Chapter 53

Galena and Andrea had barely had the energy to stumble into the shower together when they got home, scrub each other in what they hoped was a thorough manner, and get almost dry before tumbling into bed.

Andrea woke first and went to the kitchen in search of coffee.

"Morning darling," Patricia said as she shuffled in. "You don't look awake yet."

"I'm not."

"You seemed to have a good evening."

Andrea grinned as she poured herself a cup of coffee. "Yeah, yeah I did. Now I think I understand Jackie and Lisa a little better."

"How so?"

"We were talking last weekend, and they were telling me about how fulfilling being a fucktoy for a whole group of people felt ... after last night and however many of the Karghold's collars I ended up entertaining, I can see where they're coming from. Not exactly something I want to do everyday, as I'm sore in a lot of places..."

"Not as sore as little Miss Galena will be, I'm betting," Patricia interjected.

They both laughed as Andrea continued, "No, but sore enough.

"I did enjoy it ... a lot. Knowing that all those people were happy because of me and the service I'd given them — you know, this submissive thing could get addictive."

"Yeah ... not that I don't find myself with some Domme impulses, from time to time," Patricia replied, "but overall ... I think Thad and his crew may be on to something. Some people are inclined to serve, some are inclined to be in charge — not sure I buy the extremes they go to ... I kind of like being free to switch, and I don't think that's really an option in Karg society."

"Well, maybe in their bedrooms, but in the group as a whole? No, I don't think so either."

From the bedroom came a pathetic cry.

"Andieeeeeeee..."

"Herself is awake," Andrea chuckled. "Time to go provide comfort, companionship, commiseration and caffeine."

When Carol walked in to the kitchen, a naked Dr. Lowry was looking over a naked Dayna's wounds and preparing to re-bandage her. Carol found Mike Lowry in her kitchen far more surprising than their nudity.

"Morning ... Mike, what are you still doing here?"
"Got waylaid by a pack of wild women last night," he said distractedly while he poked and prodded his patient. "By the time they'd had their evil way with me and the missus, we were far too stoned to drive ... probably a little more than 'too drunk' as well."

"Do you need anything?"

"Coffee ... juice ... breakfast ... a couple of hours more sleep ... perhaps a rematch with Dragonaria."

"I'm pretty sure none of those would be out of the question at all," Carol replied, chuckling. "I'll get to work on the coffee. Did I hear you say the missus was with you?"

"Yeah, still asleep in Kathleen's arms out in the living room. Hold still, Dayna. You have a wonderful living room, Carol ... comfortable to sleep almost anywhere."

"One of the reasons I designed the décor as I did — good for an orgy, good for a sleepover, good for refugee housing, good for just general entertaining. One question though, just how much dope did y'all smoke last night?"

"Quite a bit I'm afraid ... oh shit!" he exclaimed. "You're having the neighbors over this afternoon! You're going to have to air the place out again. I am so sorry!"

"Don't be," Dayna said in her whispery voice. "You weren't the one that kept loading the bowl, I'm sure of it. I and my sisters are very fond of smoke, and Billy was kind enough to tell us to help ourselves to anything we desired."

"Not a problem, sweeties," Carol replied. "If it hadn't been so late when we got home last night, we would have smoked the place out ourselves. As it was we were so damn tired we didn't even notice Mike and his wife, we just went through to the bedroom and collapsed. Yeah, airing out the house and showers for all are definitely on the schedule for this morning ... party doesn't start till 4, anyway."

"What time did you come in last night?" Dayna asked.

"We were in bed a little after 3:30 ... there, coffee's going. And before you ask, yes — I know it's a little after 8. A lot of people were beginning to stir in the bedroom, so I figured I'd better save some lives. I hope we can impose on you to see one more patient this morning, Mike ... Harry fucked up his leg again last night."

"Christ, what did he do now?"

"Tried to kill a man ... yeah, it was that kind of night."

"Tamara ... I hate askin'..."

"Sir, breakfast in bed was already on your schedule, I just hadn't informed you of it yet. I'll be back with your coffee in a minute."

Wearing one of his old t-shirts as an almost floor-length dress, Tamara was as good as her word, returning almost immediately with his huge mug full of coffee.

