Chapter 2

I left Jacqui an extra large tip in appreciation for the extra entertainment she had provided. I also wanted Jacqui to remember me, although I had a feeling she would remember me just fine without the additional reminder. Such people occasionally came in handy.

As we walked back out to the car, I suggested we check out some of the small art galleries that were popping up in the old industrial districts. This would be something that was interesting to both of us and also a place where Rachel's collar would attract minimal attention.

"I think we need to go back to your house."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I need to fix your little problem."

Is it that obvious?"

"Quite."

Once inside the house, I tied Rachel's hands behind her and carried her upstairs. I got us undressed, tossed her on the bed and landed on top of her. This was exactly the sort of quickie I had objected to last night, but everything has it's place. It wasn't like there hadn't been some buildup to our current condition. I noted that Rachel's embarrassment at the restaurant had had the same effect on her that it had had on me. I found her reaction to it even more curious than my own.

I untied Rachel and we drifted off to sleep.

I awoke and looked at the clock. It was going on six PM. We had slept most of the afternoon. It was just as well. Rachel was in for a long night.

I showered and dressed, then woke Rachel and told her it was time to dress for dinner. While she was getting ready, I called to check on the dinner. I had made arrangements for it to be delivered about seven. The restaurant assured me everything was on schedule.

I told Rachel that dinner was a surprise and that after she was dressed, she was to remain in the bedroom until I came for her. I went downstairs and threw a tablecloth on the dining room table, then set two places. I set out the wine and the dishes we would need, then sat down to wait. I had been sitting less than a minute when the doorbell rang. The delivery guy helped me get the stuff on the table, then I tipped him and sent him on. It looked delicious.

I returned upstairs for Rachel.

Rachel was looking delicious in her own rite. She had had one rather elegant gown in her wardrobe which I had insisted she bring along to wear for dinner. She wore black evening shoes with ankle straps and her collar substituted very nicely for a necklace. She had her hair up with a strand of faux (I assumed) pearls woven in and matching pearl earrings. I had wanted her to wear gloves, but she didn't own any. She wasn't to wear any other jewelry, since I had some accessories of my own with which she would be adorned.

I pulled her to me and kissed her, then sat her down and locked black leather cuffs on her wrists and ankles.

"What are those for?"

"You'll find them more comfortable than rope or handcuffs."

"Oh."

I took Rachel's hand and she stood. Pulling her arms behind her, I locked her wrist cuffs together, then knelt and joined her ankle cuffs by a little over a foot of chain. "One more thing," I told her and snapped the end of a black leather leash onto her collar, then led her off to dinner.

I suppose it probably helps if you share my tastes, but the sight of Rachel descending the grand staircase in her gown, collared and leashed, her hands bound behind her, is one of the erotic images I will carry to my grave. I wish I had had the forethought to have my camera ready, although I suppose Rachel herself wouldn't be thrilled about having her picture taken in this condition.

The candles lit the dining room softly as I removed Rachel's leash and unlocked her wrists, locking them again in front. I seated her at the table and served her supper and poured her wine.

Rachel was having shrimp while I was having prime rib. I watched her as she ate with her wrists locked only a couple of inches apart. She picked up her glass and held it in both hands as she sipped her wine, gazing at me over the top of it with a look that seemed to combine both need and mild reproach. It drove me wild.

We spoke very little over dinner. I think Rachel was contemplating both her current condition and whatever was to come next. I was doing exactly the same thing.

"Are we having dessert?" Rachel asked as we neared the end of the meal.

"Yes, we are. You're going to have dessert on your knees."

"Not again."

Rachel thought it was going to be a repeat of the way I'd fed her breakfast, but that wasn't quite what I had in mind. For my part, I hadn't planned to move things along quite this quickly, but I was in even worse shape than I'd been at lunch and Rachel was going to have to do something about it.

I got up and helped Rachel out of her seat, then drew my chair toward her. "Kneel," I told her and gently pressed down on her shoulders. I sat down in front of her and unzipped my fly.

