When the President announced the coming of the Sa’arm I really was surprised. I was a twenty-one-year-old male computer science student at a local university. I was a strong practicing Catholic and among other things believed in the Church’s views on sex before marriage. I can’t say that I felt as positive about the Church’s stance on almost everything else. Of course, I was a virgin much to the delight of many of my non-Catholic friends. That does not mean I didn’t have a sex drive. I did and it was a constant fight. I lost several girlfriends over my unwillingness to have sex. I had to settle for what I saw on TV and in magazines.
When the Pope declared that we should cooperate with the Confederacy I was somewhat surprised, given that extraction for anyone married meant instant divorce. Still it was not the first time the Church had changed its mind.
I went to a CAP testing center the day after it opened downtown, was tested and received my CAP card. I figured I would get a decent score, though I was not sure what the criterion for a good score was. I had watched Average Joes but I really did not see myself in that male role. My CAP test was interesting if only because I remembered nothing about it. I was handed a card and discovered my score was 8.6. I was asked if I wanted to volunteer and when I said yes, which service I wanted. I chose the Navy, I was not the physical fighting type. I’d rather beat the tar out of someone on a chess board than in a boxing ring. I did have some self defense Karate training, but I was out of practice and had not used it in years.
My life began to change the minute I walked out of the testing center. As I approached a street crossing I noticed a woman walking up to the crosswalk. She was not paying attention and was walking with the pedestrian traffic. She didn’t see the bus coming and stepped out onto the street right into the path of a bus. The bus driver saw her, hit the brakes, and blew the horn. She screamed and froze. I was only about two feet from her. I guess it was instinct, because I jumped forward, grabbed her coat by the collar and yanked her out of the street. I tried get clear myself but the bus clipped my foot as I dove out of the way. The bus skidded to a stop and the driver jumped out to make sure the lady and I were okay.
The bus had not been going very fast but I was pretty sure I had broken something. The lady I had saved was being given a good dressing down, by a police officer, who was intent on making sure she paid attention to what she was doing.
I was watching the lady though. She was gorgeous and crying her eyes out. Whatever she was crying about it was not about her accident. Soon she was in the cop’s arms crying into his shoulder. About then I was carted away to the hospital. All I could think was I would not mind being that cop.
Once at the hospital, I was diagnosed with, surprise of all surprises, a broken foot. The X-ray confirmed it and eventually I was in a foot and ankle walking cast, with directions to see my doctor tomorrow. I was sent home with crutches, anti-inflammatory pills and some pain killers. Somewhere during the process a policeman appeared. Investigating the incident, he needed to talk to me and complete his report. He mentioned something about people suing the city and bus company. He took my vital information and story down.
As I was wheeled to the exit of the hospital, a woman came up to me. She introduced herself as Barbara Walker and when I had a blank stare she said, “That memorable am I? I am the lady whose life you saved this morning.” I did not immediately realize it was the woman I had saved from being hit. She had on a different coat and her hair was not in a bun like it had been earlier that day.
“Oh nice to meet you. My name is Jackson Theodore Lee, nice to meet you formally. You may call me Jack,” I replied.
“You may call me Barb. I came by to thank you after the police let me go. Thank you!”
“You’re welcome. I hate to say this, because I’d like to talk longer but I am exhausted. I need to call a taxi and to get home.”
She looked at me a second, then said, “Nonsense, I’ll drive you home, let me get my car.”
Usually, I would have said no, but I was really exhausted. I was also worried that the cab fare would cost too much. Fighting help was the last thing on my mind. She drove her car to the hospital entrance and helped me in putting my crutches in the back seat.
We talked on the way to my house. She said she was divorced, or at least that’s what the Confederacy and her lawyers said. Her husband had been picked up two nights ago and had taken her children with him. She was all alone now.
