually responded as he gently squeezed her shoulder. “Oh, and as soon as you reach a good stopping point, there are a few things I need to go over with you. In the meantime, I’ll be in my office.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Abby curtsied with a perfectly executed ‘Yes Sir,’ and quickly ordered Carolyn into some heel locks near the kitchen door. After confirming Carolyn’s boots were well secured with a couple of strategically placed kicks, she checked her charge’s straitjacket for any signs of play that may have resulted from the strain and exertion of the early morning drills. Just to be certain everything was up to snuff, she tightened Carolyn’s crotch strap one more notch, ensuring that everything exceeded reformatory standards, then briefly plugged her charge’s breathing tubes with her fingertips to stifle an unauthorized groan as Carolyn’s belt shifted out of alignment and punished her. Satisfied her charge was well parked, Abby took a moment in front of the hall mirror to check herself. Though her hair and uniform were as neat as she could make them with what she had available to her, she despaired over her sallow complexion, the product of having been confined in damp, dark cell blocks for most of the last few years, and subsisting on a poor diet for too long. Lacking the benefit of makeup, she pinched and rubbed her cheeks in an unsuccessful attempt to gain some color before surrendering to the realities of her general appearance and hurried to Robert’s office.

                                                                        * * *

Glancing up from the task of sifting through a handful of envelopes, Robert studied the tall thin girl waiting silently in the office doorway. She stood at attention, her arms properly behind her back, palms out, and in accordance with strict reformatory protocol, eyes cast downward. “I see you’re well trained,” he observed. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that you would know anything about finance as well,” he groused as he tossed the bills and financial statements in the ‘to do” tray and threw the junk mail in the trash.

With a soft grunt he motioned her in, pointed to a guest chair in front of his desk, and waited patiently as she carefully approached the chair and, after a fleeting moment’s hesitation, carefully sat down. “Abby, I have a dinner engagement at Tom Stewart’s home this evening,” he said. “Since Carrie’s quite obviously out of the picture, and I have no desire to go alone, I’m assigning you to be my dinner companion tonight.”

“Now since the only clothing you have is that ridiculous and rather dingy Retreat uniform, I guess we need to try and find you a reasonably appropriate outfit for you to wear tonight. I don’t have a firm start time for the dinner yet, but I imagine it will begin around eight, so we need to find you something now.”

Stunned by his command that she accompany him as his dinner companion at the private home of her former owner, Abby did her best to control her jitters as she replied, “Yes Sir, of course. I am honored.”

“Good. So stand up and let’s go find you an outfit,” he said as he took her hand and walked her to Carolyn’s dressing suite. “I doubt most of Carolyn’s clothes will fit you. You’re almost as tall as me and even in her ballet heels she barely reaches my chin. Also, her waist is smaller than yours, probably due to her years of working out, strict dieting, and rigorous tight lacing, and she’s also a little bit larger in the bust area.”

Robert backed up a couple of paces and studied her closely. “Turn around for me slowly,” he commanded as he studied her frame. “I’d say you’re built a lot like a ballerina I dated a few years ago while I was bumming around Europe. She was tall and skinny, just like you. Mostly arms and legs, with a small bust, narrow hips, and very fit. Or in your case, maybe not so fit, just undernourished.

“So I’m thinking some of Carrie’s late mother’s old clothes might do. She would have been a half head shorter than you but everything else looks about the same. For some reason Carrie kept a number of the couture dresses her late mother picked up during her travels, and a few others from the modeling jobs she did either as a lark or as a favor to her designer friends. Carrie keeps them in this walk-in closet over here. These drawers are Carrie’s as well, though I hesitate to guess what’s in them. Most likely her unmentionables and stuff. Look through everything, and if you can work past her mother’s occasional lapse towards the wildly inappropriate colors and patterns that were all the rage when her mother was a bit younger than you are now. Maybe you can find something you can work with,” he explained as he worked his way through the closet and showed her an especially egregious example of pre-plot couture barbarism.

“Anyway, like I said, see if you can find something suitable for the dinner tonight. And while you’re at it, try and find something severe and conservative to wear for our visit to the Harrell Clinic. And don’t forget about shoes. In the closet over here you’ll find lots and lots of shoes and boots. From the looks of things most of them are high heels or ballet boots, and many, but not all of them, lock. To meet current regulations, you’ll need to pick shoes that lock, so be sure you have the key to whatever you find to wear. Hopefully you can find something that fits well enough for now.”

Abby curtsied. “Yes Sir, I obey. Sir, how would you like me to wear my hair?”

Robert suppressed the temptation to say that he really didn’t care, and it was entirely up to her how she chose to style her hair. However, Abby was meticulously conditioned to expect and require specific instructions before acting. To act any other way would be considered a brazen act of willfulness, or worse, an unpardonable sin. So, if he were to order her to make a judgment call without firm guidance and circumscribed boundaries, he risked leaving her feeling abandoned, unsure, perhaps even panic-stricken. He couldn’t take the chance of injuring her like that.

“Well, let’s see. Let’s begin at the beginning,” he replied. “As I’ve already noted, you’re blessed with a tall slender body. Your skin is quite pale. You have light blue eyes and slightly longer than shoulder length, naturally straight, very light blonde hair.” He paused and studied her as he walked around her a couple of times. “Hold your hair up. Yeah, with your long slender neck your hair needs to be up. And, as a bonus, wearing your hair up will help to show off your nicely shaped, but fairly grungy, control collar as well.

“Okay, here are your orders. During day-to-day life in and around the apartment wear your hair in a neat bun. If, after I’ve lived with it for a while, I decide I don’t like how it looks, I’ll tell you and we’ll come up with something else.

“Now, when we go out in public for ordinary, everyday stuff; doing things like going to the doctor, shopping, dining at everyday restaurants, visiting friends and such, you’ll need something a bit nicer but nothing really formal. On those occasions I want you to wear your hair in a French twist, but not one of those messy ones you sometimes see sloppy waitresses wearing at cut-rate diners. You’ll be in my company, so it needs to be neat and professional. As a matter of fact, because your appearance reflects on me, everything about your presentation and conduct must be clean, neat and professional at all times. Now, if we’re going to an elegant event, say to the theater, to a formal dinner, or to a club of some sort, you’ll wear your hair up in a more elegant style. Just exactly what that means, I really can’t say right now, but we’ll address that issue later when the occasion arises. Who knows, maybe by then Carrie will be available to help us with some ideas of her own.”

He paused and studied her a bit more before adding, more or less in jest, “But then again, considering Carrie’s jealous nature, she may just decide to shave your head instead. Questions?”

“Yes Sir. Do you want me to wear makeup?”

“Ah, makeup. Sure. Use Carolyn’s. You need it more than she does. As a matter of fact, feel free to use anything on, in, or near Carolyn’s dressing table that you feel you need to make yourself presentable. But try to be subtle with the makeup. We don’t want you to look like a vulgar painted lady after all.”

He paused, and tried to think of anything he might have missed. “Oh yes, the bathroom. You have full use of her bathroom. As I believe you’re already aware, I unlocked your evacuation valves yesterday so that you can personally take care of that sort of business whenever you need to. Also, there are new toothbrushes and other toiletries, as well as towels, luffas, and other such necessities in the bathroom cabinets. Use them.

The intensity with which she listened to every word he spoke, and the military precision of her curtsy when he finished speaking, was something Robert found to be reassuring and comforting; and yet, in a peculiar way, a bit disconcerting as well. However unlikely it might be, her intense focus seemed to suggest that she had a particular agenda in mind that went beyond simple obedience. But as to what that agenda could possibly be, he couldn’t imagine.

“Well, in addition to getting ready for this evening, keep working with Carrie,” he added. “I have an appointment at the Harrell clinic this afternoon, but I should be back in plenty of time to get ready for our dinner at Tom’s. Now have I missed anything?”

“Yes Sir. I noticed that all of the dresses and skirts I’ve seen so far have very small waists, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to fit in a few of them if I can find the right kind of corset. Do you want me to begin daily tightlacing in the same manner Miss Carolyn’s been corseting Sir?”

Robert was about to tell her no, that it wouldn’t be necessary. But, if Abby were to become a part of his household for any period of time she would need to fit in. Besides, if the two trained together, it might blunt Carrie’s jealous inclinations and help them to bond. Or, at the very least, it might encourage a little friendly competition. Stranger things have happened.

Besides, he noted, he just ordered Abby to always present herself in a neat and professional manner. What could be more elegant and professional than a trim, well corseted female waist? Not only should she properly tight-lace, but she would soon need an appropriate and properly tailored wardrobe of her own as well.

“Yeah, do that, Abby,” he finally replied. “If you’re going to remain here, serving me and caring for Carrie, it’s important that you present yourself, and serve us, as a properly attired and full member of my household. If, after you’ve cleaned up and found something to wear for tonight, if you can find a corset that fits well enough for now, begin your waist training this afternoon.

He paused, then cradled her chin with his hand, and smiled. “Tell you what,” he said, “when I have time, perhaps even next week, I’ll take you shopping for your own wardrobe, including, of course, all the shoes, unmentionables, and everything else you’ll need to go with your new clothes.” Unless I miss my guess, that should be a new and interesting experience for both of us.”

            Chapter 8 “Hopes and Plans”

Obeisance: Chapter 6

Obeisance

by J T and Nye

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

A Trip to The 3^rd Avenue Retreat and Polo Club

As soon as Robert entered his apartment the ghastly feelings of distress, helplessness, and indignation began again to well up within him. As he approached the door to Carolyn’s utility room, he paused, took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then crept in. Apart from a yellow boxed message on the computer screen requesting an elevation of her correction levels, everything appeared unchanged. Robert tapped the ‘accept’ button then headed to the kitchen to prepare Carolyn’s next liquid meal.

Before pulling the blender jar from the drying rack he checked the kitchen phone and found two new messages. The first message was from Colin O’Leary, telling him that complications would most likely make it necessary for him to take an extended stay in Haldenford. Robert had to smile at that. It was typical Colin. Gruff and to the point. The man certainly had a knack for brevity.

The second message was from her father. The message was curt, cryptic, yet somehow still to the point. It was too soon to know what happened to Bridget’s family, he said. But the problem seemed larger than the disappearance of just one family. He also stressed how much he sincerely hoped Robert was holding firm to his promise to maintain an active and very firm hand over his daughter’s situation, and her conduct, because he had it on good authority that the affairs of a number of prominent families, including the Morris and Fletcher families, were about to face great deal more official scrutiny and harassment.

Neither message contained contact information, which meant that neither of the men expected a return call. Not sure what to do with the information, Robert turned his attention to the more pressing matter of feeding his fiancee.

As the blender churned the green liquid his gut roiled with guilt and anxiety. Guilt for playing a role in Carolyn’s confinement and anxiety over the awful role he promised to play in the future. He took a deep breath and again reminded himself to stay strong for Carolyn. But remaining strong did nothing to belie the fact that he desperately missed her and longed for her reassurance that she actually did approve of the things he was doing for and to her.

He missed their eating together as they squabbled over silly questions such as whether pizza from Gino’s met their fairly lax definition of fine cuisine, (yes, but only with the right toppings). He also missed the thrilling times they enjoyed after they locked the door, pulled the drapes, and took turns secretly reading aloud passages from the forbidden and banned books Carolyn swiped from her father’s library while feasting on Gino’s pizza and tumblers of Chianti wine.

And how could he ever forget the hours they wasted scarfing down buttered popcorn while drinking White Russians and savagely critiquing the latest crop of video farces, often depicting duplicitous servants and handsome locksmiths conspiring to liberate unhappily locked-up virgins. Or when they would brutally appraise the latest version of the romance story involving enraptured young lovers’ puckish attempts to purloin the beautiful young maiden’s chastity belt key, and never quite managing to find a way to consummate things as they were foiled in their efforts to elope to some faraway land and live happily ever after. But in the end, in every story, all the schemers, villains and rebellious girls were foiled, captured, or rescued, and made to pay for their crimes by the ever vigilant and always virtuous moral defenders of rectitude, purity, chastity, and family values – the brave and stalwart law enforcement officers of the Bureau of Female Affairs.

On a more personal note, he especially missed holding her, breathing in the faint traces of her perfume as they commiserated over their mutual frustrations while gradually drifting off to sleep.

Yes, he bitterly conceded, as he funneled the watery glop into the feeding bottle, he did agree to honor her request that the primary key to her chastity belt would only be made available to him on their wedding night. But with all the dark turns that had happened since he made that pledge to her, he was beginning to question the wisdom of sticking to that promise. After all, when he was finally awarded full legal guardianship over her, he also acquired full legal rights to both her master and fiancee keys as well as every bit of the territory they protected.

So, was indulging her silly fantasy of a fake virginal wedding worth all the nonsense? Was it worth all the aggravation and the damage that her plans and dreams were doing to their relationship?

Then he sighed and thought of how much he enjoyed Carolyn’s romantic quirks. There was her assertion that since the two of them had never had the opportunity to enjoy sexual intercourse together, they actually were virgins, at least to each other, so a white wedding gown was absolutely appropriate.  And then there was her very specific and extremely peculiar wedding details, including the reverse prayer binding and the septum wedding ring, things she had been dreaming of for the last ten years. In the end he had to concede that, if only to make her dreams come true, it was worth it.

Food bottle in hand he returned to Carolyn’s utility room. After lightly touching her shoulder to announce his presence, she lurched into a kind of furious struggle against her restraints. He placed his hand on her chest and gently pressed down, hoping the pressure would calm her. But it only seemed to rile her even more.

He felt certain that if he tried to feed her in her agitated state she would likely choke, so short of releasing her which, at least for now, seemed out of the question, he could only see two options. He could either walk away and prolong her fast, or he could follow Bridget’s written advice and calm her down with the blunt instrument of correction. It had been almost twenty-four hours since she had last been fed, and he had only watered her once since her feeding. He felt it would be wise to at least get fluids into her, and since the bottle of reformatory food was mostly water, it seemed the best course of action was to feed her the green stuff.

He switched on her controller and, after reviewing a page from Bridget’s notes, boosted the correction level and fired off a series of three second bursts. Soon her struggling stopped. He positioned her feeding tube and snapped on the food bottle. This time she refrained from blowing air bubbles into the bottle and gulped down her food until the bottle was empty. Relieved that she had taken it all without further fuss, and somehow managed not to choke while feeding, he switched off the correction routine, disconnected the food bottle, darkened the room, and returned the empty to the kitchen.

Robert paced nervously around the apartment. He couldn’t stay in. The apartment just felt too closed, stale, and depressing. He thought about taking in an afternoon jog around the neighborhood, but a run just didn’t feel right. He finally decided the best course of action would be to go to The 3^rd Avenue Retreat, perhaps engage a trainer, and spar a few rounds. He grabbed his coat.

                                                                        * * *

When Robert walked into the packed entrance of The 3^rd Avenue Retreat and Polo Club he was surprised to find that he didn’t recognize a single person there. The place was packed with the kind of fresh young faces that made him wonder if perhaps The Retreat might have somehow become the locus of some fad, or new novelty event, rather than the familiar and friendly neighborhood joint he happened to enjoy from time to time. After being tussled about for a bit by the raucous crowd, a tall perky blonde, in her late twenties and dressed in the snug, tightlaced and hobbled blue uniform of The Retreat, approached him.

“Excuse me Sir, do you have your membership card?” she asked.

“Membership card? No. Until now, I’ve always just walked in.”

“I’m sorry Sir, but we’re not allowing anyone in who’s not a member. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“Well, I just came by to see a close friend who works here. Is Tom Stewart available by any chance?”

“You mean the owner, Mister Stewart?”

“Yes, that’s right. He’s a good friend of mine.”

The girl tensed as she glanced about, but didn’t find what she was looking for. “I’m sorry Sir, but I’m afraid you’ll need to speak to my supervisor. Please wait here while I get her.”

A few minutes later the girl returned with a woman in her early thirties, of average height with thick, chestnut brown hair meticulously pinned up under a brimless, blue pillbox cap with gold trim that matched her tightly corseted, form fitting, navy blue Retreat uniform dress perfectly. As she approached Robert she held out her hand and gave him a warm, firm handshake. “Good afternoon, my name is Sara Martin. I’m the senior supervisor here at The 3^rd Avenue Retreat and Polo Club. I understand you’re looking for Mister Stewart?”

“Yes I am, Miss Martin. Tom’s an old friend. I was hoping to see him this afternoon.”

“Yes Sir. Unfortunately Mister Stewart isn’t available. Perhaps I could give him a message and a way to contact you?”

Robert was about to say forget it and walk out, but he was really hoping to see his friend. “Yes, thank you. That would be fine. My name is Robert Morris…” He paused and began searching his pockets for his card with his contact information on it. He never bothered to memorize his telephone number because he didn’t see the point. He never called himself.

“Excuse me Sir, you said your name is Robert Morris?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

She paused and took a moment to study his face. “Say, you’re the amateur boxer in that photo on his office wall, aren’t you? Mister Steward made a point of pointing your photo out to me. He said you’re his silent partner.”

“Yeah. Do you know when he might be available? I could come back later if that would be more convenient.”

At that point Sara Martin turned to the slightly younger uniformed girl and said, “Pay attention Abby, this gentleman’s name is Mister Robert Morris. If you have any regard for that permanently collared neck of yours, next to Mister Stewart, this man is your lord and master. Are we clear on that?”

“Yes Miss Martin,” Abby replied as she curtsied. She then turned to directly face Robert and again curtsied. “Please forgive me Mister Morris. I was ignorant and unaware. I’m at your service for as long as you require me.”

Not quite sure how to respond to what had just transpired, he simply replied, “Thank you Miss Abby,” before returning to Sara Martin and again asked if she had any idea when Tom might be available.

“I’m sorry Sir, I’ve just radioed your query and expect a reply very soon. Perhaps you’d like to follow me and wait in the VIP lounge.”

“Thank you, I’d appreciate that. Tell me, how’s it possible for you and your female staff to speak in this crowded madhouse? I would think the authorities would be all over this like an angry pit bull tearing into a feisty kitten.”

“Yes Sir,” Sara Martin replied as she hobble-walked Robert to the VIP lounge with Abby in tow. “We’re testing out a new AI system that wirelessly controls our implanted curbs based on the needs of our clients. Under this new system we’re permitted to speak to males if the situation falls within both the management guidelines and the AI software perimeters. Of course we’re never permitted to speak to another female unless, as in the case of Abby and myself, a supervisor-subordinate situation is present and verbal instructions are deemed essential. And, of course everything we say is monitored, recorded, and graded for errors.”

“Under this new system, what happens when a girl blunders and misspeaks?”

Sara Martin paused her walking, turned to Robert, lightly fingered her control collar, and spoke quietly.  “Sir, I would be delighted to have the opportunity to try and answer all your questions regarding management and policy procedures, but in deference to the female congregation laws and regulations, I ask that you to permit me to delay any further conversation until we’re inside the VIP room. It’s just a few more steps from here.”

The VIP room was just about what he expected. Before the expansion and conversion the space served as a free weights and workout room. Now it sported several comfortable seating areas, a beverage bar, a number of muted large flat panel screens tuned to various sports channels, a private men’s restroom and most importantly to Robert, relative quiet. Except for the staff and himself, the room appeared empty.

“Well, it seems that The Retreat doesn’t attract many VIP’s,” Robert joked as his new personal attendant curtsied and waited for instruction.

“No Sir,” Sara Martin replied, “Though we do encounter a number of customers who believe themselves to be VIP’s, most applicants requesting VIP access are denied. Mister Stewart believes that the more strategically selective he is, the more attention and business he will get. I’m delighted to report, the strategy seems to be working quite well. Also, one of the reasons for the unusually large crowd on the main floor and grounds today is because this week we’re hosting the polo finals.”

“I assume you mean the regional semi-finals.”

“Yes Sir. Thank you for correcting me. Oh, excuse me Sir, I’ve just been informed Mister Stewart has arrived at the facility. He’ll see you shortly. With your permission I’ll go and greet him and tell him where you are.”

“Thank you Miss Martin, that’ll be fine.”

As she hurried off as quickly as her hobbled condition allowed, Robert turned to his solicitous attendant and said, “Abby, please get me a beer.”

“Of course Sir. What kind would you like? Or if you prefer, I can provide you with a menu.”

“Any local lager on tap will be fine.”

As Abby curtsied and hurried off Robert could see Tom entering the lounge. Robert hurried to his friend, shook hands and shared a quick, masculine embrace.

Tom was the first to speak. “Well, from what I can gather, when you finally decide to grace us with your presence after a fairly long, and well noted absence, alarm bells suddenly go nuts all over the place. Well, what the hell. You’re looking reasonably passable, and it’s really good to see you again. I understand you have something urgent to talk to me about?”

Robert groaned and shook his head. “I’m sorry Tom. I think I may have caused a bit of a kerfuffle without meaning to.” Robert briefly explained what happened during his arrival and ended by asking, “Tom, can you see a way clear sometime so we can have a private talk? I really could use an outside perspective on a couple of things and you’re pretty good at helping me to see things clearly.”

Tom shrugged. “Sure, I’ll be glad to. Oh, Abby’s waiting with your beer. But I’m a little hurt that you haven’t mentioned how you like this new conversion. On the surface it seems like a waste of space, turning a workout room into a fancy cocktail lounge and betting parlor. But with the re-introduction of legal electronic sports betting and casino nights, well I think you can appreciate why I took the risk. Oh, and by the way, your beer is on the house.”

As he accepted the beer from Abby, he nodded and replied, “It’s nice, and it makes a lot of sense. Your supervisor mentioned how you’ve boosted attendance by playing the exclusivity game. Was that your wife’s idea?”

Tom grinned sheepishly and nodded, “Yeah, of course it was. And to be honest, so was this. Joanne’s the brains behind most of our marketing strategies, but please keep that to yourself. The last thing Joanne needs is more grief from the Public Order nut-jobs. Since the last time you saw her the gentlemen from the BFA slapped a control collar on her for just doing her damn job. Now she can’t be more that one hundred meters from her controller, and I have to keep that damn controller on or near me at all times. So the bottom line is that I have to keep tabs on her and keep her close, or she gets punished. It drives her nuts and, as you can imagine, I catch the fury. And that’s not the worst of it, but don’t get me started on the rest of the crap that new collar of hers has put us through. I just don’t have the time right now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. But sure, of course I’ll keep everything you say to myself. I never discuss our business with outsiders. But to be frank, what really caught my attention is the new wireless implant curbing system you’ve installed. How on earth did you get the BFA to go along with it?”