Eddie was sitting up in their bed, looking at his 'vest pocket angel' as he downed half the large cup in his first gulp.

"Damn..." he sighed, "you and that coffee alone are enough to make a man believe in a Higher Power."

"Well then, coffee and I are blessed indeed," she replied. "Now Edward, if you are sufficiently awake, would you like to talk?"

Eddie sighed. "What do you want, Theresa? What do you want for you and me, this house, our future together ... what do you want?"

"First off, sir, I want you to be happy. I want to love who you want to love, make love with whomever you wish. I want ... Edward, do you know the best and brightest possible future I used to see for myself?"

"Yeah ... I think you mentioned it before, something about bein' a concubine or slave in some other woman's marriage."

"Exactly ... the best I could dream of was being little more than a bedwarmer and house servant in the Household of someone far more important than I'd ever be. But thank God that's not what happened. I am the wife of the important man-"

"All right now, don't be gettin' crazy."

"No Edward, don't you be getting modest. In the society I love, I had fallen off the map. I was one of the submissives that didn't get talked about. I'd ended up with men who didn't play by the Society's rules, who would use me for a time and then pass me along to the next man. I'd finally ended up with Fat Phillie, and nobody doubted that was the final leg of my journey through this life, least of all me. I was the walking dead, and I knew it.

"Then Carol met Harry and Harry rescued me for you, and you love me and want to marry me and that's wonderful, sir, I will be the happiest woman on earth when that happens — and in the society I love, and have returned to, you're one of the six most important people in the most important House on the scene at this time. You may not understand all of it or like all of it, but Margo, Harry, Kelly, Karen, you, and Carol behind the scenes, are the top dogs in the House that's going to change my beloved Society for the better. I love being your property, and I love knowing you're going to make me your wife and I love you for thinking I want you to be faithful only to me — but I don't."

She pulled down the sheets and took his limp cock in her hands.

"I want to see you making love to Margo so much I have dreams about it — wet, wonderful dreams. I want to make out with my beloved friend Carol while one of us is on your cock and one of us is on your face and I don't care who's where. I want you buried all the way in my bottom while I'm face down in Kelly's crotch."

Eddie's cock was far from limp.

"Edward, if both of you could handle it, I would give anything I possess or ever will possess to watch you and Harry in bed together, physically expressing the love everyone who sees you together knows you have for each other."

Eddie's cock was deflating rapidly.

"That ain't happenin', my freaky little angel."

"I know, I know — but that doesn't mean I don't want to see it. Edward, the sight of that alone would get me off and I'd never even have to touch myself.

"I've gone from no prospect other than an ugly death to a life where you've made anything possible, and I want some of those possibilities."

As she stroked his cock, tears started to seep from her eyes.

"I want to be the wife, yes ... I want to be the wife with servants and concubines and ... and I want women that are trained nurses as servants, so we can bring your sister home to live with us and she'd be as well attended as she is at Rays of Sunshine."

"WHAT?"

"Think about it, sir ... you know as well as I do that people in her condition are far more susceptible to conditions and diseases that could kill them. She'll be very lucky indeed if she lives out anywhere near a normal lifespan ... and I hate the thought ... I know Janelle and Hector and the rest of the staff love her but ... I hate the thought of her ... of her ... passing ... anywhere but with us. I'm sorry sir," she said through her tears, "but I don't want to miss any time we have left with her, no matter how long, or how short. She loves you so much, and we could have her here with us, if we just had trained nurses to take care of her. We're good enough for a weekend, and having Margo nearby takes a huge load off my mind ... but think of it sir, think of it ... her, here at home where she belongs."

Eddie's cock was forgotten as Tamara climbed up and lay on his chest while they cried together.

"Carol," Margo said as she lurched in to the kitchen, "do you have any idea where our husband is? All I could find of him in the bedroom was a foot that I think was his, sticking out from under a pile of women."

"Was one of the women our sister-in-law?" Kelly asked.

"Yeah, her and Camille and Candy."

"That was him. You oughta be able to guess that one after last night. She's still trying to apologize for Stan having something to blackmail him with, and it wasn't her fault in the first place."