I could see she was having trouble talking about it so I changed the subject. I did not want her crying and driving. Personally I considered that as bad as drinking and driving. I changed the subject to me. “I was born in Ohio, near Cleveland. I am finished working on a Bachelor’s Degree in Computer Science and I am just waiting for commencement. I am Catholic, but don’t hold that against me. I love dogs. I breed tropical fish.” I went on for a while.
When I ran out of things to say she said, “Thank you, and don’t even try to deny doing anything. You are a very kind person.”
About then we pulled into my drive and I extracted myself from the car. It was not easy.
She asked, “Do you have food in the house? You are going to be there a while.”
I responded, “I have enough for tonight. I’ll need to go shopping tomorrow.”
“Good! I’ll pick you up at ten o’clock okay?”
I was about to do my independent guy thing when I realized, that I was going to need help and I really wanted to get to know her better. I said, “Sure that sounds great.”
I managed to feed the fish and eat. I eventually ended up in bed sleeping. With the pain pills, it did not take long to fall asleep.
I usually get up automatically about 7 AM, but the next morning I was awakened by an insistent ringing of the doorbell. Barb was at the door, she looked absolutely gorgeous. It was past 10 AM. I told her I just woke up and would be with her in a few minutes.
That turned out to be much longer. I had no idea of how to take a shower with a cast on my leg. It took forever. After about twenty minutes Barbara was back at the door. She said I should let her in so she could help me. I was desperate by that time and agreed. She gathered my clothes and started breakfast. She turned out to be an outstanding cook.
Finally, I was dressed and ready to go shopping. On the way to the market she said, “Thanks for letting me help you. You seem like the type to do everything yourself, but you have been gracious enough to let me help without complaining. I need to feel useful right now.”
When she pulled into the parking lot I was surprised about where she parked. It was about as far from the store as you could get. She said, “I need to talk some and if I don’t something in the market is going to set me off and I will turn into a blubbering ninny.”
I said, “Talk away.”
“My husband and I were not doing well in our marriage. We are also Catholic, so you know the rules of the Church, no divorce. We were still trying to make it work. I have three children. As I mentioned yesterday, my husband took the children with him to the stars two days ago. I had just finished arguing with the desk sergeant at the CAP center. My lawyers tell me there is nothing I can do. The sergeant said the same thing. I fear for their safety, not because he might hurt them but because he is so neglectful.
“I was crying when I walked out of the center. I was not paying attention to my surroundings. I was trying to hold it together at least until I arrived home.
“That’s when I stepped in front of the bus. Thank you for risking your life to save me, again.”
“You’re welcome!” I was glad that she realized I had risked my life for her. I’d do it again for anyone, but to have her acknowledge it made a big difference.
“I owe you my life, as the police officer said. He was making sure that this was not a suicide attempt on my part because of the loss of my family. That’s why I ended up at the police station with him.
“After dropping you off last night, as I was driving home, I realized that I liked you. You cared. I want to get to know you better. Would you mind that?”
I said, “No, I would not mind that at all.”
She continued, “I cannot believe I was so careless. My daddy would have me over his knee whipping me with his belt until I bled. My husband would still be spanking me twenty hours later. I would have deserved it for putting you in danger as much as myself.”
At that point the faucets turned on and the tears started flowing. She was crying again. I slid over and held her as she cried. Once she calmed down I asked her to explain what keeps setting her off.
“I have no one to care for my needs, now. My father used to spank me when I did something wrong. My husband took up the challenge when he married me, but was often way too rough. My dad went to the stars months ago, and now my husband too. They have both abandoned me. They have left me all alone. Being raised as I was, someone spanking you meant that they cared about you. I hate to actually say it but I miss and need those spankings. I must be crazy!”
I must admit, most people would have found her exactly that and in need of psychological help. The only reason I did not was ... well ... I believed things had gone too far and domestic discipline or the lack of it, was the reason most marriages failed. I was willing to believe that there were women who felt the same way I did about it. It certainly was not the politically correct point of view. I had decided that I was not going to marry anyone until I found a person who believed the same as I did. If I never married that was fine too.