“Thanks. But you want to know something? The curbing system isn’t really my doing. The government approached me with it. As far as I can tell, it’s part of a larger pilot project they’re running. They said they wanted to install a prototype system in a controlled commercial setting. In exchange, they guaranteed me that there would be no citations of any kind during the length of the study and they would pay for everything.”

“To be honest Tom, I’m kind of surprised you took them up on it. Aren’t you the one who’s always telling me that some of the most dangerous words in the English language are ‘I’m from the government and I’m here to help you’?”

“Yeah, and I still maintain it’s the gospel truth. But, after a lot of thought, I’ve come to the conclusion that even though the authorities freely admit that we’re one of the best managed places around, we were still getting dinged with one or two violations a month. So I figured what the hell, lets give ourselves a break and see what happens.

“And you know what? So far it seems to be working out okay. So far this pilot project has allowed us to get rid of the hassle of staff curbs so the girls can push more product. Better yet, if it works out the way most of us hope, we’ll soon be able to serve any female fitted with an implant curb system a drink without her having to put up with the hassle of wearing a big cumbersome gag and being forced to drink through one of those awful feeding tubes. Just think, wives will be able to sit beside their husbands, in full compliance with the female congregation laws, and enjoy having a drink in a normal way. Joanne figures that change alone should at least double The Retreat’s annual liquor sales. I’ve got several members already bugging me about when and where they can get the implant curbs installed in their wives, wards, and daughters.”

Robert nodded. “Yeah, I can see that. In fact, right now I have a feeling that Carrie would love to swap out what she’s wearing for one of these implant things.”

“How is she? Carrie, I mean. You usually come in together.”

“That’s something I wanted to talk to you about. At present she’s locked up in strict confinement. So basically it’s just me trying to care for Carrie while she’s stuck in a terrible situation.”

“And you still don’t have your own staff?”

“No, I never got around to it. Once I finally received her guardianship a few weeks ago, I just borrowed Colin and Bridget from her father to help with Carrie’s moving in with me. But a couple of days ago they had to take off on an emergency, so I’m trying to care for Carrie by myself and it’s become a bit of a mess.

“Which reminds me of another reason I wanted to see you. I got a message from Carrie’s father. He told me that I should make sure that everything’s in perfect order because there’s about to be a tremendous amount of official scrutiny and harassment piled on anything and everything related to the Morris or Fletcher households and businesses.”

“And I assume that would include your silent stake in my business?”

Robert nodded.

“Look,” Tom continued, “I’ve got a million questions churning in my head and no time for any of them. Tell you what, why don’t you come over to my house for dinner? I’m sure Joanne would love to see you, and I’m sure she’d love for you to commiserate with her about that new punishment collar she’s stuck with. How about tomorrow night? Tonight’s impossible because of – well, all this polo tournament stuff.”

“Thanks, I’d love to.”

“Oh, and Robert, you’re breaking my heart about trying to do it all alone. Why don’t you take Abby with you and make use of her for a while, at least until you get your household back to normal. She’s one of those surplus reformatory girls we bought on the cheap from the BFA to ease a staff shortage. And I know she’s no Carolyn, or even Bridget, and at twenty-nine she’s about ten years past her prime and too old to charm most of the punters around here, but for a reformatory wretch she’s shown herself to be fairly capable and honest and could prove to be a lot of help to you. Besides, because you’re a silent partner in this place you already own a part of her, so there’s very little paperwork involved. Just sign a couple of documents on the way out. Legally all you’re doing is moving her from one work place to another, and the title change just lets the authorities know that the responsibility for her in terms of compliance and so forth has shifted from The Retreat facility to you.”

“Thanks Tom, that makes a lot of sense. I’ll take her. I really can use the help. And you’ve been a great help too. Really, I mean it. I’m not sure what I’d do without your backing when I need it.”

“Ah, sure, no problem. Seriously, get out of here. I need to get back to work. The front desk will help you with Abby.”

                                                                        * * *

Sara Martin was waiting for Robert at the front desk. “I understand you’re taking Abby away from this delightful wonderland of battling polo horses, casino gaming, excessive drinking, and other dubious forms of masculine pursuits,” she said with a smile and a twinkle in her eye. “And to think, I’ve just now got her trained up to The 3^rd Avenue Retreat standards.”

Robert rolled his eyes in appreciation of her little joke. “Yeah, I’m sure. But at least she’ll be out of your hair, for a little while anyway.”

“Well, before you leave I’ll need you to sign a couple of forms we’ve already filled out for you. As soon as you sign them, the forms will be sent electronically to the BFA for approval. In this case the process should be so automatic humans won’t even see it. Assuming there’s no glitch, the transaction and approval will be recorded and your title document will be sent back here ready for printing in a matter of minutes. Oh, and in case you were wondering, The Retreat will cover the cost of the title transfer. It’s easier and quicker that way.”

After Robert signed his name a couple of times the documents were scanned and sent to the BFA. True to Sara’s prediction, a few minutes later copies of the approved forms and Abby’s title came back ready for printing. “Well, this all looks good. If you’ll please wait a couple of minutes longer I’ll print your title to Abby and get you her owner’s packet.

As he waited for Sara’s return, Robert took the time to look over Abby. Her pale blue eyes expressed neither excitement nor despair. She simply stood with her arms resting at her sides waiting for her next orders.

Walking as quickly as she could in her tightlaced hourglass corset, her uniform’s built-in hobble, and her towering heels, Sara Martin arrived back at the front desk slightly out of breath with a letter sized manila envelope in hand. “Here’s her packet. Okay, before anything else, let’s get someone up here to gag and restrain this girl before she takes one step outside our door,” she barked to one of the staff standing nearby.

She watched as the assistant signaled that the process of getting Abby curbed and bound was underway.  Sara nodded her approval.  “Good then. Well, everything’s ready to go,” she said as she opened the envelope and spilled three items onto the desk top. “First, here is your original title to C66744. Of course, you don’t have to use her immuration number if you don’t want to. As her new owner, you’re free to rename her anything you like, or you can just keep calling her Abby if you prefer. Next, here’s Abby’s controller. We’ll retain the duplicate for safekeeping. Last is a key to Abby’s chastity belt. Again, we’ll hang on to the duplicate just in case something should happen to your copy. There’s no key to her control collar because it’s meant to be permanent. As owner of an immurated number, you have full access to her and are free to use her anyway you like. Now, do you understand how to keep Abby’s control appliances, in this instance her belt and control collar, fully charged and in good working order?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Excellent. And do you understand the similarities and differences between the rights of a guardian and the rights of a property owner Mister Morris?”

“Yes, I do. Those topics were well covered in more than one of the classes I was recently required to take.”

Sara smiled, “Wonderful!” she exclaimed as she collected the items, put them back in the envelope, clasped it shut and handed it to Robert. “Well Mister Morris, I hope you have a wonderful rest of the day and I hope to see you again soon. Good afternoon!”

With that, Sara Martin turned and hurried into the crowd of polo semi-final attendees filling the public rooms and hallways of The 3^rd Avenue Retreat and Polo Club.

                                                                        * * *

Robert and his new property slowly and quietly walked the several blocks back to his apartment building. He, heading to a place once filled with bright joy, but now increasingly darkened by sorrow and melancholy. She? Who could know. Tightly gagged into silence and tightly restrained in a high security reverse cradle armbinder as well as a narrow set of fetters, she seemed to give no indication of caring what might happen or where her fate might lie.

As they stopped on the sidewalk in front of the entrance canopy of his luxury apartment building, he said, “Abby, for the time being at least, this is your new home. It’s called the Fremont, and our place is up there, on the top floor.” After she nodded that she understood, they turned off the sidewalk and on to the walkway. After pausing very briefly for the lobby attendant to open the door and nod his welcome, the owner and his new property entered the building and headed for the elevator.

“Well, here we are, home sweet home,” Robert said, with more than a pinch of sarcasm, as he tossed his keys into a bronze bowl placed on the top of the foyer credenza for just that purpose, and ushered the bound and gagged Abby into her new home. “Well, I guess I should first get you out of these things and then we’ll have some food and drink and talk a little.”

He began with her armbinder jacket. Unaware that he needed to shut off the armbinder security mechanism and release the reverse cradle buckles before unbuckling the front, he made a mess of it before he thought to remove Abby’s gag so she could verbally walk him through the process of releasing her from her bindings.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” he asked her. Receiving no response, it gradually dawned on him that it wasn’t her place to ascertain such things and she was simply waiting for instruction. “Okay, I can do this,” he told himself.

“You and I are going to the kitchen where I’m going to teach you how to prepare a snack for the two of us,” he said. “The kitchen is that way. Now go and I’ll follow.”

As they sat at the kitchen table munching on whatever he could scrounge up, mostly bread, cheese and several varieties of smoked meats washed down with a reasonably good Merlot, he quizzed her on her background. He quickly learned that she was far less broken, and seemed to have retained a lot more of her intelligence, than many of the girls who passed through the state reformatory system. “To survive I learned to play stupid but eager to please,” she told him between hurried bites of food. “Most of the guards are not that bright, and fairly lazy, so as long as I was seen as timid, harmless, and quick to obey, they usually turned their eyes to louder and more pressing matters.”

“Can I assume that you’re familiar with reformatory restraint and control systems? Applying them as well as wearing them?”

“Yes Sir, I am.”

“Good. Then let’s talk about Carrie.”

Robert spent the next couple of hours sketching out Carolyn’s history. He began with their history as childhood friends, the details of her incarceration and how they later reunited after her release from Westminster Academy. From there he spoke of his time serving as her caretaker, the transition into a formal courting couple under the watchful eye of a courting prefect as he struggled to earn their engagement license.  The rest of the story was fairly simple: his assumption of her guardianship, the events at the country estate, and the worrying issue of getting Carolyn prepared to go to the Harrell Clinic.

He also showed her Bridget’s extensive notes and described the frustrations he encountered while trying to carry out her instructions. “You see,” he said with a touch of anger mixed with sadness, “I haven’t even been able to get her fully back into that reformatory jacket or hobble skirt after I released her from the damn things. I thought I had to remove everything around her middle so I could hook up her evacuation hoses and such, but now I’m not so sure it was necessary to do all that and I think I just made a mess of it. I’m also a bit worried about how taking her to the Harrell Clinic will go.”

Robert waited for her to say something, say anything, but Abby remained seated and silent. Then it suddenly dawned on him what was going on and he cringed with embarrassment. “Abby, for this to work we’re going to have to work as a team. So I’m going to give you some direct orders.

“First, when we talk in private, engage with me as though we’re two pre-plot friends having a normal conversation.

“Second, once you get to know the routine around here, you will take the initiative and handle any routine task you know needs doing without waiting for me to order you to do it.

“Third, I’m ordering you to freely offer suggestions and advice when you believe I might benefit from them.

“And finally, when you see something you can do to help me, just do it and fill me in later. Do you understand what I’m ordering you to do?”

Abby rose from her chair, stepped forward until she was standing in front of him, curtsied deeply, and replied, “Yes Sir, I understand and I obey.”

“Good, this just may work out. Now let me introduce you to Carrie.”

After the one sided introduction to Carolyn, Robert returned to his office and tried to distract himself by shuffling through piles of mail as he tried to push aside the unsettling questions surrounding the wisdom of bringing another woman into his apartment.

Meanwhile, Abby carefully examined everything she could find related to Carolyn by pouring over her monitoring and educational readings, her discipline and educational software, her restraints, and her clothing. She even found her way into Carolyn’s still packed boxes of contraband, filled with all sorts of delicious things, now forbidden to females, and took note of the books Carolyn most likely relished, the video programs she enjoyed, and the music she favored. Having spent some time doing this, she finally felt reasonably satisfied that she understood enough about her new charge to fulfill her orders. It was now time to have a real conversation with her new owner.

Chapter 7 “Training Day”

Spare II: Innocentia

This story is a sequel to Spare I: Lucas.

Innocentia felt the low buzzing in her anus and gradually left the dream she was having in which she was running around in the fields near her grandmother’s house as a child once again. As she adjusted herself back to reality, the contrast between her life then and now became apparent. Then she had been outdoors and free to go where she liked; now she is in a grand house and her hands strapped together behind her back. Then she had been a child, as innocent as her name suggests; now she is an adult and fully aware of the secrets of adulthood. Then she had been single and unencumbered. Now she is a married woman, tied both to a husband but also to a master and mistress. And then she had been equal to her favourite sister Olivia. Now, the latter is a fully legal woman whereas she is a spare.

She glances across at that beloved sister and mistress, her unencumbered arms entwined in those of her husband. She does not like Marcus Mizore but she realises that it could have been worse. She, like Olivia (for the two still confine in one another despite the gulf between them in status) sees him as an oaf and a bully with a mild touch of sadism in his character. Not an unusual trait in Pabarazian men it is true, and certainly not in those of the Mizore clan, but unpleasant, nonetheless. Conversely though, he is also, to put it most bluntly, rather thick. And thick men, although dull conversationalists, can be manipulated far more easily than wily ones. Something that Olivia takes every advantage of.

She then turns over and gazes at her own husband. Like Innocentia, he is naked save for his armbinder and chastity belt. Like her, he too is stirring, woken by the vibrating alarm in his bottom hole. She is glad that they married her to him; compared to his brother he is kind and intelligent. Momentarily, she silently lambastes the system that promotes the idiot and pushes down the clever man, but then brushes such a revolutionary thought away and leans forward to kiss Lucas on the lips.

They linger in their embrace for a few seconds before withdrawing and silently whispering “I love you!” to each other. Then they hear the noise from beyond the door and so get into their positions, Innocentia manoeuvring herself over her brother-in-law’s flaccid cock, whilst Lucas positions himself over Olivia’s pussy. Despite the fact that it means they get an extra two-hours in bed, Innocentia finds bed-warming duties some of the most irksome that she has to perform as a spare within the Mizore-Bukur clan mansion, but her job is to accept, not question.

The buzzing in her rectum intensifies and so she starts to suck and lick, Marcus’s rod slowly stiffening in response to the stimulation and his entry into the waking world. Out of the corner of her ear she hears Olivia beginning to moan and knows that her husband is also fulfilling his duty. She feels slightly jealous that it is her pussy that is getting his attentions and not her own, but then again ejects such rebellious thoughts from her mind using the technique that was drummed into her in spare school.

Marcus wakens and she quickens her pace. He grabs her hair and forces her on him further, the scent of his crotch filling her nostrils. She does her duty as she was trained to and then, just as he becomes fully hard, he pushes her away, rolls over and mounts his wife. In the harshness of his movements both Innocentia and Lucas tumble off the bed. She is now surrounded by all the other spares, clad in their gorgeous blue and pink costumes, each one kneeling in silent prayer and adoration towards their master and mistress. She and Lucas adopt a similar position despite their nakedness, except that, unlike the clasped hands of the others, hers and her husband’s remain restrained behind them.

It does not take long before Marcus spurts his load into her elder sister and Innocentia, along with all the other spares, prays silently for a conception. As she does, she notices the weight in her breasts and the drops of milk forming on the pierced teats.

Marcus sits up, clicks his fingers, and indicates for her and other of the spares to come over to him. Her younger sister Adelina engulfs his softening cock in his mouth, licking it clean, whilst she offers up her breasts. He grabs the left one and sucks some of the life-giving milk from it before, when sated, climbing out of the bed, and walking to the bathroom.

Olivia, whose sex is being licked clean by Lucas, soon follows and the rest of the spares file out silently whilst she and her husband are led by their maids to their own toilet and dressing.

---

An hour later we find Innocentia sitting in a quiet room with pictures of teddy bears and rainbows adorning the walls. Due to her missing the dressing session this morning because of her being assigned to bedwarmer duties, she has been allowed to don a more relaxed outfit for the morning and perform the role of nursemaid.

By “more relaxed” though, I mean by spare standards. Her corset is still laced tightly, and she still wears a crinoline several metres across which supports a fine sky-blue gown. But this gown is far plainer than the usual and the sleeves allow more brachial use whilst the stays, unusually, are underbust giving easy access to her large, enhanced breasts. Attached to one of these is Carlos, the first spare of the next generation, who is suckling her teat contentedly whilst, on the floor in front of her, Carlos’s elder brother and sister – named in traditional fashion, after their mother and father – play with Lego. They wear the normal clothes of any child, but Innocentia knows that it will be different for Carlos who, from the moment he is weaned, will be dressed in miniature versions of adult spare outfits, cementing in his mind his place in the hierarchy from an early age.

This troubles Innocentia somewhat, as it is yet another sign of the strictness of the Mizore clan as opposed to the Bukurs. When she was a child, she dressed like Olivia and played with her. It was only after puberty that she was marked as different and initiated into her future role as a spare. Talking to her husband and the other Mizore spares however, she learnt that things were very different in the Mizore mansion. From their earliest days they were dressed differently, educated differently and kept apart from their elders. That is why her husband has such little natural affection for his brother, instead the only emotion seeming to be a distant awe and fear. It has also resulted in her finding the Mizore spare females to be dim-witted and dull – how else could they be if denied a proper education and childhood? Conversely though, unlike her, they seem more comfortable in their roles and do not keep on having the rebellious thoughts that she has to continually sideline.

Or at least, they do not admit to having them.

Nursemaid duties are important for the spare females and, since they are denied the opportunity to become mothers in their own right, most love the time spent in the nursery with a baby suckling on their breast and children playing joyfully at their feet. Not that it is all good mind. Prior to the birth of baby Olivia, Innocentia, like all the female spares, was put on a course of hormone tablets so that her already large and unwieldy breasts – one of the marriage conditions from Marcus was that all Bukur female spares have their breasts enlarged to match their Mizore counterparts – started to ache, grow further and then leak milk. But these drugs also caused mood changes and made her broody for the child she could never have. This meant that all aunts could become nursemaids to their new niece or nephew but, of course, even the hungriest baby cannot drink the milk of a dozen adult spares and so a new ritual was added to her life: daily expressions where milk was drained from her udders, bottled, and then given to the children of the poor of Begati as an act of charity. Once a week, she and the other spares must go in their finery to the town hall and dispense their milk to the filthy and impoverished mothers of the slums. The trip out is nice but the act she finds somehow humiliating as, within earshot, the poor and unwashed refer to her and her sisters spares as “milking cows” and “udder girls”.

Still, having little Carlos suckling from her makes it worth it, although she is less keen on her brother-in-law’s propensity to suckle on the teats of his spare sisters-in-law (and sisters!), something that her father would never have countenanced in the Bukur house, God rest his soul.

She looks down at the little face so contently suckling her and smiles, thinking of the life he has to come, but then her musings are broken by the sound of a bell and the presence of her maids. It is time for her own lunch now, and to get changed ready for her sister’s afternoon high society gathering in the garden.

---

Doing business in Pabarazian high society bears many similarities to doing business elsewhere, but there are also some crucial differences. First and foremost, unlike in many parts of the world, men and women – or at least, the eldest born – have achieved a degree of parity that most feminists can only dream of. Female business leaders are taken seriously and, in Begati, none more so than Olivia Bukur who, most of those in the know acknowledge, both entered her marriage with greater finances than her husband and who, also, has the superior brain of the two.

Another difference is that the real business is often done in relaxed, informal settings. Meetings in the office are all well and good when dealing with underlings, but the real deals are closed behind high walls and guarded doors in the homes of the elite. After all, what better way to show off their wealth than entertaining guests with their opulently-attired spares in attendance?

So it is that we find Innocentia in the rambling gardens of the Mizore-Bukur mansion along with her mistress, several other important Pabarazian business leaders and, of course, all the other Mizore-Bukur spares.

Since we last saw her, Innocentia has changed her outfit. Gone is the plain gown befitting a nursery and in its place her stays have been tightened a centimetre or three and a vast confection of blue satin and silk adorned with flowers, lace and embroidery has been fitted over the huge crinoline that she wears. She now stands silent and motionless behind her mistress, flanked by alternate female spares in pink and blue gowns. Olivia, on the other hand, is wearing naught more than a classic black one-piece swimsuit which shows off her toned and tanned figure.

Sitting across the table from her is Isabella Permeti, owner of the Lezhe Group of tech companies, Manuel Kukes, the head of Pabarazia’s main telecommunications giant and one Vladimir Serebryakov, a Russian investor of dubious ethics but great wealth. They are discussing the possibility of closing a deal around entering the Russian mobile market. But before they start, there is small talk.

“Is your husband not joining us today, Olivia?” asks Kukes.

“Oh no, his sister, you know the one who works out in the colonies, has returned for a visit.”

“The not-quite-spare?” enquires Isabella.

“That’s the one. Short hair and a grimace that could sink a battleship.”

“Yes, I heard they are petrified of her in Dep Lam!”

The party laugh. Persephone Mizore is well-known in high Pabarazian society for her masculine ways and preference for female lovers, particularly lithe Deplamian girls. A spare male, dressed in a pink, rose-covered version of a Tudor costume pours them all drinks before retiring.

“What about her husband?” asks the Russian.

“He is with them too. She has gone shooting; it is something they have in common, being a most masculine pursuit.”

More laughter.

“Do not fear though, I am more than qualified to close this deal; I have Marcus’s full confidence. Shall we begin.”

And so, they do, talking shop whilst shielded from the sun’s harsh glare by a large parasol. The fully-covered spares, however, have no such relief and, despite their bonnets which do at least shield their faces, they are sweating profusely. Even so, they do not move and instead fulfil their roles dutifully. Innocentia, however, does commit one small rebellion, letting her eyes dart first to the left, then right, then to the floor.

To her left is her sister-in-law Anna who seems to be coping alright. Teresa on her right, on the other hand, looks like she is struggling and Innocentia wonders if she will make it. Even so, the majority of her pity is reserved for the four canines kneeling patiently at the feet of the dealmakers.

