Chapter 11. In which our heroine takes a walk in the park

They lifted the shot glasses, albeit unsteadily.

“Za tvajó zdaróvye,” said Kalliope

“Zah tvaya darovya,” echoed Kynthia, more or less.

They clicked glasses, somewhat sloppily. Then two more vodkas went down the hatch.

“No. Noooooo. Tvajó. Jo. Joooooo!” Kalliope admonished

“Tha’s wad I sed,” replied Kynthia, drunkenly offended.

“No ‘s’not. Never min’. So ... so ... the two most... stubborn people ... Iveevermet ... They finally go head-t’-head ... An’ both heads are still attached at the end ... An’ yah can’t tell me a friggin’ thing about it.”

“Nodegzackly, Kallip-Kallip-Kallii’panda. I jus’ can’t tell yah th’ bes’ stuff.”

“‘S’not fair, ragmuf-ragan ... rag-a-muff’n.”

“Life’s not fair.”

“No, i’ss’not,” agreed the big woman, with a solid head nod. Then she bent closer and whispered, “So ... what can ya tell me?”

“Well,” Kynthia whispered back, “y’know my dear Auntie Anti-o? How she swears up and down tha’ she wuz nev’r mar-marrdy ... wedded to a man?”

“Yeah, an’ all the other ol’ broads stan’ behin’ ‘er and nod th’r heads up-an’-down whenever she does?”

“Well,” she paused for effect, or perhaps to swallow a belch, “she was.”

“Duh. No shit, Sherlip-sherp ... geenyus. So what?”

“He wuz one-a Heracles’s’s twen’y.”

Kalliope sat straight up and shouted, “She married her fucking slavemaster?!”

“Shhhhhh. Kee-pit down. Assalootly. No shit.”

Kalliope’s whisper now had a hint of harsh urgency. “An’ tha’s not one-a th’ biggies?”

“Nope.”

“Mother-fucker.”

“Shhh. Assalootly. Le’s talk about som’thin’ else. So ... Kallio-poley, you learn’d how t’ drink men unner th’ table in Russian?”

“Nah. Not rilly. Those guys ‘r’ proz. I kep’ up with ‘em. Mos’ of th’ time. They were lotza fun tho’. Only one prollum. Drunk Russians reeeelly like Yakov Ssssssmirnoff.”

“Yeah, so wassa prollum with that? I like ‘im too. He’z funny.”

“In Antarctica, you drill ice. In Soviet Russia, ice drills you.”

Kynthia busted a gut. Nearly fell out of her chair laughing.

“In Soviet Russia, ice drills you.”

Kynthia slapped her leg. “Tha’s rilly funny!”

“In Soviet Russia, ice drills you.”

“Heh, Heh, um.”

“In Soviet Russia, ice drills you.”

“A’right. I heard yah!”

“In Soviet Ru-”

“Give it a rest, Kalliope.”

“Eggzackly! ... So anyways, after the third month I hadda tell ‘em that if they sed it one more time, I wuz gonna hav’ta leave bloody footprints inna snow ... allaway back to the coast.”

Kynthia laughed again, then paused. Thinking of what she knew about Man’s World she had to ask, “Um, did they know you well enuff by then t’ take that threat siris-sirs ... sear-ee-us-ly ... by then?”

“I wuz ten-time champ at Sadderday-night drunk arm-resslin’, mebbe ‘leven-time. So ... yeah.”

Kynthia lost it again. She had to grab the table to avoid falling off her barstool.

Then came the saddest sound in the world. Last call from the bartender.

“One more?” asked Kalliope

“Nah, bedder not. I godda get s’m’ sleep. An’ yer gonna hava helluva hangover t’morra, Ossifer Kalliope.”

“Ooooo-kay. Give yah a lift?”

“Are you fuckin’ crazy? Yer not gettin’ behind a wheel! No, lemme ‘raise the shield’ an’ I’ll fly yah home.” Kynthia closed her eyes and a look of concentration came over her face for a minute. And then she looked up, sober as a judge.