"Bob, I've never done this before."

"Then it's time you learned. We can't have you going out on the streets as unskilled labor, especially if you intend charging a thousand dollars."

"Pimp."

I took Rachel's head in my hands and guided her mouth to my cock. Once I was in her mouth, she went to work without hesitation and I wasn't sure I believed her claim of innocence.

It reminded me of another dessert I had had in this house, although this experience was very different from that other one. That one made me think of an overly rich chocolate mousse, whereas Rachel was more of a peaches and cream type.

I locked Rachel's hands behind her again and led her out into the main hall. "Wait here," I told her, "and don't speak again until I say it's okay." I went upstairs and pocketed a gag and a few other items I thought would come in handy. When I returned, Rachel was standing as I had left her.

Just as I returned to Rachel, a loud beeping noise came from the back hall.

"What's that?" Rachel wanted to know.

"It's the motion detector on the front porch."

"You mean somebody's out there?"

She was terrified that someone would see her bound and leashed. "It's probably not anybody. The wind sometimes sets it off," I told her, but there was no wind tonight. "I'll go check. You stay put."

I went to the front door, opened it and stuck my head out. I didn't see anyone, but I did see a car about half way down the block I didn't recognize. It might have just been someone visiting the neighbors, but the car reminded me of the one I'd seen across from Rachel's house in the morning.

I closed the door and bumped into Rachel as I turned.

"Ow!" she said as I stepped on her foot.

"Rachel, didn't I tell you to stay put? I almost knocked you down."

"Who's out there?" she wanted to know.

"I didn't see anyone, but if it will make you happy, I'll go out and check, but first I'm going to put you someplace so I know where you are." I seized her leash and led her to the door of the hall closet. "Inside," I told her, "kneel".

Rachel knelt and I tied her leash around the doorknob so that there wasn't enough slack for her to stand, then closed the door. She would now stay put until I returned.

I grabbed my flashlight and cordless phone and went out on the porch. I punched 911 on the keypad, so that all I would have to do would be to punch 'talk' to connect. I walked around the house, flashing the light around. If what I thought was going on was indeed going on, that should be sufficient to scare her off. When I got back around to the front door, I went in again.

I returned to Rachel, unwound her leash, and let her out of the closet.

"Did you see anyone?"

"No, I didn't. And now we need to deal with your transgressions."

"Like... what?"

I was pleased by the note of apprehension in her voice. "Didn't I tell you not to speak?"

"Yes."

"And didn't I tell you to stay put?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't do either, did you?"

"So... what are you going to do, punish me or something?"

"Yes, I am."

"How?"

"I'm going to make you draw an envelope."

"Draw?"

"Select. You'll see in a minute, but first I'm going to gag you so we won't have to worry about talking without permission."

"But..."

"Rachel, further talking is not the way to convince me not to gag you." Rachel hesitated a moment as I held the gag to her lips, then accepted the gag.

"Wait here, and this time, don't move." I went upstairs and retrieved a shoe box I'd prepared in anticipation of tonight. While I was there, I looked out the second floor window. The car I had seen earlier was gone. I went back downstairs.

I set the shoe box on the side table and unlocked Rachel's hands from behind her. I locked them together in front, then held out the shoe box. It contained about three dozen envelopes.

"Choose an envelope," I told her.

Rachel hesitantly pulled an envelope from the middle of the pack.

"Open it and read the card inside, then hand it to me." She did so. I looked at the card.

Stand in the Corner

You will stand with your nose pressed

against the wall for one hour.

I was glad she had drawn this card, since I'd been wanting to try this out. I had gotten the idea from a drawing I had once seen. It pictured a woman standing with her nose against the wall and her hands tied behind her. She was holding a sheet of paper against the wall with her nose, and a wooden dowel was balanced across two bottles in front of her ankles, so that she couldn't move her feet closer to the wall without knocking it off. Something was written on the paper, but I no longer knew what.