Rochelle Lowry looked at her husband and raised her eyebrows. He looked back at her a "don't-ask-me" shrug.

Margo leaned against a counter. "Morning Mike ... let me guess, the gorgeous woman next to you is Rochelle."

"Yes ... Rochelle, this is Margo Wohler ... soon to be Grimes."

Rochelle nodded to her, "Pleased to meet you ... Mike's told me so much about you that for a while I wondered if I should be jealous."

"No, no reason to be jealous."

"Although if that pretty dick of his keeps dancing to attention," Kelly cackled, "there may be real soon. Only question will be who you'll need to be jealous of."

Rochelle smiled, and was pleased to realize it was an open, honest smile. "No need to worry really, especially after last night," she said as she grinned at Kathleen Marsh. "I'm feeling delightfully secure at the moment."

"My only question is does Harry still have his brace on?" Mike asked.

"Well, we wouldn't let him take it off, so I'd say it's a fair bet it's still on. As many people as we had in bed last night, if he'd taken it off he would've been screaming in pain before he knew it," Kelly replied.

"How many people were in your bed last night?" Rochelle asked incredulously.

"Twelve I think," Carol said, bringing a plate of toast and bagels to the table.

"Must be some bed," Rochelle answered.

"Come see it - you too, Mike," Margo said. "If he's finished, you can look at his injuries while we throw him in the tub. We all smell like a cathouse on payday, so I figure the bathroom's about to go into overdrive."

Rochelle Lowry was having a most bizarre weekend, and upon entering the Grimes bedroom it only got stranger.

"My god, it's huge!" she cried.

"You're obviously delusional," said Harry, "I know it's just average."

"The bed, you ass!" Margo replied, laughing.

"Oh ... my mistake."

He was lying on the bed, Camille snuggled up to one side and Candy to the other. Nicki was spread-eagled on the other side of Candy while Usagi fanned her with part of the sheet. Jackie, Lisa and Billy were still asleep, or pretending to be.

"Up and at 'em, husband o' mine," Margo said. "Time to get you into the tub for cleaning and soaking, and to let Dr. Mike take a look at your latest collection of injuries."

Harry opened his eyes. "Mike! What a joy it is to see you ... unless you're going to throw me back into the hospital, in which case I know where we can hide your body. And who's the sexy brunette?"

"Harry, this is Rochelle, my wife. Rochelle, this may be the most fuck-up prone man on the planet, at least as far as his leg is concerned, Harry Grimes."

"Pleased to meet you, Rochelle ... all right, slave, time to get me in the tub while I contemplate someone bringing me coffee."

"Yes sir, into the bath," Camille replied.

"On my way for coffee ... if someone will point me towards the kitchen," Candy said. "How do you take it, sir?"

"Cream, light sugar — Jackie, quit faking, I see you laughing. Give Usagi and Candy a tour of the house ... once I have coffee."

"All right Harry; let's take a look at that scalp wound. Did Margo put in these stitches?"

"Yep, while she held me between her legs in a bathtub that was smaller than this one."

"Margo," Mike Lowry called to be heard over the shower, "amazing sewing considering the situation."

"Thank you," she yelled in reply. She turned back to Rochelle, who was under the showerhead to her immediate left and continued her conversation. "So when Harry and Carol redesigned the master bath, they had it all built extra large, with room for plenty to use it at once..." she laughed, "my God, you should have been here last weekend. We processed fifty people through this bathroom in about an hour. Everyone washed, shampooed and dried. The house slaves did a marvelous job, surprised even me, and I didn't think they could surprise me any more than they already had."

"Damn," Rochelle replied, "Mike wasn't joking. All of you really do live as kinky a life as he claimed."

Laughing, Margo proceeded to tell her about the kinkier parts of the previous evening.

"I suppose for now we can put Candy in here on the floor," Carol said, standing in the doorway of Lisa and Jackie's room, "seeing as Camille won't be sleeping here anymore, and put Usagi on the floor in Billy's room."

Helen looked minorly distressed and Carol divined why.

"Honey, get used to it. I hardly think you and Billy making love is going to upset Usagi."

The young Japanese woman shook her head and smiled. "Not a bit."