I said to her, “You are not crazy. You are not the only one who feels that way and wants to be disciplined, at least indirectly. You at least admit it. We need to discuss this more in private at my house. I will spank you there if we can agree on some conditions and limits. I will never allow this to go too far and I expect you to protect yourself if you feel it is going too far.”
The next thing I knew I was getting an extremely wet kiss and a hug. She had to know that she had aroused me. She said, “I know we can’t get married, the Church will not allow it, but I want sex too! We can go all the way.”
I chuckled. She was way too vulnerable right now. I would not take advantage of her that way until I knew her better. I could now understand why people wanted to have premarital sex. I just hugged her until she was ready to park closer to the market so we could shop.
The trip through the grocery store was uneventful, unless you consider the erection I was having while she wiggled her ass up and down the aisles of the store an event. We finished the grocery shopping and went home and put the food away.
At that point Barbara said, “What are the terms and conditions you mentioned?”
“Before we go over that I want to talk about something else. Barb what is your CAP score?”
“6.3. I am told I am very impulsive and I can certainly make a lot of mistakes because I don’t think things through, doing things instead of thinking of the consequences.”
“I am an 8.6. I am looking for potential concubines. I get six concubines. From what I know of you so far, I really think you and I could make a good match for the stars. Do you want to try for that, or should I just put it out of my mind?”
Barb smiled a smile the put the Cheshire Cat in Alice and Wonderland to shame. She started jumping up and down saying, “Yes!! Yes!! Please let’s try!!” She looked like a teenage cheerleader whose college team just won the championship.
I said, “I have some rules we will follow then. I want you to comply with them at all times. Let’s go over them.”
I had worked out the terms and conditions that I would require for marriage over the years. You’d be amazed at what you could find examples of on the Internet. Loving domestic discipline was one of those things. I had recently reconsidered them in light of the Swarm. I wrote them down and showed barb:
1) You belong to me and no one else. You will obey me in all things.
2) Failure to follow the rules will mean that you will be punished. Among other, less serious chastisements, corporal punishment is an option.
3) You will take care of yourself at all times.
4) You will have two safe words of your own choosing: a stop immediately word, and a slow down word.
5) You will take precautions to ensure you don’t get pregnant until we leave Earth. I don’t intend to have my children become Sa’arm nuggets, no matter what the Church thinks of birth control.
6) You will accompany me whenever possible, so that if an extraction occurs you will be able to come with me.
7) You will accept my other concubines as family and treat them well. You will have sex with them, both male and female, for fun.
8) You will treat all children of the family as your own.
9) You will never willingly have sex with any one I do not approve of beforehand.
10) You will have sex with anyone I order you to.
11) I can change and add rules at any time I like.
12) Either of us can end this agreement any time we want to, before an extraction.
“That’s it for now. What do you say?”
Barb looked at me and smiled and said, “I only have two conditions. First, I want you to spank the tar out of me and then, to hell with the Church, go all the way!”
I grinned at her and said, “I will agree to that.” Okay, to hell with the Church.
She smiled, “What do you have for implements around here?”
I honestly did not know. “Probably a belt and maybe a wooden spoon.”
She went to the kitchen and found a rather flimsy looking wooden spoon and said, “This will not do, it will break into a million pieces if you use it.”
I didn’t have a hair brush, I always used a pick for a comb. Barb’s hair brush really was one of those round roll things and not adequate either.
I found a wooden ruler in a drawer in my desk and there was a small broomstick like piece of wood in the basement.
The belt I was wearing was also ruled out, because some of the stud decorations on it might do more damage than I’d prefer. I had another belt but it was elastic and I ruled it out.