I did know what Rachel was going to be holding against the wall. I selected another envelope from the box and then went to the kitchen and returned with two beer bottles and a dowel. I set the bottles about a foot and a half out from the wall and balanced the dowel across the top of them, then led Rachel over to stand in front of the dowel. I locked her wrists behind her again.

I held the envelope up to the wall and told her, "Rachel, for the next hour, you are to hold this envelope against the wall with your nose. If either the envelope or the dowel fall, we open the envelope."

I put my hand against the back of her head, and Rachel leaned forward and pinned the envelope with her nose. I held it low enough that she couldn't use her forehead to hold it. I let go of the envelope and it remained in place. I lit a candle and turned out the hall lights, then went up and sat on the landing to watch Rachel's ordeal. I had a good view, looking down at her from half way up the stairs. Since I was behind her, she couldn't see me.

Rachel remained motionless for nearly five minutes, then she began shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She had her forehead against the wall and was using it to support the weight of her upper body leaning forward, but since she had to keep her nose pressed against the wall, she was unable to support the weight with the top of her forehead as she wished.

After ten minutes, she was squirming around quite a bit, trying to find relief from the strain her position imposed on her body. She tried spreading her feet wider, to the length of her ankle chain, but to do that, she had to back even farther away from the wall to avoid knocking over the bottles. This put even more strain on her forehead and she returned to her original position. Next she tried lifting one foot, then the other. It was while she was doing this that she knocked the dowel off the bottles. I could hear her squeak of alarm through the gag as her shoe bumped one of the bottles. She tried to look down to see if the dowel had fallen, and in doing so lost the envelope.

Rachel wasn't exactly sure what to do at this point. She looked about in confusion, then after a moment, returned her nose to the wall. I left her there another few minutes, then returned to her side. She started to straighten up, but I told her to remain as she was.

After picking up the envelope, I told Rachel to stand up straight, then snapped the leash onto her collar and led her over to the side table where the candle was. I opened the envelope and withdrew the card, laying it on the table next to the candle.

Spanking

You are to be securely bound and soundly spanked.

Rachel read the card and began making noises through her gag which were, of course, unintelligible. I shushed her and told her that shortly she would have both opportunity and reason to complain, but for now I required her silence. She complied. I could tell she wanted to say something, but, being gagged, there was not much point trying.

I led Rachel upstairs and got her undressed and tied down without any major resistance on her part. I had tied her in my favorite spanking position--face down with her wrists locked behind her and her ankles bound to the footboard a couple of feet apart, feet hanging over.

She shivered as I ran my fingers up the back of her thigh. I removed her gag.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because I can, because I want to, because it turns me on, because it turns you on."

"So how do you get the idea I'm turned on by being spanked?"

"Because you're here. You'd rather be here getting spanked than be home alone."

"You think that because I haven't left that I want to be spanked?"

"That's not what I said. You don't want to be spanked, but given a choice between a spanking and being alone, you'll take the spanking."

"Oh..." What I had said was true, but Rachel was embarrassed to have what she considered her weakness exposed like this.

"Besides," I continued, running my hand up her leg, "it's not like it doesn't excite you."

"So, you think I'm turned on by being beaten?"

"Of course not. It frightens you. You don't want me to spank you. What excites you is that I'm going to do it anyway."

"Just... just don't spank me too hard, okay?"

"I won't spank you harder than you can stand, but I'm going to spank you harder than you would like."

I picked up the ruler that was laying on the night stand and began. I started on her butt and worked my way down her thighs and back again. By this time, Rachel was moaning, thrashing from side to side, and begging me to stop. I ran my finger up the inside of her thigh to see if it was time to stop. It was.

After untying her ankles, I flipped Rachel onto her back and fucked her. She gasped and wrapped her legs around me. She was one of the least vocal women I'd ever had sex with.

"You've never been spanked before, have you?"

"No."

"It makes you angry, doesn't it?" I asked.

"Well..."