Of course, Kalliope had been a judge before, so she couldn’t imagine what was so all-fired sober about them. But her friend was sober. Definitely sober.

“‘S’not fair.”

As they walked out the door of Nike’s Wings, Kynthia smiled. “Life’s not fair, Kalliope.”

“No, i’sss’not. Di’n’t we do that one alreddy?”

“C’mon, Kallio-pooh-bear. Let me give you a lift.” It was the only place in the world where it was safe for her to fly in civilian clothes. She picked her friend up off the ground and away they went.

“Looks pretty fr’m up here. You ever comin’ home to stay, kiddo?”

“Probably not, K.”

“‘S’a’right. Yer a hero. Makes us all proud ... Did I tell you I love you?”

“Yeah. Right before that last drink. You’re my best friend, Kalliope.”

“Hey! Don’t say it like yer never gonna see me again!”

They touched down at Kalliope’s door. “Sure, hon. Are you gonna make it in okay?”

“‘Course I am. Door-t’-door service. Hhhhhhhoo could ask fer more? G’night, waif.”

“Good night, teddy bear.”

Minutes later, laying in her bed in her room in her mother’s executive mansion, she was ready for this day to end. It was a short day really with the massive time zone shift, but with her exhaustion from not sleeping the night before it shouldn’t be too hard for Annette to sleep. Even so, Cindi’s mind was buzzing.

«Antiope wasn’t the only one who fell hard for her slavemaster. Mamá wasn’t either. Take me, My Lord! Please take me! Please take me now!»

Suddenly she was in the pet bed in the penthouse. It was still mostly dark, but not completely. Rising and looking out the window she could see that dawn was breaking. Her Lord was snoring softly... «No, that must be Greg. Julia said that Master never sleeps.» Her collar was on the dresser. She put it on, and very, very carefully pulled down the covers.

«Aha! This must be the famous “morning wood” I’ve heard so much about!»

Slowly she crawled up onto the bed and took Greg’s member into her mouth.

The male echo of Julia’s Aussie accent rose from the other end of the bed, “OOOOOONNNNNNNNNGGGGGGHHH Annie, we don’t have toime. Master’s gonna swap me out any min-”

Cindi, pulled off and looked up suddenly, the nametag on her collar lightly jingling. “Mr. Wolfe, I presume?”

Greg was in shock, but managed to return volley, “Ah, Ms. Royal. Pleazhah t’ make your acquaintance. Um, lit’rally.”

She grinned and went back to work.

Muttering under his breath, he said, “Well, at least bring your wiggly arse ovah here so OI can NNNNNGGG return the fayvah.”

POP “Yes, sir, Mr. Wolfe. Right away!”

After she repositioned herself they resumed again, pleasuring each other. After a few minutes he gave her a crisp slap on the ass. Then, after a moment, he disengaged.

“Sorry, luv. You don’t know the code, do you.”

She gripped him at the base and took her time sliding off. “Code, Mr. Wolfe?”

All this “Mr. Wolfe” stuff from one of the mightiest superheroines in the world was making him even stiffer.

“Ah, okay then. Shahp smack on the roight cheek is our code for ‘cum’.”

“Our?”

“Annette’s and moine. When moy mouth is, um, otherwoise occupoied.”

“Oh, sorry. Won’t miss it again!”

“No, you won’t,” he said with a smile giving her another identical whack.

Cindi fell off her own elbows as the orgasm hit her, but then went straight back to work on his woodie.

After giving her clit a particularly nice nibble, he pulled back one more time. “Boss says two minutes, luv.”

She began to work him harder and faster. His tongue made magical sparks fly on her labia and clit. As the moment approached, he gave her one more good hard smack and unloaded into her mouth. Even through the orgasm she had the presence of mind to swallow it all. But she began tongue-cleaning him anyway just for good measure.

“Good morning, Cindi.”

While continuing her slurping and licking clean-up, she responded, “Mmmmmmmmm I want to be your slave forever. I could never be happier. How may I serve you, My Lord?”

“Well, I sent you here first so you could get a head start in the shower.”

“Oh. Sorry, My Lord.”

