Chapter 5

"Damn it, Jeffrey Collins, I want to go back to the way it was that first night," Susan Andrews insisted. After pausing for a few moments she continued, "You see what I mean? I just used your Christian name. Was I thrown up against the whipping post and given fifty lashes? Hell, no! Did I even get ten slaps back and forth across my face? Hell, no!" Pretending to glare at him she said, "I'm going back to the Anthony's. At least they maintained discipline."

"Are you finished?" Jeff asked mildly. His reaction took Sue so aback she just nodded. "In that case, may I have some more coffee, please? It's particularly delicious this morning. And the breakfast table? Utterly magnificent. The fresh flowers on the table are particularly lovely today."

Leaning back in his chair Jeff looked up at the cloudless sky and asked rhetorically, "Could there possibly be a better time than this? I've just had a gourmet breakfast. I look beside me at the breakfast table and see the most perfect female body that God, in his infinite wisdom has ever put on a person. Then I look into the eyes of that perfect female and all I see is an incredible level of love and goodness..."

Jeff sighed and continued, "Of course, she does bitch at me from time to time, but then nothing in this world is perfect ... But my slave is about as close as it ever gets." Then he grinned at her and said, "My darling, it couldn't possibly have been any better. Thank you, sweetheart."

Sue got up and then plopped herself across his lap. Putting her arms around his neck she said, "My darling, I would truly love to be beaten by you. Honest, I would.

"But do you know what I'm really serious about? I'm really starting to resent all of these stupid demands on your time from these dumb charities and idiot foundations. Why can't we just send the turkeys a check and forget about them? And, my darling master, I hope you've noticed how proficient I am now on the computer. I can run off dozens of computer-produced checks in an instant. Then we could play golf, swim, soak up the heat in the sauna ... You'd even have the time available to beat me."

Then with her eyes large she added, "And you really should, you know. After all, darling master, being a slave owner is not without its responsibilities. You've a duty to ensure that I'm obedient and respectful. Master, you're not discharging those duties."

Then she looked deeply into his eyes and asked, "Speaking of duties, darling master, when are you going to take my virginity? I've been waiting patiently — or as patiently as I can — for you to take me. After all, how can I possibly consider myself to be a personal slave, let alone your body slave, if I can't be fucked regularly?

"I hope you realize, beloved master, the degree to which I've lost status in the body slaves union. I can no longer even hold up my head. I'm an object of ridicule and derision at every meeting."

Leaning back while still linking her hands behind his neck she continued, "I hope you know what you're doing, my darling master. All the other slaves are saying that you're a phony. You've a huge cock, they all agree, but they're saying that you can't perform. I try to defend you, my darling, but when they ask why I haven't been fucked, what can I say? I try to tell them that I wasn't attractive enough for you, but they point out that you haven't fucked anyone since I've come to live with you. And you haven't! Darling master, what can I possibly tell them?"

Jeff Collins hugged the gorgeous girl sitting naked on his lap. As he did he realized that Susan was the most perfect female alive. He was amused thinking about his agreement with Simon Anthony. Knowing what he knew now, had Anthony given him a two-week trial, he could have received millions — possibly billions — of dollars for Susan. Selling her to him for a $500,000 loan was ridiculously cheap. Susan had turned out to be feminine perfection on two feet. Squeezing her body produced a warm, very happy sound from deep inside her. It also caused her eyes to open — they had been closed as she just relished the wonderful feeling of being held — and focus on his.

"My darling slave," he said, "I think you're probably right. I guess I'm doing too much. I promise you that after today I'll just let you write a check — using the wonderful laser printer-produced checks — and we'll just stay home and play." Then he looked deeply into her eyes and asked, "My darling slave, I forgot to ask you. Do you like the country? Would you like it if we had a place on a lake — a big lake — way up north in Vermont, or Maine, or New Hampshire? We could have horses—"

"I would utterly adore it, darling master," she interrupted. Her eyes were gleaming and he realized there were tears as she continued, "My Lord, please let me be your concubine. I've been reading a great deal about it. A concubine is a female slave who produces children for her master. Master Jeff, nothing could possibly give me greater joy than to carry your children in my belly. And if there were to be a place up north...

"My darling, I would be in Heaven! Do you know what I would do? When it was time for me to give birth, I would lie on the floor in front of the fireplace — we'll have a huge stone fireplace, won't we? — and then feel the infant pass down my birth canal. While still soaking wet from my womb, and while I'm still lying on my back, I'll hold the infant by its feet and spank its bottom hard. There will be a cry as it draws its first breaths. Then I'll put it against my milk-swollen breast and let it drink its fill from my tit.

"When you come home, my darling, I'll still be lying naked in front of the fire. I'll say, 'This is our child, Master.' Then I'll ask you if I may keep it."

