Island IV - Meetings

Introduction

Isla Del Sur, the Island Of The South, does not appear on any published maps. Satellite photographs show only an empty stretch of the Indian Ocean, assuming one knew where to look. There are no nearby sea lanes, and it is far from the air routes between Africa and Australia. There are a few historical references to the archipelago, though if those documents surface, they quickly disappear.

Discovered in the 16th century by a Portuguese merchantman when it drifted off course enroute to Japan, the location was considered a state secret and locked away in the Portuguese royal archives, where it was soon lost. It was unexplored and uninhabited until the late 19th century, when a British utopian society purchased the location from an archivist in Lisbon. As with all such endeavors the great experiment soon failed and Isla Del Sur was once again banished to obscurity.

At the dawn of the 20th century the location was uncovered and sold by a researcher into Victorian utopian societies. This time the buyers were not nearly so idealistic. Instead, they believed in a more traditional view of human nature, one in which men ran society and women were expected to obey. This outlook ran counter to the major social upheavals of the era. Rather than try to buck the trend these men, and the women who agreed with them, built their own little world in isolation.

Isla Del Sur is a group of islands, dominated by the largest, South Island. Here the principal city sprung up alongside the only deep-water port. Second in size, North Island was separated by a narrow channel. North Island, with its own government, differs from its southern neighbor in key respects, specifically the relationship between men and women.

Other, smaller islands are scattered around South Island, notably the Facility, an independent entity with the sole purpose of operating an academy for a select group of women who were carefully chosen for a special role in Island society.

It is a modern, 21st century microcosm, with a thriving economy based on exporting technical expertise. Hidden within the umbrella of Saudi Arabia the outside world knows nothing of its existence, save for agents working on behalf of the inhabitants. There is limited immigration, essentially by invitation only. The majority are drawn from Western countries, although the rest of the world is represented.

There are many stories told about Isla Del Sur. These include tragedy and joy, much as is found in the rest of the world. And like societies anywhere, strangers arrange to meet.

Barbara’s Story: Modesty

New Program

When Barbara was escorted through the open door of Ray Madsen’s office at the brokerage he was on the phone. He pointed to the chair in front of his desk, indicating she should take a seat. When she sat down Ray leaned forward, checking to make sure her hands were on her knees. He never fails to go through his quick inspection, Barbara reminded herself. Good thing it’s a habit now.

She had on that eyesore of a company uniform, universally hated by all those forced to wear what had to be a dress borne of a fashion designer’s worst nightmare. A uniform meant she was working, and so there had to be an escort standing next to her.

After hanging up the phone Ray typed in a note on his laptop. “Thanks Anand, for bringing her here. I’ll see to her from now on.” Her guard nodded and left. Barbara’s status as Ray’s property did not exempt her from any of the brokerage rules. If anything it put more pressure on her, since she was in effect the role model for the rest of the involuntary guests.

Madsen Brokerage, located on North Island, dealt in one commodity, women. Thanks to the unique legal structure in place all females were classified as property. There were no guarantees of security; a man could sell his woman as easily as a car or home. When that time came, Ray Madsen provided a service to expedite connecting seller to buyer.

He turned to Barbara. “You know I’m always on the lookout for new ideas on what kind of add-on services we can offer. That’s a major part of our competitive edge.” Something new, and I bet I’m going to be the first to try out whatever it is. That must be why he called me in. Ray liked to talk over his ideas with Barbara, to get her opinion on how practical it would be to implement and if the result was worth the effort.

His tone was casual, but she recognized from the narrowing of his eyes she was being subjected to a close scrutiny, an all too familiar look. Barbara had the confidence to pass those examinations without any anxiety. She wasn’t a novice any longer; since she belonged to him Ray had every right to expect the best from her, and in turn she had no doubts she could deliver. She met him eye to eye, challenging him to find the slightest flaw.

“That phone call was to arrange an instructor for a new training class. Over the last year I’ve received several inquiries about preparing women for living in an Islamic household here on North Island. You might guess that’s a broad subject to cover, when all the regional customs are taken into account. I don’t want to get into religious requirements; that’s too controversial and in any case not something a brokerage should be involved with. However, I’ve worked out some proposals for a range of classes. The focus is on being in public, or at social gatherings.”

Isla Del Sur, colloquially known as the Island, the collective name for South Island and the smaller surrounding islands, was nominally Saudi Arabian territory. Barbara knew about the Muslim community on South Island, but wasn’t aware of any equivalent on the smaller North Island. Nor did she have any idea of the culture or traditions, other than what appeared on the TV news.

“It sounds interesting, sir. Do you have anything specific yet, or is it only in the planning stage?” Barbara looked forward to the times she could help out with Ray’s business. Good for the goose, good for the gander, she told herself. After all, she had a vested interest in seeing the brokerage was successful.

“Mostly planning, but that phone call concluded with a deal for a test run on a subject I thought might interest you. We’re going to bring in a woman from South Island to teach a class on traditional clothing for Muslim women, everything from abayas and hijabs to chadors and burqas. Don’t ask me what all those are; she gave me a list to pass on to the wardrobe department. Her name is Fatima Maktoum, a longtime South Island resident and instructor for the government’s ownership program over there.”

“I’ve heard of burqas, in Afghanistan, but those other terms I don’t recognize. Now I’m curious. May I sit in on the class?” Barbara was going to be busy on Google all evening looking up new words.

Ray leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “No, you’re not going to sit in; you’re going to be one of the participants. We’re going to select three women already enrolled in other training programs. You’re the fourth member of the group. I don’t want any outside influences on the test group so all of you will be segregated here at the brokerage. You’ll sleep, eat and learn together, for as long as the trial run lasts.”