The deal is done, and they shake on it. The spare brings more drinks and then Olivia declares that it is hot and suggests they all have a dip in the pool. The others, who are also in swimwear, declare the idea to be a capital one and rise. As they do, Teresa finally succumbs to the heat and passes out. She does not fall though due to the unusual nature of her dress.

Unknown to the visitors, the standing spares are not really standing at all. Instead, their legs are strapped heel to bottom, and they are fitted into a frame which means they can be wheeled about freely. Although Innocentia notices Teresa’s plight, the visitors do not, for there is hardly any change. The frame and the rod inserted under the corset keep her upright whilst the neck corset – hidden from view by elaborate jewellery ensures that even her neck does not sag.

Even poor Teresa does not attract Innocentia’s attention though, so much as the four dogs which now paddle dutifully behind the businesspeople to the pool, beside which they will wait patiently in the full glare.

For those dogs – two pink and two blue – are the star attraction at Olivia’s gatherings. Inside those heavy, furry suits are men, sweating profusely, struggling to maintain consciousness. And Olivia’s thoughts go particularly to the one following the Russian.

For that is her poor husband, Lucas.

She hears the splashes as the elders jump into the pool and a momentary pang of anger and jealousy wells up in her despite her best efforts to suppress it. Oh, how she would like to wear only a swimsuit and paddle freely in the cool water instead of being condemned to spend her entire life as some sort of weird ornamental doll purely because of the order in which she was born!

Her thoughts begin to run away on her but then she is distracted from them by the sight of her brother-in-law Matteus mincing up to the poolside in his high heels and elaborate breeches and handing his mistress a notice. Straightaway, Innocentia senses that something is wrong because her elder sister drops the paper into the water and utters the most blood-curdling cry of anguish.

It is some seconds before order is restored. Innocentia cannot hear exactly what is said, but the others seem to be comforting her elder sister. Then they all climb out of the pool and exit hurriedly, tears streaming-down Olivia’s face. As she passes her, Olivia glances momentarily at her favourite spare sister and Innocentia realises that whatever has happened, it is serious.

Some two or three minutes later the servants come out and wheel the female spares back into the house whilst one of the maids attaches leads to the dogs and leads them back too into the welcome cool of the indoors.

---

It is some two hours later that we see our spares again. Once more, they have undergone an outfit change, but this is one that none were expecting. One of the things that Innocentia most dislikes about the customs of the Mizores is the insistence in the marriage contract by Marcus of colour-coding their spares. In her youth, the spares in her parents’ mansion were dressed in all manner of colours and fashions. Always elaborate, of course, always displaying the Bukur wealth to its maximum, naturally, but inventive and distinct. Not so the Mizores. In line with their traditions, Marcus had insisted that all spares match one another save for specific exceptions (like the doggy suits) and that all Mizore spares must wear only pink and all Bukur only blue as those are the family colours. How often had she dreamt of donning a different shade, perhaps pastel yellow or violet, or maybe even silver or gold? Well, her wish had been fulfilled now, although not in the manner or shade that she either expected or desired.

Innocentia is now clad in a gown of black. Its silhouette – with the billowing inflated sleeves and skirts – is much like that of all her other dresses, but unlike them this is plain with no flowers, embroidery or even a lace collar. The tight leather gloves that cover her hands are equally ebony whilst a large tunnel bonnet which allows her only limited sight – and even that is obscured by a chiffon veil at the opening – adorns her head.

And although she cannot see him, Innocentia knows that her husband who stands beside her is also clad in black.

The colour of death.

But whose?

Her sister appears before them all dressed in a tiny black number that would be suitable for a 1920s cocktail party. She dabs at her eyes and then addresses the spares in her care.

“Dearest brothers and sisters, I have received the most awful news imaginable. Your beloved master has been killed this afternoon. He was on a hunting trip with his almost-spare sister and my almost-spare brother, and they were hit by accidental bullets from another hunter. All lost a lot of blood and we hoped they could be saved, but it was not so. As such, I am declaring a period of mourning in the Mizore-Bukur household and so you shall be wearing only black for the next six months. I will allow you all to retire to your rooms with your spouses now to lament on the loss for the rest of the day. God be with you all, my beloved family.”

The wails and laments that arose from the usually-silent spares was overwhelming, but one of them did not cry. Innocentia had detested her brother-in-law even before he had forced himself on her whilst Olivia was pregnant with Carlos, and the subsequent rapes and sexual usage had done nothing to change her mind. He was an oaf, a bully and an idiot. Of course, no one deserves to die like that, but she will not miss him, nor too his lesbian sister who had also forced herself onto the female spares. True, her military eldest brother she would mourn, but even he was rather dull. No, with these deaths the suppressed rebel in her sensed something. An opportunity for a better life perhaps?

She returned to their marital chamber with Lucas and the two held one another tight. Innocentia noticed that he too did not cry and so she decided to take the initiative. Slowly she started to remove her clothing and then undo that of her husband.

“Darling, what on earth are you doing! It is not Friday! The rules say…”

“Shh, my beloved. The one who made the rules is gone and no one has forbidden this…”

“But it is disrespectful, it is wrong…”

She did not desist though and, when she released him from his breeches, his rod was strong and eager. She stroked it with her hand, and he groaned before leaning in and passionately embracing her. Like the sinful rebel she was, she mounted him and started a rhythmic ride towards paradise.

Some time later they lay naked in one another’s arms, the deaths forgotten and the pleasure foremost. Then a knock came on the door and her senior maid entered. “Madame, please come with me.”

“But I am undressed, I…”

“It does not matter. Come now, the mistress’s orders.”

Dutifully, she followed, walking naked down the silent empty corridors of their home.

Olivia was waiting for her in the master bedroom. When she saw her elder sister, Innocentia opened up her arms and embraced her. The two hugged silently for some time before they broke off. Olivia wiped the tears from her eyes and then stroked her little sister’s face. “From the scent on you, it seems you’ve been breaking the Friday-only rule,” she whispered.

Innocentia cast her eyes down to the floor. “I’m sorry, it’s just that, well… I know it’s wrong… we know it’s wrong, but it has been so long, and we were…”

“Shhh!” said Olivia, putting her finger to her favourite sister’s lips. “I imagine that most of the spares in the family are busy getting it on right now and good on ’em! The old rules no longer apply, things are going to change… for the better.”

Innocentia looked up and stared at her sister in the eyes. The two siblings examined each other’s souls and then the spare said, “An accident?”

Olivia shrugged. “They’ll never prove otherwise.”

“But what about Alexandro and Persephone? Why them too?”

“I’ve always hated the dyke bitch and he would have blabbed so that he could take over instead. It is regrettable.”

“But you were always the real boss anyway! You ran the business; Marcus was just an accessory.”

“True, but I found him intolerable. His ridiculing me by using my sisters to suck him off or lick him clean even though I asked him not to. His stupid rules and his petty acts of sadism like the dog costumes and the time when he dressed you all up as cagebirds.”

“But we are spares! Our duty is…”

“Shhh! You are more to me than any spare. You are my baby sister, my soulmate. Besides, it was not just that. Last month he took up again with that servant bitch he was shagging before marriage, the fucking whore!”

“But all men have whores. You had the Thing before you wed. Remember the fun we had with it back in the old days before you were forced to get rid of it!”

“Get rid?! You think I actually did that? Oh no, I still have it. It’s in a flat in the city. I use it several times a week and despite having no arms or legs, it’s a far better shag than Marcus ever was. It’s not got the superiority complex of an eldest.”

“So why then? You can’t blame Marcus if you yourself…”

“No, it was Carlos. He was my first spare and, seeing his innocent little face and hearing Marcus’s cruel plans for him – our own son! – I knew that I could not give birth to another. Children, yes, but not spares. But Marcus was pressuring, and society demands. However, as a widow I shall respect my late husband’s memory and never marry – or give birth – again. And whilst Carlos shall be a spare, he shall be a happier one than if his father were alive. As will you, and Lucas and all the others. A spare you must always be, not even I can change that, but a better life will be yours.”

And with those words the two sisters clasped each other tight and snuggled up together on the bed as equals, just as they had when they were children.

Written 07-08/02/2024

Copyright © 2024, Dave Potter

Obeisance: Chapter 5

Obeisance

by J T and Nye

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

A Meeting with Mrs. Harrell

When Robert woke he was shocked to find it was nearly noon. Feeling derelict in his duty to Carolyn, he threw on a robe and rushed to the utility room. A quick check of her monitoring equipment showed all positive numbers except for the indicators covering her educational routines. After accepting the recommended changes, Robert watered Carolyn but decided to wait until later to feed her. Perhaps if she felt a bit peckish, he wouldn’t be forced to again employ Bridget’s correction technique to encourage her to drink the green stuff.

Back in his office, Robert thumbed through his card file and found the business card Carolyn’s former beau gave him at the gallery gala. After recalling the sorts of modifications Steven delighted in describing having had done to his most recent acquisition, such as adopting the current fad of fixing her feet to her towering heels with permanently implanted decorative fasteners, and installing embedded anchor points into her frame, the idea of tampering with Carolyn’s septum preyed on him. Although he had seen plenty of instances of radical body upgrades and modifications during his wayward travels and wanderings through the major urban centers of Western and Central Europe a half decade before, for some reason this time it felt very wrong to him. Still, his oath to Carolyn was sacred and he would see it through.

Robert held the vellum card printed in embossed black lettering by its edges and studied it.  The card simply read Dr. Stan Harrell and listed a telephone number. There was nothing on the simple, elegant card to suggest the nature of services Doctor Harrell provided. However, the card’s luxurious simplicity implied an acceptable level of discretion and exclusivity.

And yet, he worried. What if Carrie ended up hating her septum ring? What if she ended up hating him for failing to check her imprudent impulses, for permitting her rash and unwise desires to cause her harm? Wasn’t he, in his role as her legal guardian and fiance, obligated to be the grown-up that protects her from harm, even from her own reckless inclinations and cravings?

Still, he reminded himself, he made her a promise, and he would never break a promise to her if he could help it. Besides, he reasoned, while the grommet may prove to be an enduring fixture that might eventually serve as a potent reminder of her youthful and unwise impulses, the ring itself could always be removed with no lasting harm, and Carolyn’s appearance would revert to what it was before the procedure.

Robert took a deep breath, slowly exhaled, and called the number. A preliminary consultation was made for two-fifteen that afternoon. A quick call to Malcolm confirmed a car would be ready.

Malcolm was familiar with the address. “The Harrell Clinic sits in the middle of a fashionable medical complex in the best part of our lovely town of Bent Forks,” he explained as they wound their way through a canopy of quiet tree-lined boulevards and elegantly appointed side streets. “We’re talking pretty expensive dirt here, though since the plot even this neighborhood has taken a slight hit here and there if you know where to look,” he added. “Best of all for you though, the clinic’s not far from where you live.”

The medical building had a boutique quality to it. The building’s bronze and teak Art Deco entryway, separated from the road by lush landscaping, complimented the whole of the building’s exterior. Once inside, Robert found the Art Deco theme carried forward into the reception area. The visitor’s seating lounge consisted of a matching pair of comfortable overstuffed leather couches arranged on either side of an elegant white marble and sculpted bronze coffee table. Centered against the opposite wall from the guest seating was a matching reception desk staffed by a young woman wearing a fashionable but properly restrictive dress and sporting a very distinctive and strikingly prominent septum ring that just rested against the top of her upper lip and was encrusted with small shiny nubs that seemed to nearly, but not quite, overwhelm the natural beauty of her blunt black bangs, pale, almost translucent skin, prominent cheekbones, and striking, pale blue eyes.

When he gave the girl his name she nodded and tapped something into a tablet. Robert barely had time to thank the girl when a willowy, elegant woman in her late thirties, dressed in a tight, conservative skirt suit reminiscent of any number of form fitting outfits featured in 1950s Vogue magazine photo spreads by Irving Penn, or perhaps Cecil Beaton, approached and, to his great surprise, greeted him with a soft welcoming voice.

“Mister Robert Morris? Hello, I’m Doctor Lindsey Harrell,” she announced as she offered her hand. “Welcome to the Harrell Clinic. Will you please follow me?”

Surprised by her ability to speak without restriction and, other than her tightly corseted hourglass waist, her apparent lack of restraints, he briefly shook her hand then followed her down a short hallway to her office.

Her office decor was sparse but expensive; evocative of the once popular mid-twentieth century Scandinavian style. A large minimalist table, fashioned from a thick slab of polished black slate resting on a pair of simple unadorned ash pedestals, dominated the room. Opposite her table were two overstuffed leather easy chairs arranged on either side of a round slate topped coffee table. Three of the walls were furnished in light ash paneling and decorated with a trio of early twentieth century modernist paintings by an artist he thought he recognized but couldn’t quite place. The fourth wall however, was an impressive picture window wall and door system made of clear, interlocking glass panels which looked out onto a lush, private walled garden.

“Please have a seat. Would you like some tea, coffee, water? Or perhaps something a little stronger? We offer a well stocked bar for our special clients.”

After Robert politely declined any refreshment she placed a thin binder on the coffee table and settled into the chair opposite him. “Well, good afternoon Mister Morris. Thank you for your interest in the Harrell Clinic. This binder contains a wealth of useful information about the elite products and personal services we are pleased to provide our highly valued clients. I do encourage you to carefully read through the information provided in this binder before committing yourself to any of our products or services.”

As he thanked her, Robert studied the tall, slender woman. Her fine, auburn hair, styled into an immaculately shaped chin-length bouffant flip, framed her heart shaped face and emerald green eyes. The overall effect struck him as both lovely and graceful in a way that seemed to capture the western ideal of feminine beauty of a much earlier era.

“Is everything okay Mister Morris? I can’t help but notice that you seem to be staring at me.”

“You’re a female,” he said; not in an accusatory or hostile manner, but rather as one simply stating an improbable, unexpected, yet objective fact.

“Yes, I am. I have been all my life,” she replied. “Thank you for noticing.”

Robert chuckled. “What I mean is, how’s this possible? Don’t the female control laws…?” he managed to ask before faltering.

“And now that it’s illegal for a woman to publicly speak and function without severe restrictions, how can I freely sit here and speak to you? How is it possible for me to practice as a board certified surgeon?”

“Well, the questions are reasonable.”

She smiled and nodded. “I get asked this a lot. And I agree, under the current state of affairs your questions are quite reasonable. And the simple answer is, the reasons I’m allowed to continue practicing medicine are numerous, rather complicated, and quite personal. But the main thing that should concern you is that I operate quite legally, and I’m very good at what I do. In fact, at the risk of sounding immodest, I’m among the best in my field. However, if you would prefer a male surgeon to address your needs, I can provide you the names of a couple of excellent male physicians.”

“No, your gender doesn’t bother me. I’m just surprised you weren’t demoted to medical orderly like a good friend of mine who was a family physician before the plot.”

The doctor grimaced then nodded. “Yes. Sadly we all lost friends and a great deal of extraordinary talent during the purges.”

Unsure how to respond, Robert simply nodded.

“But as terrible as those early days were, there’s nothing any of us can do about it now.”

She paused, clasped her hands together, and placed them in her lap. “Well then, perhaps the best thing to do is to work with what we now have. So in that spirit, I feel I must ask, am I still in the running to serve as your physician?”

“Yes, of course.”

A stillness fell with a silence that seemed to stretch into minutes. Finally, the doctor broke the impasse.  “Mister Morris, there seems to be something else on your mind. Whatever it is, please go ahead and say it. Whatever it is I promise I won’t be offended. In fact, I’m fairly certain I’ve heard it before.”

“Oh, sorry. I couldn’t help but notice your unusual style. Don’t get me wrong, it’s extremely attractive and you’re very pretty wearing it. But to be honest, it is a bit old fashioned, maybe from around the middle of the twentieth century, if I remember my old movies correctly.”

The doctor smiled and her cheeks reddened slightly. “You are quite correct, and thank you Sir. I’m glad you like it. And kudos to you for recognizing the era. History’s a subject that’s being relentlessly suppressed and supplanted with an abundance of propaganda and indoctrination.

“Occasionally I’ll get some teasing about my taste being a little odd and perhaps a bit kitschy, but to be honest it’s the only style my husband allows me to wear. I guess you could say he has a thing for antiquated styles and fashions, as perhaps you can tell from the decor of the clinic as well,” she replied as her fingertips lightly brushed her hair and patted up the ends of her flip.

“Well, I think it’s very continental and quite elegant.”

She simply smiled, nodded, and waited for him to continue.

“But anyway, I’m here to see about getting my fiancee fitted with a septum ring. Which reminds me, I’ve been meaning to ask about the unusual septum ring your receptionist is wearing.”

The doctor smiled and nodded, “Yes, that pendant is quite an attention getter, isn’t it? Melissa’s demonstrating a new training model called the Corona. It’s proven to be a popular choice, in part because the ring has a couple of interesting features. Would you like to see how it works and how effective it is? I think it might be a fun and informative way to introduce you to some of the offerings we provide here at the Harrell Clinic.”

She drew a tablet from the side pocket of her chair and tapped on it. “Melissa will be joining us in a couple of minutes. She just needs to get someone to cover the desk.”

“Will I be meeting Doctor Stan Harrell today as well?” he asked.

“Well, no. Stan’s my husband. As I mentioned, he’s the one who ordered me to dress in this retro Dior outfit, if that means anything to you,” she added. While it’s true that he’s a doctor and owns this practice, he’s not a medical doctor. He holds a doctorate in economics,” she replied as though that answered everything that needed to be said.

Robert was about to ask a follow up question when there was a soft knock on the door and the receptionist entered. With a subtle hand signal from the doctor the girl stepped in front of Robert, knelt, and raised her face so he could get a better look at the unusual device. “Please feel free to touch her ring. Don’t worry, the little nubs won’t hurt you, they’re only there for her benefit. You see, the Corona and the other models in our Training Ring collection are designed to encourage reluctant wearers to fully accept and respect the authority of their rings, while effectively discouraging the wearers from making any attempt to manipulate or remove the rings themselves.”

Much to Melissa’s apparent alarm, Robert hooked the ring with his index finger and gave it a little tug. The girl did her best to suppress a gasp as she struggled to follow the motion of his hand. “It’s interesting, the nubby texture feels more granular than sharp.”

“Would you like to see how a leash works in conjunction with the Corona ring?”

“Certainly, if it’s no trouble.”

“I sincerely doubt that any request from a prominent individual such as yourself would ever be a problem Mister Morris,” she replied as she touched a wooden panel door in the wall next to her chair and a drawer quietly slid open. Reaching in, she pulled out a leash with a snap connector on one end and what appeared to be a thin plastic strip just in front of the looped end.

“Here you go. Just snap this end to her ring and the controls will light up on the grip end of the leash. The controls are simple. As you can see, there are five touch sensitive buttons labeled Off, On, Reward, Correct, and Punish. Just below the buttons is a small but effective sliding intensity control. Simply touching the ‘On’ button will activate the default setting which is usually enough to ensure full compliance and absolute obedience without being overpowering. The default intensity setting is, as usual with all government compliant devices, five on a scale of one to ten. Here, walk her around the office.”

Robert stood up and pulled on the leash. With a faint gasp the girl leapt up off the floor. “Seems quite effective,” he observed.

“It is. But, if I may, here’s a hint that may be useful. A brisk, quick tug rather than a continuous hard pull is usually much more effective. Quick tugs are active commands that usually ensures responsive obedience. A continuous pull sends a steady stream of correction signals and it’s generally interpreted as either punishment or a sloppy command that can quickly overwhelm your charge.”

Robert tried the tugging technique and immediately saw the advantage and wisdom of her advice. “I’m curious though, how can a septum ring provide a reward? Does it tickle her nose when I touch the reward button?”

The doctor laughed. “No, not at all. But before I go into how she’s rewarded, and in the spirit of this being a short, and hopefully entertaining tutorial, I believe it’s useful to first explain that Melissa’s purity and virtue is is protected in a manner that is commonly referred to as ‘double chaste’. Beneath her chastity belt both sides of her labia and clit hood are lined with reinforced interconnected rings and implanted sensors which are then sealed shut with a flexible locking shield.

This inner chastity apparatus is identical to the chastity devices most middle-class and lower-class females who’ve been ordered into chastity are now wearing. It’s not as secure as a proper belt of course, but the state’s official position is that in the majority of cases the ring and shield system works well enough, it’s reasonably tamper resistant, and it does serve the useful purpose of providing protection services at a much lower cost than a proper belt.”

She paused for a moment, frowned, then continued, “As you may have guessed, I’m not a fan of that cheap sort of chastity appliance. In my experience, in the face of an aggressive action, the system is too insecure and provides too many opportunities for a determined, unruly transgressor to self-indulge in moral corruption and bodily perversion. On occasion, we at the Harrell Clinic are called upon to treat and repair a few of the more tragic cases that have come to the authorities attention, and I can attest that it’s a terrible thing to witness and to try and service the unfortunate results of such dreadful calamities.

“But back to Melissa. Because the Harrell Clinic dress code clearly specifies that every female working in the clinic must present herself as a model of rectitude and wear a proper chastity belt, and because the ring and shield chastity device was designed to never be removed without mutilating the wearer, Melissa’s now double chaste. Also, the septum ring she’s wearing is synchronized with both her proper chastity belt and her old system. Go ahead, press the reward button and watch what happens.”

The effect was immediate. Melissa gasped with delight as her legs quivered and nearly buckled while her arms flailed about in a futile attempt to grab hold of something solid.

“Now try the correction button,” she suggested.

As he switched to the correction button, the girl promptly hopped, drew a sharp breath, then quickly straightened to attention.

“Would you care to try the punish button?” she asked.

Robert shook his head. “I think I’ve seen enough punishment to last quite a while. Do all your septum rings connect with chastity belts? I guess what I’m trying to ask is, will Carrie’s ring will synchronize with her belt?”

“Of course. Every item we offer here at the Harrell Clinic is designed to synchronize with every other control device a girl might wear; rings, chastity belts, control collars, you name it. As I mentioned earlier, we only offer the finest products available, and would never consider anything else.”

“Oh, right. I guess that makes sense. So how do I get Melissa to move?”

“Simply tug her leash.”