"It makes you angry that being spanked excites you."

"Yes... Well, not really angry so much as embarrassed, but... I guess it does make me a little angry, too, only I'm not angry with you, I'm angry with myself for being turned on by it."

"I told you, it's not the spanking that turns you on. What excites you is being spanked despite your wishes."

"That's worse."

"Perhaps, but you're still here."

"I'm tied up."

The next morning, after we showered, we got dressed. This time, I fixed breakfast. Rachel sat at the table, and after I served her food, I unlocked her wrists so she could eat. Gretchen was due home in the early afternoon, so I would have to take Rachel home soon.

"I can't believe I've done this," Rachel said.

"And what have you done?"

"I just spent the weekend as a sex slave."

"Yes, you did."

After breakfast, I took Rachel home. I made her wear her collar home and removed it in her living room.

"I'll call you," I told her.

"You'd better."

I kissed Rachel and departed, then drove home, thinking about what she had said. Up until Friday night, I didn't really know her well, yet I had kept her in virtual bondage for a weekend. What puzzled me was that I had known this was going to happen, but I didn't know how I knew. I knew when I had first seen her standing on the street corner in handcuffs. It wasn't just the handcuffs, it was her. I saw the hookers in handcuffs all the time. That didn't do much for me, but when I first saw Rachel, there was something about her, some subliminal cue I had picked up on that made me ache to have her as my own captive. Yes, I would call her. Sweet Rachel's days of standing about in handcuffs were far from over.

There was, however, a potential fly in the ointment. Monday morning, I gave John a call.

"Hi, John, Bob. Hey, what can you tell me about this Gayle Robbins person?"

"Funny you should ask. I ran into the prosecutor late last week and he told me Gayle had approached him before the arraignment and offered to testify as an expert witness. After he questioned her, he realized she didn't have anything of substance to contribute, just hearsay and her professional opinion. He wasn't all that impressed with either her credentials or what she had to say, so he decided not to use her testimony. She was apparently rather miffed by his refusal, which she seemed to consider some sort of personal rejection."

"Oh, really."

"There's more. I decided to check up on our Miss Robbins and found out she's done this sort of thing before."

"Offered to testify?"

"No, engaged in extracurricular activities. It seems there was this kid at another school where she worked that she thought was abused, but no one else did. None of the teachers or administrators thought there was any indication of abuse, so when she didn't get any backup from them, she called in family services. They interviewed the kid and also found no evidence of abuse. Apparently, her supervisor ordered her off the case, but she pursued it anyway, despite threats of legal action by the parents."

"That sounds exactly like what she tried to do to Rachel. I hope she wasn't able to get the kid taken away from his parents."

"Her parents. But no, she wasn't."

"That's a relief. What's with her, anyway? What does she get out of making all these false accusations?"

"They weren't false."

"Huh? But you said..."

"I said nobody believed her. About a month later, the girl's mom took her to the emergency room. She had a fractured wrist and a number of bruises. The ER doctor called family services and Gayle was proven right. They'd just been very good at hiding it until it got out of control."

"So Gayle was vindicated."

"Yes and no. She was proven correct, but it didn't make her popular with anyone. Proving her right proved everyone else wrong, and she didn't hesitate to rub it in. She's not all that well liked by her supervisor, her coworkers, or anyone else. To say the least she has an attitude."

"Oh, Jesus. So that means Gayle isn't likely to give up on Rachel."

"That would be my guess. She considers herself infallible and would probably pursue the case even if they did fire her, and I don't know if they really would."

"So Rachel gets off the bus at the wrong stop one day and now she's got this monomaniacal moron on her case. Anything you can do?"

"Not unless she breaks a law. If she gets to be a problem, we could sue her employer. We could sue her personally, for that matter. Even if we lost, between the two of us we could spend her into oblivion on legal fees. Unfortunately, if I'm correct about her personality type, that wouldn't stop her. Has she done anything since I called the school and her boss?"

"Not that I know of, but I have my suspicions."