Barbara didn’t bother to ask how long the class would last. Chances were very good Ray wouldn’t tell her; she didn’t need to know. Nor was he asking if she wanted to attend. He’d already decided that for her, as he so often did. She didn’t press him for any details either. The “outside influences” told the whole story. He wanted to get her immediate reaction to the class, without any discussion beforehand.

Modest Dress

The classroom was small, with only four chairs for the students plus a desk and chair for the instructor. There were racks of odd-looking clothes along two walls, with an empty rack in the back. Barbara took a seat while the rest of her group filed in. All four of them wore the standard brokerage uniform, a stark contrast to the exotic costumes awaiting them. None of her peers knew who she was, or that she belonged to the company owner. Ray had made it clear she would be just one more guest assigned to the brokerage. The guards showed no leniency toward her, but that was normal. Her status didn’t bring much in the way of privileges.

Once they were all seated a woman entered. Unlike them she wore a head scarf and some kind of long, loose fitting, ankle-length dress, which covered her except for face and hands. Barbara noticed the travel permit card dangling on a necklace. That alone marked her as an outside visitor to the company, and therefore subject to a far less strenuous set of rules.

She stood in front of the desk, surveying her class. “Good afternoon. My name is Fatima Maktoum. I am in a lifetime ownership relationship with my husband and owner. He insists I use a last name, in case you’re curious. I’m here today to talk about modest dress, in the Islamic tradition. I am muslima, an observant Muslim woman, but this class isn’t about religion, except in the way it influences women’s fashions in that part of the world.”

The four students sat on chairs, arranged in a semi-circle. “Why don’t we get to know each other?” Fatima suggested. “I was informed all of you are currently staying at the brokerage, and that you were picked especially for this class.” She glanced down at a sheet of paper in her hand. “As I call your name, please stand up.”

Barbara stole a glance at her fellow comrades in adversity. She didn’t recognize any of them, which was just well. They wouldn’t know her either. “Barbara?” She stood up for a moment, before sitting back down at a nod from Fatima. Her hands automatically went to her knees.

Fatima looked a question at Barbara, gesturing to her hands. “I’m required,” She added by way of explanation.

“We’ll take that into consideration. If anyone else has specific instructions that might affect the class, please let me know.”

Looking at the sheet with their names Fatima continued. “Next is, hmm…Gaelic, always a tongue-twister, so correct my pronunciation… Róisín?” It came out sounding like “raisin.”

The woman next to Barbara stood up. “Close, it’s roh-sheen. My mother was Irish.” She sat back down.

“I’ll try to remember. Sandra?”

The woman at the other end stood up. “I’m usually called ‘Sandy’, for short.” There was something detached about Sandy, as if she was only going through the motions. Barbara picked up on it right away. Emotional shock, there must be something traumatic in her recent past.

“And last is Tracy?”

The last of the group jumped up out of her seat. “Hello, my name is Tracy. I’m new here at the brokerage. I just arrived yesterday.” Overeager, Barbara thought, as if she feels the need to prove she’s the equal of the rest of us.

“Okay, we’re all here at the request of Mr. Madsen, the owner of Madsen Brokerage. He expects you to do your best. Let’s get into it.”

She turned from side to side. “I’m sure you noticed my abaya, the dress, and hijab, my top? Those are very common. You’ve seen them on TV. They come in many colors, but black is standard for more conservative countries. Since this is an introduction, we’ll stick to the basics. What I have on is acceptable just about anywhere, from Saudi Arabia to Pakistan to Indonesia. Local tastes do vary considerably. The bright, colorful abayas and sheer scarves from Pakistan or Indonesia are considered to be in bad taste in traditional areas like parts of Iran or the Gulf.”

Since it was a class Barbara took the opportunity to stare at the instructor. Vaguely she remembered reading about some edict concerning only hands and face should be exposed, though she wasn’t sure if it was religious or local custom. She had to admit it was a neat solution to a myriad of problems that came with mini-skirts and short dresses, especially on windy days. There wouldn’t be any worries about missing appointments with the hairdresser either.

“Western attitude towards all this,” she waved a hand at the racks of clothing, “Is based on a lack of understanding. A Muslim women’s clothing is based around modesty, dignity and respect. Modesty to protect you from men’s attention, to preserve your dignity when appearing in public, and to show your respect for religious beliefs and local customs. You might believe a woman in a burqa, the head to toe covering, is oppressed; would it surprise you to learn she thinks the same of you in that short skirt, low cut top and high heels?

“However, we’re not here to argue politics or religion. Think of our class as a cultural exchange. You get to, what’s the expression, walk a mile in the other person’s shoes?” Fatima held up her hands. “I promise, no mile long hikes, though I’m sure you’ll find the shoes far more comfortable than four-inch stilettos.”

Idly Barbara speculated on what Ray would think, seeing her covered up like that? He liked some skin, and didn’t hesitate on insisting she dress to please him. Men liked to look, which meant, given the nature of the Island, she could show off with a clear conscience. This was a totally different approach to stylish fashion.

No Curves Ahead

Barbara stared at herself in the mirror. “It’s called a jilbab,” Fatima explained. “You’ll hear other descriptions, like maxi-dress or prayer dress. Always black for Friday prayers, obviously, but there’s nothing wrong with a bit of color depending on where you are. In Iran and parts of central Asia it’s called a chador, a Persian word for essentially the same thing. Since the Revolution, Iranian chadors are supposed to be black when in public, although the rules are loosening. The places where it might be mandatory are Baluchistan, in eastern Iran, and across the border into Afghanistan.”

All that showed were Barbara’s face and hands. Folds went over her head before draping down the sides. The sleeves ended at her wrists. The hemline brushed the floor. She did like the light blue, turquoise color. “Blue is a very common color, mostly because they are cheap imports from Pakistan. What’s important,” Fatima continued, “is that you don’t display your curves. Those are reserved solely for your husband, or owner. If a man lusts after you, too bad for him. You’re not advertising.”

