Chapter 16

Riding up in the elevator, Doug let out a soft whistle of surprise as he realized the sumptuousness of the setting. “It’s just been completely redone,” Karla told him. Then she explained that the hotel now belonged to very good friends of the Sloans without telling him about Ken Clifford, Andy Cartwright, or their parents. Concluding, she said, “When they built the pool on the roof, they also redid the apartment. Now it’s essentially an independent structure on top of the hotel.” With a little grin she added, “We even have our own water filtration system and power generating facilities. Since there’s also a direct satellite up-link, the apartment is almost totally self-contained. The apartment’s generator can even power this elevator, if necessary.”

Entering the apartment, he stopped short and just looked. “This place is unbelievable!” he exclaimed. “Who decorated it?”

“We did,” Karla replied. Looking concerned she asked, “Don’t you like it?”

“Like it?“ he exclaimed. “I love it!” Looking around he realized that much of it was done in the softest leathers and fabrics. When he commented on it, Karla told him it was to keep their bottoms from being chafed but offered no further explanation.

Calling out, she learned that the girls were changing. Steve was sitting on the sofa with his long legs stretched out. With a quick grin at Doug and the request that he relax with Steve, Karla said she would be back in just a moment.

Since she was wearing a ball gown, he idly wondered to Steve how many hours “a moment” would be.

With a grin Steve said he would likely be surprised.

In less than two minutes, Karla reappeared along with the other girls. Maria was complaining, “You two aren’t fair! You brush your hair with a mixer, while I really have to work on mine!”

To Doug, Karla said, “Just watch.”

Maria gave her head a hard shake and her hair was arranged as perfectly as it always was. “Do you think many other women would let her live?” Karla asked. “Good grief! She just shakes her head and she looks like she just stepped out of a beauty salon. I hate her.”

The girls, who only moments before had been wearing ball gowns and tiaras, were now all wearing Levi’s and U.S. Military Academy sweatshirts in black and gold that Steve had bought for them.

A moment later, Barb appeared also wearing Levi’s but with an Indiana University sweatshirt. Steve asked Doug if he had checked his watch.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he said, “Good heavens! That only took a matter of seconds. How could they do it so fast?”

“Doug,” Steve replied, “I’ll give you the hot scoop. When you’re wearing a ball gown, a bikini, and a pair of stockings, how long does it take you to unzip the gown, roll down the stockings, and jump into a pair of Levi’s?”

Then to Steve’s amusement Doug said, “I just do not understand. A few moments ago, four utterly regal looking women disappear into the bedrooms — three of them wearing tiaras, in fact. Now four of the most beautiful hoydens reappear. It’s unreal.” He was awestruck at the sheer perfection of their legs now perfectly revealed by their skin-tight Levi’s.

While Barb disappeared in the direction of the kitchen and Maria ducked into the office, Anna stood before Steve, turned her back to him, and in the cutest way wiggled her lovely ass. “Oh, hell,” Steve said resignedly. “If you insist, I guess I must. I can’t stand to see a woman cry.” With that he reached out and gave her bun a little pinch.

“Master, that’s just not fair!” she protested. “I know you can pinch harder than that. And isn’t my ass even the tiniest bit attractive?” Steve pinched harder, triggering a little yelp but the loveliest look on her face that Doug had ever seen.

Before he could say or do anything more, Karla was standing with her back to him. He reached out and squeezed her bun hard. When he did, Karla just sighed and wriggled her ass. “That was a lovely squeeze, Doug,” she said while looking over her shoulder, “But wouldn’t you like to pinch it, too? Don’t you think I have a pinchable ass?”

He pinched her, triggering a yelp like Anna’s but followed by a wink and the look of incredible love.

Sitting down beside him on the sofa she added, “I’ll bet I’m the first queen whose ass you’ve ever pinched, aren’t I?” When he agreed, she looked at him with concern and said, “Is it all right? I know it’s very firm, but maybe it’s too firm. Is it?”

“Karla, Queen of Bohemia, Duchess of Brandenburg, Countess of Savoy, etc., etc., etc., to save a lot of time, your body is utterly perfect. And you have an utterly perfect little ass.” With a grin he added, “And indeed, Your Majesty, your queenly ass is the very first one I’ve ever pinched.”

