Chapter 1: It

The Barton estate comprised 54 acres of land, much of it old growth hardwood forest. While a large portion of the estate, particularly the grounds around the mansion, was groomed and manicured, much was allowed to be wild and natural, with the exception of the large number of walking trails that had been established in the woods. Those woods were home to whitetail deer and a myriad of smaller animals such as raccoon, possum, fox, bobcat, skunk, squirrel and more.

The chairman and CEO of Barton International, Inc., Nigel Barton, strolled casually along one of those manicured trails. Tall and distinguished looking, at 51 he was a billionaire many times over, easily one of the ten wealthiest and most powerful men in America. Thanks to an extensive exercise regimen, he was trim and fit. In his casual cargo shorts, button down flap pocket shirt, and hiking sandals with nylon straps and thick rubber lug soles, he looked outdoorsy and perfectly at home in the woods, far from the boardroom and expensive three piece suits that filled his closets.

His fingers were entwined with those of his young wife of 6 months, Peggy. To anyone who saw them outside of the estate, they appeared a perfectly normal, happily married couple, despite their obvious age difference.

In private, they WERE happily married. They were also lifestyle D/s practitioners. Peggy, deeply submissive by nature, was Nigel's Slave. Slave with a capital letter, because when in role, she was no longer Peggy. She was Slave. That was her name.

When not in role, he placed very few restrictions on her. No panties, ever, unless she was on her period. She owned five pair, for that reason only. Dresses and skirts only, no pants or shorts. Always fully nude when in his playroom. He encouraged her to go nude whenever she liked when on the estate, but that was up to her, most of the time.

Peggy had discovered, despite her beginnings as a very modest girl, and thanks to Nigel pushing her limits by sometimes forcing her to be nude in humiliating situations, that she had a bit of an exhibitionist streak, and she now spent a lot of time naked when on the estate. She simply enjoyed the freedom of nudity, not to mention the fact that it kind of turned her on, despite herself. Thomas, the butler, and Mrs. Cooper, the rotund and grandmotherly black lady who called herself a "cook" but was in actuality a world-class chef, saw Peggy nude often, as did Lucia and Veronica, the two Honduran housekeepers.

The 36 members of Nigel's security team, a minimum of six of whom were on duty on the estate at any given time, 24 hours a day, were no strangers to her nudity either. It had taken a while, but she knew each of them by name.

Two members of that team trailed them at a discrete distance. A third was scouting ahead. They were professionals who took their jobs quite seriously. Nigel's company was a major stockholder of the security firm they worked for, a worldwide-known company that specialized in executive protection. They were the cream of the crop, mostly former military or Secret Service.

Peggy was wearing hiking sandals that looked like a much smaller version of Nigel's. Beyond that, she wore only her wedding rings and her "collar", a delicate gold choker. Recently turned 24, she always seemed to stay about 30 or 40 pounds overweight, most of it in her butt and thighs. She had a pretty face, with brilliant emerald eyes and light brown hair just long enough to caress the tops of her small, A-cup breasts. She thought them her best feature, as they didn't sag a bit, standing out proudly and peaked with extremely sensitive nipples. She kept her body hairless below the neck.

"Nigel, honey, please. I can't do it. I'm not ready," she argued for the hundredth time.

He stopped walking, moving in front of her and taking both her hands. "Peggy, we've been over and over this. You're ready."

"No, I'm not," she said weakly. "I don't think I will ever be."

He sighed. "Look, Peggy. I owe Gerald this favor. I'm entirely too busy to take the girl on. I need you to do this."

She knew in her heart he was right. He normally worked 60 or 70 hour weeks. True, much of it in his home office, but his plate was very full.

She thought back to her first humiliating meeting with Master Gerald, as she thought of and addressed him now, even when out of role. Since then, the elder Dom had been a frequent visitor in their home, and had proven to be a charming, witty and actually quite delightful person. Peggy liked him, a lot. On his last visit, Master Gerald had asked Nigel to take over the training of his newest sub while he attended to business in Asia for a month. "You owe me, old friend," he had said.