“No, no. I liked your idea of how to start the day better, else I would have stopped you.”

“Yes, My Lord. Thank you.”

“But we are just a touch behind schedule. We only have eight hours, if that. Let’s not waste them. Maybe we should shower together to save time.”

“Mmmmmm Your wish is my command, Lord.”

I smacked her ass one more time and rolled us over so I could get up. She was a moaning, writhing mess as I disengaged and went to start the shower.

By the time she got there the shower was good and hot, and I’d gotten the shower mitt lathered up with Annette’s body wash, ready to go.

As she entered the shower she saw what I was doing. “Wait ... My Lord ... We’re not going to... ?”

“No. We’re going to get you clean.”

I had seen more puppy-dog eyes across the eons than you could imagine, but rarely as artfully executed as by Cindi right then. “But ... My Lord?” She cupped her breasts and pouted.

I held firm, but only over the strongly-voiced protests of my own penis. “You are going to make me breakfast, wench. But first, we’re gonna clean that filthy body before it goes into my nice clean kitchen!”

As she submitted to the inevitable, I handed her the shampoo. Then I started at her feet and worked my way up. Of course, I did take care to ensure that her vulva, her ass cheeks, and her glorious jugs were especially clean. One must prioritize, after all.

By the time I was rinsing off her shoulders and back, she was ready to rinse the 3rd stage of product out of her hair. As she leaned back into the water, I dabbed at her nose with the mitt.

She stopped and looked at me dead-seriously. “Please, My Lord, if I let you use that soap on Annette’s face, she will be very upset with me.”

“Hey! Who’s Lord around here?”

Cindi dropped to her knees and looked up at me. If anything she did “silent pleading” even better than “puppy-dog pout”.

I raised my hands in defeat and said, “finish up.”

Cindi rose, picked up the face soap and did face, ears, and throat while I re-lathered the mitt and began on myself.

As I stepped out of the shower Cindi was just finishing daintily daubing herself with the towel. I took it out of her hand and snapped her ass with it, eliciting a loud yelp.

“You’re wasting time. Get in the kitchen, baby bitch. Ham and cheese and whatever omelet for me and whatever you’d like for you. Coffee. Surprise me with a fruit juice. I want to be done with breakfast within an hour. Go.”

«“Less talk, more action.”» She did that, not me. With no more than a passing glance at her wet hair in the mirror, she was off and running.

When I emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later dressed in jeans and polo shirt, wonderful smells were coming from the kitchen, and coffee service was waiting by the couch.

Stepping into the kitchen, I kissed Cindi deeply, a promise for later, and gave her some commands to streamline her breakfast: permission to use cups, implicit permission to eat, et cetera. Then back at the couch I fixed myself a cuppa. Cindi had remembered that I care which coffee; a small note on the platter by the pot read “Kona dark“.

Breakfast did actually proceed fairly efficiently, although Cindi was really bothered by her wet hair. She wolfed down her fruit salad and begged me for permission to “take care of Annette’s hair”. I reminded her that she belonged to me, not Annette, but I told her she could after she cleaned up from breakfast. I had to add “if there’s time” to her retreating back.

Soon we were both ready to start the day. I told her to bring me what she found on the hook inside the hall closet door. She returned with the leash, carried in her teeth. I smiled. That’s the spirit, Cindi.

Taking the leash from her, I began, “Good girl. We’re going to go for a little walk. But first we need to establish some commands and some appropriate behaviors. You will be my well-trained, happy, and obedient pet. Do you understand?”

She frowned. “Um, not exactly, uh, My Lord. We’re going ... out?”

“Yes. Now —”

“Like this, My Lord?” She gestured to her naked form.

“Not exactly. You will be wearing shoes.”

Cindi was suddenly acutely aware of her nakedness. Did you know that it’s possible to blush with your whole body?

While her head was still spinning, I attached the leash to her collar. “Now, as I was saying, you will perform as commanded, immediately, enthusiastically and cheerfully. Your main commands are ‘Heel’, ‘Down’, ‘Sit’, and ‘Speak’. Do you understand?”