At that point Jeff almost cracked up. Although he hadn't mentioned it to her, he was very close to marrying this incredible girl who was sharing his life. He realized that if it had been possible to design a woman from scratch, he could not have come up with one as perfect as Susan. For example, Susan had an uncanny knack for anticipating his desires. She did things before he even thought of them. Only after the fact did he realize what she'd done.

Finally, responding to her last statement, there were tears flowing from his eyes as he replied, "My darling slave, the answer would be, 'Of course, my darling slave, we'll keep the infant.' But would you allow me to hold it? As it grows to become a boy or girl, could I take it fishing? Hunting? Teach it to ride a horse? Could I, my darling?"

"Oh, my darling master, of course! Oh, my God! I can see it now. I'll be lying in front of a roaring fire. I'll hold my newborn infant in the air and shout, 'This is Jeffrey Collins' child! Isn't he or she gorgeous?' But you would want to play with it, and teach it..."

Susan could no longer take it and broke down completely. She just tried to bury her face in his shoulder and bawled. Never in her entire life had she cried so hard. Jeff had no idea what to do, except that he knew that this gorgeous woman was going to be the mother of any children he might ever have.

"What would you say if I were to ask you to marry me?" he asked casually.

"I would call for an ambulance," Susan replied quickly. "Clearly, you'd have lost all your marbles. You'd need the attentions of those nice little men in the white suits. They would take you to that nice place with the padded walls and floor..."

"Okay, Slave!" Jeff exclaimed. "Off your ass and on your feet! We have a very important art museum board meeting. Now let's get with it, shall we?"

"Yes, sir, your honor, master, sir," Sue replied. Then she murmured in a dead-flat tone of voice, "Oh, boy. Another thrilling art museum. I can hardly wait."

Her tone of voice was so flat that not even Jeff could keep a straight face. "Susan Andrews, if you wouldn't enjoy it so much, I would beat you within an inch of your life this instant! The nerve of some people's children! Here I try to expose you to culture and—"

At that point Sue just stuck her tongue out as far as she could and wiggled it at him. Then she jumped to her feet and ran to their bedroom. Following her, he found her taking a shower. Minutes later she was completely dressed in a lovely cool cord suit. Jeff quickly dressed. As he was tying his tie, she came up to him, kissed him quickly on the lips and whispered, "I hope you choke!"

"Gee, Susie, I like you," he responded plaintively.

"Jeffrey Collins, I hate you!" she exclaimed. Then she took his head in her hands, tipped it and then crushed her lips against his. Again they both nearly passed out as their mutual passion nearly destroyed them both. When she released him, he took a deep breath and then winked at her.

All she did was repeat, "Jeffrey Collins, I hate you!"

"Gee, Susie, I like you," he repeated. This time she could no longer control herself so she howled with laughter.

Arriving at the museum, they were greeted at the door by the director and by the curator of the modern section that was sponsoring the current exhibit. It was for this program that they were hoping to get Jeff's support. The minimum number in their thinking had six figures.

The curator escorted them around. The works — initially black-and-white photographs — dealt with homosexual sex. While the curator was rhapsodizing over the pictures, Susan was looking at them in disgust. After looking at the first twenty, she said, "Darling, I'm out of here. This is the most disgusting junk I've ever seen in my life!"

"Goodbye, Mr. Jenkins," Jeff said. "You've just heard from my better half. She's also the artistic half. Since she considers it to be junk..."

"Censorship!" Jenkins cried. "You can't do this! You're abridging the right of free expression. That's censorship!"

"No, Mr. Jenkins," Sue responded. "It's discrimination. Would you care to call in the Civil Rights folks?" Sue just shook her head and added, "This is garbage. There's no other word for it."

Then she shook her head and continued, "You know, it's really a damned shame about the Beaux Arts folks in Paris at the end of the 19^th century. They were so wrong about the Impressionists, it utterly destroyed art criticism. Ever since, critics have been terrified to look at a work and pronounce it junk. But do you know what, Mr. Jenkins? I'm not and this is junk! We've discovered a Gresham's Law of art: The bad drives out the good. And this junk, sir, is about as bad as it gets!"

Then she laughed derisively and added, "Furthermore, you people have been ruined by the Feds. You insist that failure to fund is censorship. Sir, it is not. These ... artists... ? are free to do whatever they chose — although frankly, some of this is pushing common pornography pretty hard — but there's no need for the taxpayers to pay for it. And, Mr. Jenkins, if there's no need for the government to pay for this with public funds, there's absolutely no reason why I would consider doing it with private money!"

With that she turned on her heel and strode toward the door. Jeff was right beside her. Reaching into his pocket he pressed a button on a tiny transmitter. It signaled Steve Sloan to bring the car around and was another of Jeff's electronic toys.

"But ... but ... but you can't leave!" Jenkins screamed. "You just cannot. I will not permit it," he exclaimed, adopting what he thought to be his most-determined look.

Sue thought he just looked ridiculous and laughed at him. Then she turned to Jeff and said, "I'm sorry, my darling. Really I am. You know me and know I don't usually hurt people's feelings. But darling, this man is just so utterly ridiculous, I can't even keep a straight face."