“Master, did you hear that?” she said. “Doug says I have a queenly ass. Isn’t that neat?”

Before Steve could respond, Doug asked, “What’s this ‘master’ stuff? I’ve heard fleeting references to ‘master’ and ‘mistress’ all night. What’s it all about?”

With her face impassive Karla replied, “I am Barbara Sloan’s body slave. Anna and Maria are also enslaved to the Sloans. I belong to Barbara Sloan. I am her property to do with as she will.”

“You’re kidding!” Doug exclaimed.

“She’s not,” Steve interjected, “but she isn’t. The girls want to think of themselves as our slaves for reasons known only to themselves. But Barbara thinks of Karla as her younger sister, and Maria and Anna as beloved members of our family.”

After pausing for a moment he continued, “In fact, Barb’s mentioned it, and others have, too. She and Karla love each other to a depth and in a manner that I’ve never known to exist. To me, Karla is my beloved sister-in-law. And, absent the passion I always feel with Barb, I think I love her as much. She’s as close to a perfect human being as God, in his infinite wisdom, has ever seen fit to put on the earth.”

Their conversation was interrupted as Maria rushed back into the room yelling, “I’ve got it!” In her hand was a sheaf of papers she was waving excitedly in the air.

“You’ve got what?” Karla asked.

“The list that Susie processed through our nominations filter,” she replied. “Want to look?”

Karla moved to the sofa to sit beside Maria while Anna sat on her other side. “Well, what do you know?” Maria exclaimed. “The first name on the list is some guy named Douglas Whitfield...” She kept reading and then began to giggle, then laugh, and then howl with laughter to the degree that Anna had to take the papers away from her because Maria’s hand was now shaking so much she could no longer read it.

“Listen to this,” Anna said. “It’s a note from George in England ... some obscure little town called London, or something like that.” Doug formed a pistol with his hand and said, “Bang!” while Anna just winked and grinned. “Listen to what George says:”

Dear Mistresses:

I’m writing to nominate my master, Douglas Whitfield, for consideration as a consort. He’s tall — six feet, three, well built, good looking and reasonably intelligent. Formerly a major in the Special Air Service (SAS), and then both an investment banker and a private investor in the City of London, he is now at loose ends. In the SAS he ... I’m sorry, mistresses, but I’m really not at liberty to tell you what he did while in SAS, but he has six medals for heroism and for wounds suffered in action. Furthermore, he is a knight commander of the military order of the Bath, as well as being the 8^th Earl of Whitfield, a very old title of nobility here in England.

He is athletic. He plays tennis, golf, and skis well, I understand. His choice of music is acceptable, but I think he does favor the Romantics at the expense of a true musician, Johann Sebastian Bach. But one can’t have everything, can one?

I think Douglas would be a truly outstanding candidate for your consideration, except for one thing: His taste in women is utterly execrable! I have searched my memory and a number of reference works, including extensive searches on the Internet, but never have I found a person whose judgment is as uniformly wrong about women as his has been.

Although you did not provide us with vital statistics, Mistresses, we — my fellow Maydays and myself — have collectively determined that you are each five feet eight inches tall (you would fit deliciously into Douglas’s arms, at his six feet three), weigh about 120 pounds with measurements in inches of 37-24-36. Your breasts are very firm and would require a C-cup if you ever wore a bra, but we’re convinced neither of you ever do. Your complexions are utterly flawless and always tanned — we believe you are tanned all over, but we can’t be certain, of course.

Mistress Anna has flashing emerald-green eyes, and beautiful auburn hair worn in a short urchin’s cut. Mistress Maria has utterly magnificent gray eyes in a shade none of us has ever seen or heard of before. Her hair, worn short, is so beautiful and easy to manage, she merely has to shake her head to restore it to perfection. In addition to being possibly the greatest intellects in the history of the world (we discuss this subject endlessly among ourselves late at night), you are physically perfect and are marvelous athletes.

