Chapter 20: Lost Property

Four weeks after Jennifer Reappears

A Day Out

We're driving into Birmingham. It's not far, usually about half an hour to get into the centre. The worst bit is always finding somewhere to park if you're shopping, but we're heading to the University.

As we get close to the Bull Ring (1), I'm suddenly conscious that I'm starting to feel really horny. Horny for Joe.

I watch him as he drives. I imagine stripping him. Looking into his eyes. Running my hand over his cock and balls. Scratching him just behind his sack. Joe is wonderfully tickly! It means I can torture him with just the tip of my finger! Make him wriggle and squeal!

It's a warm sunny day. I am wearing just a T shirt, a pair of light slacks and some thong sandals. I curl my toes up and stretch them out again. They slip across the smooth brown leather. The sensation just adds to my desire.

We cut around behind Moor Street Station and head towards Aston. Joe is looking for a parking space close to one of the 1960's concrete and brick buildings (2).

"How long are you going to be?" We haven't really thought this through. It just seemed like a good idea for me to tag along, do some shopping, maybe grab some lunch later.

Joe is characteristically distracted. It's often the same when he's focused on something for work. "Er, I don't know. It's an exploratory meeting to see if there is any opportunity for a co-operation. A group in the Civil Engineering Department are trying to improve the mechanical properties of concrete by adding nano-particles to it, so maybe we could make lighter, stronger structures."

I feel a tight, tickly sensation somewhere inside my armpits. I curl my wrists and stretch my arms. "I'm a light strong structure, did you know?"

Joe glances quickly across at me. He smiles. His smile broadens into a laugh. "I know," he says.

I glance down. My body is very built-up for a woman. The T shirt is tight across my chest. My breasts look more like a guy's pecs, but my nipples give away their true nature — that and the outline of the rings which pass through them. I am going to have to be careful, I think. Better not make a public exhibition of myself!

"What are you thinking?"

"That I had better not make an exhibition of myself."

"OK, shame though."

"So, you would like me to be on show, would you?"

"Maybe!" He chuckles. He has got a lot more relaxed about sex. His escapades while I was... away ... seem to have made a real difference.

"Joe McEwan, you need a spanking for that! These sandals would be very good to use. Spanked by your wife with her sandals. Nice! Alternatively ... maybe you need to be on show as well? Do you know, I rather like the idea of taking a week or two away. Going to some naturist resort. Putting you on show as well as me. Getting to rub you with oil all over, and I mean all over you."

"You are putting me off driving! How am I supposed to find somewhere to park?"

I smile back at him. "Well, I will have time today to lay plans. Would you like that?"

"I like everything you do, Jenny," he says.

"Hmmm. That sounds like a 'yes' to me!" I reply, and giggle.

Finally, he finds a space and parks the car. Joe says, "Look, I think this meeting is going to last about a couple of hours. Three, at the most. I could text you when I get a better idea of when I will be finished?"

"And I can walk back into the city centre and enjoy the shops?"

"Sounds good. Don't get into mischief."

"That sounds like a challenge! You will just have to wait and see, Joe McEwan. The idea of you naked on a beach for all the world to see is very appealing. Do you think there are travel agents in Birmingham?"

Urban Confusion

I exit the shop onto the street. The sunlight is very bright and for a moment I am dazzled by the brightness of the day. It seems to take a few seconds to re-focus my gaze and then ... where am I? I turn round to see where I have come from. It's a dress shop. I have never been given instructions to visit a dress shop! I do not have any dresses. When I get back to the Dacha, I will be naked again. For goodness sake, what have I been doing?

I can't remember the instructions I have been given: where to go, what shop to visit, what to buy, when to return, what Metro station to use, how much money to spend, what change to arrive back with. In panic, I look wildly up and down the street. My sense of panic deepens. There is no Metro station to be seen. No bright red, unmistakable 'M' (3).