"I'll agree to oversee. But I'm going to delegate her actual training to Peggy."

She had gasped. "Nigel, I..."

"Silence, Slave," he barked, forcing her into role. She sank to her knees, assuming the 'nadu' posture she was so familiar with.

"Is she up to the task?" Master Gerald had asked.

"I'll make sure that she is."

That was three weeks ago. Nigel had spent extra time with his wife during that time, coaching her, answering questions, teaching her how to use each and every item in his toy cabinets. They had even spent time poring over his catalogs and the Internet sites where he bought his equipment, and he had been delighted when she suggested a few additions to his playroom. He had immediately ordered them and had them installed.

So badly, Peggy wanted to blurt out her safe word, "peppermint", and end all this. She had never spoken it aloud to her husband. She tried a different tack.

"Nigel, I know. I know you've tried hard. But I just don't have Dominance in me. I don't know how!"

"Nonsense. Most really good Dominants started as subs. You were a fantasy sub for years. You've spent seven months living the lifestyle. You've read everything ever written on the subject. Hell, you've worn out two copies of "50 Shades of Gray" since you moved in! You will assist me by taking on this task, and you will do it well."

She smiled inwardly. She actually preferred "Forget the Roses, Give Me the Thorns". She'd worn out three copies of that. While she might be the sub in the relationship, she sometimes pushed HIS limits a bit. Her fantasies ran a little kinkier than his.

"I've coached you and trained you, and you are ready. You are a very experienced, well trained, lifestyle sub, and you can rise to this challenge."

"But ... I really don't want to, Nigel. Please?"

"Did I ask what you wanted, Slave?"

"PEPPERMINT!!!" she mentally yelled at him.

"No, Sir," she said, dejected.

"Do you wish to use your safe word?"

She groaned. "No, Sir."

"Then it's settled. Come on, Peggy. We need to head back. Gerald will be here with the girl soon."

Peggy showered and slipped on a simple zipper front tennis dress, white with red trim. The short skirt portion of it barely covered her ass. No bra, she really didn't need one, and of course, no panties. After brushing out her hair, she applied just a trace of lip gloss and slipped on a pair of simple white sandals. She made a final check of her appearance, then walked to the kitchen.

Thomas, the butler, was pouring himself a cup of coffee. He straightened as he saw her. Tall and slender, the sixty-year old man's hair was neatly groomed and silver in color. As always, his dark suit was impeccable, and his shoes gleamed with polish. He had been with Nigel for over 30 years. Peggy knew that he was much more than just an efficient butler.

He was also an Aikido grand master and an expert marksman. No bulge in his tailored suit jacket gave away the presence of the Colt Gold Cup National Match 1911 that he carried in a Mitt Sparks inside the waistband holster. He had been Nigel's first bodyguard as an adult.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Barton," he said.

"Good afternoon, Thomas. Mrs. Cooper isn't in?"

"I believe she is at the delivery entrance, checking over some produce. May I help you with something?"

"No, I'm fine, thanks. Have you seen my husband?"

"Mr. Barton is in the library," the butler replied.

"Good, I'll join him there. Thank you, Thomas."

"Of course, Mrs. Barton," he said with a nod, and Peggy whirled, her short tennis dress spinning up and giving the butler a brief glimpse of her ample bare butt as she strode away.

He chuckled silently and sipped his coffee. It had really been fun working here since The Boss got married!

Nigel set his business magazine aside and rose to his feet as his young wife entered the library. He had changed into casual slacks and a pull-over golf shirt. Sweeping her into his arms, he stooped and nuzzled her neck, breathing in her clean, fresh scent, letting one hand drop down and sweep the fabric of her tennis dress out of his way to cup her ass cheek, fingers in her crevice, feeling that crinkled rosebud that had been virginal when they first met.