Against this background, I must reluctantly describe the last two women Douglas has been afflicted with. (I think that is an appropriate choice of words, too.) The first, Mary, was short. Although she seemed about four feet two because she’s always hunched over and is dumpy to boot, I’m sure she’s somewhat over five feet in height. My best estimate of her weight is about 160 pounds, which is undoubtedly more than double her IQ. Her measurements appear to be in the range of 40-40-40. Her breasts are pendulous bags and a constant challenge to a brassiere designer to try to make something from fabric strong enough to hold her udders up. Aside from bad teeth and bad breath — the latter may be related to the former — she professes constantly to be on a diet. In only the two weeks I knew her — thank God! — she gained about five pounds, I must wonder at the efficacy of her diet or the degree to which she maintains it when not with Douglas. Her complexion is sallow and pasty suggesting she’s never out in the air. Her physical appearance suggests that any effort at exercise might be the death of her.

Then there is Nancy. She is about five feet eleven inches tall with all the womanly curves of a straight stick. Her face is that of a horse, complete with very prominent, protruding upper teeth. Her laugh is so raucous, I almost wanted to shut down the computer and hide. Her face is pockmarked with acne scars as well as numerous active acne zits. Her skin is scaly and reminiscent of a snake’s. Although I don’t believe her intelligence is significantly higher than Mary’s, Nancy thinks of herself as an intellectual. The result is she’s always dragging Douglas to concerts (four minutes of utter silence, followed by the clang of cymbals), art galleries (paint spattered on canvas), and dance recitals (nude women with boyish bodies throwing themselves around the stage to utterly discordant music (?)). I cannot understand how Douglas can tolerate this woman, let alone the garbage she tries to pass off as cultural activities. I’m not sure Western Civilization will survive if many people are like her!

If you can believe it, Douglas actually plans on spending Christmas with this ... this thing!

We are all convinced that you are not only incredibly beautiful, but also most charitable. It is to this charity that I must appeal. While on the evidence, you are certainly within your rights to wonder at Douglas’s sanity let alone his intelligence, I can only offer the fact that he took a first at Oxford in mathematics and international economics. Although errors occur in every setting, I think his record is such that you should not dismiss him as a total airhead.

In the spirit of charity that pervades the Christmas season, could I plead for you to give him a chance? Really, he is a rather nice fellow. Or, at least he has the raw material out of which one of you might make something. In hopes that this finds you in a receptive mood with charity in your hearts, I remain,

Your humble & obedient servant,

George

107-GB-47449

“What do you think, Sister?” Anna asked Maria. “Any interest?”

Shaking her head she replied, “Naah ... He’s past hope.” Then she snapped her fingers and exclaimed, “I know! How about Karla? She’s sufficiently soft-headed, I’ll bet we could con her into giving this turkey a chance. What do you think?”

Anna appeared to be thinking and finally shook her head slowly, “I agree, darling sister, with you’re assessment of her soft-headedness, but ... I mean, there are limits!” Then she shook her head firmly and said, “Nope, Sis. It wouldn’t work.”

As she was finishing Karla rose, went to Doug and sat across his lap. Turning his face to hers, she melted her lips to his and let her love and passion flow. The others delighted in again seeing the electricity flow between them. Finally ending the kiss, she turned to the other girls with her eyes still glassy and said, “Kids, it is Christmas as George so correctly pointed out.” Taking a deep breath she announced, “I am prepared to make the supreme sacrifice. I am willing to meet Douglas Whitfield.”

Turning back to Doug she asked, “Was George giving you a hard time, or what? What about his descriptions of Mary and Nancy?”

Doug had been listening to George’s letter with mounting chagrin. Several times he had shaken his head and blushed at a particularly telling comment.

“Do you want the truth?” he asked. She just nodded her head quickly. “The fact is that George toned down the truth in the interest of believability. And he forgot to mention that Mary is the daughter of a baronet, while Nancy is the daughter of a baron. So they’re nobility, too ... I guess.”

Then he looked at the beautiful girl on his lap and said, “Darling, if my friends could see me now, they wouldn’t believe what they were seeing. Doug Whitfield with a beautiful girl? Utterly impossible! Whitfield is known far and wide as having more dogs than a kennel.”

Then he shook his head in annoyance and said, “No, that’s not quite right, either. While it’s true that my dates truly represent the scrapings from the bottom of the barrel, theirs aren’t all that much better.”