"And after the first few times, I doubt she'll throw y'all off your stride," Carol finished.

Helen thought about the way things were, sleeping - and fucking - Harry in a bed full of people with her beloved Billy watching, instead of the way things used to be when she was alone.

"Sorry Carol, had to readjust my reality."

"It's okay sweetie," she replied, "that's fairly common around here."

"So, sweetheart, you want to be Mistress of the Manor, the whole nine yards?" Eddie asked Tamara teasingly.

"No sir, you know better. I'll never be a top, never even come close, and the only reason anyone will ever refer to me as 'Mistress Tamara' is because you or one of the others is making them do so. 'Milady Tamara' on the other hand, would simply be recognition of my status as your consort.

"In my world, 'normal' is a house full of servants that you keep happy, we're free to love whomever we find worthy of our love — and our life is so full of such worthy people.

"Your 'normal' is just you and I - which is no problem for me - but watching you separate yourself from people who love you because you're scared of hurting me or losing me by your actions ... that is a problem. I don't want you to pull away from these people; I want you to live a life free to express your love for them in any way you and they desire. You'd have to work hard to hurt me simply by loving someone.

"My 'normal' is a lot more fun, Master. It's a lot happier, it leaves both of us free to love and be loved by our dearest friends and family. In my normal we have Rachel living with us, taken care of by people loyal to you, me and her, instead of people we simply hired."

"Why would I have to keep 'em happy?" Eddie grumped. "I don't have to keep Kim happy."

"Kim isn't ours ... she's our roommate. We would never take her on as a submissive because we can't fulfill her needs. The Grimes only took her on in extremis, and I'm sure that as soon as a more suitable House, willing to take her and the children, can be found, she'll go there. If we take on submissives, especially ones we're expecting to help take care of Rachel, you'll be expected to take care of them." Her eyes twinkled. "Although I suppose we could get male submissives that have nursing training..."

Moments later she was giggling and completely at the mercy of the notorious Edward the Belly Frapper.

"We'll have a couple of the boys drive over Dayna's things — they're mostly packed already — and drop off her car," Dragonaria said sadly.

"I could go with you and drive it back," Dayna hissed.

"No you can't, not with what I've got you taking," Margo replied. "You let them deliver the car." She turned to the former Mistresses of Sandalwood. "How soon before it's safe to return you to Household status?"

"Two to three years, Madam Grimes. But it will be all right," Kathleen Marsh replied. "In our own home we will take care of our people just as we always have. You've already graciously extended the offer to play here, both in your home and in the privacy of your 'Corral', once it's finished. We'll be fine."

She looked at her former sister Mistress.

"Dayna ... on the other hand..."

"Marsh," Dayna rasped, "you sentimental slut ... I'll be all right. Take care of my people. I'll be happy here as long as they'll have me."

"And we'll have you as long as you're happy here," Margo said.

They waved as Dayna's former sisters rode away.

Jason Tanner was torn — on one the one, he was happy with the results of their shopping trip. He and his mother had new computers, there was a new television and DVD player in the living room — he hadn't even minded the clothes she'd gotten him. On the other hand, he had a pretty good idea that however she'd acquired the money, it was going to mean trouble — and it was going to mean it sooner, rather than later.

"Margo, it's been ... enlightening. I'm glad I finally got a chance to meet all of you." Rochelle looked wistful. "I wish you weren't otherwise occupied this afternoon. It would be nice to visit longer."

"Rochelle, what are you and Mike doing this evening, after nine?" Margo asked.

She thought for a moment. "I don't think we have anything planned, why?"

"Well, the party is over at nine, and I imagine with our crew, clean-up won't take long. If you'd like, come by and we can visit. Hell, if you need a better excuse, I'd like Mike to take a look at our patients again."

"I'd like that ... and no, we don't need an excuse, do we, Mike?"

"Not as far as I'm concerned."

"Expect us at nine, we'll help clean up," Rochelle said, surprising both Margo and herself with a hug.

The Great and Mighty Grill was lit and the hamburgers and hot dogs began their steady cycle over the fire and onto plates.

