Chapter 8: Implementing Heather’s Plan.

Over the next two weeks, everything happened as expected. The dealership delivered a full-sized “club cab” 4x4 pickup truck, with ample room for Jan’s large frame.

The first work-at-home day arrived, and Jan was nervous even though Heather had prepared him for what was about to happen. She arranged her shifts so she could arrive at the Flint house at 1400 (2 p.m.).

Heather got a whistle from her husband for her outfit, which was apparently made primarily of black leather, including a very tight, very short skirt.

Her host said, “What the hell is this?”

Jan growled, “Shut up, bitch!” and forced her down on the large, padded bench. Together, they quickly had her completely undressed. She stopped wiggling and protesting when Jan raised his hand ready to slap her in the face. He put her ankles into padded cuffs connected by a short chain, then manacled her hands together with some regular police-style handcuffs.

Heather spoke in a commanding tone. “Listen up. For the rest of this day, you will be our bitch. If we think you are being compliant, you will be addressed as ‘Barbie’—otherwise you’re ‘Bitch.’ I am ‘Mistress,’ he is ‘Master.’ Do you understand?”

She was silent, until Jan roughly jerked her handcuffs.

“Yes.”

“Yes, WHAT, Bitch.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Don’t make me remind you again, I will be angry. You won’t like it if I’m angry. Now, Bitch, why are you here?”

“To serve my Master and my Mistress.”

“That’s excellent. Well done, Barbie. Now, the next thing I’m going to do, is trim that stinking swamp of pubic hair you have been offending our eyes with. Not shaving, just cutting back to make it reasonable, like mine is.”

“But I like it this way!”

“Shut up, Bitch. Help me roll her over on her belly, good. Can you get the paddle she uses? Oh, thanks.”

Heather, like most nurses, was very strong. Part of her job was frequently lifting adult patients, so her arm and shoulder muscles were well-developed. She wound back and clobbered Barbara’s ass with maximum effort.

“OW! Shit, Heather, that hurt!”

Jan spoke up, immediately. “Oh, now you’ve stepped in it, Bitch! You cursed at your mistress and used her name, and you whined about a little tap. Give me that paddle!”

“Oh, Master, I’m sorry! I’m so very sorry. Please forgive me!”

“Too late, Bitch, here it comes.”

He was tempted to strike with maximum force, but in the end, he held back and simply matched what he thought Heather had done.

“Thank you, Master, may I have another?”

“Agreed. Here come two and three.”

Whack!

“Two. Thank you, Master.

Whack!

“Three. Thank you, Master. I promise, Mistress and Master, I will be good now.”

Tears were running down her face, into the corners of her mouth—which was curved into a subtle smile.

Lieutenant Colonel Barbara Flint had just done a complete 180° turn, from dominant to submissive. And, because of the experience before the accident when Jan couldn’t perform, she was ready to consider alternatives.

Heather had gone online and found a discussion of “switch” where BDSM roles were flipped. It seemed to be the answer to their situation.

Heather rubbed Barbara’s ass, gently, with some soothing lotion, then flipped her over.

“Barbie, for your security I’m giving you a safe word. That safe word is ‘Portland’—as in the Oregon city. Will you remember?”

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress, I appreciate your kindness.”