After thinking for a moment, he continued, “Let me try it this way: On a scale of 0 to 10, my dates would score from zero to 1.5. On the other hand, my esteemed colleagues’ dates would score in the 3 to 5 range.” With a grin he continued, “Now I will freely admit that a 3 is twice as good as a 1.5, and a 5 is infinitely superior to a zero, but still...”

Looking at Karla he said, “My darling, on the same 0 to 10 scale, you are a 12 to 15 — as are your sisters! So in the presence of such incredible beauty, my friends would say nothing at all. They would be utterly incapable of speech.”

Then to the others he said, “When Maria introduced me to her sister, Karla, tonight, my jaw literally dropped.” Then while lightly pinching her lovely bottom he continued, “Do you know what this dumb blonde had the nerve to do?”

Before anyone else could react, Karla had cocked her head as if thinking. Then with a decisive nod, she said, “I like it, darling. Keep it in the script.” Then with the cutest little grin, she said, “You were saying... ?”

“She asked me if I wouldn’t feel better with my mouth closed!” He paused for a moment to kiss her again which evoked a sigh of joy from her. “Of course, my mouth was still open...”

He shook his head and said, “But back to my friends: Their behavior would utterly destroy the British tradition of keeping a stiff upper lip. In fact, more than a few of them would not only have their mouths gaping open, they would literally be drooling besides.”

This comment evoked a burst of laughter from the others.

Continuing, he said, “When they could again speak — and that wouldn’t be until they were out of Karla’s presence, of course — they would wonder where this goddess came from, and what could she possibly see in that idiot, Whitfield?”

“But darling, the answer to that question is so simple!” Karla interjected. “George had it right: It’s strictly the spirit of charity that’s supposed to pervade the Christmas season.” Looking at him with her eyes wide and gleaming with suppressed laughter she added, “You, Douglas Whitfield, are my Christmas charity. Isn’t that nice? Aren’t I sweet?”

Doug melted his lips to hers and savored the sweetness and love. Ending the kiss he smacked his lips, nodded, and said, “You know something, darling? You’re absolutely correct. Your lips are as sweet as sugar. So yes, dear, you are sweet.”

Before they could extend their teasing, Barb announced that supper was ready. Adjourning to the dining room, Doug found a table with a red and white checked gingham tablecloth and two pans of pizza steaming in its center. Maria brought out Sam Adams for everyone and they sat around the table.

“Now we can really eat!” Karla exclaimed, taking two pieces for Doug and two for herself. The pizzas were supremes with pepperoni, sausage, ground beef, peppers, onions, and cheese. When he pronounced the pizza the very finest he had ever tasted, Karla responded, “They should be. Barb made them from scratch just now and she’s the finest chef in Europe, certainly, and one of the very best in the whole world!”

Since the supper was very casual, Maria had brought the sheaf of papers with her to the table. She and Anna continued to go over the recommendations, reading excerpts from them to the others amid great hilarity. While this was going on, Doug was looking at them and came to realize that Steve had been absolutely correct: They were an incredible family composed of people who adored one another. Further, they were utterly perfect.

When he said aloud that they were perfect, Anna looked up from the paper and said, “Perfect? Not me. Not hardly.” With her face impassive she continued, “Doug, you learned some things about Karla tonight. To be a bit more explicit, she was whipped literally for hours until she begged to be raped. It was the only way she could get any respite from the incredible beating which by then was just cutting up strips of her flesh that had already been stripped from her body. Can you imagine? Looking on rape as a release? But that’s what happened. When the guy — or guys — finished, she was tied up again and beaten some more. It ended when she begged to be taken all three ways at once.

“Even though the Russians are among the world’s cruelest butchers, they had to order three men to do it because she was such a mess by then no one else was willing even to touch her. Doug, her ordeal lasted 36 continuous hours! Can you believe it? It really did. That’s the reason for the Karla Cross. Because at the same time, as the president said earlier, she knew everything about everything but never said a word. That’s Karla.”

Slowly she shook her head and continued, “Me? I was the duty cunt. Maria and I lived with some guys who wrote software. Our job was to provide sexual release. Like Karla, I took three guys at once. At the time I, too, had all the curves of a straight stick. But I did have a small cunt and a small asshole. Often, the guys would get tired of trying to force themselves in me, so they took Maria instead. While Karla was saving our country, we were fucking for food.”