Robert tugged, and Melissa immediately turned to face him. “One last question though. Why do the little silver nubs on her septum ring effect her but not me?”

“Are you familiar with micro implants?”

“I guess. Sort of. Carrie mentioned that while she was receiving one of her belt upgrades, she overheard the technicians talking about inserting implants into her outer labia. Though she’s never been allowed to see the results, or find out anything more about them, she thinks they put them in her to discourage her, or anyone, or anything else from reaching under the belt.”

“Carolyn’s quite correct. And the nubs work on the same principle. Just think of each of the little nubs on Melissa’s septum ring as tiny versions of Carolyn’s implants and you’ll sort of have a simplified, though not completely accurate, version of the right idea.”

“I’ve noticed she hasn’t said a word. Are you sure she doesn’t mind serving as a demo model?”

“Oh, Melissa doesn’t mind at all. She’s just quiet because I’ve silenced her through her curb implants. And as to how she feels about serving as a demo model, to be honest it’s never occurred to me to ask. The female congregation laws are very firm about females chit-chatting with each other after all. However, I imagine that compared to the daily tedium of her receptionist duties, she probably enjoys the change.

“But, let’s be frank. It really shouldn’t matter if she minds or not, should it? You see, she’s one of the street urchin, level one girls the clinic picked up at a BFA surplus sale a few months ago. So compared to what her life was like on the streets, or in the reformatory, or what she’d most likely be doing now if we hadn’t purchased the wretched creature, her life here at the clinic is really quite agreeable.”

“The BFA. That’s the Bureau of Female Affairs.”

“Yes, that’s right. At the clinic we call her Melissa because the overwhelming majority of our clients lean heavily towards the conservative side of the spectrum and are more comfortable using a name instead of a number. But actually, she’s simply number E77974. Are you done with her now?”

Robert nodded. “Yes, I think so,” he replied as he unsnapped the leash and handed it to the doctor. Now I guess it’s time to talk about Carrie.”

“Yes. Of course. By all means. Are you sure you wouldn’t like something to drink?” she asked as she dismissed the girl and saw her out of the office.

“No. I’m fine thank you.”

“Then please have a seat and tell me, what do you want for Carolyn? Do you want her to wear a septum ring for the purpose of publicly marking her as belonging to you? Or are you having this done because you anticipate a further tightening of the public morality and female congregation laws and are seeking another level of control? Both reasons are perfectly valid of course, and one reason does not exclude the other.”

Robert sighed as he felt a twinge of distress over the idea of exerting more control over Carolyn. “Well then, both reasons I guess. “Also neither, or maybe something else. I may be a heretic for saying so, but if I had my way Carrie would never live another day in bondage for as long as she lives.”

Robert glanced at the doctor, noted her stunned expression, then quickly added, “But I’m acutely aware that such an option for a level one girl no longer exists. And I know it’s my legal obligation to see that she is properly restrained and fully compliant in accordance with every female control law and regulation. So, the reality being what it is, here I am.”

The doctor remained silent as he gathered his thoughts. “Oh yeah, the septum ring. Believe it or not, it’s actually Carrie who wants this done. I’m the one who’s really uncomfortable about the whole idea of doing it. But she made me promise I’d see it done because a septum ring will play a very important part in our wedding ceremony.”

The doctor frowned. “My hunch tells me that there’s a bit more to this story.”

Robert sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I guess there is. Not that it makes much sense to me. You see, the idea came to her long before we reconnected after the plot. And to be honest I kinda think I’m sort of fulfilling a role in a scenario that’s been playing out in her head for a long, long time.”

Robert looked up at the doctor and was greeted with a look of severe skepticism.

“Yeah, I know that sounds kinda harsh. But… well, she’s been holding onto this idea for nearly ten years. That’s when she and lots and lots of other girls were sent to labor camps and tasked with inventing various restraint devices and techniques for the new government. To assist her with her tasks she was given a lot of research materials including books on Roman practices, the Spanish inquisition, Chinese practices, and even some old bondage books and magazines to study and copy. For some reason one of the books really resonated with her. The story involved a bride who was bound in a reverse prayer restraint for her wedding, and because her fingers were unavailable due to her bondage, her wedding ring was modified into a septum ring. For some reason she’s really taken that story to heart, and now she dreams of having a septum ring serve as her own wedding ring.”

“I see. Well that’s clear enough.”

Robert chuckled. “Well doctor, I’m glad you think so.”

The doctor smiled and nodded. “I actually do. By the way, please feel free to call me Lynn.”

Robert nodded and shrugged. “Sure, and call me Robert.”

“Thank you Robert, It will be an honor. But anyway, I believe Carolyn’s referring to a rather infamous story called Bound in Leather by a man who went by the name of John Willie.

“Oh, and if you’re like me and enjoy ribald trivia, here’s something. In some vulgar circles, willie is a slang term for penis. I guess the artist had a rather self-effacing sense of humor.”

She waited in vain for a reaction. “Nothing? Not even a smile? I thought that was rather good.”

Robert shrugged then attempted to console her with a smile. “Sorry.”

“Oh. Well, it was worth a shot. But anyway, I’ve had several other clients who’ve mentioned the story to me. However, I found it’s often the groom, or the bride’s parents, who are enchanted by the idea of having the bride wearing a permanent training septum ring such as Melissa’s Corona, or even a more substantial model called Starburst. This is especially true if it’s an arranged marriage involving a reluctant bride, and there’s a substantial bride price involved, as is often the case among many of the more wealthy, close-knit extended families.

“Can you think of anything else that may have influenced her desire for a septum ring?”

Robert massaged his forehead and tried to think of anything he might have forgotten. “Right now that’s all I can think of.”

“That’s fine, Robert. We’re about out of time anyway. But before you go, I must ask you, as a favor to Carolyn and yourself, please read through the information provided in the binder, especially the section covering the implant suite. I believe an implant suite may provide a good and humane alternative to many of the restraints you’ve indicated you dislike so much. Then, if you’re agreeable, when you return tomorrow maybe we can work up a plan for Carolyn and possibly even schedule her procedure.”

Chapter 6 “A Trip To The 3^rd Avenue Retreat and Polo Club”

Spare I: Lucas

Lucas

(with respects to Prince Harry!)

Lucas Mizore sighs as the junior maid pulls on the laces that are slowly strangling him and, for the millioneth time, laments the fact that he was born into an elite family in the Kingdom of Pabarazia.

Or at least, that he was a born a fourth son in an elite family in the Kingdom of Pabarazia.

Pabarazian culture and tradition may seem strange to our ears but there what I am about to describe is considered entirely normal and natural. In the great families, in order to avoid squabbles and feuds over inheritance and legacy, it is decreed that only the eldest son or daughter may inherit. When there is only one sex of offspring, then it is the eldest that receives all. If there are boys and girls, then the eldest receive half each.

In that way at least, they are aware of equality.

And don’t even ask about transgenderism or a third sex. Such things aren’t even considered polite to whisper about although, for reasons that will soon become clear, any biological male born into a wealthy Pabarazian family with feminine tendencies might not be too unhappy.

Unless they are the eldest son of course.

But I digress.

So, the eldest inherit and, ideally, wed another inheritor, keeping family concerns and estates together for generation after generation. But what of the younger siblings? Well, some families stop after one, of course. It keeps things simpler and cheaper when all is said and done. But many  mothers love to have a lot of babies and, besides, multiple children are seen as a status symbol in Pabarazian society so, for every eldest child, there are often several younger ones or, as they are informally known, spares.

People like Lucas.

For the second-born, there is hope. Elder brothers or sisters can always die when all is said and done, and there are worthwhile careers that pay well enough to create a new life away from family money. The army, the diplomatic service, the clergy and, of course, positions in the colonies are all dominated by second sons and daughters. The not-quite-spares.

Alas, Lucas, is not one of them.

No, he is a fourth-born, and like third-, fifth- and so on, he is a true spare. And their lot is quite different.

For the spares literally, under Pabarazian Law are property of their parents and then, after the death of the patriarch or matriarch, their eldest siblings. They cannot own property, have their own career or live a life of their own choosing. They exist to reflect the glory of the eldest, more like trophies or ornaments than people. Remember how I said that multiple-children was a symbol of wealth for high-born Pabarazians? Well, they are because it is the elder sibling’s duty to keep their younger brothers and sisters. The sight of a family party with numerous spares on display is the clearest indication of wealth and power imaginable in the eyes of an upstanding Pabarazian.

And so, not only must they be kept, but they must also be displayed in the most sumptuous and ostentatious manner possible.

Hence Lucas’s sighs and laments.

His parents are one of the two wealthiest families in the city of Begati and they like to display that wealth at any opportunity.

And so, the Mizore spares are the most lavishly displayed in the city.

Every morning Lucas is woken a full two hours before his brother, Marcus, who will inherit the Mizore fortune. He awakens in the large dormitory that he shares with his six spare siblings and is unfastened from the bed – there is an almost hysterical fear of spares touching themselves in Pabarazian society and so all have their hands safely chained out of reach of their genitals – by his two personal maids, and then led to the bathroom where he is toileted showered alongside his brothers. They are then all fed their breakfasts before the dressing begins.

To our eyes his costume is extreme, comical even, certainly eccentric. To Pabarazian eyes it is classy and one that lesser families wish they could clad their spares in.

It is all in white because Lucas, like all unmarried spares, is a virgin and will remain so unless Marcus allows him sexual release after marriage which is most unlikely as it could result in children. It starts with a shift that reaches his waist over which his rigid stays are laced. These squeeze his middle into an inverted cone only 50cm at the waist causing him to be short of breath at all times. Attached to the bottom of the stays are suspenders which keep up the satin stocking which reach up to his thighs. Caressing his waxed legs, they cause his long-unmilked tool to stiffen but the maid pays it no attention for she is a professional. Then he is bent over, and the junior maid lubricates his bottom hole before the senior maid pops in the small silver plug embossed with the Mizore coat of arms.

Next come his breaches. These are made of white satin and covered with fine embroidery, but their pretty appearance belies a utilitarian structure. He steps into them, and the junior maid pulls them up whilst the senior maid then takes his rod ring and carefully guides it through the sheath.

A note of explanation is perhaps required for us foreign observers.

Upon reaching maturity, every spare undergoes a piercing and ringing ceremony, after which a grand party is held to symbolise their entry into adult life. For the girls, this means rings through each ear, each nipple, and the clitoris. For boys it is the same except that the clit ring is substituted for one through the foreskin. It is this rod ring that the experienced maid now takes and guides through the sheath of satin built into the breaches, before clipping it to the integrated clasp at the end. This makes no difference to the rod, which is rock hard with her gloved touch, but which starts to go flaccid again once the stiff doublet jacket is fitted and laced up behind him by the junior maid.

Attentions then turn to his head. The senior maid curls his hair into the fashionable ringlets which bounce down to his ears whilst the junior maid applies his make-up – a layer of powder, false lashes and then some lipstick which she has to work around the lisp ring.

Again, an explanation is required.

In the Mizore and certain other families, as well as the standard piercings, there is also an additional ring through the end of the tongue and the lower lip, attaching the two together causing the spare to lisp and speak like a baby which is seen as extremely fashionable. When they are not gagged that is, which, in Lucas’s case, is rare.

After this, attention turns to his neck which is how we find him at the start of this tale. He is sighing because they have fitted the neck corset and are busy lacing the 10cm-deep instrument of torture into a rigid tube, strangling him and causing his breaths to become ragged.

When laced off, the enormous collar, protruding all around him by a metre is fitted so that all his lower field of vision is excluded.

Then comes the jaunty cap with a feather, pinned into his hair which has now set rigid due to the excessive amount of spray that the junior maid coated it with.

And then the kid gloves, tight and unyielding, covered by the slippery satin gloves so that his motor control is minimal.

And then the shoes, which their enormous white roses on the vamp and 10cm Louis heels.

After that, the maids bring out items which would seem most unexpected to us, the uninitiated, but do not raise an eyebrow in Pabarazia. These are pumps similar to that one may use for a bicycle tyre.

The senior maid busies herself with the sleeves, pumping first the left and then the right so that they balloon out above the elbow, severely limiting Lucas’s brachial movement.

The junior maid however, works on the breeches, pumping away until they begin to expand and expand, from being baggy and small to quite taut and wide.

And as they inflate, the built-in sheath lengthens and Lucas feels the familiar tug on his penis until, by the time she has finished, the rod ring is pulling it to full length even when flaccid.

The maids busy themselves fitting an enormous bow at the back, garters with white roses on around each leg just above the knee and then various rings on his fingers. Perfume is then liberally applied all over.

Finally, clad in white and drenched in wealth and scent, he is declared ready and, along with the other spare brothers, he troops out of the male spare dressing room. In the corridor, he meets his sisters dressed in their wide, white gowns with ballooning sleeves, again, all in virginal white. He lines up beside Katerina and together they walk to their elder brother Marcus’s bedchamber.

And with each step, the torture starts. The plug in his bottom wiggles and titillates whilst, as his legs move, his cock moves in the satin sheath, brushing against the cloth, teasing, and arousing but never enough for completion.

His brother is lying in his huge bed with Julia, the concubine given to him by their father when he came of age. She is beautiful with her naked curves, smooth skin, and long ebony hair and, as with every morning, Lucas grows hard with unquenchable desire, cursing his luck not to have been born the eldest and to be able to enjoy such pleasures.

The spares encircle the bed and then kneel in attendance. After a minute or so, the alarm rings and their brother and master sleepily awakens. Often he just kisses and caresses Julia before heading off to the bathroom, but today is more passionate and, as the spares gaze at the deep pile bedroom carpet, they must listen to the couple making love.

The desire he feels is overwhelming and Lucas curses his brother. As Marcus ejaculates into the servant though, Lucas almost feels a surge of pity. This will be the lovers’ final tryst, for today Marcus is getting engaged and Julia will be sent away. Lucas knows that the two have a genuine affection for one another and so it will be hard for Marcus.

After the sated lovers have gone to the shower together, the spares are retired to the Spare Room where their gags are fitted and they sit elegantly whilst music plays. At lunchtime, they are fed but then they are lined up in the hall for the engagement party is to take place.

Marcus is marrying Olivia, the eldest daughter and sole heir of Begati’s other great family, the Bukurs. They arrive on time at two and the Mizore parents greet their Bukur counterparts and then present their son to Olivia. The two bow to one another and then kiss, at which point all clap. Then they are led between the waiting spares to the Great Hall. The spares, who have been ordered to only look straight ahead, catch a glimpse of the happy couple and, yes, Lucas thinks, Olivia is as pretty as they say.

The couple are followed by the Bukur spares who process, boy-girl behind them. Finally, the Mizore spares follow. In the Great Hall the happy couple sit side-by-side, flanked by their parents. But then comes the bit that Lucas has been waiting for.

“Friends and future in-laws,” declares Miguel Mizore, “it is a happy occasion indeed when today we announce the impending union of our two great houses to create a single clan unrivalled in Begati and beyond. The wedding of my beloved Marcus with the beautiful Olivia shall be the talk of the Kingdom of Pabarazia. But we are especially fortunate in that, on the same day, all our children shall be getting wed. Our daughter Persephone, who is on colonial service in Dep Lam will be returning to wed Alexandro who is serving with the Imperial Army. And, by chance or coincidence, we have the same number of sons and daughters so all our spares may also be matched and may be able to glorify the Mizore-Bukur names until they pass from this life.”

These words elicited loud cheers, but Lucas didn’t hear them. Instead, he waited. Soon, a maid led him to a corner of the room where a girl stood. She was dressed in an ostentatious white dress, with a billowing skirt, ballooning sleeves and an enormous flower girl collar (called so because the face of the girl within resembles a delicate flower surrounded by petals.

Lucas gazed at that face, his heart beating. She was pretty! She smiled and that smile warmed his heart! The woman that they had chosen for him seemed nice! Of course, it was a pity that they could never lie together as Marcus had done with Julia and would do with Olivia but at least they could talk and hold hands.

“Hello,” he lisped. “I’m Lucas. It is so nice to meet you.”

“I’m Innocentia,” she replied, his tongue similarly limited. “I’m happy to meet you too. I was so nervous about today.”

“Me too! But, well… I needn’t have been. You are lovely!”

She blushed. “I am nothing of the sort, I merely reflect my sister’s glory, but it is kind of you to say so.”

“I meant it. I’d love to hug you but…” He lifted his arms to show how little movement he had.

She laughed and did the same with her own. “We’d never get close enough with me in this dress and, besides, my arms are as useless as yours.”

“Well, I can imagine it, just as I shall have to imagine the other things I would like to happen.”

She gave him a look of false horror and then said, “What do you mean, imagine?”

“Well, we are spares. They do not allow us to be as man and wife are for firsts.”

“So, they haven’t told you?”

“Told me what?”

“Olivia and I are close. She invites me to her bed sometimes. When I told her that I wanted a husband whom I could be with properly, she promised to make it a condition. Your family have agreed to allow all Mizore-Bukur spare couples to lie together and couple once a week on a Saturday.”

“What?! But… it is impossible! We could have offspring and then…”

“Oh no, they are sterilising us all first. But isn’t it wonderful?!” She reached forward with her hand and he leant forward as much as his costume would allow and their gloved fingers clasped. “You and I, together, naked… I cannot wait!” she whispered excitedly.

And nor could Lucas for he exploded into his satin sheath. He knew that the maids would discover and paddle him for the misdemeanour, but he did not care. After all, promised to this wonderful girl Innocentia, he was the happiest spare in the entire Kingdom of Pabarazia!

Spare II: Innocentia

Thanks to Michelle Bound for help with the images

Inspired by this picture by suzie1192000

Written 07/02/2024

Copyright © 2024, Dave Potter

Obeisance: Chapter 4

Obeisance

by J T and Nye

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Back Home Again

The farewells were hurried and emotionally fraught.

Bridget grieved as she hugged a thoroughly bound, hooded, deafened and silenced Carolyn. “I’ve installed all the useful restraints I had available Sir. I also made a list of everything I did, and wrote a few instructions for her immediate care and left it on her dresser,” Bridget told Robert as she continued to hug Carolyn as though she were terrified of losing her forever. “Also, on the dresser, I left you detailed instructions regarding Carolyn’s long-term care. You know, for after she’s home.”

She paused for a moment to see if she had forgotten anything. “Oh, and Sir, I made a list of the most important restraints she must wear while she’s at home. Also, I made another list of other, stricter restraints she must wear when you take her out in public,” she added as she patted Robert’s arm. “Sir, please I beg you. You will promise to follow the instructions fully, and with care, won’t you?”

Robert nodded and promised the devoted maid that he would absolutely follow everything she had written and wished them good luck with sorting out the problems in Haldenford.

Armed with that assurance, Bridget found the strength to release Carolyn and give Robert a brief but warm hug. “Thank you Sir. We hope my family’s troubles turn out to be less than suggested so that we can return soon. But as for Carolyn, it’s true that I love her like a daughter. But I’m not blind. I know there are times she can be a stubborn and willful brat, just as her father says. But I also know that she’s also one of the sweetest, kindest, most loving and well-meaning girls I’ve ever known. Just always remember, no matter her mood she loves you dearly, and if you remain firm with her I am certain that, in the end, all will be well.

“So please, take good care of her. And don’t be afraid to be strict with her. You know she hates it when you’re too soft, don’t you Sir? Leaving her to fend for herself makes her feel adrift. It leaves her feeling as though she’s a small boat in stormy waters, tossing and roiling and in desperate need of your strength, guidance and protection.”

As Robert nodded and gently stroked Bridget’s cheek, he replied, “I promise. I’ll be very loving and very firm with her, just as you ask.”

Just before she stepped into the car Bridget leaned into him and whispered, “Colin has informed me that I too will be punished for dressing inappropriately. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Robert wasn’t quite sure how to answer what he hoped was a rhetorical question. Was she happy about some imminent punishment? Or was she simply thrilled to be the recipient of Colin’s heightened concern for her well-being after almost eight years of marriage? It was hard to know with Bridget. Perhaps it was a bit of both. Robert hugged her one more time, patted her back, and replied, “Yes, Colin is a fine man. I know he loves and cares for you deeply.”

Not quite sure what to do next, Robert turned towards the cottage when Colin approached. “Excuse me sir. Bridget just reminded me that I need to give you something very important before we leave. I know that I was supposed to hold onto it until your wedding day. But now, of course, everything’s changed.”

“What? What is it Colin? Are you talking about the master key to Carrie’s chastity belt?”

“Oh, good heavens. No sir. That remains with her father. I’m afraid you’ll have to negotiate that rather delicate matter with him at some later date.”

“What is it then?”

“It’s her controller sir. Ever since she began as a student at Westminster Academy, I’ve had the responsibility and privilege of overseeing the routine matters associated with Miss Carolyn’s care and discipline, as well as the obligation for the care and maintenance of her controller. As I’m sure you’re aware, given Miss Carolyn’s propensity for indulging her rather mercurial temper, these duties regrettably included utilizing the judicious use of the cane, the paddle, and especially during those times we were in public, her controller.

“However, because I must leave, it’s now necessary for you, as her guardian, to assume these solemn responsibilities. Here is her controller sir. The electronic transfer has been made, and you’re now free to use it.

“Yeah, okay. Thanks. I guess.”

“If I may sir, and please forgive me if I’m out of order for what I’m about to say, but we’re both men of the world. As men of the world, we have personally witnessed many instances of controllers, in conjunction with other devices, being misused in the service of sport or malice. From the living statues adorning the High Commissioner’s great pleasure gardens to the notorious fighting pits in the abandoned railroad stockyards south of town, there are plenty of places to point to and say the system is corrupt and the universal controller is an enabler of this corruption. So I do understand your dislike of this important tool.

“But please keep in mind that the controller is simply a tool and that, in your hands, Carolyn’s controller can also be used for good. It can not only be used to punish, it can also reward her and give her a great deal of pleasure. And given all her training, I know from experience that it really does help keep her feeling safe, protected, cared for, and yes, even loved.

“And don’t forget, if it’s used regularly, conscientiously, and properly, its internal logs provide evidence to the authorities that she’s properly controlled and supervised, and that she adheres to all the rules and regulations mandated by the state. This will also help keep her safe.