Nervously she replied, “Um, obey cheerfully. ‘Heel’, ‘Down’, ‘Sit’, and ‘Speak’. Yes, My Lord.”

“Now let’s define your commands. ‘Heel’. You will walk one pace behind me, on whichever side I am holding the leash. If I change speed, if I change direction, you will keep pace with me. If I stop dead you will stop without running into me.

“If for some unfathomable reason I break into a run, you may drop another pace further back. Heel is an implicit command whenever I am moving. If I start to move and do not say ‘heel’, then you should act as if I had. In general, I will only say ‘heel’ if you miss your cue, or if you seem distracted at the moment I start moving.

“I will not consider ‘missing your cue’ to be a failure, but merely an imperfection. There are only two ways you fail at ‘heeling’, falling behind or bumping into me. Either would be grounds for punishment.’

«Oh Gods!» thought Cindi «If they are all this complicated, I’m sunk.»

“‘Down’. Kneel with your body and thighs upright.”

“‘Sit’ —”

“Excuse me, My Lord. Nothing more for ‘Down’?”

“Only that you will do it immediately, enthusiastically, and cheerfully, no matter what, but I shouldn’t have to say that again, should I?”

She flinched. “No, My Lord. Sorry.”

“sigh Alright. ‘Sit’. Kneel in a sitting position, ass touching heels of your feet.”

“‘Speak’. If I order you with any variant of the word — ‘answer’, ‘tell him’, ‘go ahead’, whatever — you may give one and only one response to whatever statement or question has come up. You will refer to the person asking politely as ‘Sir’ or ‘Ma’am’. If I say ‘continue’ or ‘converse’ or some such you have my permission to engage in a conversation until I say ‘stop’. There is some implicit behavior here as well. If you look up at me for permission and I nod, that means ‘speak’. You may only speak in response. Otherwise remain silent.”

“I can never make any sound, My Lord?” she said with fear. Looking in her head I could see that she was thinking of all the times in her life when she had seen a child being cruel to a dog.

“If you are in pain or distress, you may make appropriate nonverbal noises. I will see what’s bothering you, unless I am doing something more important, like talking to a person. No words though. And don’t abuse it. No whining because you’re bored. If I say quiet, you will stop, unless it is a matter of life and death.”

Cindi nodded.

“Any other verbal commands you will follow perfectly and silently. Cock your head to the side if you don’t understand a command. I will decide whether to clarify or punish. Outside of commands there are other behaviors that I require. If I give someone permission to touch you, you will do more than just allow it. You will enjoy it. You will revel in it. If I give the leash to another person you will behave for that person exactly as you would for me, until the moment I request or take the leash back.”

She nodded again.

“So, do you need to practice?”

Cindi looked up at me expectantly. I smiled. “Good girl. Answer.”

«Good girl! Reward!» “N-no, My Lord. I think I understand. I am a happy, well-trained, eager puppy. My Lord ... I ... I want to make you proud of me.”

My smile broadened. “I want to be proud of you, Cindi. Don’t let me down.”

And so I took off walking. Cindi instantly fell into step on my right, heeling perfectly. She almost missed a step though when I walked past the front door to the hall closet.

“Annette’s topsiders are on the floor of the closet somewhere. Fetch them and put them on.”

Silent obedience followed. Soon she was heeling again, leaving the flat for the first time, walking out into the world stark naked at her Lord’s behest.

The hallway was short but wide and luxurious. There was only one other door, and of course the elevator. I pressed the down button and waited. She waited silently, one pace behind me. Her nipples were hard as rocks. Her sex was warm and wet. All over her body she was covered with gooseflesh. Her heart was racing. Her mind was racing.

«What is He going to do with me? Where is He taking me? What will people do when they see a naked woman on a leash? Will they confront us? Arrest us? Try to take me away from Him?»

The loud double-ding from the lift was the only thing that prevented her from missing her cue.

«“Pay attention, Cindi. Those are all my problems, not yours.”»