Margo, ever paranoid, had members of the household staff rotating shifts of watching downstairs and up for guests trying to go where they weren't allowed — which was in any room but the bathrooms.

The yard was full of people eating and drinking, swimming and talking. The faces of the guests streamed past Harry and Margo and they were lucky if they remembered one name out of ten, so Carol stuck with them and reminded them of who was who ... as well as acting as an early warning system, they hoped, in case of trouble.

When a large man, 6'3", beefy, with a buzzcut walked into the backyard, Carol went still.

"What's up, sweetheart?" Harry asked, under his breath.

"Possible trouble ... not sure."

Harry took the initiative and walked over. "Hey, I'm Harry Grimes, this is my fiancé Margo and our friend Carol. Welcome to the party. You are?"

"Bob Green," the man answered. "I live over on Hudgins, 4208. Nice house you've got here. Made the mistake of going in through the front door instead of around the side, sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it, we've got people running in and out all the time to use the toilet," Harry replied. Bob was a cop, sure as God made little green pot plants. Harry could almost see the mirrored sunglasses on his face.

"Looks like you've made a lot of changes, lot of remodeling."

"Yeah," Harry answered, wishing there was a way to just put their cards on the table. "My father made a lot of them when my mother got sick, years and years ago. I like it though, left me with a big open living space."

"Yeah, my ex-wife always wanted to do some remodeling on our place before we split. She always thought the living room and den were each too damn small — shoulda just made 'em one big room." Bob smiled. "What do you do for a living, Harry, if you don't mind me asking."

"I and a college friend are co-owners of G&P Advertising," Harry replied, whipping out a business card and handing it to Bob. "What do you do, Bob?"

"I'm a cop. You look kinda banged up, Harry."

"Got into a fight last night. You should've seen the other guy."
"If he looks worse than you, I'm surprised he didn't file charges."

"It was short, it was sweet, I got in my licks, he got in his, we walked away."

Bob Green smiled at Harry and in a very soft voice said, "You should have aired out the house a little better."

Harry, still smiling, replied, "Do we have a problem, Bob?"

Bob clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Let's take a walk and talk."

Jason Tanner was definitely surprised by the party. There weren't any kids his age, all of them were younger, but there were a couple of girls a couple of years older than him, if he was guessing right, and they were all babes.

His mom was freaking him a bit though. She was taking a real noticeable interest in the house and the yard, in the people throwing the party and their friends. Jason didn't want to think it, but he had a sneaking suspicion these people might have had something to do with his mom's sudden influx of cash.

He decided to take a chance on talking to one of the hot girls, so he walked up to the nearest, a gorgeous black girl, and said, "Hi, uh ... my name's Jason."

"Well hello, Jason!" she replied. "It's nice to meet you. My name's Kelly."

"No, Harry," Bob said as they strolled down the sidewalk, "we don't have a problem. I don't care what the hell you do in the privacy of your own home — and I recognize what kind of chair that is you have so artfully disguised in your living room, so I figure what you're doing is having a lot of fun. Everybody in the neighborhood knows about the cabs and limos that come and go from your place on the weekends, so I don't even worry about you driving while you're higher than a kite — 'cause that shit would really piss me off. Spent too much time scrapin' up bodies that'd still be breathin' except for someone drivin' fucked up."

Harry decided to be honest. "Yeah, we're generally very careful about that." He laughed ruefully. "When I remember some of the crazy shit my friends and I did in high school ... Christ, I'm surprised any of us lived, driving drunk or otherwise fucked up as much as we did."

"Yeah, to be young and invulnerable," Bob mused.

"Ahyup, young and dumb and full of cum."

"Yeah ... no Harry, what I wanted to talk to you about is the flag your family's flying under at City Hall."

"What do you mean?"

Bob stopped him and looked deep in his eyes. "You mean you don't know about your friends in high places?"
"No ... I mean, Margo's done cosmetic surgery on some movers and shakers, or their families — I know in general about those 'friends in middling high places'. What are you talking about?"