“Sir, I’m quite certain you won’t use Carolyn’s controller thoughtlessly or capriciously. However, I’m less certain that you’ll find it in your heart to use it to control and discipline her when the need arises. Please sir, for Carolyn’s well being and safety, promise me you won’t hesitate to use it when it becomes necessary to do so. In these increasingly difficult times it may be the only way to keep her safely in your home and out of the hands of the morality police and the regime’s rather disquieting court system and reformatories.”

                                                                        * * *

After he watched the Fletcher’s car clear the long driveway, turn onto the narrow rural road, and vanish from his sight, Robert grasped Carolyn’s guiding straps and led her back into the cottage. Deeply saddened by the awful turn of events, he took a moment to examine the devices Bridget had installed to prepare Carolyn for her return home.

The first thing that struck him was that Bridget had seen to it that Carolyn was gagged with her fiercest curb, actually the civilian version of the standard reformatory gag. He knew Carolyn was quite familiar with the device, having explained to him the gag’s functions in such detail that, though she never said so, he suspected she may have spent a significant amount time wearing one like it during her years at Westminster Academy.

Slowly, and with some hesitance, she told him that if he ever needed to punish her for scandalous or unladylike speech, egregiously speaking out of turn, or behaving as a shrew or a scold, this would be a highly effective gag to use. Using herself as a demonstration model she showed him how the flexible sleeve equipped with several studs embedded with retractable pins were designed to secure her tongue but still allowed her to swallow. She went on to describe how the gag, when activated through her controller, could effectively punish any significant sound she made. The gag also incorporated special feeding and breathing tubes, sized and positioned for long term wear.

Bridget’s instructions recommended that Robert keep her in the gag for at least forty eight hours, longer if Carolyn fussed, and that she should be fed the standard reformatory liquid diet twice a day.

The rest of her institutional restraints were equally formidable. A reformatory hood covered the rest of her head. Designed to blind, deafen and disorient, the hood could also provide instruction, educate, or entertain when enabled and activated to do so.

A heavy leather straitjacket, fitted with a built-in monitoring and discipline system, extended down to her waist, and attached to the locking chain mail waistband of an extremely restrictive and extensively boned hobble skirt that ended at her ankles and trammeled her ballet boots.

By this time, Robert was thoroughly depressed and appalled by the turn of events, and noting that Carolyn’s combined straitjacket and hobble skirt would make sitting extremely difficult, if not impossible, Robert shuffled her into the living room, picked her up, and carefully laid her face up on the couch. Satisfied that she was reasonably safe and comfortable, Robert went upstairs to finish packing. They were going home.

                                                                        * * *

As she waited for Robert’s return, Carolyn thought about the weekend’s events. She found her eagerly anticipated celebratory picnic excursion with Robert to be a tremendous success, and their first opportunity to have an extended period of legally sanctioned, intimate moments together, with no one else around, actually managed to surpass all her hopes and dreams. Robert proved himself to be as tender, attentive, and loving in private as he was impressive in his bearing and deportment in public. This was important, because their weekend together confirmed for her that his affability wasn’t simply a ruse, a Lothario’s contrivance, or cleverly fabricated facade so commonly found among the many mashers and dandies that had so relentlessly pursued her, and her fortune, ever since she was a college freshman.

And the evidence was everywhere. For instance, there was the delightful time they spent bouncing around the property in Malcolm’s old decrepit buggy, and how they worked as a team to figure out a way to bypass the restraints built into her hobble skirt so she could actually drive for the first time in nearly ten years! And also, how he finally agreed to play along with her, and even enjoy their silly yet important game of hide and seek. Not only were these all wonderful moments she would treasure for the rest of her life, but they confirmed for her that he was definitely good husband material. They fit well together as a mutually supportive couple. Even better, they laughed and enjoyed the same jokes, they shared many interests and points of view, that he actually enjoyed listening to her, and most remarkable of all, he valued her opinions. These were all attributes that were sadly lacking in any of the other officially certified and accredited suitors who had courted her since the beginning of the insurrection.

And yes, she had to admit, despite all his fine qualities, he was certainly not without his faults. It was true that Robert could behave like an exasperating child at times. In fact, he could be maddeningly self-absorbed and frustratingly unobliging to some of her most obvious hints, and even her explicit suggestions. But in spite of these minor faults she was certain, that in time, and with a touch of loving guidance which she was more than happy to provide, those annoying character flaws could easily be ironed out.

Besides, just thinking about the whole day filled with his kisses and his gentle warm hands, especially when, after a couple of hours of bouncing around in that silly little wreck of a buggy, the dear man finally surrendered to her hints and suggestions and at long last, with that sweet, boyish smile she loved so much, laid her out on the picnic blanket and drew that newly acquired fiancee key from his pants pocket and – well, how could he not be worth it when he could make her wet and squirm and dance her hips in such a delightful way, especially considering he had so little space to work with and he did so much with what he had.

Aroused by her wicked and libidinous memories, Carolyn’s chastity belt corrections kicked in, and for several minutes she was subjected to a rolling wave of torment that issued not only from her chastity belt, but also from her gag when she broke her silence and cried out. However, she was also surprised to find that being punished for overstepping the authorized bounds of arousal set by her chastity belt didn’t upset her in the least. On the contrary, it pleased her to know that she could privately endure something that would keep them both safe, out of trouble, and perhaps once they were finally married, even sexually content. If the gag had allowed it, she would have smiled.

                                                                        * * *

After loading the luggage into the trunk of the town car Malcolm left behind for him, and securing the cottage, the belvedere, and the rest of the estate’s outbuildings for an extended absence, Robert returned to Carolyn. Feeling that it would be cruel and irresponsible to leave the correction functions active while transporting her on poorly maintained rural roads, he pulled his newly acquired controller from his pocket and fumbled through the command menu until he figured out how to turn off her sensors. Satisfied he had done all he could to make her comfortable for the ride home, he carefully picked her up and carried her out to the car, laid her out on the back seat, and strapped her in.

As a relatively out of practice driver who didn’t relish sitting behind the wheel on public motorways, and one who much preferred to be driven by Malcolm whenever possible, Robert found the trip back, while dodging all the ruts, fallen branches, farm debris, and potholes of the blighted and neglected farm and county roads, to be challenging but manageable. The slow, careful drive gave him plenty of time to think. Even though he knew her father’s tongue-lashing was fully justified, it still bothered him that Carolyn had to be so severely restrained that he had to strap her down onto the back seat of the car rather than placing her into the slightly more comfortable Female Auto Carrier where she could at least sit upright while enjoying the distraction of a piped in entertainment program.

As the drive droned on he began to muse. What if the plot had never happened? How would things be different? Maybe, to celebrate their engagement, they might have jetted off on a European vacation in her father’s private jet, perhaps spending a month or two at his family’s Como estate. Or, perhaps they would have opted for something less extravagant and simply spent their time together camping and leisurely making love in a meadow somewhere or, if the weather proved inclement, they could take turns playing bondage and fantasy games in the belvedere’s master suite’s custom bed with its numerous, intriguing, and never really explained, embedded hitching rings.

He was also pretty sure that once their engagement celebration holiday was over, they would have spent plenty of time huddling together, talking about their upcoming nuptials, and debating the quality and merits on offer as they planned their extended honeymoon. Of course there would be all those silly but fun questions, such as whether it would be wiser to secure a private jet and deal with the inherent problems common to living in luxury hotels, or whether would be wiser to rent a private yacht and crew and spend a month or two cruising the Aegean islands. He smiled at the thought. If such freedoms were still possible, such topics would have probably been the source of some of their more interesting and passionate debates.

But whatever they’d be doing Robert was positive it would be without giving even the slightest consideration to the use of the mandated, institutional restraints Carrie was forced to wear and the Female Control and Congregation Laws she was required to observe.

And, most significantly, neither of them would have gotten so stinking drunk in the belvedere in a foolish attempt to blunt the frustration of being constantly hampered and blocked from having a normal, adult relationship of unrestrained intimacy and actual sexual intercourse. Of that he was absolutely sure.

Infuriated and exasperated by the thoughts of what could have been if only the world was as rational, tolerant, and fair as it surely must have been before the radicals turned everything upside down, Robert pounded the steering wheel as he tried to yell out his stress and rage. Suddenly a tire clipped a large rock half buried near the edge of the road and the car lurched towards the soft edge of a substantial gully. Stunned, Robert wrested the car back towards the center of the narrow road and slammed on the brakes. Gradually the shock of the near calamity began to ease and he turned and looked at the bound and well secured figure still laying on the car’s back seat, unmoved and apparently ignorant of what had just transpired. As the reality of just how much of a danger his bout of self-pity and rage had been to them both, he began to sicken. He clawed the door handle, threw open the car door, and half staggered, half tumbled to the ground as he grappled over whether to retch or pass out.

Slowly his stomach began to settle, his pulse eased, and his mind cleared enough to arrive at the conclusion that, if there was to be any hope for either of them, he would need to, as Carolyn’s father so recently reminded him during his drubbing at the kitchen table, grow the hell up and assume a grownup measure of responsibility for the both of them.

                                                                        * * *

As he drew closer to town the road gradually improved, in as much as the road widened slightly to a narrow two lane road with faint patches of a white dividing line still visible. Thankfully, the majority of debris was at least shoved off to the side of the road, and a few of the most egregious potholes were haphazardly patched with loose gravel or a salvaged mix of rubbish and roadbed material. Traffic was light, the route simple. Still, Robert felt a tangible sense of relief when he finally entered the city limits of the town of Bent Forks, turned off the main drag, and spotted the smart and elegant entrance canopy of Fremont Tower apartments just past a perpetually flashing red traffic light.

Turning a few meters just past the front entrance, he carefully pulled into the entry way of the private below ground car park, crawled his way past several parked cars and concrete pillars, and eased into his assigned parking spot.

The only person manning the front desk was a skinny, young, doorman sporting just the promise of a beard and a silver name tag that said “Jason” in black lettering. Before he could get a word out, the doorman greeted him by name.

“Do we know each other?”

“No sir, Mister Morris, I’m new here. But the building’s cameras are hooked up to the apartment directory. As soon as you drove onto the garage your name, picture, and apartment number popped up on my screen. What can I do for you?”

“Of course it did,” Robert muttered as he did his best to tamp down any suggestion of sarcasm regarding the ever present security cameras. “Well, I’ve got a few things to bring up from the car. There’s a tip in it for you if you’re willing to help me get my luggage, and my fiancee, up to my apartment. Are you available?”

“Certainly sir. Just let me just get someone down here to cover the desk while I assist you,” replied Jason, smiling at his sudden good fortune.

By the time the luggage, and his beloved Carolyn, were safely in the apartment Robert felt drained. After a brief internal debate as to what to do next, he decided the most pressing matter was to secure Carolyn for the night, attach her hoses, and feed her.

After strapping Carolyn to the service table in the utility room, Robert made his way to the kitchen and looked for the liquid food to feed her. The powdered formula and the feeding bottles were exactly where Bridget’s notes said they would be. All he needed to do was empty a packet of powder into the blender, add a liter of water, and blend the two ingredients. After pressing the button and mixing the rather unappealing stuff that reminded him of the allegedly wholesome kale drinks often favored by dieting coeds and some athletes during his college years, Robert grabbed a funnel, filled the special feeding bottle designed to connect with the gag’s feeding tube, screwed on the valve cap and returned to the utility room.

Upon reviewing Bridget’s notes, he decided to put off feeding her until after he addressed another important detail. He located the sanitary machine and identified the hoses he needed to plug into the evacuation valves of her chastity belt. After fumbling with the straps and locks of her restraints, and engaging in a pernicious bit of disassembly, he worked out how to plug the hoses into the belt’s rather finicky portals. Before activating the machine, he placed his hand on her corseted belly, as much to calm himself as to reassure her. As he turned on the machine he felt Carolyn tremble a bit as the machine opened her belt’s catheter and rectal valves, finally allowing her to eliminate her waste. He shuddered in empathy and sorrow.

After disengaging the hoses, Robert elevated her head and torso a bit by cranking up the front end of the service table before locating the feeding tube built into her gag. The process of attaching the bottle of liquid food to the socket of the feeding tube was simple enough, and moments later Carolyn began to struggle and blow bubbles into the food bottle as she attempted to reject the green watery glop. In her notes, Bridget suggested that this might happen and advised that the most effective response to food rejection was to boost the correction level up to eight, set it to deliver a patterned series of three second bursts, and leave the correction function engaged until all the food was consumed.

Robert was quite surprised, and found it rather disconcerting, to see such a sudden change in Carolyn’s behavior. What kind of correction does it take to produce such an immediate state of resignation and compliance, he wondered? As he watched Carolyn gulp down the last of what the reformatory system certified as nutritious food, he briefly considered smashing the machine he suspected actually delivered torture rather than encouragement and education.

Then, with his personal vow to ‘grow the hell up’ in mind, Robert dismissed the idea as a pleasant but silly fantasy that would serve no useful purpose. Instead, he took a breath, disconnected the empty bottle, set it aside, woke the computer, activated the instruction program Bridget recommended, bitterly cursed the fact that Carolyn wouldn’t be sharing his bed this night, or probably the next several nights, and switched off the light.

Chapter 5 “A Meeting With Mrs. Harrell”

Obeisance: Chapter 3

Obeisance

by J T and Nye

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

 Aftermath

The insistent, booming knock arrived much too early. With a curse-tinged groan Robert Morris wrested his arm free from under his bound and hooded companion, eased out of bed, and stumbled to the door.

“Good morning sir.”

“Morning Colin. What time is it?”

“It’s half past ten sir. I just received a telephone call from the Fletcher’s driver. Miss Carolyn’s father and step-mother should arrive mid-afternoon.”

“Thank you Colin. Is there anything else?”

“Yes sir. Bridget would like to know if you’ll require her assistance with Miss Carolyn’s unbinding this morning.”

Robert looked over at the bed and studied his hooded and sheathed fiancee. “Yeah, she’s definitely cocooned. I don’t know,” he replied as he tried to wipe the grit from his eyes without much success. “Maybe. If that getup is locked I probably will, but later. For now, if you could find me some aspirin and a glass of water, I’ll owe you.”

A slight smile softened Colin’s ordinarily taciturn face. “Very good sir. Should you need Bridget’s assistance I’ll certainly make her available, but I don’t believe Miss Carolyn’s restraints are locked at this time. When Bridget and I prepared her for bed last night, locks didn’t seem necessary. Also, if you like, I’ll provide orange juice instead of water with your aspirin.”

Robert chuckled then quickly rubbed his forehead and groaned. “Thanks. I believe you read my mind.”

“No sir. Just the empty wine bottles. I’ll see you at the kitchen table when you’re ready to have some breakfast.”

                                                                         * * *

The double dose of aspirin was finally beginning to take effect when Carolyn began to stir. For a brief moment Robert considered tormenting her before releasing her from her beauty bag. It was a game they’d begun playing ever since they had become officially engaged and were, at long last, legally permitted to privately frolic together.

In this game, Robert would threaten a lifetime of torture, tickling, and caresses unless she ceded all illusion or hope of personal freedom, and agreed to forever relinquish her body and soul to his savage appetites and perverted desires. Meanwhile, Carolyn would assume the roll of the damsel in distress and vehemently complain about his “brutish” and “sadistic” behavior even as she passionately encouraged his “unwelcome” attentions. Sometimes, when things weren’t moving along quickly enough, or in a manner quite to her liking, she would go so far as to enthusiastically coach and physically guide him to the perfect spots where her “monstrous defilement” would yield the greatest benefits.

But, he reasoned, if he felt this awful, it was logical to assume that Carrie, with her small frame and inexperience with heavy drinking, had to be feeling worse. That being the case, it made sense to assume the role of the compassionate caregiver rather than playing the insensitive and lecherous dastardly cartoon villain Snidely Whiplash to her innocent Little Nell Fenwick. Convinced his reasoning was solid, Robert carefully released the straps and lacings of her hood and removed it.

“Good morning Sir,” she announced in a chipper and cheerful tone that somehow managed to both jolt his nerves and confound his notions and expectations.

“Morning Carolyn. How are you?”

“Just fine Sir, but I believe the more pertinent question to ask is how are you feeling?”

“My head’s throbbing from the front of my eyes to the back of my skull. You don’t have a headache?”

“No Sir, I’m fine,” she chirped. “But thank you for asking and caring for me.”

Robert groaned. “How the hell did you manage to dodge a hangover? I know you drank at least as much as I did.”

Carolyn giggled. “It’s simple Sir, I spent the night in a beauty bag. It’s designed to help rid the body of toxins, and as your head is reminding you, in sufficient quantity, champagne is a rather nasty toxin. Perhaps the next time you decide to go on a bender you should consider preparing a beauty bag ahead of time, that is if we can find one big enough for you. These things really are a marvel.”

“No thanks, I think I’ll stick with aspirin. It’s safer.”

“Suit yourself,” she replied as she wiggled about inside her beauty bag. “Say, are you going to let me out of this thing anytime soon, or would you rather play captured princess and evil dungeon master this morning? Who knows, perhaps enough time has passed that you may be able to use your fiancee key again,” she teased with more than a little hope ringing in her voice as she theatrically fluttered her eyes and wiggled about as much as the bag would permit. “If it’s any help, I’m incredibly, staggeringly, horny right now,” she hastened to add. “In fact, I’d happily hump the nearest chair arm right now if I thought my belt would allow it.”

                                                                        * * *

The better part of an hour passed before the two lovers finally agreed that, with the absence of a functioning key, combined with the burden of Robert’s hangover, they had done all they could do in the romance department.

“Sweetie, what are you thinking about? You seem distracted, and not by my disheveled yet still charming beauty,” she cracked as nuzzled against him while poking him in the ribs after failing to get a rise out of him any other way.

“It’s nothing really. Nothing important. You’d just laugh it’s so silly and off topic.”

“No I won’t. And even if I do, what of it? I think we could both use a good laugh right now.”

He sighed. It was obvious they both could use a distraction from the misery of disappointing sex, and perhaps this would do. “Well, all right,” he said as he forced a smile past the lingering ache behind his eyes. “While I was playing around this morning, trying to find some petite orgasms for you, something about those markings on your bottom caught my eye. I mean, I’ve seen your Westminster Academy crest plenty of times, but I’ve never really bothered to really look at it, much less those numbers just above it. What surprised me is how clear everything is, especially those numbers. They’re as sharp as a photograph. But then it struck me. Tattoos tend to blur over time. Just how recently were they done?”

“Oh,” she frowned. “You’re referring to my damn immuration number.”

“Your what?”

“Yeah, believe it or not that’s what its called. The Bureau of Female Affairs could’ve just called it an inmate number, but I guess someone thought immuration sounded more official or something. Did you know that according to the BFA my immuration number is actually my legal name, and the name Carolyn Fletcher means squat to them? Well, maybe not squat. It’s probably listed as an alias. So, for the record, sweetheart, you’re about to marry number A88729. Isn’t that romantic? It kinda sounds like you’re about to get hitched to a toaster or something, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I happen to find your being a number makes you more exotic. Maybe it makes you seem darker and more dangerous, a femme fatale like Gene Tierney or a sexy broad Lizabeth Scott in those old film noir movies. Tell you what. How about, for our honeymoon night, instead of a frilly nightie, I get you one of those striped convict outfits. You know, with your number stenciled over your left tit. And maybe I could add in a ball and chain just to make things official.

“You do, and you’ll be sleeping alone sweetie. Well, maybe not alone, but just with whatever comfort your right hand can provide.”

Robert chuckled and kissed her Westminster crest and then her immuration number. “I hear you dollface. A pretty negligee and no prison props it is.”

She grinned at his silly joke, then shifted a bit so she could kiss his forehead. That’s my good boy. Just keep treating me like a princess and you’ll do just fine. Anyway, that number was inscribed on my ass about ten years ago, shortly after the plot happened. I had just turned nineteen.”

Carolyn paused and sighed. “Not even yet twenty.  The truth is, before the plot I was just another stupid college kid doing what most of the college kids I knew were doing. I went to class, I studied when I had to, got stoned and drunk when I could, and had lots of irresponsible sex with lots of incredibly irresponsible boys, mostly jocks, and a couple of musicians. Well, they said they were musicians.

“Then a couple of days after the plot launched, the cops rolled in and grabbed me and every other girl in my sorority. And like thousands of other co-eds around the country, they found me culpable of supporting and participating in millitanette activities, in part because of my mother’s activities. You know, sins of the mother and all that. So, they shackled me chain-gang style to a lot of other girls and tossed us all into indefinite detention in that damn improvised labor camp.”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned the camp before. That’s where you learned all about porn.”

“And that’s where I got that stupid number. You know, a couple of weeks ago, while I was undergoing the torment of having my belt and bits professionally cleaned at the Hopfield Center, I overheard a couple of techs talking about how they’ve recently hardened the Public Order policies to better align with the new European standards. Now, every female picked up on suspicion of violating any of the Female Congregation or Morality Laws must be immediately registered, placed in an approved chastity device, a control collar, and have an immuration number inscribed on her butt. No exceptions. Did you know that?”

Unwilling to wait for an answer that might interrupt her train of thought, she continued, “But anyway, after a couple of years I was released from the labor camp and, after a brief stint at Mansom’s, I was enrolled at Westminster. Upon entering, the school added that saucer sized crest on my left cheek just below my number to make sure that even if I should ever happen to ‘accidentally wander off campus’, I could never escape the school’s clutches and would be returned immediately. And to answer your question, the reason it’s still so clear is because it’s not actually a tattoo. It’s more like, well I guess you could say a bunch of strategically placed freckles.

“Freckles?”

“Yep, honestly and truly. Freckles. Apparently the authorities believe that in order to obey Leviticus 19:28, no ink can be used, so they went with this.”

“Leviticus. The prohibition against tattooing.”

“That’s right. So they use a technique developed in India by researchers who’d been working on the manipulation of melanin. As I understand it, the process was first approved to medically treat skin discoloration, but now the process has been refined to the point where my prison number and the Westminster crest are just rather large, complicated groupings of freckles that apparently will never go away for as long as I’m alive.”