Fear is beginning to creep right over me. Perhaps I have 'regressed'? Forgotten all they have carefully taught me? Perhaps I will become like Pavea? Will I have to go through all my basic training all over again? Will they put Pavea in charge of me as part of my punishment?

I try to calm myself. Try to get control of the rising panic. I deliberately slow down my breathing, make every cycle slower, deeper to give me room to think.

First: Instructions. What were they likely to send me for? Obviously, not for a dress. What about Gaspazha Alana's baby? It must be something for Dmitry. So, that would mean a baby shop or an Apotek (4). I open my eyes to look around me. All the names of the shops are unrecognizable! There are letters I hardly seem to recognize, like 'S'. Some of the 'M's have been written upside down so they look like W. The я has been written the wrong way round so it looks like R. Even the people look different: there are so many who have tanned skins — like me and yet not like me.

I am starting to perspire again. I feel increasingly sick and unwell. My head begins to hurt. I still cannot remember what they sent me for!

There is only one thing I can do now: to confess and accept the consequences. I feel for the mobile 'phone I was given. It's an iPhone. How odd. I am sure I never had one of those? Gaspazha Neena has one, of course, and Gaspazha Alana and Dr Romanova. But there it is, in my pocket.

Can I work it? Do I know what to do? Tentatively, I switch on. I pick out the 'phone' icon and bring up the key pad. So far, so good. I dial the only number I have been given. The number I am to use in an emergency. The phone rings and rings. I can feel panic rising again inside me. I feel as if I am going to lose complete control this time. If only they would answer quickly!

"Neena Alexandrovna."

It's Gaspazha Neena! Thank goodness! Relief pours over me. It almost feels as if I have been in the shower.

"Gaspazha Neena, It is Vyera! I am so sorry. I am lost! I don't know where I am and I cannot remember the instructions you gave to me. I am so sorry. Can you tell me again, please? I know I deserve punishment. I am so sorry."

"Vyerka?" She seems surprised that I have called, but I can't think why that should be. I babble something apologetic. She interrupts me. "Vyerka! Calm down. Tell me where you are. Tell me now."

"I do not know! All the letters on the shop names look wrong. I just do not remember anything."

"What sort of mobile are you using?"

"It's an iPhone."

"Ah ... can you remember your mac ID? The mac ID you were given? Give it to me now."

"I am ... er ... I am ZhehKarMak at me.com"

"I don't think you are Zheh. You might have to use one of the funny letters you were talking about."

"Oh ... er ... erm..."

"Vyerka! Keep hold of your emotions. What about Jen?"

"Da, Gaspazha, that's right: JenKarac at me.com"

"And the password?"

"Er ... er ... its ... Svenska82"

"Uh huh. Wait patiently, Vyerka..."

Find My Slave App

Neena peels herself from Pavea's tongue and gets up to pick up her own 'phone. Slaves! Why do they always seem to need active attention at such awkward moments? This is what it must be like to have little children, Neena muses.

Pavea is looking sulkily up at her, obviously irritated at being subverted by the phone call. Neena ignores her. It's good for slaves to know that they cannot ever be the centre of attention and besides, why on earth is Vyera back in contact now and like this?

She launches the 'find my iPhone' app (5) and enters Vyera's details. Shortly, a map of Birmingham City Centre appears on screen with an iPhone icon inside a little circle. The bubble has a tail which is pointing to Vyera's position. Neena smiles. That, at least, is manageable. She isn't far from home and it should be easy enough to get someone to help her. Neena makes a guess that Vyera's husband will be in the city himself, probably not too far away. Perhaps Joseph might be the answer to the slave's problems?

Despite the inconvenience of the call, Neena is pleased. Vyera is appealing to her Supervisor for help when she gets lost. Not her husband. Not her parents. Not her work colleagues. Instead, she called Neena!

Neena zooms in on the map and looks for somewhere suitable to 'park' Vyera until she can resolve the crisis. Perhaps a café might do the trick?

"Vyerka?"

"Da. Gaspazha?" Vyera is beginning to sound uncertain, as if she isn't really sure why she called.