Jeff shrugged and said, "Well, Mr. Jenkins, I guess that about does it. Thank you for your hospitality. We'll be leaving now."

"But the money!" Jenkins wailed. "What will we do?"

"Try the National Endowment for the Arts?" Susan suggested blithely. "Of course it's significantly Jeff's money, too, with all the taxes he pays—"

"Your money, darling," Jeff interrupted. "I'm no longer even a signatory on my accounts. So even if I were to write Mr. Jenkins a check, the bank would no longer honor it."

Turning to Jenkins he continued, "Of course, I don't really count any more, but I'll tell you something about Susan: She is attracted to beauty. That's as it should be, because she's the most beautiful creature God has ever put on this earth. You see, I guess I'm spoiled. Every morning I awaken with Susan's golden head on my shoulder. Her naked body has molded itself to the right side of mine. The incredibly sweet natural fragrance of her body fills my nostrils. Looking at her sleeping, there's the most incredible innocence that surrounds her. My hand is cupping her tit as it has all night long. Her nipple — always erect, by the way — is poking a little hole in the palm of my hand. Then I'll move my hand the tiniest bit. Instantly her eyes are open and glowing with her love. That, Mr. Jenkins, is beauty!"

Jeff grinned, shook his head and continued, "Of course, the opinion about Susan's beauty isn't just mine. I'm negotiating with a number of artists to see who will first have the opportunity to do a figure study of my fiancée. It will be a reclining nude that I'll probably hang on the wall across from my desk in my office downtown."

Seeing Susan's expression of dismay, he chuckled and said, "You see the expression on Sue's face? Believe me, it's not what you think. The prospect of her naked body in my sight line all day thrills her. The dismay you see results from her not thinking of it first. She's upset because what she would have loved to do would be to march into my office, unwrap the painting, and hang it on the wall. Then she would strip, take the same pose on my couch and ask what I think and which one I liked better."

Turning to her he asked, "Right, my darling?"

"Of course you're right," she replied. "But you see, Mr. Jenkins, you only heard from Jeff. Imagine it from my perspective. Every night I'm cradled in the most powerful arms in the world. He protects me from any harm. I warm myself against his massive body and feel his muscles bulge around me. His wonderfully warm hand cradles my tit and I feel so wonderfully cozy and warm. And this is every single night, too."

Turning to Jeff she said, "I'm so sorry, my darling, that I didn't think of the painting first." Then with her eyes bright she said, "But do we have to stop with just one? How about a set of photographs? How about a gallery of Susan? Could we? Could I?"

Jeff just extended his arm and said, "My darling, shall we go?" With Jenkins so distraught it seemed he might cry, the two left the museum and walked to the waiting car.

Approaching Steve Sloan, Susan crossed her eyes, stuck the tip of her tongue from the corner of her mouth and said, "Yuck! Steve, it just gets worse."

After helping Sue into the car and reflecting as he did that no one was in less need of assistance than her, he said to Jeff, "Boss, I hope you realize how lucky you are. Miss Andrews is utterly perfect. I'm certain the two of you are going to be very happy."

He was standing just holding the door while he thought for a moment and then said, "I really shouldn't be saying this, boss, but I will anyway. She's made you a far nicer person than you ever were before. She has smoothed off all the rough edges. You're far happier, and you just seem to be utterly content. Miss Andrews is a truly wonderful person, isn't she?"

As he was about to close the door, Jeff held his hand up to stop him. "Thank you very much, Steve," he said. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate hearing what you just said. But the important one is Sue: I'm very glad she had the chance to hear what you said, too. And if I'm nicer, that's all her."

When the car was rolling again, Jeff told Steve they were going to the Children's Hospital where he had a meeting scheduled with the executive committee. They knew he would be visiting the museum first and didn't know how long it would take. Notwithstanding, they said they would be available to him whenever he could make it.

Picking up the car phone he called the hospital to tell them that he was on his way. Then he turned to Susan and asked, "And what are you going to do to stay out of trouble?"

"I'm going to visit with some of the children," she replied. "Maybe I can cheer them up or something."

Jeff turned and took her face in his hands. "My darling slave, you're a living, breathing angel. I'm sure you'll cheer them up."

The meeting with the trustees ran for more than two hours. As it was winding down, a call was placed to the wing where Susan was meeting with the children. A nurse said that Miss Andrews would meet Mr. Collins at the main entrance. As they walked down, Jeff asked his companion, the chairman of the executive committee, just where it was that Sue had spent her time.

"But didn't she tell you?" the man asked. "Our people were so impressed when she called. You see, normally visitors want to see the cute little children who are here with not much more than a bad cold. But not Miss Andrews! She asked to see the terminal patients — the children we've lost.

"Jeff, the poor kids are dead, but they haven't stopped breathing. Most of them are in such incredible pain it tears your heart out. We warned her, but those are the ones she wanted to visit."