The conversation seemed to depress her, so other than caressing those parts of her the chastity belt and sleeping corset didn’t block, Robert was at a loss of what to do or say. “Carrie,” he finally said, mostly to break the silence, “are we okay? After some of the things you’ve said about marriage, are you absolutely sure you still want to go through with the wedding?”

Carolyn reared up from the bed and assumed what could easily have been mistaken for an attack position. “What are you talking about Sir? How can you even think to ask such a question?” Carolyn paused for a moment as she gathered more air, then added the most pressing question, “Sir, are you having doubts about our getting married?”

After her barrage of questions, and the panic that gave rise to her questions, her face was red and she struggled for breath. Possessing just enough awareness to know it would be a bad idea to touch her, or even reach out to her at that moment, Robert simply responded in as calm a voice as he could muster. “No, sweetheart, I’m fine. I want to marry you. It’s just that I thought you might be having second thoughts about getting tied to what passes for the institution of marriage these days.”

As her anxiety eased she punched Robert’s arm as hard as she could. “Robert,” she said, “you’re an idiot. The only thing I really want in this whole miserable world is to marry you, to be your wife. I desperately want to be wholly and completely ‘till death’ married to you, and bear as many of your children as you’ll allow me to have.

“And you’re right. I may have mentioned that I thought the institution of marriage, and a lot of other societal norms these days are totally screwed up. In fact, I know I have. But that doesn’t matter. Because marrying you is the one sane, good, and wonderful thing I have to look forward to in my life right now. So yes, in spite of all the nonsense that comes with it, I still really, truly do want to marry you.”

                                                                        * * *

Robert winced and considered doubling up again on his next dose of aspirin when Andrew Fletcher and his lovely, diminutive wife Clara stepped into the dining room. As Robert began to scoot his chair back to stand and greet them properly, the old man grinned and waved him back down. “No son, don’t trouble yourself. I’ve been known to have indulged in a bit too much of the grape in this cottage on more than one occasion and I truly feel for you. Why don’t you pop a couple more of those repentance pills and tell me how that reprobate of a daughter of mine, who no doubt ushered you into this condition, is doing this afternoon.”

A shrug was about all that Robert could muster as he took the old man’s advice and tossed back a couple more aspirin after offering Andrew and his wife chairs at the table.

The rapid clicks of high heeled shoes tapping on the hardwood floor signaled Carolyn’s pending arrival as her father sat and watched Colin release Clara from her travel bindings. Soon the blithesome cry of “Good afternoon!” rang through the room as Carolyn entered with a bright hostess smile.

“I still don’t get how you’ve managed to be so damn cheerful this afternoon,” Robert groused, “while I’m living proof that three or four bottles of wine over the course of an afternoon and evening can do serious damage. Even what passed for a romp this morning wasn’t very much help. I swear there must be witchcraft at work.”

“No Sir, there’s no witchcraft involved. Just chalk it up to the science behind the beauty bag. And Sir, for goodness sake, please don’t discuss our private life in public, especially around my lovely but staunchly puritanical, and overly protective, father. I wouldn’t be surprised if he still thinks I’m a virgin.” She sauntered over to her fiance, cupped his face in her hands and kissed his forehead. “Still, I forgive you this time darling, and I’m so sorry you’re still feeling unwell. Perhaps you should try some coffee.”

After a quick smile and a caress on his cheek she turned to her father, put a light hand on his chest, bent down and kissed him on his cheek. “Father, it is so good to see you away from the boardroom and all those dreary sycophants. You really should do this more often.”

As her father mulled over an appropriately gruff retort for the several injuries his daughter just tossed his way, Clara leaned over, placed her hand on his arm and teased, “Now Andrew, play nice. After all, they’re on celebratory vacation and we’re guests here today.”

Carolyn shook her head emphatically. “Now Clara, you know very well that you and Father aren’t guests. You’re family. Isn’t that right Robert?” Without pausing a second for confirmation, or even acknowledgment, she continued, “After all, if we weren’t all family then you, Bridget and I would all be bound and silenced in those horribly disagreeable garments and curbs we’re so often forced to wear, while the men in our lives would be sitting in comfort on the veranda, tippling some sort of vile spirits and discussing trout fishing, or badger baiting, or some other equally ridiculous masculine pastime. Isn’t that right Father?” Carolyn opined as she spread her arms expansively, walked to an empty chair, and sat down as though she were the reigning queen of the ball. “By the way Clara, happy birthday today. Does this make you twenty-eight, or is it twenty-nine?”

Clara laughed and shook her head. “Bless you Carolyn. You’re so sweet for saying so, but as my husband and guardian forbids me to fib, under penalty of a severe and public spanking, I must confess that I’m now a ripe old fifty-two.”

Carolyn looked at her father in mock horror. “No! I cannot believe it. Father, I can’t believe you could be so cruel as to compel my stepmother to confess her actual age. Do we poor, downtrodden females have no womanly rights left to us in this cruel new world?”

Clara blushed with gratitude and pleasure. “Carrie darling, you will always have a place in my home.”

A clearing of a throat caught the attention of the table. A quick glance revealed Colin, cap in hand, standing somewhat awkwardly in the doorway. “Mr. Fletcher, may I have a private word with you?” he asked. “Perhaps in your old office?”

Andrew Fletcher shifted his gaze from the silly, playful exchange between his beloved daughter and his wife, to the worried butler standing in the doorway. “Why yes, of course.” As he rose from the chair he excused himself and followed the humble, taciturn man to the library.

                                                                        * * *

When the two men returned to the dining room they were visibly upset. “Andrew? What is it?” Clara exclaimed as she hurried from her chair to her husband. Bridget quickly followed to join her husband at his side.

As they returned to their chairs, Andrew signaled that Colin should speak for the two of them. “I just received a telephone call from Bridget’s cousin Rory up in northern Minnesota,” Colin began in a soft and slightly strained voice. “It seems that some mercenary inquisitors have raided their small town of Haldenford and Bridget’s family home now stands severely damaged and empty.”

Colin lowered his head in despair and fell silent for a few moments before forcing himself to steady his voice and continue, “Her elderly parents, her sisters Margaret and Amelia, and her several nieces and nephews, have all disappeared as well.”

“Rory thinks Bridget’s family was struck because some in town believe them to be free-thinking Presbyterians, and there was money to be made in their capture. With that, I regret to inform you, Mister Morris and Miss Fletcher, that my services and the services of my wife Bridget will have to be suspended so that we can travel to Minnesota to attend to this matter and hopefully find, and possibly rescue, our family members, if they were, in fact, kidnapped for sale or ransom.”

The room fell into stunned silence, and remained quiet until Andrew cleared his throat and spoke. “Well, I don’t know what else to say other than that Clara and I will be going as well. The O’Leary’s will need a ride back to town and Colin may require my help in this matter, help that I’m more than happy to provide. So, Clara, prepare yourself to leave. And Bridget, see to it that Clara’s restrained properly. I’ll take this unfortunate situation as an unpleasant reminder that I shouldn’t have taken the risk of permitting my wife to fall out of compliance with the female congregation laws in the first place. It’s not just the Bureau men and the Morality Police that we have to worry about anymore. There are also all kinds of freelance bounty hunters, and the occasional self-righteous vigilante posse, to worry about as well.”

He paused and, with a wince and a scowl, added, “The whole damn world’s gone absolutely mad. It’s not even safe out here in the sanctuary of this bucolic country cottage tucked away almost in the middle of nowhere anymore.”

He looked at his daughter, then to Robert. “When you two finally got legally engaged I promised myself that I wouldn’t meddle in your private matters, including the personal details of your courtship. I am well aware of the fact that the two of you are adults and are eager go go as far as the law and her brand new fiancee chastity belt allows. But, after receiving this call, it reminded me of my duty as a father as well as the head of this family. In light of this mess, I feel I have no choice but to break that promise and speak up.”

The aging tycoon grunted as he rose from his chair, placed both hands firmly on the table, and studied the young couple. “It’s not something you’ll get from what passes for the news these days but, the fact is, now that the hardliners are firmly in the ascendancy, things are getting precarious for anyone with even a modicum of self-respect and an affection for personal agency. Apparently, a few weeks ago they finally succeeded in forming a political machine they’re now calling the Nationalist Party and they aim to crack down hard on those they see as too permissive. As a matter of fact, that might help explain this mercenary nonsense going on in Haldenford right now.

“Anyway, the hardliners have been after me for being too liberal-minded for some time. But now that they’ve managed to formally organize themselves, these hooligans have become an actual threat. Trust me children, they mean to actually fulfill their pledges to, as they put it, ‘cleanse society of permissive decadence’ and to ‘purge all traces of moral anarchy’. If you don’t already know, those are two of their favorite political slogans.”

Andrew Fletcher paused, straightened up and stretched his back before sitting back down in his chair. “They started attacking me by going after my relationship with Clara. She used to work in the musical theater on Broadway you know. And now I believe they’re now going after my servants Colin and Bridget O’Leary.

“Robert, I have no doubt that you and Carolyn are on their hit list as well. And Robert, there’s no point in beating around the bush. You, my son, are screwing up. If you truly love Carolyn, and want to keep her safe and away from the wrath of the new regime, then you need to get my daughter back into full compliance with her level one requirements and make damn sure she obeys every single one of the female congregation laws. My God but how you’ve allowed her behavior to become an easy target. Just this afternoon she flounced about as though she was queen of some damn debutante ball. What’s worse, she’s acting as though she’s free to do and say whatever comes into that unruly, spoiled head of hers, female congregation laws and level one regulations be damned. In other words, all weekend long she’s behaved exactly like the kind of privileged, entitled brat she used to loathe and despise.”

Andrew Fletcher looked at their stunned faces. “What? It never occurred to you that I might have security monitoring equipment and cameras all over this property? Colin just showed me a few of the highlights. And don’t worry, after I’d watched them I deleted and swept the files.

“Look, the thugs and hoodlums that make up the majority of the middle and lower echelons of this new party are looking for easy targets that will help to advance their careers. And Robert, I love you like my own son, and it hurts me to say this, but even when you’re trying to be strict with my daughter, you’re letting her get away with murder. Just look at her right now. Without straining a single brain cell, I can rattle off a half dozen serious violations she’s committed in the short time she’s been here on this property, and damn it boy you’ve been complicit in allowing, if not encouraging, each and every one of those infractions.

“As to the argument that Carolyn doesn’t have to follow the female congregation laws because you’re on private property, well forget it. It’s no truer than saying a person can commit murder in his home because it took place on private property. If you want to have any hope of marrying this girl then I strongly suggest you ask Bridget and Colin to lock her into some proper long-term restraints before you two leave this place, and keep her in them until she’s mastered and passed the full Mansom Center catalog of correctional and protocol programs.

“Robert, Carolyn, you two kids have blown it. Robert, in a way I can understand you screwing up. I know how much you despise this extremist crap, and you have one of the kindest and most compassionate hearts I’ve ever known. And I certainly understand the temptation to go easy with Carolyn and grant her every dream, desire and whim. Hell’s bells, Clara and I skirted the law more than a few times when we were first courting in New York and San Francisco. So believe me, I know the joy and rewards of breaking the rules.

“But as for you Carolyn, you know better than to push Robert in that direction. And don’t you dare try to tell me that you haven’t been using your feminine wiles to get away with murder or I will personally shove a reformatory gag in your mouth right now.

“Carolyn Ann Fletcher, you are a fully trained graduate of of the Westminster Academy for Young Ladies of Distinction and you need to start acting like one again. To be completely honest, right now, I think you’re a menace to Robert, his health and his freedom. If those Nationalist bullies catch wind of how you two have been conducting yourselves, and they certainly will if you allow this rebellious and dismissive attitude of yours to continue, I guarantee you that one of two things will happen. Robert will either end up in prison, or if the thugs are as lazy and brutal as their reputations suggest, they’ll take the fascist route and Robert will simply end up dead in a ditch somewhere.

“So Carolyn, setting aside the issue of your own comfort, are you going to commit yourself to do the things you need to do to keep Robert, and your marriage prospects, safe? Will you go to your room with Colin and Bridget and do what all your training tells you must be done?”

Carolyn, shaken by this sudden turn of events, looked first at her beloved fiance Robert, then studied her father’s stern demeanor, then turned back again to Robert.

“Of course I will,” she replied, her voice soft and a bit shaky. She then held up her hands and cleared her throat. “I’ll absolutely do what I must. Bridget, I’m ready to receive the restraints you deem proper and necessary as soon as you have them prepared. I’ll be in my room ready to receive those items in five minutes.”

She then turned to Robert and placed her hand against his cheek. “Don’t forget your promise to prepare me for our wedding,” she said as she touched her nose. “The perfect time to do it is right after we get home, while I’m fully bound in Bridget’s restraints. Promise me sweetheart, swear to me you’ll have it promptly and properly done, so I’ll have time to heal before the ceremony.”

A shaken Robert cupped Carolyn’s face in his hands. He was at a loss of what to do, or what to say, about this frightening and awful turn of events. How, he wondered, could he possibly agree to such a distressing, even barbarous set of demands?

“I’m serious Robert, swear to me that you’ll see my ring is done, and done properly. I know that once I’m finally wearing it, it will be a physical reminder to me that you’re still here, caring for me, and waiting for me to finally become your wife.

“And don’t forget what father told you to do, make me fully compliant, only be better and stricter than that. Don’t release me from training until I’ve exceeded all their stupid requirements and regulations, especially all the new ones. Please swear you’ll do this for me. And for heaven’s sake, don’t slack off and give those bastards a reason to separate us.”

Robert sighed as he slowly nodded. “Okay Carrie, I promise.”

“Thank you sweetheart,” she said, then leaned into him and kissed him. “I love you,” she said, this time with a little sadness in her voice. Then, without another word she turned and walked back towards their bedroom.

Robert watched her every step as she walked down the hall and disappeared around a corner before turning back to look at her father. The two men quietly nodded to each other as Robert slumped back into his chair, grabbed his juice glass, found it empty and slammed it down on the table.

“I’m sorry son,” Andrew said as he put his hand on Robert’s shoulder.

“You know, it’s a damned hard thing for any man to accept that this world isn’t going to change for the better just because he’s fed up with all its vicious brutality and unjust ways. And its hell knowing that all too often a man has to play by the rules of brutes and savages just to keep from getting slaughtered by them. The really sad thing is, you’ll see more and more of this once you start playing a stronger role in your late father’s businesses.”

Not knowing quite how to respond, Robert simply nodded.

“But I have an important question or two to ask you. Now, I’m talking man to man here. Alright?

“Yes sir. Sure.

The old man nodded his thanks. “I need to know, will you do your absolute best to support my daughter in what she needs to do? Will you make sure she remains in her reformatory restraints until Colin or, if he isn’t back yet, someone at the Mansom Training Center, tells you those restraints are no longer necessary? It may be a few weeks before it’s safe to release her. And Robert, I’m quite certain that when you see the full extent of her restraints you’ll be shaken and appalled by what she’s forced by law to endure. And, of course it won’t end there. Carolyn’s correct in saying that you’ll probably need to do still more things to keep her in full compliance with all the new, much more severe and uncompromising female congregation and morality laws I see coming down the pike as various governments around the world begin their work to standardize things and get international travel and trade going again. I need you to be strong, not just for her but for our whole family.”

Robert didn’t know what Andrew meant by doing even more things to protect Carolyn, but it didn’t seem the time to play twenty questions. “Of course I will sir,” he replied with all the conviction he could muster. “I’ll do everything I can to keep Carolyn and the rest of our family safe. You have my solemn word.”

The two men shook hands. Their handshake was firm, almost defiant, as though they were comrades in arms about to enter battle against the forces of tyranny.

“And sir, if there is anything I can do to help the O’Leary’s, or do anything else for the family, just name it,” Robert added. “I may not have the political contacts you have, but I do have ample financial resources that might not be under the kind of scrutiny yours probably are.”

The old patriarch smiled. “Yes, well thank you. I’ll let you know if it comes to that. And when I find out anything of value, and it’s safe to share it with you, I’ll let you know.”

Chapter 4 “Back Home Again”

Obeisance: Chapter 2

Obeisance

by J T and Nye

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

 The Belvedere

The young couple motored through a broad expanse of old pastureland, long abandoned to determinants of nature’s precepts, until they arrived at a spot where they could just barely make out the roof of the Fletcher’s grand vacation cottage. “Swap places with me,” he said in a firm yet pleasant voice.

Surprised, Carolyn glanced over, studied him, but didn’t respond.

“You said you wanted to drive. Show me what you can do.”

She grinned and nodded, and after swapping places she tested the clutch and stick before grumbling in disappointment.

“What’s the matter? Don’t you want to drive?”

“Of course I do,” she replied, her voice fraught with annoyance and exasperation. “It’s just that this stupid hobble skirt is too tight. I can’t get my feet far enough apart to operate the pedals properly. And, if that isn’t enough to worry about, my chastity belt just gave me one of those damn advisory curfew buzzes.”

“Really? Could you tell which buzz it was?”

Carolyn scowled. “No,” she grumbled, “but it’s definitely too late to be the first one. It could be the second one. But to be honest I’m guessing that as late as it is, and as fierce as it was, it was probably the third one. But even if it was the third buzz, we still have a half an hour to ourselves.”

Robert nodded.

“So there’s plenty of time for me to drive if we can just figure out how to do it,” she added, just in case he missed her point.

Robert thought for a moment. “How about you sit on my lap and I’ll operate the brake and the clutch for you? You can still work the accelerator, the gearshift, and the wheel, of course.”

Carolyn was doubtful. “Do you really think we can both squeeze under that steering wheel, with me on your lap?”

“Well, we won’t know until we try,” Robert replied.

As she squeezed in on top of him it became clear that there would be a fair amount of upward pressure from her lap against the bottom of the steering wheel. “Can you work the clutch or are my feet in the way?” she asked.

I think it may be possible,” Robert said as he worked to reposition himself so he could see around her. “I think we can forget about the seat belt though, so let’s take it easy.”

Carolyn nodded. “Okay then. Do you want to start this beast or shall I?”

They began slowly as Robert worked out how to avoid Carolyn’s legs while working the clutch while Carolyn shifted about enough to take the pressure off the wheel so she could steer, shift gears, and work the accelerator.

As their confidence in this arrangement grew, Carolyn gradually accelerated and they were soon laughing and bouncing across the field.

As they approached a small grove of trees the little buggy hit a large rut, hidden by a growth of thick grass, making the buggy buck sideways and nearly spilling Carolyn off Robert’s lap and into the passenger seat. As he grabbed her arm Robert slammed on the brakes, stalling the motor. “Are you okay?” he yelled as he choked down a racing sense of fright.

When the reality of what had happened finally sank in, Carolyn embraced Robert and began to laugh. “I’m fine,” she reassured him. “I’m okay, but I don’t think this team approach is one of our better ideas. I guess you’d better drive.”

Robert, hating to see her enthusiasm dashed, thought for a moment. “Wait a minute. If what they told me in one of those damn lectures about built-in safety features is true, a heavy, long, hobble skirt like the one you’re wearing has got to have some kind of safety release along the hem,” he said.

“Sure, but it’s bound to be locked.”

“So what if it is? If I wreck it I’ll buy you a new one. It’s not like I haven’t destroyed a few of your clothes back in your post-Westminster period.”

She studied her fiance, the red of the Easter Sunday twilight accentuating the irritation in his face as well as his voice. “Wow,” she said, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say that you’re more determined to see me drive than I am.”

Robert glanced up from studying the hem of her skirt to see a bemused smile aimed in his direction. He grinned. “Yeah, I hate stupid rules.”

“But please don’t destroy the skirt. I don’t want to cause any distress for Bridget and Colin. Not after all they’ve done for us.”

Robert shrugged. “All right, but it wouldn’t hurt to look. Maybe it won’t be that difficult.”

Carolyn looked skeptical. “Yes Sir. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to at least check.”

Robert smiled. “Good. Now help me out here, where would a secret safety zipper be hidden on this thing?”

“They’re often called relief seams, or safety seams, and they’re usually found in pairs on either side of a hobble skirt, or as a single seam centered in the back,” she told him. “I’m guessing in this case it’s probably a single seam in the back. Here, help me out of the buggy. It’ll be much easier to find if I’m standing.”

Once he knew what to look for it didn’t take Robert long to find the relief seam, hidden behind a clever sealed flap.

“Is it locked?” she asked.

Robert answered by unsealing the flap and raising the zipper. “It isn’t a keyed lock but it’s tricky and you have to see what you’re doing. It also takes the nimble fingers of both hands to work it, so I seriously doubt you could’ve opened it on your own with your gloves cuffed to your wrists the way they are. But now, get in and start it up. You’re free to drive,” he said with a grin.

“You ready?” she asked.

“The question is, do you think you’re ready?”

“Oh, I’m ready. Now fasten your seat belt, it’s going to be a bumpy night,” she exclaimed as she settled in and fired up the engine.

“Bumpy night?”

“You know, Bette Davis.”

Robert shook his head.

“All About Eve?” she asked, her voice tinged with surprise. “Oh well, never mind. Any last-minute tidbits you’d care to share?”

After giving her a few simple suggestions they lurched forward and bounced across the meadow at an uncomfortably high rate of speed and general disregard for the terrain. As they approached the tree line his apprehension grew. Just as he was positive they’d reached the point of no return Carolyn spun the wheel, forcing the back end of the buggy to skid out and lurch in the direction that followed the tree line for a while until she again turned the buggy, this time in the general direction of the cottage.

Still driving at a speed that unnerved Robert, Carolyn turned to look at him. “Scare you?” she yelled over the growl of the engine.

Robert saw no point in lying. “Yes.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Yes, but that’s not the point,” he said. “Tell you what, I’ll drive.”

“Payback, huh?”

“No, concern for your welfare. If we get much closer, even in this light, with that blue helmet you’re wearing anyone in the cottage will be able to tell that you’re driving.

                                                                        * * *

After dinner, as Robert browsed the library’s bookshelves for something to read, Carolyn approached and whispered, “A moment of private time Sir?”

He placed a couple of books that had potential on an end table. “Sure, let’s step out on the veranda.”