Cindi snapped out of it. I was speaking directly into her mind in her actual physical presence for the first time. It shocked her, but it reminded her that I was not without resources to handle ... situations. As we boarded the elevator, she resolved to be the best damn puppy in the history of dogs and to leave the rest to me.

“Down.” She was on her knees looking up at me with a bright, adoring smile. Soon the elevator double-dinged again. A small, 60-ish woman in a blue frock entered. An expression of shock crossed her face briefly as she noticed the naked girl on the floor. But she recovered quickly and smiled.

“Oh, Mr. Wolfe, is this your new pet?”

Cindi was clearly not surprised by the Aussie accent. She had a pretty good idea where she was by now. She was beginning to get the idea that maybe I had the whole city enthralled somehow. The woman’s question was certainly not what most people would consider normal. As far as Cindi knew people didn’t typically walk around naked on leashes as pets in Falkirk, Western Australia. She relaxed a bit. «He has everything under control.»

I answered the woman in Greg’s voice, “Yes, she is.”

“She is so beautiful. May OI, uh, pet her?”

“Go roight ahead.”

She reached down to stroke Cindi’s hair. Cindi leaned into it, smiling up at the woman.

“What a good girl. What’s her name?”

Cindi looked at me and I nodded.

“My name is ‘Cindi Cumdump’, ma’am!” she said, as brightly as Rebecca of freaking Sunnybrook Farm, holding up her nametag for the woman to see.

The woman jerked her hand away, shocked again. But she quickly recovered and resumed petting. By now the elevator had stopped again. Three men and another woman were there, all dressed in smart business suits, clearly successful, clearly well-to-do, but all very deferential to “Mr. Wolfe”, despite his, um, unusual companion.

“May I, Mr. Wolfe?” One of the men clearly had decided to get into the spirit of the thing, gesturing toward Cindi.

“Sure,” I said.

He dropped to one knee. He ran a hand up her arm, across her shoulder and collarbone to her nametag. “Cindi Cumdump, eh?” Down her chest into her cleavage. “OI bet you’re a good little cumdump, ahn’t you, Cindi?” Under her breast, hefting it, rolling a nipple.

Cindi was thoroughly repulsed by this guy, but she smiled at him shyly and pushed her chest out proudly. «“Good girl”»

“Speak, Cindi,” I said.

Cindi was a five-year-old girl explaining how she felt about candy. “Oh, yes, sir! I love it when My Lord dumps his cum in me. It’s one of my favoritest things!”

“‘One of’, Cindi?” I asked amusedly, nodding my head for her to speak.

“Well, My Lord, I like it lots when you make me cum too!” Cindi hugged my leg and looked up at me worshipfully, incidentally dislodging the man from her breast.

The elevator dinged at the ground floor. Cindi’s admirers reluctantly disbursed. I moved toward the exit, and Cindi rose and heeled smoothly in my wake.

The ground floor of the condominium tower complex was large, open and opulent, with an atrium, a sunken fountain area surrounded by chairs and tables, shops and restaurants all around the edges, and a prominent concierge desk near the main entrance.

It was really more like a small upscale shopping mall than a condo building lobby. More importantly at the moment though, it was a hub of activity. People were everywhere, going to work, coming to work, shopping, window shopping, having breakfast with friends, having a leisurely cup of coffee with a newspaper or a book.

But now a wave of “time stoppage” seemed to be sweeping through the crowd as people recognized “Mr. Wolfe” and were shocked by the stunning bit of naked eye-candy obediently trailing behind me.

I was looking back at us through several of those other sets of eyes and I happened to notice that Cindi’s “full body blush” had returned. She had been doing well with just the few of us in the elevator. But this place was more public by several orders of magnitude.

Inside her mind she was battling the frisson of fear that engulfed her as we walked out of the lift. Dozens of pairs of eyes — if not over a hundred — were all slowly but surely training themselves on her. On her nakedness. On her vulnerability.

It was all she could do not to run around in front of me and hide herself against my chest, under my sheltering arm. And by now you’ve seen many times the effect that fear and humiliation has on her body. A sticky rivulet began to run down Cindi’s right leg.