Peggy moaned softly and he whispered into her neck, "I love you so much."

"Then don't make me do this," she groaned, tipping her face up for a kiss, trying her final ploy. Nigel crushed his lips to hers, applying slight pressure now to her anus, and kissed her deeply, silencing her.

Thomas cleared his throat in the doorway and they broke apart, both panting a little, grudgingly.

"Mr. and Mrs. Barton, Gerald has arrived."

"Thank you, Thomas," Nigel said. "Show him in, please."

"At once, Sir," Thomas replied and turned on his heel.

Moments later Gerald entered the room, and the two men greeting one another warmly. He turned to Peggy, and she stepped into his arms, giving him a hug and a brief kiss on the cheek. He held her shoulders for a second, at arm's length.

"Peggy! A delight as always!"

"I wish I could say the same today, Master Gerald," Peggy replied, sounding glum.

Nigel interrupted. "I thought you were bringing the girl..."

"And I have," the short Dom replied. "She's waiting for me on the front porch. I wanted a word alone with you first." He shot a glance at Peggy. "Would you mind, darlin'?"

Nigel cleared his throat. "Peggy, where do you wish to receive our guest?"

"The Playroom, Sir, if that pleases you."

"Excellent. Await us there."

Dismissed, she nodded to each in turn. "Sir. Master Gerald." She left the library, pulling the door shut behind her.

Approaching the door to the playroom, which was just next door in the long hallway, she hesitated. Sir had granted her, unasked, an exemption from the "nude only" rule in force for the playroom. Still, she had never been inside with clothes on. Making up her mind, she quickly unzipped and stepped out of her dress, folding it neatly and placing it in the small chest that stood by the door for that purpose. Being nude worked better with her plan, anyway.

Sir had never pressed her on what exactly her plan was. "You will have to deal harshly with her initially," he had told her repeatedly, "and establish your immediate Dominance." He was curious to see how his Slave would handle this, in the first few days especially.

Naked, Slave stepped into the playroom and walked directly to the stocks. Crafted of dark, rough hewn wood, they looked like one might imagine from the Puritan days. An upright, and a cross member with holes for head and wrists. There the similarity ended. The three holes were lined with soft leather to insure that the sub received no splinters, and were actually quite large enough to slide one's hands or head and neck through easily. Steel leash clips in the holes attached to the sub's collar and cuffs provided the actual restraint. She turned the crank to raise the upper half of the cross member away from the lower half by about a foot. Another crank turned, and both upper and lower halves moved towards the floor. Once the opening between the two was about at the height of her chest, she stepped away, looking at the device for a moment.

Satisfied, she retrieved her round kneeling cushion, placed it next to the stocks, and sank gracefully into a perfect "nadu" posture to wait.

Sir walked into the room just a few minutes later, the door closing softly behind him. He looked around for a moment, spotted Slave, and moved to stand beside her. He caressed her head, and she leaned it into his firm thigh.

"I told you that you could wear clothes for this," he started.

"I know, Sir. It wouldn't work. Not for me. I can make nude work better."

Before he could reply, Gerald entered the playroom, clutching a young girl who looked to be maybe 20 years old, if that, by the bicep. Tall and slender, she was at least a head taller than the elder Dom. She had a pretty face, and was wearing a periwinkle blue sun dress with spaghetti straps at the shoulder. The shirred bodice covered obviously large breasts, which swayed unencumbered by a bra. Her head was covered by a cascading mass of ringlets of red hair that hung nearly to the top of her ass. The girl's face was pale and dusted with freckles, wide-eyed as she took in the eclectic mix of exercise and bondage equipment in the room.

They widened even more when she spotted the tall, casually dressed man, so obviously a Dom, with a naked sub by his side, leaning into his caress. Gerald led her over in front of them, standing a few feet back.

"Tina, this is Mr. Barton and his wife. They'll be caring for you while I'm gone."