The evening was cool, but comfortable enough to not require a sweater. The veranda was as broad as a single-lane country road and ran the full length of the back of the house. The vast space was occupied by four groupings of whitewashed wicker arm chairs, love seats, and glass topped tables, and was dominated by a wide central staircase that spilled onto a large expanse of lawn and gardens. As he looked out on to the grounds to the left of the staircase Robert could see a well-tended tennis court, and further on, the empty stable. To the right lay a pond edged with a scattering of mature trees and an impressive structure that rested on the water’s edge.

“So sweetie, what’s up?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing in particular, I just wanted to spend more time with my future husband,” she whispered with an edge of frisky playfulness in her voice. As she pressed herself closer to him and squeezed him against the door frame she added, “I do like the sound of that phrase, ‘my future husband.’ There’s something nice about how the word ‘husband’ feels on my tongue, like the taste and feel of sweet custard just before you swallow it.”

“So, I’m just food to you?” he teased.

“No,” she chuckled as she playfully bumped against him. “Well, maybe food for the soul if you’re into that mushy sort of thing,” she teased as she nibbled his lower lip. As she nestled into him, he wrapped an arm around her and together they moved towards the railing at the front of the veranda overlooking the grounds, illuminated by the brilliant stars of a cloudless night, the brightness of the Easter Sunday moon, and soft, bluish path lights leading down to the structure edging the pond.

“I’m glad you insisted we come here,” he said as he nuzzled and kissed the top of her head. “It’s a beautiful night and it’s a beautiful place to celebrate our engagement.”

“So, you forgive me for nagging you?”

“I do. I’m sorry I was so bullheaded about it. You were right, this is perfect.”

Carolyn chuckled. “Well, at least that’s one less punishment I have to worry about. Would you please unbind my arms Sir?” she asked.

Robert removed the wrap covering her back prayer jacket, a training device that assisted in the process of training her to achieve her ultimate goal of holding her forearms so that they pointed up vertically against her spine, with her wrists and elbows firmly bound together. Carolyn had made a personal commitment to train in it at least two hours every day in preparation for her wedding.

Once her arms had been freed Carolyn threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly until her arms, still tingling from their release from her bondage, gave out. “Thank you for today,” she said.

“You’re welcome. There’s something I meant to ask earlier. Did you ever figure out what that last curfew alert in the meadow was? I noticed you were pretty quick to run inside.”

“Oh yeah,” she replied with a definite nod, “that one in the meadow was the final warning, and the penalty for being late just kicked in while you were parking the buggy in the barn.”

“So, we got back just in time.”

“Not really. I had a hell of a time finding Colin to get the damn thing turned off.”

“So I hurt you again,” he sighed.

“Oh no, not at all. It turns out it’s really no big deal. It’s not like a real punishment. The correction is just designed to make sure I can’t illicitly enjoy myself after curfew. It was really more annoying than painful.”

Robert breathed a sigh of relief. “Good, I’m glad it wasn’t worse,” he replied. “But still, I’m sorry I hurt you earlier today.”

Carolyn hummed a smile and hugged him again.

“What?” he asked.

“The idea that you hurt me,” she said. “The idea that you would or could ever really hurt me. I don’t mean that you could never disappoint me, or correct me, or that you would never punish me in a way that causes me a great deal of discomfort, like that spanking you gave me at the lake. I mean the idea that it’s within you to really hurt me and cause me harm. It’s just not you Robert.”

“But with the belt…” he began.

She sighed, “Yes, the chastity belt. My very own pumpkin shell. The primus inter pares. The final word when it comes to controlling women.”

“Primus inter pares— ‘the first among equals’.”

“You know your schoolboy Latin.” She gave a brief, approving smile then again hugged him a bit. “Not too shabby for a Northwestern University jock who majored in business.”

“Does that mean I’m forgiven for not knowing about All About Eve?”

“Well, maybe. But only if you promise to watch the movie with me sometime. It’s banned, but father has a copy and it’s really worth the effort.”

Robert nodded. “It’s a deal,” he said. “What do you mean by ‘first among equals’?”

She thought for a moment before answering. “Did you know that all government certified chastity belts are owned and maintained by the state, never the parent, guardian or husband? It is the one restraint item that I must wear that I, or my guardian, cannot own. By law, all mandated chastity belts must be leased from the state and neither I, nor my father, nor you, are allowed any say on what is locked around my middle.

“Actually I did know that.”

She nodded. “Anyway, I believe in this case the motto means that the control and security systems built into state approved chastity belts set the security standards for every other restraint device a girl must or may be required to wear. It’s the one device in which the law allows no leeway.”

Carolyn paused, frowned, then continued, “It also means it’s illegal to modify, tamper with, or otherwise compromise its function. They really mean it too; the penalties for doing so are quite severe.”

Though his face was hidden in shadow she felt him smile. “In other words, do not fold, spindle or mutilate the steel defender of your virtue, huh?” he joked.

“Yeah. Anyway, let’s move on. Needless to say, and as you’ve probably noticed, my chastity belt is hardly couture,” she scoffed. “And do you want to know what really irks me? I’m not even allowed to decorate the damn thing. I can’t even paint a pretty little flower on the face plate, a little pretty something to make up for the fact that I can’t ever get the bottom of a sexy lingerie set to fit properly over the damn thing to hide the fact that I’m wrapped in a drab, functional, boring mass of metal composites and super synthetics that cover some of my best features.”

“So, you can’t even inscribe ‘primus inter pares’ in nice Gothic lettering on your waist band?” he teased.

She glared her answer then fell silent for a while before speaking again. “Have you noticed that people rarely ever talk about chastity belts? Women don’t talk about them with each other because the Female Congregation Laws forbid us from gathering and talking to each other at all. As for any talk about it between men and women, well I’ve never heard of it happening. I’ve never had a conversation with any man about my belt even though it’s always been a brutal fact of life in every romantic relationship I’ve been in since the plot began.”

“That’s odd. Why do you think that is?”

Carolyn shrugged. “I don’t know. Embarrassment perhaps? A bit like the taboo of talking about women’s unmentionables in mixed company before the plot? Or maybe because we women are severely punished if we’re caught complaining about having to wear them. But seriously Robert, do you really want to talk about this?”

“Actually I do,” he replied. “Look, all I know about them is what I’ve been told in those guardianship classes I had to take before I could apply for our engagement license and guardian certificate, and that wasn’t much. They mostly talked about the laws pertaining to the belts, the cleaning and maintenance rules and procedures, and how to use and safeguard your controller and the key. So, if you could shed some light on the subject from your perspective maybe it will help me to know that secret side of you better.”

Carolyn studied his face for a while before she responded. “You’re actually serious about this aren’t you? Wow, this is a first. Most men I’ve known just assume that I wear a belt because the law says I need it in lieu of self control, that it’s for my own good, and I probably deserve having to wear it. And if there’s any discussion at all, it’s about whether it’s time for a trip to the Hopfield Center for a model upgrade, or worse, a trip to the Mansom Center for further, and inevitably, more intense training and discipline. Well Sir, what would you like to know?”

“Well, why don’t we take a bit of advice from Lewis Carroll and begin at the beginning.”

“You mean you’ve actually read Alice in Wonderland?” she asked in surprise.

“What can I say. My parents were fans of the classics and when I was a small boy my mother read a lot to me before bedtime. She wasn’t just a famous socialite, you know. She was also a pretty good mom.”

“Which is probably why you’re a pretty good boyfriend. Well alright. By your command I’ll begin at the beginning.

“I’ve been wearing some sort of chastity belt ever since they were introduced shortly after the plot. My first one was a fairly crude model, not much different than the ones used in the fetish scene back when it was still legal to have a fetish scene. I hated the damn thing. It didn’t fit right, it pinched and chafed, I itched like crazy, it was impossible to clean properly so it reeked to high heaven, and well, let’s just say it was a nightmare. In fact, after I was finally released and sent home from the college labor camp, it got to the point where I was so irritated by the damn thing Bridget once caught me grinding on the arm of the living room sofa. Of course she reported me to my father, and he promptly sent me to the Hopfield Center for an upgrade to the just introduced model two chastity belt that fit better, improved on many of the sanitary issues, and included a crude but reasonably effective control system that discouraged me from ever trying to hump a chair arm again.”

Robert laughed, hugged his fiancee and patted her bottom. “I can just imagine. In fact, I would have loved to have seen you riding the sofa arm. That must have been a funny sight.”

“For you maybe Sir,” she countered. “Not so much for the girl who’s so irritated, frustrated, and desperate she’ll try anything to find some relief.

“You see Sir, my chastity belt never slumbers,” she said, her voice soft but nettled. “Can you imagine such a thing? The belt, and the electronic bits and pieces inside it, in coordination with their mates, implanted all around as well as inside my naughty bits, serve to vigilantly guard and control the most intimate functions in my life.

“Through the guardian controller Colin now holds, and you will hold after we’re married, my chastity belt has the ability to regulate how and when I’m permitted to use the bathroom. My belt also automatically and continuously monitors and regulates my level of sexual arousal, and ensures that my arousal constantly remains within legally specified parameters. Worse of all, it regulates how and when I am permitted to express my affection to the man I am so desperately in love with that I sometimes can’t see straight.”

“I love you too,” he said and kissed the top of her head, unsure how else to respond.

She smiled and squeezed his arm. “I know you do. You prove it to me all the time. Would you like to join me in some champagne? Bridget left a bottle on ice and a couple of glasses over there on the table next to the love seat.”

“Champagne at this hour?”

She smiled. “Good champagne is always appropriate at any hour. And trust me, this is very good champagne.”

“Even first thing in the morning?”

“Have you ever heard of mimosas?”

“Right. Did your father pick up the champagne while you were living in Europe?”

“Of course. He shipped back cases and cases of the stuff and has a standing annual order with his favorite vineyard. Would you please do the honors and uncork the bottle?”

Though not a fan of sparkling wines Robert had to admit this was something special. They were sitting quietly on the love seat and Robert just finished his second glass when he suddenly broke the silence, “I don’t see how you can stand it.”

“Stand what?” she asked.

Surprised by his own outburst he set his glass on the table and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That incident with your chastity belt this afternoon really got to me.  It reminded me that I’m not authorized to care for you or, for that matter, love you the way I want to.” He shook his head in frustration. “That thing makes me feel, well, kind of helpless. Like a small child. I know it’s stupid. I mean you’re the one who has to actually deal with it day in and day out, not me. All I can do is just whine and gripe about how it gets in our way when we want to behave and play as consenting adults.”

Carolyn nodded, placed her hand on his chest, and softly caressed and pressed his chest until he was comfortably resting against the back of the love seat. She then placed her hand in his and leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Maybe it’s good we’re talking about it now, before we’re married,” she replied then softly nuzzled and kissed his neck. “Maybe we’re both at a place where we’re ready to talk about this annoying and rather aggravating piece of armor. I mean break the taboo and really talk and not just spout the usual quips and off-color jokes that everyone says so they can bury the matter and not really have to think about it.”

“Maybe,” he said, “but still I’m sorry for the outburst.  I kind of feel I aimed it at you and I didn’t mean to.”

She smiled. “Don’t worry about it. You should hear what I yell at this soulless hunk of metal when I’m alone. But do you really want to know how I can stand living with it? How I manage to cope with it?”

“Sure, but only if you’re comfortable talking about it.”

“I am,” she replied. “But you need to understand, my feelings about my being forced to wear this very intrusive piece of hardware are rather complicated. They’re complicated by what it does to me personally and emotionally, they’re complicated by years of indoctrination designed to make me accept the fact that I’m a level one girl who will remain in chastity for the rest of her life, and most importantly, my feelings are complicated by how it affects us, our relationship, and ultimately, our marriage. Are you sure you want to put yourself through all this?”

“Sure, as I said, I’m all for anything that helps me to get to know you a little better.”

“Well, I just hope you still feel kindly towards me after you see the reality that is the twisted mind of Carolyn Fletcher,” she said as she playfully nibbled on his shoulder. She then grew serious. “Well, if you would kindly refill our glasses I’ll begin by asking you a rather silly, somewhat rhetorical question.”

“Sure, go ahead. Ask away.”

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to be forced to live, day in and day out, without benefit of the simple common pleasures that are routinely taken for granted in most normal human relationships?”

“I guess not. After all, how could I really?”

“No, you couldn’t,” she said. “So it wouldn’t be fair to expect you to fully understand just what these chastity belts do to us girls.”

She paused and thought for a moment before continuing, “Let’s bring it a little closer to home for a moment then. Tell me, what do you think that plastic, pink and green, remote-controlled novelty toy I gave you last Christmas, called ‘Play Time’, actually does?” She leaned in and whispered in his ear, “You know, those diabolical little buttons you love to press when you play with me while I have my head between your legs. Do you know what those buttons do to your living, breathing sex toy?” she whispered, then paused and gently blew in his ear before adding, “With the extremely talented and versatile mouth?”

“Well,” he replied as he rubbed his ear, “depending on the button, I can press ‘reward’ give you lots of pleasure, or I can press ‘spank’ and deliver a correction if I feel you need a little encouragement or direction. Then, of course there’s that red punishment button, labeled ‘Emergency’ I never felt any desire to use.”

She raised an eyebrow and smiled sardonically. “Give me pleasure? I’ll bet that’s what it says in the ‘Play Time’ instruction manual. And even worse, I’ll bet it’s what they taught you about those damn certified controllers in those guardianship classes you took. It figures that you didn’t sleep through those lectures,” she huffed as she shook her head. “The honest truth is, the best those buttons marked either ‘pleasure’ or ‘reward’ can offer is stimulation.”

“And that’s bad?”

“It’s not thrilling. You see, those so-called pleasure buttons provide a lot of stimulation, but no finish. The truth is that system, and really any control system I’m aware of, is designed to get me aroused to the point where I’m nearly mad with lust, but just when I’m about to tumble into blissful orgasm the belt stops me dead in my tracks with corrections and sends me back to the starting gate where the whole cycle starts all over again.”

Robert nodded. “And that brings be back to my question. How do you stand it?”

Carolyn finished her glass before answering, “The simple answer is that I stand it because I have no choice in the matter. You know about the plot of course. And you know that, not long after chastity belts were introduced as a restraint, someone decided that high security chastity belts should be one of the principal tools used to control society’s most dangerous women, and interestingly, the men who love them.”

“Like you?”

She nodded. “Like me, and to an extent, you as well.”

“Yeah, I never got why they decided to go that route,” he said as he picked up the champagne bottle.

She frowned. “Well, I don’t really know how the decision to use chastity belts was actually made, most likely by some bureaucratic committee during the early days of the plot. But in my rather warped imagination the idea originated in the twisted mind of a rich, corrupt industrialist. Some gentleman who was really high up in the food chain with serious relationship and trust issues and an underutilized manufacturing plant.”

Robert grinned, tucked his finger under her chin and raised her head until their eyes met. “Really? You mean like some dastardly comic book villain sporting a top hat, black cape, and a handlebar mustache who has a passion for tying helpless heroines to railroad tracks?”

“Hey, this is my story. Invent your own if you don’t like it. Anyway, this guy somehow managed to not only to convince the government that the millitanette revolutionaries and their supporters weren’t just criminals, but madwomen. He sold them on the idea that not only were we unable to control our hormonally driven libidos, but we were also fanatical in our desire to commit androcide. After that it was an easy sell to convince them that the answer to a major part of the state’s problems was to buy his company’s products and lock us all up.”

As he refilled her glass she grinned and said, “You do know that what I am telling you is just my personal rant, and has no basis in fact, don’t you? And I’m sure you know that, as a strictly regulated girl who is also your property, the words I’m saying, the thoughts I am expressing, are strictly forbidden and if it ever got out that I said them I’d be in a hell of a lot of trouble.”

“Sure,” he replied then gently kissed her forehead. “I’ve already gotten the official line. I’m here for the unvarnished Carolyn perspective.”

“So, you’ll keep what I’m saying our secret?”

“As always, I promise.”

She kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Sir. The real truth, as I see it, is that chastity belts are widely regarded as an essential tool used to monitor and control suspect women like me, and to help keep the current political system stable and in power. Personally, I think the arguments they use to buttress the mandate to use chastity belts, control collars, voice control systems, and all the rest of the state’s draconian control devices is sketchy. But let’s be honest Robert, the plot was very real, the millitanette’s biological weapon killed tens, if not hundreds, of millions of men and sterilized countless others. And on a practical level, the political system the post-plot regime established does seem to function fairly well, and is much, much better than what’s going on in some other parts of the world.

“Compared to the time right after the plot unfolded, our cities are safer, our supermarkets are full and offer a wide variety of foods, our energy and transportation systems work, married couples are having babies again, our homes once again have reliable water, heat and electricity, and property rights are once again beginning to be enforced and respected.

“And on a purely personal level they’ve managed to create a highly effective system that ensures that I’m well controlled and silenced when they say I need to be without the expense of keeping me locked up in prison, and that I am effectively secured in a bio-mechanical device that is extremely good at controlling my body, managing my biological urges, and checking all unapproved pleasure while simultaneously ensuring that I remain obsessively interested in what I’m prevented from having without proper authorization.”

“You mean sex?”

“Well, yes. But not just sex.  For me, emotional intimacy, connection, and reproduction with the man I love is a really big deal for me too. A few years ago I didn’t think I would ever want to get pregnant. But now I very much want to have a baby. I want to have your baby.”

Robert gripped her ponytail and moved her head until she was in a position where he could kiss her. “I want all that too, sweety,” he replied before allowing her head to again rest on his shoulder.

“Thank you Sir, that was nice. Would you like for me to continue, or would you prefer to do something else?”

“No, please continue. You’re showing me another side of Carolyn Fletcher, and I’m rather enjoying it.”

“Thank you Sir. So, I shall obey my guardian’s command and continue on with my rant. During the dark days of my initial training, it was drilled deep into me that I would always wear a chastity belt designed to ensure that any hope of sexual fulfillment would only be possible after two requirements were fulfilled. The first requirement was that I must be certified as having been thoroughly tutored and conditioned in every aspect of my training. And the second requirement was that I must fully submit and surrender to the absolute domination and unconditional control of a state approved husband.”

She paused, and after a moment she got up from the love seat and returned to the railing. As she gripped the top of the railing she turned about and rested her bottom against the railing. “Remember how I shared my favorite, really only remaining sexual fantasy with you earlier today?” she asked.

“Yes, of course. I thought it was kind of hot.”

She turned, hopped up on the railing, and smiled invitingly. “Thank you Sir. Well, at the time I graduated from my initial training my only fantasy, the fantasy the authorities somehow managed to implant in me and, I was told, the same one they implanted in all the girls, was to find a husband who would, from time to time, bind me securely in chains, remove my chastity belt, use me, then lock me up again. The weird thing is, after the rape, this fantasy husband of mine doesn’t release me from my chains. Isn’t that odd?”

She smiled, held out her empty glass and shook it. “You, Sir, are a very pleasant, very unexpected, surprise in my life. You see, that’s when I knew you had me forever, when my fantasy changed. No matter what happens in the future I’ll always be grateful to you for helping me to bury that horror show of an apparition and replace it with the fantasy I shared with you earlier today.”

Robert got up from the loveseat, grabbed the half empty bottle, eased up to her and wrapped an arm around her. As he pressed his chest against her he felt the rigid waistband and face plate of her chastity belt press against his crotch. The sensation startled him and he was surprised to find it arousing, something Carolyn also noticed.

She moved her right hand from the railing, stroked his crotch, and smiled. “I’m glad I excite you. I’m also delighted that for some weird reason pressing your erection against the front of my chastity belt really excites you and, despite having to wear the damn thing that keeps you from entering me, I can still arouse you and give you splendid orgasms,” she said. “I’m really looking forward to the time you can do the same for me.”

“You mean I haven’t?”

“You did, once. When we visited your old college friend Roger Adams and he temporarily hacked my belt so you could do that wonderful thing that caused me to briefly pass out from pleasure.”

“I remember.”

“And after I had regained consciousness, do you remember how I begged for more? Roger cut us off, saying that based on his experience with playing with his wife Peggy’s chastity belt, it was dangerous for my belt to stay hacked for too long, and that hack could only be a one time thing.”

“Yeah, I remember. And sadly, and not long after that Roger and Peggy vanished. Just disappeared.”

Carolyn nodded, then sighed. “I’ve sometimes wondered if that wonderful invention of his played a role in his and Peggy’s disappearance…”

“I wish I knew as well. So, you’re saying that was the only time you’ve ever experienced a full blown orgasm?”

“How are we doing with the champagne?” she asked.

Robert picked up the bottle and examined it. “It’s almost a dead soldier,” he said.

“I have an idea,” she suggested. “Let’s go down to the pond. I’m pretty sure my father laid up some bottles in there.”

“Where? In the gazebo?”

“It’s not a gazebo, it’s a belvedere. It’s much nicer than a gazebo, larger and more accommodating. Don’t bother with the glasses or the rest of the bottle, but please bring my backprayer jacket. I’ll need it when we return to the cottage.”

As they made their way down the finished, lighted, path to the belvedere she said, “When I was a little girl, my father had it built. It was during a time he and my mother were going through a rough patch. My mother, her name was Mildred, was a blue-blooded English aristocratic liberal. She supported gender equality and all the rest, and proudly contributed substantial resources to the founding of the millitanette movement. My father thought she was being foolish and reckless and no good would come of it. Sadly, he turned out to be right and, as you might have guessed, her activities played a role in my being classified a level one girl.

“Anyway, he loved this place. He could drink in peace, smoke his cigars, and shoot ducks off the deck whenever he wanted to. Even after they patched things up she let it remain his place. In fact, I don’t ever remember her coming down, not even to just talk to him. After mother died he completely lost interest in the place, probably because of Clara.”

“Your stepmother?”

“Yeah, for some reason she hates the belvedere. Probably because of what she imagines went on in there. So, I suppose after we’re married, this will be your place, just like it was father’s. That is if you want it.”

As she unlocked the door she said, “The entry key code is my birth date by the way. And let’s leave the door open, the place could use some airing out.

“Well, what do you think?” she asked as she flipped on the lights, danced into the center of the room, spread her arms like a bird about to take flight, and twirled about.