Now it is Neena's turn to feel the sting of anxiety in addition to the thrill of excitement. She does not want to waste the opportunity to reassert control, especially as Vyera presented the opportunity herself. Perhaps she is starting to revert, to become Jennifer McEwan once more? Neena's only option is to be gently firm and decisive. If Vyera is uncertain, she needs certainty. "Vyera, listen to me. Here are your instructions. Turn left. Walk to the next junction. Turn right, then fifty metres on your right, look for a café called Старбакс. You have seen Старбакс in Moscow. It has a black, green and white sign which shows a smiling girl wearing a crown. Do not look for the writing because the name will not be spelt correctly where you are. Look for the sign. Go to into the café and buy a large latte and a biscotti. Wait there. I will send someone to collect you. Do you understand?" (6)

"Da Gaspazha. Will they recognize me?"

"Oh, yes, Vyera!," Neena is certain of this. Absolutely certain. "They will recognize you! I will send them your picture. Now listen to me. Listen to me. Go to Starbucks. Buy the coffee and the biscuit and phone me again, to confirm you have got there. Do it now!"

Vyera says, "Spaseeba, Gaspazha." and closes the call. As soon as she is off the line, Neena picks up her 'phone extension and calls Yevgeny.

Vasili Nikolievitch answers. "Yes?"

"Where is Yevgeny?"

"He is off duty today. Can I help? Who is this?"

"This is Neena Alexandrovna. I have a situation on my hands."

"Is this an authorized operation? I can't help if it is not."

Vasili is Yevgeny's 'understudy' and, consequently, he is always a little unsure of his position. Neena understands Vasili's excessively formal approach, but she has no time for it now. She is used to training slaves. An obstructive operative is hardly a challenge. "For goodness sake, Vasili Nikolievitch! This is Neena Alexandrovna speaking! Do you want me to call Svetlana Nikitechna or Anatoly Sergeyevitch and ask them to speak to you?"

"Oh, er, no. No, do not do that." Confronted by Neena's threat, Vasili caves in. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to locate a man called Joseph McEwan. He is the husband of Vyera, the slave we 'lost.' I think he is in Birmingham. It is a city in the UK. Then report to me at once. Let me point out again that this has to be done now and has to be done quickly. It is important!"

As Neena speaks to Vasili, she is also gazing at the map showing Vyera's position and then Neena notices what she has done. She has a directed Vyera to a branch of Старбакс right opposite the main railway terminus in the city: New Street Station! The possibilities inherent in the situation begin to crystallize rapidly in Neena's mind.

Vyera is not with her husband.

Vyera has become disorientated and has appealed to her Supervisor for help.

Vyera has money.

Vyera is close to a railway station where she could catch a train to London.

London is a place where Vyera could be taken into custody once more before her repatriation to Russia!

On his part, Vasili is relieved. It's not actually a difficult task — and McEwan is on the 'watch list, ' so he knows where to start. He tries to regain the initiative. "I can tell you feel this is important, Neena Alexandrovna. I am sure I can help. I will call you right back."

Neena shakes her head as she puts the phone down. She stares out of the window for a moment and considers. If Vyera is in Birmingham, her husband will almost certainly be close at hand. If only they can snatch Vyera back from out of his hand!

Is this wise? Is it practical? Today? At this moment?

And then, Neena's mind fills with practical questions: how often do trains run to London and how much will the fare be? Is Vyera likely to have enough money? When she reaches London, is there anyone available and suitable to take charge of her? If there was someone Vyera knew — Neena for example — that would be reassuring to Vyera and make the slave easier to handle. Is there anywhere in London for her to be kept in custody until her repatriation was arranged? There is Anatoly Sergeyevitch's mansion in Regents Park, but what of the risk? Associating him directly with an abduction should the authorities manage to follow the trail Vyera would leave on security cameras and in the memories of passers-by, her shaven head marking her out as unusual everywhere she went and to everyone she saw? And how exactly would the repatriation, the absolutely crucial step in the plan, how would it be done? And yet! And yet! Here was such an opportunity...