“You can use the ruler and broomstick now. After you are done, let’s go shopping for some things. I have stuff at my place but we should get new stuff for you just in case something goes wrong in our relationship. I know a good place to purchase implements and I want you to have a proper selection of them. You can continue my punishment tonight! Please, sir?” Her concern about us breaking up, I would later learn, was from bad break up experiences.
“Okay, what are your safe words?”, I asked.
“Pickle to stop, bulb to slow down, okay?”
Still smiling, she asked, “How do you want to do this?”
She was wearing a white blouse and brown slacks. She had on tennis shoes and the short socks women wear. I said, “Drop your pants. Let’s start this over my lap.”
“Yes, sir!”, and she did so.
“That blouse’s tail is covering your butt and getting in the way. Take it off too!”
“Yes, sir!” She removed it and was now standing in her bra and panties.
“Okay, over my lap.”
I helped her into position over my lap.
I started with a few soft hand swats and then increased the intensity as I went. Soon I was hitting her panties pretty hard. She was taking them pretty well. A little squirming but she was mostly silent. After about thirty swats, I took down her panties and continued. She jumped a little at the next swat, but was down in a second and continued taking the increasingly hard swats well. Her butt was turning pink but there was very little wiggling or discomfort expressed. Unfortunately, my hand was starting to hurt. I decided that the broomstick handle was a mistake and told her so. I thought things would work better with the ruler. I started spanking her with the ruler.
She was crying out a little as I worked her butt over but I could tell it was not going to be enough for her unless I spent hours doing it.
After about ten minutes, I let her up and said, “That is not enough for you is it?”
“No, sir. Sorry, my daddy used a strap. My husband used a cane, strap or paddle, sometimes all in one session. The ruler produces a nice sting, but it is not enough for serious punishment, for me. I really deserve a serious punishment for putting the two of us in danger.”
She was used to some pretty serious punishment. I said, “I see. Okay, then, we need to get some better implements. Let’s go shopping now!”
She pulled up her panties and her pants and put her blouse back on. I noticed, while a little red, there were no tears in her eyes and she was still smiling.
Barb came to me, hugged me and said, “Thank you. That was so good, but I need more. You are absolutely right.” She giggled, “I can’t wait to get home from the store! I don’t like being spanked but I need to be held accountable for my actions. You are making me feel wanted, loved and protected. I really crave that right now.”
We piled into the car, and she drove us to the place. It was a good thirty miles away.
We were listening to the news on the radio and one of the reports was very interesting:
“The Vatican announced today that it will annul the marriage of any married couple of the Church who is extracted by the Confederacy. This will allow remarriage, with no penalty, for a person who remains on Earth whose spouse is extracted.
“The Vatican also announced that, in the spirit of cooperation with the Confederacy, any sexual events occurring in Confederacy territory will not be considered a sin. This has the effect of freeing people to do what is necessary to leave the planet during an extraction. Most nations, where extractions are occurring, have treaties with the Confederacy. Those treaties specify that, during an extraction, the area the extraction is occurring in is considered Confederacy territory.
“Finally, the Vatican has released all nuns and priests of their vow of celibacy while they are in Confederacy territory on Earth or permanently if they are extracted. It also freed the clergy of direct Vatican control if they are extracted. The clergy is expected to form a church at their destinations and to follow the teachings of Christ while conforming to all laws and customs of the Confederacy and the local planetary government.”
Then there was discussion on the news about the changes and how the changes were being accepted. There were some groups, of course, opposing the changes.
One senior Catholic official stated, “The rules and traditions of the Church have always been adapted to fit the needs and beliefs of its flock.”
I said to Barb, “At least they removed the rule that has been a major stumbling point for their clergy. In the colonies priests and nuns will actually know what it takes to make a family work first hand.”
Barb said, “I don’t care. Let’s get married!”
I said, “I will think about that. It’s only been a day after all!”
“Okay, I suppose you are right.”