“It’s nice,” he replied. To Robert the place looked like a spacious, elegant, masculine, summer cabin. The belvedere’s most distinguishing feature, besides the high ceiling, was its large deck, bisected by a heavy, sliding glass wall. The interior portion of the deck served as the lower level of the living room while the outside edge of the deck jutted out over the water, a couple of meters past the shoreline of the spring fed pond.

“To me it breathes fun and freedom,” she said. “As a little girl I would spend more time here than at the cottage, maybe because this was where daddy seemed happiest, or maybe because it was where I could muck in the mud, hunt for turtles, chase birds, learn to shoot and fish with my father, and just be a little girl.”

She twirled and danced around a bit more. “Would you like me to put on some music?” she asked.

“No, I’d rather hear you talk. Usually when we’re together you’re gagged in some fashion. It’s nice to hear what you’re thinking rather than having to guess all the time.”

She smiled and danced about some more. “Is this allowed? All this freedom I’ve had today? It seems sinfully wrong and dreadfully decadent somehow.”

Robert shrugged. “I don’t know, and this maybe the wine talking, but I really don’t care. This may not be my house. I know I certainly don’t own it, but as far as I’m concerned this feels a bit like a home away from home.”

“This is your home Robert. Of course it’s your home, and just as soon as we’re married it will also be your house, and your land. After all, as my husband, all my property becomes yours.”

“If you say so it must be true. And in this, my home, I get to decide what’s acceptable. If it makes you happy to dance about free of gags, armbinders, hobble skirts, heel locks and all the rest, well, it’s fine with me. And you know what? The authorities can go get hanged for all I care.”

She hurried to him and threw her arms around him. “Thank you most gracious Sir, thank you.” Without letting go she leaned back, kissed him and studied his face.  “And thank you Monsieur Vintner if your wine had anything to do with that splendid proclamation.”

She kissed him again. “Speaking of wine, I almost forgot why we came here. I’ll be right back.”

She emerged a few minutes later carrying a chilled bottle of champagne in each hand. “My father also has a wide selection of hooch stashed in the wine cellar as well,” Carolyn said. “I think he did more business and entertaining here than I realized. There’s plenty of Scotch, vodka and loads of other options if you’d rather.”

“Thanks. I’ll stick with the wine.”

She nodded. “There are glasses in the cabinet next to the fireplace, and could you please do the honors and uncork again? With these gloves Bridget insisted I wear… They’re locked on you know and, with boning in the fingers, they’re not nearly as flexible as the ones I wore earlier today. I think she’s punishing me for ruining that other pair during our game of hide and seek.

“I’m also thinking it might be nicer on that love seat out on the deck. Even with the glass wall fully open the air’s still a bit stale and lifeless in here.”

They sat on a wicker love seat that matched the ones on the veranda, and after they each finished a glass from the new bottle Robert said, “That’s two bottles at the picnic, three quarters of a bottle on the veranda, and now we’re working on number four. Why Miss Fletcher, if I didn’t know any better I might wonder if you’re trying to get me drunk.”

She smiled. “If you like. Or I could continue explaining the innermost secrets of my deeply troubled and slightly intoxicated mind.” She reached up and moved his hair to the side of his forehead. “As always, the choice is yours, Sir.”

He put his glass down. “I know it’s not the proper thing for a man to say about a girl in this world of chaste and silenced women, but I really do like hearing you talk.”

“As you wish, Sir. You asked me if it was true that our time at Rogers’ place was the only time I’ve experienced a real orgasm. Before the plot I had plenty. But since I’ve been locked up in a chastity belt these last ten years? Yes, it’s true. And Sir, that incredible orgasm you gave me back at Roger’s was most certainly illegal. That’s why it was so special. It was so very hard won and personal. And,” she exclaimed, “it was also so very, very illegal!”

He smiled. “So then what did I give you today when we fooled around on the picnic blanket? The hiccups?”

“No Sir, not exactly. When I was incarcerated at the Westminster Academy we girls called them petite orgasms in honor of the French expression ‘La petite mort’.”

“The little death.”

“Hmm, first Latin and now a bit of French,” she retorted with a grin. “You actually took school seriously. I think I’ll keep you.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“My pleasure Sir. But yeah, the authorities simply called them ‘Special Rewards’ and really frowned on anyone calling them anything else. As I recall, the penalty was twenty strokes of a cane and a day in a scolds bridle if a girl was caught talking about climaxes, orgasms or any other kind of what they called ‘wrong-think’. Really, they’re just baby climaxes, but as small as they are I really look forward to them. They may not be a full feast but, as they say, a taste is a feast to a starving woman.”

She was about to continue when Robert placed his hand on the faceplate of her chastity belt and pressed against it, pushing her into the cushion of the love seat until he was certain she was done talking.

“You know,” he said, “you’ve told me a lot about how difficult it is for you to wear this thing, and I get it. It’s a bitch. But you still haven’t told me how you cope with it; how you don’t go crazy.” He smiled, took his hand off her chastity belt and placed it gently against her cheek. “Or maybe you are crazy and I’m just too stupid and too in love with you to see it.”

She placed her hand on top of his, embraced it in hers, kissed it, then placed it back in her lap, against her chastity belt. She smiled. “You have no idea how much I wish I could feel your hand there,” she said. “As for your question, I’m getting to it. Please trust me and have a little patience, grasshopper.”

From Robert there was only an expression of bewilderment.

“You know. The show Kung Fu?” She looked at him with astonishment and just a little bit of pity.

He shook his head.

“No Kung Fu? You really did have a deprived childhood,” she said. “It explains so much.”

“And this coming from a girl who’s spent a third of her life locked up and gagged,” Robert replied with a wry smile.

Getting his joke, she placed a hand on his cheek and replied, “Oh, but my sweet lord and guardian, there are many forms of privation.”

“Really?”

“Truly. But where was I? Oh yeah, before you were finally awarded full guardianship authority over me, gaining access to those ‘Special Rewards’ was even tougher than it is now. The only places I knew to get them were through training institutions, like the Mansom Training Center, and under some very special situations at Westminster Academy. At Mansom they would sometimes reward me if I was especially exceptional in fulfilling things like my command file training. It was quite effective. At times I felt like a trained seal doing whatever it took to get that tiny bite of fish.”

Unsure how to respond, Robert kissed the side of her neck, then her shoulder, refilled the glasses, and handed one to Carolyn.

“Can you see the shooting star?” she said pointing to a spot just above the horizon.

“Yes. Did you make a wish?”

She shook her head. “I’m thinking of an earlier wish, and how glad I am it wasn’t granted.”

“Oh?”

“Robert, for most of the time I’ve been locked up I just wished my belt would keep me from feeling anything down there. A loveless existence completely devoid of any sexual feelings seemed to be the best alternative to marrying a husband I was destined to suffer and endure for the rest of my life.”

She paused as she sized up how to best express her feelings on the matter. “You see, if my chastity belt just left me numb, even dead inside, I thought it would be something I could learn to tolerate. I could pretend I was a nun, or maybe one of those old-time stoics; something like that. But that could never happen. From the authority’s perspective it wouldn’t be controlling enough.” She paused again. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m expressing myself very well. But to answer your question, I’m able to cope with wearing this damn thing because it’s usually enough to know that I can at least get some pleasure by giving you a first-class blow job.”

She sighed, hesitant about what to say next. The whole subject of her confinement was dangerous territory. Robert was the sort of man who would refuse to have anything to do with any activity he believed to be cruel or unjust. It would just kill her if he retreated away from her, as he did early in their relationship when he broke things off for a while out of concern that he was contributing to her discomfort. He was her rock and it was vital that he stay connected to her no matter how unbalanced their relationship might be. Besides, she concluded, once they were married things were bound to get better, of that she was certain.

She got up, walked to the edge of the deck and studied the moon’s reflection on the still, black pool of water before returning to the couch and snuggling up to her fiance. “As you know sweetheart, I’ve been extensively trained in the techniques of giving men pleasure.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you’ve mentioned that before.”

“Well, it’s true. Not long after I was released from that prison workshop at the labor camp, and returned to the custody of my father, I was sent to the Mansom Center for further training while we waited for my admission to the Westminster Academy for Young Ladies of Distinction.”

“Around the time Bridget caught you humping the chair arm?”

Carolyn reddened and sighed in exasperation. “Yes Sir, after that.”

“Do you still do that from time to time?” he asked. “The prurient in me wants to know.”

She frowned, then smiled and shrugged off his juvenile joke. “No Sir, modern belts don’t allow it. Anyway, on the very first day at Mansom I attended a class called ‘On Pleasing a Man,’ I was given a stark choice. If I chose to resist the training, the programming and the conditioning would be simply loaded into me and the techniques would be permanently embedded as autonomic responses, but in such a way that it would be almost impossible for me to receive any pleasure from fulfilling the demands placed upon me.

“However, if I cooperated and embraced my training, I would still receive the same training, but I would receive additional training that would allow me to enjoy and take pleasure from the process of giving a man pleasure.

“Some girls in my class chose to resist while others chose to cooperate. The authorities didn’t really care which option we chose because they knew that either way they’d produce girls who could, in the end, turn out first class shags and blow jobs.

“For me it was an easy decision. In college, I was a rich, independent, fully liberated girl who dated plenty of the most popular boys. Among my circle of equally wealthy friends, it was common knowledge that after the second date giving head was usually just part of the dating package, and by the end of a halfway decent third date… well, everyone knew what that meant. And to be honest, I never found it to be as unpleasant as some of my girlfriends claimed it was for them. In fact, I usually enjoyed it, especially as it often gave me a great deal of control over the men I dated.”

“Control?”

She smiled, “Of course silly. Haven’t you ever heard the old saying, ‘when you’ve got ‘em by the balls you can lead them anywhere?’There was a framed poster proclaiming that very thing hanging on the wall of the game room of my sorority house.”

Her words left him stunned and his astonishment was so endearing that she could only laugh and hug him, and reassure him that she had no intention of ever placing him in such a compromising position.

“It’s only a pre-plot expression after all,” she assured him as she tried to suppress a giggle. “In fact, I seriously doubt that it’s something a girl would ever be allowed to say anymore, much less adopt as a philosophy. To tell you the truth, I’m certain it would easily earn me a series of canings and a week or two locked in one of those horrid scold’s bridles if it ever got out that I said it. You won’t tell anyone I said it, will you?”

Robert smiled grimly and shook his head. “For wrong-thinking?”

“Precisely.”

“Then mum’s the word. Your secret is safe. I promise.”

“Thank you Sir,” she said, giving him a quick peck on his cheek. “I won’t go into all of the icky details of the training, but please believe me when I say that it will give me a tremendous amount of pleasure to give you, the man I love, a blow job any time and in any place you desire.”

She studied her man slouched on the couch, his legs slightly spread, and placed her hand on his thigh. “A tremendous amount of pleasure,” she said. Her voice was dark, husky and hungry.

He grinned and spread his legs a little wider.

As she knelt in front of him he reached for his zipper. She put her hand on his, and smiled, “Please, may I show you something new?”

She rose and left the room. When she returned a few minutes later she had pinned her hair into a neat tight bun, and was holding a couple of thin rope curtain ties. “I swiped these from the bedroom curtains so that you can tie my hands behind my back,” she explained. “One other thing Sir. Please promise me you won’t touch me or interfere with what I’m about to do until I’m finished.”

As she stretched then positioned herself to have her arms tied she said, “Please use the second rope to bind my elbows together so they’re as close to touching as you can make them. I need my arms to be completely out of the way. Also, I know you usually prefer my hair down and available when we’re alone, but I need it out of the way as well. I hope you understand.”

She knelt between his legs and using just her teeth she released his belt and fly. Slowly, with her tongue, teeth, lips, and sometimes her face, and with no help from him other than raising himself off the couch so she could lower his pants, she carefully worked his clothing out of the way until she had free access to him. She slowly pleasured him using every feature available to her as she explored and caressed him from his belly to his thighs, and as she felt his tension build, she expanded the experience she provided.

“Everyone knows about the sensitivity of women’s inner thighs,” she said. “It’s not only women’s thighs that are sensitive, is it?” she said as he clenched his fists and tried to find a place for them that didn’t involve interfering with her.

The responses she provoked, the depth and extent of her submission to him, the unconstrained and fervent focus she devoted to pleasuring him was almost as intense as her exuberance was intoxicating.

The intensity and unreserved fullness of her gift was unexpected and more powerful than anything he had ever experienced before. The terrible agony of not touching her, as he forced himself to refrain from grabbing her head and guiding her actions, only added to the frenzied fervor of his response and, in the end, he cried out in as harsh and primitive a manner as he had ever voiced in his life.

When he was through shuddering she smiled and whispered, “I love you, Sir.”

Rather than lifting her up, Robert slid to the floor, clasped her head, and moved to kiss her.

“Wine, Sir? To clean my palette?”

His response was feral. “I don’t care,” he answered. His kiss was hungry, urgent, and demanded that she surrender all the control she had possessed just moments before.

After Robert untied Carolyn they rested quietly on the couch as they took the time to caress each other in all the little ways contented lovers often do after sex. Soon he began to doze. Uncertain of the time, or how much time they had left before she would be summoned to bed, she stroked his brow. “Would you like some more champagne, or some tea perhaps?”

Startled, he shook his head and tried to clear his eyes.  “What time is it?” he said. “I must have fallen asleep.”

“You were only asleep for a minute or two. Would you like some tea? I saw a canister of Oolong in the kitchen.”

Robert watched as she moved about the kitchen. “When we were on the couch, did you…”

Carolyn looked up from pouring boiling water into the teapot. “When I was giving you that blow job?” she asked. “Are you asking if I experienced one of those ‘Special Rewards’?”

“Yeah.”

“Here’s your tea. Sugar? No surprise, but I didn’t find any lemon or milk.”

“Plain is fine. Thanks. Well, did you?”

“I did. It was very nice,” she said as she set the tray down on the coffee table and sat down next to him. “Thank you Sir. It feels much better down there now. Not as achy.”

“How does that work exactly?”

“It’s a tit for tat thing. The greater your pleasure, the greater my reward. It’s an incentive for me to do my best.”

“That’s just so perverse. You know, they never once mentioned anything like that to me in class.”

“Why should they? It’s not your problem, it’s mine,” she said as she handed him his tea.

“Your whole situation, our situation is so messed up,” he said as he set his cup down on the end table. “Is this what we have to look forward to for the rest of our lives?”

She smiled, then shrugged. “Will there always be obstacles and challenges to deal with? Of course, that’s just life. And will my metal barrier ever disappear from our lives? I very much doubt the authorities will ever allow that to happen. But I believe with all my heart that as long as we make the effort to talk together like this we can and we will deal with whatever comes up. Besides, once we’re legally married you’ll have access to my whole package for a full four hours a day, not just the fiancee part.”

“Well, I guess that’s something anyway,” he grumbled in between sips of tea.

Carolyn did her best to suppress a grimace. “Look, the reason I told you all these things this evening is because I want you to know that while this chastity belt prevents us from touching or controlling certain parts of my body until we’re married, it doesn’t mean that I’m shut off. The truth is I can’t shut off, or even control, my arousal. And because I can’t, I am more at your mercy than you can ever imagine.”

She took a breath, set her tea cup next to his, crawled on top of him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “And so Sir, now that we’re engaged, and I’m at last permitted to receive whatever joy and pleasure it pleases you to provide me through the use of your special fiancee key, or through my access to your person…”

She paused and began caressing and nibbling his ear.

“Yes?” he said, unsure of where she was going with this.

“I respectfully request,” she whispered, “that you will grant me permission to eagerly anticipate receiving those pleasures again sometime. Hopefully sometime very, very soon.”

Robert nodded. “Of course, but please stop nibbling and breathing in my ear.”

She laughed, gently bit his ear, and kissed him.

“We can go out again tomorrow if you like,” he said.

She shook her head. “Sadly Sir, probably not tomorrow. There’s a good chance my father will drop by with Clara. Colin told me while he was shutting off my curfew alarm.” She looked up at him and gave him her best flirty smile. “But soon,” she whispered, “please?”

Robert smiled and squeezed her hand. “I promise. There is something that happened today that still confuses me a bit. What was that hide and seek routine about?”

“That wasn’t obvious? You were so consumed by guilt that I had to do something to try and get you out of your funk. I figured that if I did something to piss you off… Well, anger is a great analgesic for guilt after all.”

“Really?”

“Sure. I first tried demanding that you let me drive. When that didn’t work the way I’d hoped, I took off into the woods and ruined a blouse and a perfectly good pair of gloves in the process.”

“In spite of knowing you would face certain punishment once Colin and Bridget caught sight of your wrecked clothes?” he asked. “You know it’s quite likely Colin will insist that I do my duty and cane you, and I’ll have no choice in the matter, regardless of how I feel.”

“Absolutely,” she replied.  “I’d be very disappointed if you didn’t. You punishing me when I need it proves to me you care, and helps me to survive in this society.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better your attempts to piss me off kind of worked.”

“Really? Was it my dash into the woods? Or was it my driving? If you could have seen your face when you thought we were going to crash into those trees…”

Robert pressed his fingers against her lips in the hope that she would allow him a moment to answer. “Actually it worked for me because I saw my feisty girl again. The one I fell in love with after she punched me in the chest for refusing to kiss her while we were still in grade school. Before that long, awful separation, before your imprisonment, before Westminster,” he replied, then paused. “Are you telling me that your childish tantrums are just a calculated act?”

She studied him before answering. He didn’t seem angry or upset, simply curious.

“Yes,” she admitted. “The truth is many, if not most of my ‘special moments’ are strategic in some way or another. Oh, it’s true that there are the odd moments when things become too much and I actually do explode, but those moments are rare. My father raised a pretty tough and pragmatic daughter. You won’t let anybody in on our little secret will you?”

He grinned. “So, another secret. How many secrets do you have?”

She smiled, shrugged and remained silent.

“Okay, this secret’s also safe as long as you promise not to pull a stunt like that on me again. At least when we’re alone. I’d rather that you just talk to me as an adult.”

“I promise,” she said. “Now that we’ve talked, you’ve cum, and you let me climax, are you done feeling guilty?

“Sort of,” he replied, “But I’m still sorry I hurt you today. Even if you do say it’s no big deal, it’s still a big deal to me.”

She pressed her fingers against his lips.  “Shh…” she whispered.

“But I did hurt you.”

She sighed and thought for a moment. “More tea?” she asked.

“No, I’m fine.

“You know, my father has this expression he sometimes says when things don’t quite work out: ‘Nobody bats a thousand’.”

Robert looked puzzled.

“I know.  I have no idea what ‘batting a thousand’ specifically refers to, but I believe it’s an archaic sports metaphor. But the point he was trying to make is that nobody ever gets it completely right every time. The important thing however is that we keep trying.

“Sometimes we’re going to get things wrong, sometimes we’re going to get hurt. But that’s fine, because as long as we don’t give up the odds are that we’re bound to get it right every once in a while. Hell, we may even win from time to time, but only if we stay in the game.”

She paused and studied his face. It was clear he still wasn’t ready to let it go so she tried another tack.

“Robert, I’m proud I got punished this afternoon. I mean the second time on the blanket, not the time when you properly spanked me for going in the water and willfully ignoring your commands. And it’s not because I enjoy getting punished. It’s because you believed in me and trusted that I would support you when you tried something risky. We both knew that the designers of my chastity belt probably figured out that angle, and they did. But still I’m very glad we tried. I’m proud to be a part of something that, had it worked, would have duped the bastards while bringing us great pleasure. So, thank you my sweet Sir.”

“So you’re saying that you’re willing to try something like that again?”

“Of course, silly,” she said, her voice tinged with equal parts exasperation and ardor. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you ever since we were laying on the picnic blanket.”

Robert smiled, reached into his pocket and pulled out his fiance key. “What do you say?” he asked. “Now?”

“Finally!” she said with a sigh of frustration and relief. “This is a simple sheath dress. There are two zippers, one on each side that go up to my hips and they’re unlocked. I made sure.”

With the sides unzipped Robert lifted her and sat her on the chair arm. “I guess I need to bind your arms,” he said.

“Why don’t you just put me back in my backprayer jacket? You’ll need to anyway before we go back to the house. Colin will insist on it.”

After fitting her into her jacket he moved the front of her dress out of the way and examined her chastity belt. “Shift to the left so I can see to unlock the fiancee shield,” he said as he positioned her so that the yellowish light from the table lamp better reflected against the mirrored surfaces of her chastity belt.

Robert located the small circle with the two small indentions in the belt shield, pressed the business end of the key against it and turned the key until the nubs on the key matched the indentions within the circle.

Together they listened for the click that would indicate the release of the fiance shield.

There was nothing. There was no click, no tingle, and no release. The two of them looked at each other, then the belt and key, then again at each other.

“The security protocol,” Carolyn exclaimed, her words sounding more like a curse than an explanation.  “It’s the fucking security protocol. The fiancee shield can only be unlocked once in a twenty-four period. It’s a safeguard against tampering. You’d better put away the key. If you try too many times the locking mechanism will jamb closed and we’ll have to go in, explain it to a judge, and have the belt professionally attended to.”

“Sorry,” he said.  “I didn’t know. I probably should’ve, but I guess that was another class I slept through.”

“Sounds like you slept through some pretty important classes,” she said, though her wry retort had a definite edge to it.

Robert was about to reply when they heard a knock on the open front door and Colin call out, “Is everything alright out here?”

Robert hurried to the door and invited him in.

“Thank you, but no sir. I just came down to remind Miss Carolyn of her bedtime.”

“Thank you Colin, I’ll have Carolyn back in a few minutes.”

“Please don’t take too long sir. It’s actually well past Carolyn’s bedtime.”

As they watched Colin walk towards the soft glow of the back door light, Carolyn could see disappointment on Robert’s face as he took another look at his fiancee key then pocketed it.

“I love you so much, Sir,” she said.

He turned and faced her and she could see tears beginning to mist his eyes. “I love you too,” he whispered his voice breaking as he struggled to speak.

She smiled. “Well, I’m glad that’s settled. If it’s alright with you, let’s go tell Colin and Bridget that, if I’m allowed, I would prefer to sleep beside my fiance tonight.”

Chapter 3