Barbara had to laugh at the observation. She turned from side to side, checking her appearance. “That part is accurate. Master could never accuse me of being a tease if I go out like this. You know, I think he’d approve. He is very selfish and possessive when it comes to me.”

Fatima reached into a box on the floor. “You can still be the center of attention in other ways.” She held up a sheer piece of cloth. “You recall I mentioned veils? This is a very stylish niqab, a proper face veil.” She reached around Barbara’s head and tied the ends in back, underneath the jilbab folds.

“Wow!” That was Barbara’s first reaction. The covering left only her eyes uncovered, yet the transparency of the cloth both concealed and hinted at what it covered. “Now that is the image of an exotic temptress. Modest, but subtle in its allure at the same time.”

Fatima nodded in agreement. “It does push the limits. It shows the greatest respect for religious tradition, especially if you wear gloves, yet at the same time it projects an image of unique charm, making you stand out in the crowd. A mini-skirt and halter top will get attention too, but I ask you, which one is more intriguing?”

Barbara turned to the side, tilted her head slightly and glanced over her shoulder at the mirror. Oh yeah, now that’s Hollywood-level sexy, like something out of a 1940s movie director’s idea of a harem.

“See what I mean?” Fatima asked.

Pop Quiz

Barbara stood in front of Ray, seated on the other side of his desk. The guard had a firm grip on her upper arm. Strict rules applied; she would remain silent until he spoke first.

This was an unexpected summons to Ray’s office. The guard had appeared and taken her away in the middle of a session. She had on one of abayas, the loose outer dress, over her brokerage uniform, and a hijab covering her head and shoulders. Covering her face was a veil, leaving only her eyes exposed. Her shoes and gloves, like everything else, were black.

“The man next to you is?” Ray asked.

“My mahram, sir. He is a relative or close and trusted friend of the family. He will protect me while I am out in public. He also serves as a reminder of my obligations to show respect and proper behavior.”

Ray leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “This mahram, as you call him, is he necessary?”

Barbara hesitated, trying to remember the lecture in the classroom. “Yes, sir. He can speak to other men for me. If I were alone, I might be subjected to unwanted advances.”

Ray nodded in approval. “Why are you dressed this way?” he asked, waving his hand up and down to encompass her ensemble.

This one Barbara had memorized. “Tell your wives and daughters, and the believing women, to cover themselves with a loose garment. They will thus be recognized and no harm will come to them.” The surah from the Koran appeared to apply to Westerners too. All too aware of how protective Ray was, after the incident where she was nearly killed, Barbara had an uneasy feeling he might seriously consider imposing a modest fashion on her permanently.

He didn’t respond. This had to be some type of pop quiz, to get a measure of how she was progressing in the test program. If so, she was ready for him.

It was difficult to judge what he was thinking. Ray didn’t react to her answers. Instead, he sat behind his desk, impassive, speaking in a neutral tone. “Explain why your face must be covered.”

That was another easy one. “Sir, I must speak to other men, when not at home or within my family, through a concealing curtain. The niqab, the veil, serves that purpose.”

Ray stood up. “Excellent! All my hopes have been exceeded. You’ve done well, Barbara. I’m proud of you.” Turning to the guard he dismissed her with a terse, “Take this woman back to the class.”

Final Exam

Barbara stared at herself in the mirror. The woman staring back at her was unrecognizable. She was covered from head to toe in a loose blue dress, a real-life burqa, with not an inch of skin exposed. She looked out through a rectangular panel, even her eyes concealed behind the loose gauze fabric of blue thread. Her hands were enveloped in gloves up to her forearm, and her feet in high, black shoes, hidden beneath the floor length dress. Underneath all that she could be anyone.

Behind her Fatima adjusted the drape of the burqa over her shoulders. “You certainly went for the extreme look. You’d be right at home in Kabul. What do you think?”

Barbara held out her hands. “You didn’t mention the gloves. Isn’t the blue color too much? I thought it was okay to keep your hands uncovered? And how do you spot your friends if, oh, say you’re out in the market?”

“About the gloves, it’s a regional thing. In Taliban Land it’s very risky to reveal any skin. More liberal countries, like Lebanon or the Emirates, you don’t need gloves. Nearly all the burqas in Afghanistan are blue, because that’s how they are made in Pakistan. Anyway, the impression is you are very devout dressed like this. Friends? You can show a little individuality in carrying a stylish bag, though you have to be careful it isn’t too flashy. Remember, you aren’t supposed to attract a man’s attention.”

Barbara laughed. “This isn’t exactly a club dress. I don’t think I have much to be concerned about in that department. How can I appear like this in public? It conceals my collar. That’s against the law.”

Fatima held up her travel permit. “Normally yes, but if your card is marked for Muslim requirements, you’re okay. The regulations were modified to account for religious requirements. Notice the picture shows me in a chador and niqab, a face veil? If I have to identify myself, I use a thumbprint instead. Before last year I still had to carry a card with my uncovered face on it. What’s against the law is exposing your face in public if you’re in the restricted group. Ironic, isn’t it, compared to everyone else? Mr. Madsen has arranged for updated permits for all of you.” Fatima hung a travel permit card over Barbara’s neck. “As of now what you’re wearing is mandatory, even in the brokerage. No more uniform, so be careful.”

She held up the card to examine it. The picture was a headshot of a blue burqa. Her thumbprint was on the back, along with a “Restricted Clothing” underneath. Ray hadn’t warned her about this, or the final exam for the class.

His final exam was to put what they had learned into practice. After dressing appropriately, they were to go for a walk in a very public place. Two were to wear either a black chador or a colorful hijab, along with a niqab, a veil. The other two, and that included Barbara, were assigned to burqas. The other woman, Sandy, got a black burqa, also with gloves. Barbara didn’t envy her; her blue one was far less drab than the other’s black one even if it performed the same job of concealing everything.