We pulled into the strip mall the store was was in. At one end it had a bar named Kitty’s which I knew, by the billboard, catered to the S & M crowd. Ziggy’s Leather Emporium and Other Goods was at the other end. One the surface, Ziggy’s was a tack store for horses. The S & M stuff were novelties to meet the letter of the zoning law. I had the distinct impression that law enforcement probably did not care, as long as the violence was kept inside and mild in nature.
Barb said, “My husband and I would visit this place once in a while when he thought I needed a stricter lesson. I used to hate the place, because I knew when we arrived home I would be a guinea pig for his first use of the new discipline tool he bought. The thought scared the daylights out of me, for good reason. Sometimes he hurt me badly. For some reason I don’t feel the same about you. I think you will be careful. Let’s go in.”
The place was everything I thought it would be. In addition to the horse stuff, behind a guarded closed door, there was an adults only section. Behind that guarded door, and through a second door, there were complete selections of whips, straps, paddles, crops, canes and birches. There were all sorts of devices to secure and control the person being punished. There was a complete section devoted to torture devices, including nipple clamps that looked downright cruel.
Barb was watching my face and eyes trying to gauge what I liked.
Some of the stuff was downright expensive. Barb noticing my sticker shock reaction said, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll pay for it all. The Confederacy has already delivered a compensation package to me. We are set for life, as long as it does not go much past twelve years. Hopefully we will be extracted before then.”
I was a student just completing my college degree; I was up to my neck in debt. By definition, I was broke. I said, “I am not happy with you paying for everything.”
“What’s mine is yours,” Barb replied. “I want us to be happy. I want to have fun. I then want to go to the stars, make babies and have more fun. This will start the process right.
“Let’s first choose a restraint device like a spanking bench. You can bend me over it and tie me down then apply the implement as long and as hard as you want with maximum effectiveness. Of course it will work on your other concubines too!”
We looked at the restraining devices and eventually decided on a top-end spanking bench that allowed the victim to be secured in a number of different positions. A lady, whose badge indicated she was on the staff and her name was Joan, came over to ask “Can I help you?” Her badge indicated she was a volunteer. She showed us various benches and how they worked, demonstrating them. As we moved closer to the more expensive equipment, a man with a badge indicating he was a salesman for the store, took over the demonstration and secured the lady to the most expensive unit in the store. I was liking what I was seeing up until that point. A few of the positions forced the victim’s head into a position where she could easily view the implement in terror as it approached his or her back end. The sales man asked if we would like a demonstration, picking up a birch that was in a floor vase close by. There was a true look of horror on the Joan’s face. The salesman said, “Don’t worry she is a volunteer.” Then before I could say, “No that’s okay”, he hauled off and gave Joan three stokes. He asked Barb and I if we would like to try the implement on the ‘volunteer’. Seeing the look of pure agony on the face of the ‘volunteer’ I decided that both Barb and I would reject the offer and said “No. I’ve seen enough!” and walked away.
The salesman then gave the ‘volunteer’ two more strokes of the birch.
That pissed Barb off and she wanted to leave without buying anything. I took her aside and pointed out that everyone had their kinks here. She calmed down and said, “Okay, but I am making sure the manager knows that that guy mistreated the ‘volunteer.’” She stomped over to the manager before I could say anything.
I watched her talk to the manager. It was pretty obvious that the she had the manager’s ear and he was not happy.
The manager called out to salesman asking, “Larry, would you come here for a second?”
The salesman came over and the manager continued, “Larry, did you strike the ‘volunteer’ with the birch without asking her permission?”
“Yes I did. No point. You know she is a sub! She does as she is told.”
“You know of course that ‘volunteers’ are hard to come by and are not to be abused by the staff?”
The salesman sheepishly replied, “Yes I do.”
“Pack up your things and leave. You’re fired for cause. Don’t even think of using this establishment as a reference. Don’t even think of applying for unemployment.”
The manager turned to me and Barb and said, “I am glad you brought this to my attention. Thank you.”