"Look," Bob replied. "You're bein' straight with me, I can tell. I'm not going to put any of this in the form of a question, because I don't want you to start havin' to lie to me. People with power, they have lists of friends, like the mayor and his "Don't fuck with 'em" list. We'd have to have something pretty serious on someone on that list to bring charges. Chief of Police has a list; the more important city councilmen have lists. But there's one 'friends' list that carries more weight than all them put together — that's the list you and some o' your friends are on. You don't know how much I wanna ask what you did to get on that list, but like I said, you been straight with me and I don't want you to start lying to me now. Just let me say that knowing you're on that list, you and your friends aren't anything like I expected you to be."

"Glad to surprise you ... I think — and yeah, after your explanation, I know which flag you're talkin' about — sorry, I'm a little thick today, didn't get much sleep last night."

"Yeah," Bob answered, smiling, "you should be glad to surprise me. Here's the thing — some people are still interested in the Benjamin Sapperstein suicide. They're looking at your fiancé, and they're thinking that over thirteen million dollars is a good motive for murder. They don't have enough to make a case; they don't even have enough to haul her in for questioning. It's not like they're devoting their lives to the thing — like the rest of us, they're snowed under with a case load that never gets smaller. But it ain't gone away, and they find the fact that you and she and your friends are on that "don't touch" list very interesting. They found out I live in the neighborhood and asked me to do a little unofficial snooping."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because by my read, you're real nice people, even if you are dope-smokin' freaks," Bob replied with a grin - and then he paused. He turned and looked Harry straight in the eyes. "Because they're bein' assholes about this — not that your fiancé couldn't have arranged somehow for Sapperstein to be offed, but there's absolutely no sign of foul play in the death of Nelda Sapperstein — and they looked real hard. By all accounts, there was so little love lost between her and your fiancé that if Nelda hadn't died that day, her will would've been changed by sundown. So your fiancée's inheritance is nothing but good things happening to nice people. And I'm tellin' ya because I don't like bein' asked to spy on my neighbors."

"So, what are you going to tell them?" Harry asked, breathing easier.

"Not a lot, not a lot - you're in advertising, she's a doctor, none of your circle of friends seems too interesting — with the exception of Janak, that fucker's got friends all over the force — and that I didn't see anything worth investigating. Which I didn't. Now, grapevine says that your fiancé bought up the neighboring block, so I've got to wonder what I might see six, eight months from now, but I ain't sayin' shit to them about that."

"Well, once she's finished with everything, I imagine we'll have another barbeque like this," Harry said, "I look forward to seeing you there. You wanna beer?"

"Love one ... and those burgers smelled great."

"Well, thanks for the heads up - let's go get you fed."

Margo greeted Harry with a hug of relief, and whispered into his ear, "Are we okay?"

"Yeah, we are — tell you about it later."

Her hands drifted down to his butt to give it a quick squeeze and felt something stiff and crinkly in his back pocket.

"Harry, what's that?" she said, poking it.

They pulled back from each other and Harry hauled it out. It was several folded sheets of notepaper.

"Hey there, it's me again!

"See, you never know where I might turn up — lovely party by the way.

"For future reference, here's a list of things I don't like: anything sexual with women, swallowing cum, any of that S & M crap (I'm all about the B & D), being put 'into service', golden showers, tattooing, piercing, fire play, electrical play - "

The list continued on for quite sometime, to be followed by a list of 'things I just don't do' which was shorter. The note finished with "My safe word is 'Rosicrucian'. If you can find me, you can have me — and from everything I've seen, you will want me."

"Cocky bitch, isn't she?" Margo asked quietly. "Yeah, I want her ... I want her on a whipping post!"

Carol had taken the note and was studying it. "Well darling, from this note she wouldn't mind all that much."

"But it said she doesn't like S & M."

"Yeah, it does say that. Look, this list doesn't mention humiliation in any sense — there's nothing about psychological humiliation, physical humiliation ... that's our girl's kink. Now there are parts of those kinks that do make it on to the "don't like" list ... read this like a Madam would. She pointedly doesn't mention 'humiliation play', which lets us know that's her kink — God knows she listed everything else. And then she gives us a list of things she doesn't like, which is humiliation slut for 'make me do these'. Then there's the list of things she doesn't do, and those are solid. No games there, just letting us know not to take her there. This is part two of her goddamn job application!"