“Sandy got the Ace of Spades.” Barbara turned to see Fatima standing behind her. The small panel for her eyes limited her peripheral vision. “A black burqa, that’s the most severe one.” Fatima pointed to the picture on the permit. “That’s a generic picture, by the way. No one knows who she is. There's a version for face veils,” she nodded to the other women, also checking in the mirror. “If you don’t have to cover your face the permit uses your real picture.”

Leave it to Ray to pick me for the toughest part of the test. The permit bothered her. It wasn’t temporary, which meant she had no choice when it came to deciding what to wear in the morning. How long would he leave her this way? If he liked what he saw he might decide to continue indefinitely. She cringed at the image of her walking into a cocktail party like she had just come from a mosque. Master’s orders, she reminded herself. If that’s what he wants, all she could do was obey.

“Okay, everyone line up. We’re leaving in a few minutes. I’ll make one last check before we go.” Fatima began pinning on small squares of cloth, in purple and yellow, to each woman’s left shoulder. “Keep in mind at all times you are in the custody of Madsen Brokerage. Do not remove the markers.”

Fatima backed up so she could see everyone. “For the purposes of this exercise, you will all consider yourselves to be in purdah. You are behind the curtain, the veil. Your contact with men is strictly supervised. In this case it will be your mahram, the brokerage guards assigned to watch over you. You are covered in order to stay out of the sight of strangers, especially those of the male persuasion.”

Barbara and the others laughed at Fatima’s phrasing. Purdah had been one of the more fascinating lectures in the class. She had no idea it predated Islam, going back to early cultures in India and Persia. It made sense, especially in turbulent, often violent times, to isolate young women until they married. As Fatma described it, practitioners considered purdah as a symbol of honor, dignity and respect. Detractors argued it was a cruel oppression of women.

Barbara gazed out of the veil, watching Fatima. What does she think about it? I’m beginning to see both sides of the question. I wouldn’t want to be locked up all through my teenage years, yet the part about dignity and respect had some weight to the argument in favor.

The door opened and several guards came in. There were five altogether. One stopped behind Barbara, another behind Fatima, who was in the process of pinning that company colors patch to her own shoulder, before finishing by adding a veil across her face. “I’ll be coming too. Remember, rules of purdah. Remain behind the curtain at all times. Let your mahram do the talking to other men. We are allowed to speak with each other, but other women who are strangers are also out of bounds. Do not become separated from your guard. You are required to be escorted at all times. If spotted on your own you will be detained until the police arrive.”

Oh great, someone breathing down my neck every minute. Oh well, final exams are supposed to be difficult to pass.

The Grade

Barbara sat on the sofa in Ray’s office; hands dutifully placed on her knees. She was back in the company uniform, freed from the final exam’s purdah and burqa but never from Ray’s orders. He was at his desk, entering something into his laptop.

When he finished, Ray closed the lid, leaned back in his chair, and looked over at Barbara. She caught that momentary squint; the clear sign he was checking her for compliance. She wasn’t concerned; by now it was second nature that everything be in place, down to the precise spacing of her fingers, spread over her knees.

“So how was the field trip? I want to hear all the details.”

The trip was the final exam for the Muslim attire class. “We were taken to the ferry terminal, sir. We didn’t go inside, of course.” Women aren’t allowed to enter unless escorted, and even then, only if they were traveling. “We took a long stroll along the Boardwalk, past the shops out to the marina. There were no incidents, other than one loose veil. With the guards, err, the mahram, around us no one came close.”

Ray nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face as he gazed up at the ceiling. “What was it like for you? Did the people out and about stop to stare?”

Barbara shook her head, a rueful look when she replied. “I think there’s a flaw in the program, sir. If wearing a tent is supposed to discourage a man’s attention, well…That isn’t how it worked. I got far more looks than if I’d been parading around in heels and a short, low-cut dress. We got stares from women too, like we were visitors from another planet.”

Ray leered at her. “Parading, we’ll have to do a comparison test. Purely for research purposes, of course.”

Barbara had no illusions as to what his definition of “research” entailed. She looked forward to some ad hoc experimentation.

“We were quite the procession, sir. As instructed, we stayed close together, though it didn’t make a difference. People stopped to watch us go by, men and women. I suspect many of them wondered about how we were evading the law by not displaying our collars. That’s something you’ll have to work on, sir. There needs to be more public awareness here on North Island. I’m not sure how it works on South Island.”

Ray nodded in agreement. “You have a valid point. I hadn’t thought about that. If the practice of virtual concealment becomes widespread, there will be quite a bit of controversy. Push back too, with claims about the loose interpretation of regulations threatening North Island society.

“By the way, I must commend you on a job well done.” On his laptop Ray brought up a group picture, taken just before they left on the final exam excursion. “You’re the one in the black burqa, right?”

“Blue, sir.” The smile on her face gave away her amusement at his confusion. “Surely you can recognize your own property?” She was being facetious. The other woman, Sandy, was the same height. Concealed under the burqas there was no way possible to tell them apart in a picture.

Ray shrugged. “Okay, you got me. Seems this class worked too well for my own good. Unless you spoke a few words there’s no way I could tell you apart. And that’s not allowed, since I’m technically a stranger.”

“Will you continue the program, sir?”

“I think so. The results are promising, and after today’s exhibition the inquiries have started to come in. Would you like to do a TV commercial? Or a YouTube?”

Barbara didn’t like that idea at all. She certainly didn’t want to become a minor celebrity from appearances on ads.

“Don’t worry, it would be in bad taste. We’ll rely on word of mouth and a bit of old boy network instead. I might call on you to be a model, or speak to the next class about your experiences, brief though they were.”