Barb was strangely silent so I answered, “You are welcome.”
The manager continued, “I have resolved the issue, however, I will offer you a 10% discount on your entire purchase.”
“Thank you” I replied.
“I need to attend to something, apparently Larry has not released Joan.”
We returned to Joan, the ‘volunteer.’ The manager said to Joan, “Sorry honey we don’t do business this way. I will give you a bonus at the end of the day.”
The manager said, “Joan is supposed to show the items off. If she wants, she may ask if the customer wishes to use an implement on her. Larry was way out of line when he hit her and offered to let you discipline her. When he used the implement on her, he broke a major rule of the company concerning trust.”
When Joan was released, she ran to Barb and hugged her saying, “Thank you mistress, he was going to beat me more for losing him the sales commission.”
Barb said, “My name is Barb. I am supposed to be a submissive. I was so angry I forgot myself. My master will deal with me later I am sure. You are welcome though.”
The manager chuckled and said, “I thought you were a submissive, well no harm done.” He noticed the confused look on my face and continued, “A submissive would never do something like this. She would let the master deal with it, if anything was said at all.”
I said, “I thought it was consensual and would never have said anything. Barb knows this place much better than I. She brought me here recommending it. I think she was outraged and embarrassed by what happened. She was not thinking like a submissive.”
The manager grinned, “Well a good spanking will resolve that when you get home. I get the feeling she would have explained this all to you on your way home.
“My name is Ziggy by the way.”
“Nice to meet you Ziggy, my name is Jack.”
“Let me show you the rest of the benches. Which ones have you seen?”
“Actually we have seen them all. Joan had shown us all the other ones. Larry came over late and was helping Joan with the demonstration of this one before we purchased it.”
The manager looked at Joan and said, “So he was poaching your commissions again too?”
“I am glad I fired him. Joan, you and I need to discuss your position tomorrow. I feel a promotion coming on.”
Barb and I continued shopping. We chose a lot of implements. Barb actually chose most of them with a lustful smile on her face. We had two crops, two quirts, five paddles, six straps, three canes, two floggers and several birches. She wanted a buggy whip too, but I said no to that.
When we were done selecting, Joan said, “God! I wish I had a man like yours. He’s fun to be with and teaching him how to handle me would be fun.”
She totaled the results and handed me the bill. I just about swallowed my tongue, $3,409.73. Barb whipped out her First Confederacy Bank credit card and signed the bill.
Joan helped us carry the stuff out to the car and mentioned that the store was closing for the day.
We packed the stuff including the “some assembly required” spanking bench into the trunk of the car along with the rest of our items. It took some time to get everything into the trunk. Then Joan headed back to the store. It took a few minutes for me to finish arranging stuff so that the trunk lid would close.
As I was closing the trunk lid, I noticed motion on my right side. It was Larry coming at me with a hammer. I ducked and he put a nice dent in the car. Barb did exactly what any female would do and let out a scream. It is genetically programmed, there is nothing she could do about it and I did not hold it against her.
I turned to face Larry. I had some martial arts training and some simple karate. I was at a distinct disadvantage being on crutches, but at the time it did not seem to matter. I had left the crutches in the trunk and should have been limping around with the walking foot cast. When he next swung at me I grabbed his arm with both hands, pinned it to the trunk and bashed his arm down several times until I knocked the hammer from his hand. This left Larry’s other arm free and once he was no longer fighting to hold the hammer, he hit me with his other fist to the head. When that happened I had to release him.
Larry stepped back and drew a switch blade. He said, “I already have Joan and Ziggy, I had hoped to have fun with you and Barb, at my house too, but it looks like you have to die first.” He approached and slashed at me with the knife. Missing, he staggered past, as he did I threw a punch at his head. It connected but in the neck area. I thought it was a glancing blow.