"Keep me apprized. I'll help if I can."

The conversation with John was both illuminating and disturbing. However, I decided I shouldn't get too worried until I had confirmed my suspicions.

Friday I took Rachel out again. As I picked her up, I met Gretchen for the first time. She was fifteen and looked a lot like Rachel, only more gangly. Once she filled out a bit, she would look even more like Rachel. She did not, however, have that quality that Rachel possessed that made me want to own her, control her, tie her up and never let her go. Perhaps that was something that would develop later on, or perhaps she simply hadn't inherited that trait. That was a good thing from my point of view. I would have found it quite uncomfortable if Gretchen had inspired those sorts of feelings in me, not only because she was so young but also because she was Rachel's daughter.

Saturday morning, I decided to see if I could confirm my suspicions. I drove over to Rachel's and parked around the corner from her house, then strolled down her street. The car was parked across the street from Rachel's. The door was locked, but the window was half way down. I reached in and unlocked it, then climbed into the passenger seat.

"Hello, Gayle. I'm glad to finally have the chance to meet you."

"The feeling is hardly mutual."

"I'm not surprised by that. So tell me, what's this problem you seem to have with Rachel?"

"She's a whore. She sells herself to men."

I now understood. The word 'men' had been delivered with considerable venom. I had heard this once before.

Back when Meg had been alive, she and I had always attended the annual Christmas party at John's office. On one occasion, Marie, a friend of Meg's, had come with us. We were sitting in the reception area talking among ourselves. The other people in the room included a female lawyer who had her office in John's building and who I happened to know was a lesbian. Marie got up to take her plate back to the kitchen and took Meg's as well. She was juggling the plates so she would have a hand free to open the door when the lesbian lawyer said, "Why don't you get some big strong man to open it for you." I was very much taken aback. The remark had been made to someone who was a total stranger to her and was filled with contempt.

Gayle's comment had exactly the same tone. She hated men, and she hated Rachel for surrendering herself to men. I had been puzzled as to her motivation, and now I understood. It was good to know this. It meant that any attempt on my part to charm Gayle, which was my backup plan in case intimidation didn't work, would only be throwing gasoline on the fire.

"Judge Larkin seemed to find otherwise."

"Judge Larkin doesn't have my experience."

"I'm sure he's grateful for that."

"I'm sure he is."

Alarm bells were starting to go off. Gayle was handling my intrusion with way too much cool. Something was wrong, but I had no idea what.

"Are we done now, Bob? I'd like to get back to work."

"I see you know who I am."

"Yes, you're her pimp."

"And how do you come to that conclusion?"

Gayle opened a folder next to her seat, pulled out some photos, and tossed them in my lap. I picked up the 5x7's and looked them over. The first one was from last Saturday. It showed Rachel and I stepping off her front porch. I was a pace ahead of her and leading her by the hand, her overnight bag in my other hand. Her collar was visible, but it wasn't obvious that that's what it was. The second shot, however, was zoomed in on Rachel's head and shoulders and both the collar and padlock could be clearly seen as what they were. The third shot was even more startling. It showed Rachel taking a sip from her wine glass. The photo was a slightly grainy black and white, shot on fast film in low light conditions. Nonetheless, her collar and the cuffs locking her wrists together were quite visible. The look on Rachel's face which I had found so appealing at the time seemed particularly damning in the photo. I knew exactly where Gayle had stood to take the picture. It was taken from my side porch through the side door of the house slantwise through the dining room door which opened off the side hall. I had no motion detector on the small side porch. I wasn't visible in the picture, having been behind the door frame from where she was standing. I was visible in the next one, leading Rachel to the dining room on her leash. Rachel was seen from the side and her bonds, both wrist and ankle, were visible. The look on her face did not indicate that she found her predicament to be a cause of alarm. Finally, there was a picture of Rachel being led down the stairs, the picture I had wished for at the time. Be careful what you ask for, I thought to myself and tucked the pictures into my pocket.