Modeling a burqa had to be one of the easiest jobs around, Barbara told herself. Stand, walk around, show a little…nothing at all. That was the point. She didn’t mind being a sort of mentor to small groups either.

She watched him lean back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. Suddenly he began to chuckle at some private joke.

“Care to share the humor, sir?” Barbara asked.

Ray leaned forward, righting his chair. He rested his arms on the desk and stared at Barbara intently. “I’m an idiot. There’s a very simple way to tell blue burqa from black. All I have to do is tell you both to sit down.” He pointedly stared at her knees.

I should have seen that one coming, Barbara thought. “That’s cheating, sir! You have me at an unfair advantage. You know very well I’d have to put my hands on my knees. That would give me away immediately.”

She doubted his smile could get any wider. “You’re supposed to be at an unfair advantage. I won’t settle for anything less. Let’s not forget who wears the collar in this relationship.”

That she would never forget. “You win, sir, but then you always do. Oh, who shall save me from this wretched lifetime of oppression?”

Ray shook his head. “It isn’t going to be me. I’m not going to let anyone else try, either.”

“Well, I should hope not, sir. You do have certain obligations I have every right to demand you will fulfill!”

Ray sighed. “Oh Barbara, why didn’t you show up years ago? How did I ever get along without you by my side?”

Virgil’s Story

Policy Change

Penny stared at her reflection in the mirror. For about the hundredth time she asked herself the same question, what am I doing here? She had all kinds of answers, none satisfactory. Nor was the question even relevant. She was committed to finish what she started; a change of heart didn’t alter the conditions she agreed to all those months ago.

“Hey! Hurry up, we’re almost out of time!” That was Sheila, her roommate and closest friend here at the Facility. The warning concerned the imminent arrival of the room inspector. Woe to anyone out of place when their door swung open.

Out of habit she took one last look around the bathroom, followed by a quick check of her uniform. Everything had to be right, and the right way wasn’t up to her. In the Facility the men in charge, those in authority over us echoed in her head, set the rules, the one right way.

Sheila was already in her spot at one end of the room. Penny joined her, standing over the “X” marked on the carpet, near her own bed. From the corner of her eye, she saw the clock click over to zero. It wasn’t a real clock; there weren’t any in the Facility, or at least none she’d ever seen. The display counted down the thirty minutes they had to get ready for morning inspection. The two of them shared responsibility for the room. If either of them was out of place when the inspector arrived, they’d both be held accountable and risk losing their precious room.

It was all of about thirty seconds before the door opened. Penny silently voiced a prayer of thanks for Sheila’s warning. For whatever reason, even though their room was in the middle of the dorm corridor they were going to be first in line this morning. When Mr. Owens came in Penny’s first reaction was confusion. He was in overall charge of the semi-private section of the dormitory. Normally he sat at his desk at one end of the hallway, aloof, overseeing the morning activities but never actually getting involved. That was left to Mrs. Yates or one of her assistants.

“Both of you, come out into the corridor and stand by your door. No talking.” He stood to one side, a hand on the room’s door knob. Penny and Sheila filed out and stopped by the door. A quick glance exchanged between the two women confirmed neither of them had any idea of what was going on. Down the hallway, on the other side, Mrs. Yates saw them and also came to a halt. Apparently, she didn’t know what Mr. Owens intended either.

He followed them out into the hall, closing their door behind him. In a loud voice he announced, “Everyone, your attention, please! Stop what you are doing right now. If there are any inspectors already in rooms, leave the door open but I want you to stand still. For those in the corridor, turn and face the wall. I want complete silence.”

Penny immediately turned towards the wall. From the corner of her eye, she saw Sheila do the same. What happened? For Mr. Owens to be issuing orders like this it had to be serious. Mrs. Yates could yell at them, assign them extra chores, but Mr. Owens had far more power over them all. A word from him and someone would be headed to the basement for punishment, always severe and never pleasant. Mrs. Yates wasn’t exempt from his orders either. Like everyone else in the hallway she turned to face the wall.

He wrapped his hand around Penny’s arm and pulled her into the middle of the corridor. She was joined by Sheila, held tightly in his other hand. “You two will go to my desk. Stand in front of it. Do not turn around. Wait for me, quietly.” He let go of their arms.

Direct instructions, clear and concise, no room for ambiguity; that’s the way Penny liked it and no one did it better than Mr. Owens. He didn’t say run, so don’t hurry. Remember what Mrs. Yates said, always obey authority but whenever possible keep your dignity. Show the world who you are. Sheila was keeping pace with Penny.

They heard Mr. Owens continue behind them. “Siobhan? Come with me.” That was Mrs. Yates! He was somewhere behind their backs, but Penny would never dream of turning her head to check. That wasn’t included in his instructions. Penny halted when she reached Mr. Owens’s desk. Sheila stood on her left, as rigid a statue as Penny. A moment later Mrs. Yates arrived, taking a place on Penny’s right.

“Everyone else? You can return to your business. Room inspections may continue. Those who are finished may proceed to the dining room.”

Mr. Owens walked around to stand behind the desk, facing the three women. He lowered his voice. “That doesn’t apply to you three. Stay where you are.”

Opening a desk drawer, he took out a phone and punched in a number. When someone at the other end answered he asked, “Is the room ready?” He frowned at the answer, adding one more comment in reply, “Okay, call me when it’s available, semi-private desk.” He hung up the phone but left the drawer open.

For as long as she’d been at the Facility Penny had never seen any of the men at the dorm desk use that phone before. She had no idea the old-style landline phone was even in the drawer. The desk was strictly off limits, even to Mrs. Yates. None of them would ever approach it unless ordered to do so.