Larry turned back to me and charged this time I hit him with a roundhouse kick in the gut. Because of the adrenaline rush, I never even noticed I kicked him with my broken foot. He fell to the ground. I kicked the knife out of his hand and he lunged from the ground into my legs. I side stepped and kicked him in the ass aiming between he legs, again with my broken foot. I knew I missed my intended target but Larry suddenly was gasping for breath and rolling on the ground.
I looked at Barb. She was frozen on the spot, watching what was happening and doing nothing. I yelled at her to “Call 911.” She didn’t move. I hobbled over to her and smacked her butt hard. She looked away from Larry and to me. I yelled, “Call 911.” She fished her cell phone out of her purse and tried to dial 911. She was shaking too hard, she dropped the phone twice and then misdialed. I grabbed the phone and dialed 911. I explained the situation, that we had been attacked and that we needed help and three ambulances. I figured based on what Larry had said, Joan and Ziggy would need one, Larry sure looked like he need an ambulance too. The police asked the address and I said I did not know but we were at Ziggy’s Leather Emporium. The police officer knew where it was and said that help is on the way.
I opened the trunk and grabbed two of the cords we had purchased for fun and tied Larry’s hands and feet together. I did want him running off or recovering and fighting us.
I went to look for Joan and Ziggy. Ziggy was crumpled in the corner of the parking lot bleeding next to his car. He was out cold. I could not find Joan. There was nothing I could do for Ziggy, his skull looked bashed in pretty good, but he was still breathing. I doubted that Larry would have had any fun with him. I guess he was just too stupid to know it.
I noticed a piece of cloth hanging out of one of the trunks of a car in the parking lot. When I got close I realize the material was the same as Joan’s skirt. The keys were still in the trunk and I opened it. Joan was unconscious, tied hand and foot with duct tape and had a piece of tape across her mouth. She had been knocked out, it looked like with a fist to the chin, which was red.
Right about then a sheriff’s car pulled into the parking lot. The sheriff’s deputy jumped out of the car, weapon already in hand and told me to, “Freeze. Get down on your knees and put your hands behind your head.”
I did as I was told, at the same time I explained to the deputy, “I am the one who called you.”
“I don’t care if you are Jesus Christ himself.” The deputy explained, “Do as I say and shut up!”
About then Barb showed up and said, “Sheriff!! He is the one who called.”
The deputy did not pause for a second, turned the gun toward Barb and said, “Freeze!”
Well that just plain did not have the result he wanted as Barb fainted and ended up on parking lot blacktop.
Then the deputy’s backup started arriving. I was cuffed. So was Barb. I tried to tell them what had happened. I told them about Larry and Ziggy. Larry also ended up cuffed. The ambulances showed up as did the paramedics. Larry was rushed to the hospital, but died en-route. Ziggy was also sent to the hospital. Barb and I were read our rights and placed under arrest. Barb was pitching a fit because she was “the victim” here.
They were getting Joan into the ambulance when they finally got the tape off her mouth. She regained consciousness and looked around. She realized that the police thought Barb and I were the perpetrators. She apparently guessed what had happened, seeing my appearance and that Larry was not around, and let them all know I was her hero and that Barb was with me. There were a lot of questions. The police were just doing their jobs and protecting themselves. I had to look very guilty given exactly where I was when the deputy arrived. He had every right not to take any chances. I had every confidence that if I didn’t do something to get myself killed I would be fine.
Barb was not as forgiving but when I told her to can it, she toned it down. We were still in custody and I called my uncle the lawyer, who contacted a criminal defense attorney. Both Barb and I were told to stop talking to the police and wait until the attorney arrived. We did so.
We were taken to the police station. The police were not happy with our silence. By the time the lawyer showed up, they had access to some surveillance tapes that showed the entire event. There was a ton of damage control performed. We were released.
It turned out that the glancing blow I hit Larry with to the throat cracked his larynx. Eventually it swelled up cutting off his air supply and that was the end for him. The paramedics inserted an airway and revived him but by that time he was brain dead.