"Master Gerald, please! I'll..."

He increased his grip, squeezing her arm painfully. "Tina, be polite and thank them. We've already been through this."

"Yes, Master," she winced. She lifted her face to Nigel's gaze. "Master Barton, thank you for..."

Quick as a snake, Slave jumped to her feet and her hand lashed out. The slap was a resounding crack in the playroom. Tina gasped, and staggered back. Gerald released her arm and took a step back to watch.

"He is NOT your Master! NOT Master. NEVER Master," Slave ranted, angrily. "You will call him Sir. Only Sir! Is that clear?"

Cheek stinging and tears welling up, the girl stammered, "Yes ma'am, I'm sorry Mrs. Barton".

SLAP!! The girl yelped this time, and burst into sobs.

Gripping the girl's hair, Slave roughly pulled Tina's face down until their noses nearly touched.

In a low voice, Slave growled. "I'm NOT your mistress. NOT your Madame. Did you not SEE me when you came into the room? Did you not SEE my position next to my Dominant ... next to Sir? Did you not SEE me NAKED, and SUBSERVIENT? I am a SLAVE!" She was emphasizing each word with a painful yank on the redhead's hair. "You will ADDRESS me as such. My name is SLAVE!" she spat, punctuated with an especially hard yank.

"Yes, S-s-slave," the girl stammered, blubbering.

Slave released her hair and gripped the bodice of the crying girl's button-front sun dress with both hands, and with a single hard yank, popped every button off down to the short hemline. Another yank broke both spaghetti straps and the dress puddled at the girl's feet. Her firm 36Cs jutted out proudly with no need of support, but she had a bit of a paunch, a softly rounded tummy and some baby fat on her hips and thighs. Her muscles were slack, rather than toned and firm. Slave slid her fingers under the front panel of the tiny g-string the girl wore, and snapped it off her body as well with a hard jerk, exposing a mass of red pubic curls that matched the girl's head. Tina gasped again, blushing furiously and tried to cover herself.

SLAP!

"Don't try to hide your body! And why are you on your feet in front of two powerful Dominants? Get on your fucking knees!"

SLAP!

Bawling out loud now, Tina sank gracelessly and awkwardly, into a poor version of a slave kneeling posture, her head hanging, tears streaming down her face, sobbing loudly.

Slave fisted her hand in the blubbering girl's hair, yanking her head to face Master Gerald.

"Master Gerald," Slave said, her voice cool and controlled. "This one isn't worthy of you, Master. It falls apart at the slightest correction, it is covered with fat, its muscles are slack, it is disrespectful to its betters. It can't even kneel properly. Release it from your service, Master Gerald, and I'll ask Thomas to set it out at the curb."

The girl wailed louder.

"It does have some ... endearing qualities," the Dom said with a wry grin, playing along. He saw where Slave was leading. He was impressed. In less than sixty seconds, Nigel's wife had established her Dominance over his usually somewhat bratty sub. She had stripped the girl of her name, her only possessions, and her gender. It didn't realize it yet, but he was pretty sure It would soon.

Nigel smiled inwardly, struggling to maintain his stern countenance. His wife Peggy was marvelous at this. He knew that she would be. He wanted to laugh with joy.

Master Gerald continued, "I assume Nigel has informed you of my wishes in It's training, Slave?"

Slave knew a simple yes would not suffice. She was being tested. "Yes, Master Gerald. It is lazy, fat and sloppy. You wish It to lose some weight and firm up. It is clumsy and awkward, and you wish It to learn some grace. It lacks social skills, especially when among those in the D/s community. It is impatient and greedy and often thinks only of Itself. You want me to turn It into a compliant, trained sub, but not a broken slave. You ask for much, Master Gerald."

Somewhere, it sank into It that they were talking about her. No, not her. Just an inanimate thing. It wailed, sobbing anew. Slave slapped a hand across It's mouth, and pinched It's nostrils shut.