Judging by his frown Mr. Owens was not at all happy with the results of his call. “We have to wait,” he informed the three women. He drummed his fingers on the top of the desk, working off his frustration. Mr. Owens had a reputation that did not include excessive patience.

Penny was worried this delay was not going to be beneficial. Sure enough, she saw his eyes refocus when he turned his full attention to the group standing before him. Sheila was first to be subject to what could only be described as intense scrutiny. Penny saw his eyes sweeping up and down, looking for any small detail out of order in Sheila’s appearance. She passed, which meant Penny was next.

When their eyes met, she felt the raw power emanating from him. Here was a man with a lifetime’s experience controlling women, submissive women like Penny. This wasn’t one of Mrs. Yates inspections. If she didn’t meet his approval he’d act, swiftly and without any hesitation. It wouldn’t be a matter of mopping floors either.

He was intimidating, especially the way he towered over her. But Penny was prepared, thanks to the Facility. Let him look, I know I have it right. She had a newfound confidence that had been sorely lacking the day she walked through the door to the Facility.

Like Sheila she passed. Then Mr. Owens turned his attention to Mrs. Yates. That’s when events unexpectedly veered off in a different direction. Mr. Owens started with the head to toe inspection the first two had received. Then he suddenly stopped, shook his head, and said the words that left Penny in shock.

“Siobhan, your feet are too far apart. Fix it, now! You of all people should know better.” He seemed lost in thought for a moment, before he continued. “I was not satisfied with the state of the bathroom in their room.” He pointed toward Penny and Sheila. “When you have free time, you will go to their room and clean it up. I mean everything, and you do it alone. You will inform me when you have finished. If I’m not satisfied with your efforts we’ll start over, until it’s right. There will be no action taken against these two. Is all that clear?”

That was odd, because he hadn’t spent any time looking over their room, and certainly not the bathroom. Whatever the reason, even though it was inaccurate Penny wasn’t about to contradict him.

This was history in the making. Mrs. Yates, the model of perfection and the personification of terror if she caught anyone else failing to meet her standards, was being harshly corrected by one of the senior guards., and in front of everyone The impossible was unfolding before Penny’s eyes.

“Yes, Mr. Owens. I’ll attend to it as soon as possible.” Her voice was so low Penny had a hard time hearing her acknowledgement. She actually felt sorry for Mrs. Yates. To be reprimanded in public like that must be a terrible embarrassment. Her infraction verged on the trivial, an inadvertent mistake usually handled by a word or two in private, as a reminder. Mr. Owens’ rebuke was unduly severe, but it wasn’t Penny’s place to pass judgment.

The phone rang.

An Unusual Meeting

“Sheila, you sit here.” Mr. Owens pulled out a chair. “Penny, this is your seat.” After Penny sat down, he went around to the other side of the table. Opposite Sheila he gestured for Mrs. Yates. “Siobhan, this is your place.” They were all assembled in one of the conference rooms.

“There will be a short delay. You may talk among yourselves while you wait. Do not stand up, change seats or move around. Place your hands on the tabletop, in front, left hand crossed over right.” And with that announcement Mr. Owens left the meeting room, closing the door behind him. He didn’t bother to check if they did as he asked.

Sheila was the first to bring up the obvious question. “Are we in some kind of trouble?” Penny was about to ask the same thing.

Mrs. Yates shook her head. “No, not as far as I know. You two can relax. As you saw, Mr. Owens has an issue with me. That’s not your concern.” She stared down at her hands, carefully pressed onto the tabletop, crossed as ordered.

Penny spoke up, in Mrs. Yates' defense. “I don’t understand that. About our bathroom, he didn’t even….”

“Stop right there!” Penny and Sheila were both taken aback by the ferocity of Siobhan’s interruption. “I was close by when I saw him open your door. I have a good idea about what you were about to say. Don’t go there; you’re not helping.” Penny could hear the barely restrained anger in her voice.

“Look, I made a mistake. Mr. Owens upheld his responsibility to me. I don’t get to skip the rules just because I work here. If anything, a suitable punishment must be all the more severe because I represent the Facility staff. But what upsets me is the idea you would criticize Mr. Owens for his actions toward me. Don’t ever do that! Regardless of your opinion, you do not challenge authority. That’s not who we are. If you haven’t learned that lesson during your time here at the Facility then we’ve failed you.”

Penny didn’t respond. Mrs. Yates was right, as always. Whatever her personal opinion, after the fact, when master’s orders were spoken aloud, the discussion ended there. Fair wasn’t an issue at that point; debate must give way to submission.

She was about to apologize when the door opened. The Director came in and sat down at the head of the table. “I regret the necessity of haste in calling this meeting. This is one of those days when events move at a rapid pace. First, let me assure you this is not a disciplinary matter.” He paused to send a stern look toward Mrs. Yates.

“I’ll get right to it. Penny, Sheila, I’m here to inform you we are reviewing an application for your ownership. You don’t know this man; you’ve never met. Normally you would be interviewed by him first. However, the circumstances here are not typical.”

Sheila spoke up. “Sir? May I ask, why are we both here? Are there two competing candidates?” Penny was confused as well.

“No.” The Director hesitated, gathering his thoughts. “It’s like this: one owner for both of you. He is from North Island, all very legal. As you might imagine, we have no precedent on how to handle this request. Our investigation indicates he is an outstanding choice, an excellent fit for either of you. My personal opinion, I doubt either of you can hope for a better master. However, he is adamant, both of you or he’ll walk away. You are here now because I am inclined to agree to his conditions. However, this is not a unanimous conclusion.”

What Clancy didn’t add was his own conclusion that Penny and Sheila should not be split up. This was a radical departure from the Facility’s reputation for strictly monogamous pairings. They didn’t need to know about the infighting among staff that his decision had caused.