Ziggy was very badly injured. Larry had beaten him badly with the hammer. He was in a coma, one that the doctors were pretty sure that he would not come out of.
As I walked to the front of the police station, Joan was at the sergeant’s desk reading him the riot act. She was telling anyone who would listen, “If you don’t release my friends this instant I’ll have your badges and your balls.”
When she saw Barb and I, she instantly launched herself at me and was in my arms. The sergeant looked relieved.
Eventually four of Joan’s roommates appeared to pick her up and we were introduced. Joan, her friends, Barb and I left the police station and decided to meet at the local Golden Pony for dinner, before going home.
Joan and her friends were interesting, to say the least. Along with Joan they were all into mild BDSM.
The oldest and obvious leader of the group, Jackie, had been Larry’s plaything several years earlier before leaving him. She said, “I know you did not mean to kill him, but the world is a better place without him.” She was a redhead, with green eyes and about thirty-five years old. While I was not really into spanking, the past day or so had me evaluating the spank-ability of female butts. Clearly Joan’s slacks showed off a perfect specimen.
Gwen, the second of Joan’s friends, was currently between lovers. She was a long legged, thin, blue eyed, blond, bombshell of a beauty, and Jackie kept threatening to spank her if she didn’t eat her meal. She looked about twenty-one. This would be one butt I’d be afraid of breaking.
Rose was a freckle-faced, green eyed, long haired redhead, also tall but of average weight. If there was ever a butt built for spanking, at least in tight jeans hers was it. She also looked about twenty-one.
Susan was a long-haired brunette, about average height and weight. Her hair was long and straight and went all the way to the middle of a well-proportioned butt. I had a hard time guessing her age but figured maybe twenty-five.
We were having a wonderful time eating and discussing things, and that included bondage and discipline. We had agreed not to talk about today’s events. We also talked about the coming of the Swarm, the ladies indicating that they hoped to find a man to get them out. I said nothing at the time about my CAP score. Eventually Barb and I were requested to stay overnight at Joan’s house. We said we had plans for later, but they said, “If you leave now you’ll not get home until after 2 AM.”
Joan said, “I know you two had plans for tonight, don’t worry, we will give you plenty of privacy and we have all the equipment you need!” The way she said it I was sure there was going to be more fun the next day. Things just a few days after the president’s announcement had yet to settle out or sink in, but my animal brain was on overdrive. It knew what it wanted! It did not care if the books said I could not handle it, it would make it work.
I was considering our options when there was an announcement, “Ladies and Gentlemen, my name is Lt. Brice Douglas of the Confederacy Marines and this is a pickup!”
“If you have any weapons on you please place them on the table before you and raise your hand.”
I searched my pants for my pocket knife it was missing. After a minute I blurted out, “Where’s my pocket knife?”
Joan said, “In my pocket book. Some how it was in with my stuff when I was released.”
I raised my hand and said to Barb, “Don’t you think you should take that out and give it to the Marines?”
“Oh yes, I forgot!”
“Barb, wait until the Marine gets here.”
One of the Marines stepped up to the table. I said, “We just realized that, my friend here has my pocket knife in her purse. It is a bit late in the game here so I wanted to let you know before she starts fishing through her purse.”
The marine said, “Thank you, Sir! Ma’am, please remove the pocket knife from your purse and place it on the table.”
Joan did and then the Marine picked it up and said, “If you are not extracted you will get this back before we leave.”
The Lieutenant then spoke from the front of the restaurant. “Thank you for your cooperation, those who cannot follow the rules will now suffer the consequences.”
About ten people were stunned by drones floating near the ceiling above us. We were so focused on the Marines, we never saw it coming.
“Would the following sponsors please step forward to the nearest Marine? Jackson Lee,...” There were five other names. I stopped listening at my name, stood up and hobbled over to the nearest Marine.