Neena goes to her laptop and calls up yandex.ru, the Russian search engine, and enters 'роезд бирмингем лондон' (7). As she scrolls down the results page, amongst the tourist sites, Neena sees 'railsaver.co.uk.' She clicks the link. Success! The page is in Russian and details the services provided by a company called London Midland. There is even a 'Journey Planner' utility which promises to provide ticket prices in addition to journey times. Frantically, Neena enters data. The time is 15:00, so 12:00 'Vyera time.' There are departures at 12:05 (far too soon and also the most expensive), 12:10 (still too soon) 12:30, and 12:50 (surely too late? Vyera's husband might come looking for her at any moment) — so a train at 12:30 with a standard cheap single at £20 seems the best bet ... although the First Class fare is only £23.50? That might be a kindness. To entice Vyera back into slavery on a First Class ticket?

Her anxious thoughts are interrupted by the room extension telephone. It is Vasili, with news of Joseph McEwan...

Shortly after, Neena's mobile rings. It is Vyera, reporting that she has arrived at Starbucks...

Presently, Neena turns to face the helpless girl stretched out on her bed. Pavea raises her head from the mattress to gaze back to her.

"What did the bitch want? I mean, is there anything I could do to persuade her to get her ass back here?"

"I think," replies Neena, "I think you should get back to what you were doing before we were interrupted and not worry about things that are not your concern. Business has to come before pleasure sometimes, my small and humble one. Now, some humility is required."

Neena picks up her crop and brings it down smartly across Pavea's thigh. It brings a sharp intake of breath from Pavea and leaves a thin white trail which gradually develops a pink bloom.

"I am sure I have told you before, Pavea. Slaves should treat each other with patience and generosity. You should not refer to Vyera as that (whack) s! o! o! k! a!" Neena uses the Russian word for 'bitch, ' punctuating each letter with a blow from the crop. "Hmmmm. How nice your thighs look after that! How much better will your tongue perform now?"

Pavea's only reply is to breathe deeply and quickly as she tries to process the pain of her punishment — or was it a punishment? Perhaps more of a goad, to help her pay better and more abject attention to Neena's vagina?

Pavea smiles. "Spaseeba, Gaspazha," she says, and licks her own lips at the prospect of licking Neena's.

Collection Point

I am sitting anxiously in the café, waiting. I'm waiting to be collected by the man Neena is sending for me. The minutes drag by. Presently, my coffee is finished and so is the biscotti. I wonder about buying another drink. I have enough money, but I have not been given permission. I will be in enough trouble when I get back. Best not make it worse. Best not to seem 'casual' about all the mistakes I have made today. I know Gaspazha Neena will cane me and I will deserve it.

What a stupid bitch I am, just like Pavea says. I am sure she would not get lost and forget how to read and forget what she had been sent for. I expect I will be restricted to working indoors after this and Pavea will get to go on errands in Moscow.

At the thought of having to stay inside all the time, I start to weep quietly. I dab my eyes and look furtively around, in case anyone has seen me. I had better not make a scene. Not draw attention to myself. I blink the tears away and look up, so the man who will collect me and take me back will be able to find me easily. It is all I can do to redeem myself after my stupid behaviour.

Without warning, he arrives. He is standing right in front of me. The man — it's Joe! I stand up, out of respect.

"Zdrastvoitye, Gaspadeen", I say. "Ya Vyera" (8).

The man — Joe — looks at me. He seems baffled, un-comprehending, for a moment. Then, he smiles and holds out his hand. "Jenny, are you all right? What is going on? Speak English, please, and let's go home."

I take his hand and he puts one arm around my shoulder. He picks up my bags and we start to move towards the exit. "Who was the woman who phoned me? Was it that girl behind the counter? I had better go and thank her for calling?"

"No, no, it was not her."

"Oh, well, who was it then — I mean, why didn't you just call me? You have got my number?"