He turned to address Mrs. Yates. “Patience, Siobhan, you’ll have plenty of time to make your arguments. For now, you will remain silent, until I leave.” She was one of the more vocal opponents to his determination to keep the pair together. He allowed her dissent since this was Facility business, not personal.

Facing both women he continued. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to leave you alone for a while. Siobhan will have a frank discussion with you about all this. During this meeting you are equals. She is to be addressed as Siobhan, not Mrs. Yates. Keep in mind she is only here to offer her own, personal advice. She does not speak for me or Facility policy. You are free to argue with her or ignore what she says.”

There was a knock at the door. The Director got up to open the door. “You missed breakfast, so I had two trays sent over.” Two trainees, visibly nervous, entered carrying trays from the dining room.

The Director gestured toward Penny. “Give her the first tray. The second one goes there.” He pointed to Sheila.

He stood up after the servers left. “The two of you are free to discuss this proposal at length. Siobhan is here to offer you her perspective, but she will not, I stress not, urge you to either agree or turn it down.” The look he sent Mrs. Yates as he left made it apparent that was a direct command. “If you wish to talk without Siobhan present, you may ask her to leave at any time.”

Penny’s tray contained a plate of scrambled eggs and buttered rye toast, one of her favorites. Sheila had French toast with powdered sugar and syrup. “Mrs. Yates, are you hungry? I can share…”

Siobhan held up her hands. “I already ate. You go ahead, don’t mind me. And you heard the Director, in here I am Siobhan.”

Penny stabbed some egg with her fork. “Sorry. Did I understand the Director correctly? Sheila and I would be sent to North Island, to a common owner?”

Siobhan nodded. “That’s right. This is unprecedented, so there’s no Facility policy to rely on. No candidate has ever been considered from North Island before now. When you two joined us there was an implicit agreement each of you would have a single owner. The Facility does not intend to break that agreement unilaterally. But if you consent to waive established procedure then it is a certainty both of you will have to share one man. Give some careful thought to that.”

Sheila asked a pertinent question. “Will this still be a lifetime agreement? What if he decides to only keep one of us at some point in the future?”

“Yes, you are Facility graduates. You will never be without a man who owns you, on a permanent basis. Bear in mind you’ll be on North Island. You will be his property in every sense of the word; to use, or dispose of, as he sees fit. Their laws recognize no other form of relationship for women. For the two of you, even if your prospective owner doesn’t want one or both of you the property status won’t change, only your ownership registration.”

Penny chewed on her rye toast. That didn’t bother her. Long ago she’d come to terms with a collar around her neck that would never come off. From what she knew of North Island, lurid stories aside, the prospect of living there wasn’t a deal killer. What did bother her is not being exclusive. She turned to look at her friend.

Sheila was poking at her meal, lost in thought. Looking up, she turned to Penny. “North Island, who saw that coming?” She smiled and shrugged. “I assumed coming to the Facility was on the extreme side, but this? Ironic, isn’t it?”

Penny pointed her fork at Siobhan. “I get the impression from the Director you don’t like the idea?”

Siobhan was in an awkward position. “Okay, I’ll say this first. I don’t like straying from Facility policy, especially when it comes to ownership. You heard the Director. I can’t tell you outright if it’s a good or bad idea. I will say I disagree with the Director, but to balance that I’ve been wrong in the past when I doubted his judgement.”

Penny turned back to Sheila. “If we go forward, there’s some matters we need to discuss.” She turned to Siobhan. “Is it possible for Sheila and me to talk privately?”

All For One

Both Mrs. Yates and the breakfast trays were gone. The Director had given them half an hour for a private conversation, without anyone listening in.

“I can see some advantages to a dual arrangement,” Sheila began. “Less housework if we split the chores, to start.”

Penny laughed. “I think that’s the least of our worries. How long before we’re ready to claw each other’s eyes out? We’re going to be joined at the hip, forever and a day. Plus, we have to share the same man’s bed. How long before the green-eyed monster of jealousy knocks at the door?”

Sheila nodded. “Yeah, that’s the big question mark.” She stared at the wall. “You know, maybe we’re looking at this the wrong way.”

“Okay, what am I missing?” Even the best of friends are subject to their bad days. Sisters, for that’s what they’d be, more often than not fought constantly.

“You forget about the elephant in the room. We’ll have a common master. It’s his responsibility to ensure we get along. If we argue, and I’m sure we will, we take it to him. Whatever happens after that isn’t up to us. His word is always final; we have to submit to him no matter what he decides is best for us. Isn’t that why we’re here, at the Facility?”

Penny thought about her point. Sheila was right. Would he be even-handed in his treatment of the two of them? Sheila continued, “If our future master leans toward a favorite everything would fall apart. Whoever he is, he must realize that. The Director wouldn’t consider some idiot who didn’t see the obvious.”

Penny said as much. “It comes down to how well we trust the Director.” She stared at Sheila. “I’m willing to keep going. How about you?”

A Glimpse of the Future

“Hello! My name is Virgil, Virgil Sorensen. The Director has explained why I’m here this morning? I’d like to start by telling you about myself. Thanks to the Facility I know quite a bit about you two. It seems to me I should return the favor.”

Penny studied the man who had taken Mrs. Yates’ seat across the table. If she had to pick a single word, it would be plain. He wasn’t an ugly man, but no woman would characterize him as handsome either. Instead of a suit he had on a flannel shirt and work jeans. Blue collar, she’d add that to the list.

Penny and Sheila sat across the table. Both sat with their hands crossed on the table, back straight, head up. The man across from them was in charge. Neither would speak without permission.

“I’m originally from Nevada, a town near the Utah border called Mesquite. I grew up there, lived there all my life until coming to the Island. It’s a unique place, but I’ll get to that later. I’m a plumber by trade, right up until I inherited some property from my uncle. Seems this strip of land was between two expanding casinos. Both wanted it, badly. I can tell you the bidding war was extremely profitable for me. These days my new career is managing a portfolio of investments. To keep it short, I’m financially independent, with the resources to support two women as my companions.”

That was a positive for Penny. She was prepared to live within whatever means her master possessed, but more was always better than less. Still, a plumber? She always assumed the Facility’s clientele was drawn from the elite of Island society. What made his case so compelling for the Director? Soft spoken, that was one more for the list, and something of a disappointment.

In an instant her list was wiped clean. Virgil stood up, still facing them. “Pull your chairs in close. Place your arms on the table, hands outstretched towards me, palms down. Now.” He didn’t shout; in fact, he didn’t actually raise his voice at all.

But something changed. Without even thinking about it, Penny did exactly as she was told. She stared at her hands, not quite believing what had just happened. Clear and concise, that was her favorite phrase. The way he spoke with authority, his expression, his body language, it all combined to press every button in Penny’s head. Superman had his kryptonite; her weakness was the commanding voice.

He leaned forward. “No, that's not quite right. Line up your hands so they are even. I like symmetry.” He took hold of Penny’s hands to demonstrate. She didn’t, couldn’t resist.

“Good, that’s what I want to see. Now, despite what you were told there isn’t going to be an interview. I’ve already made up my mind about the pair of you. There will be no further discussion as to your future.” He reached into the laptop bag and took out two boxes. Checking the labels he placed one in front of Penny, and the other in front of Sheila, between their arms. “These are for you,” he announced. “I’ve notified the Director about my decision. He concurs. From this point on the two of you belong to me.”

When he opened the boxes Penny’s eyes went wide. In front of her was that brassy, golden tinged collar commonly worn by graduates of the Facility. It wasn’t really brass, but oxidized titanium that gave it the unique golden color. There was a number stamped on the side. My registration number, she realized. It’s happening, it’s really happening. After all the time spent in the Facility, she had begun to doubt this day would ever arrive.

“Listen carefully; I won’t repeat myself. Your training is over. This is the real world, the one where you belong to me, and me alone. You don’t answer to anyone else. You will face forward, head up, and whatever else, those hands will remain exactly where they are.”

Penny was transfixed by the sight of her collar, sitting in the box. This might be the last time she saw it, except as a reflection in the mirror. Virgil stood up and came around the table to stand behind them. From the corner of her eye, she saw him pick up Sheila’s collar. A moment later there was a tiny clicking sound.

Then he was behind her. He drew back her hair, behind her back, with both his hands. Fascinated by what was about to occur she watched as he picked up the collar. Then there was the cool touch of the metal circle around her neck. Another click of the lock and he was finished.

There was enough weight to notice; she’d never forget it was there. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though that really didn’t matter. The moment she heard that lock engage her whole world shifted. The Facility, for all it had prepared her, was old history now. Her life was entirely vested in the man who returned to his seat across the table.

“This is what you need to know. The Director is completing your paperwork as we speak. His agenda was for me to meet with you first. However, I am a man of limited patience when it comes to needless indecision. The Director and I reached an agreement while you two were talking privately. I’m not interested in the results of your discussion. In any event it’s irrelevant now.”

He was right about the relevance. How does he do it, make decisions for a lifetime in a matter of minutes? Penny and Sheila would have spent days trying to figure out if he was the right choice; their new owner took only five minutes. That kind of confidence made him very attractive.

“One more detail you need to know.” He pointed to Penny. “Your spot is on the left.” He then pointed to Sheila. “And your place is on the right. Whenever you’re together, Penny will be on Sheila’s left, and Sheila will be on Penny’s right. That applies whether or not I’m in the middle.”

Virgil leaned back in his chair. “I think a short break would be helpful. I believe there’s a bathroom behind that door in the corner? Why don’t the two of you see if there’s a mirror in there?” He waved his hand. “Go. You have permission.”

Penny practically jumped out of her seat. Sheila was right behind her. At the end of the table Penny came to a sudden halt. Sheila nearly ran into her. “What?” Sheila asked.

“Left and right, remember?” Penny whispered. “You have to be on my right side. That’s the way it must be.” They lined up, side by side.

“Wait a minute,” Virgil called to them. Both stopped and turned to face him.

He pointed down with a finger and spun it. “Face the other way.” They went back to facing the bathroom door.

Virgil came around the table and stood in front of them. “Early days, so I’m going to help you out. Penny, right hand out. Sheila, left hand out.” Reaching behind his back he produced a set of handcuffs. One side went on Penny’s wrist, the other on Sheila’s. “There, now you won’t forget.”

He stood to one side. “Okay, go ahead.”

In the Mirror

Sheila got the first turn at the mirror. There wasn’t much space in the tiny bathroom, so Penny had to stand partially outside the door. She watched impatiently while Sheila ran her right hand around her collar. “Can you believe this? When I woke up this morning this was the last thing I expected. A new home, and on North Island! I’ve read the stories about that place…”

Penny decided to put a quick end to any speculation in that direction. “Our new castle, complete with a lord of the manor, what more could a girl ask for?” They both laughed. “Seriously, those stories are pure fiction. I don’t believe any of them. I doubt it’ll be much different from living here at the Facility.”

Sheila stepped back. “Okay, your turn. I think I can fit in here if I turn sideways. This right and left thing is going to be complicated.”

There it was, neatly framed by her hair on either side. Penny lifted up her chin and swiveled her head from side to side. “So, what do you think? Fashion accessory or symbol of oppression?”

Sheila shook her head. “Definitely sexy, that’s what I think.”

Penny looked over at Sheila. “Can we make this work? Share the same home, the same man, and not kill each other over some petty jealousy?”

Sheila shrugged. “We don’t have a choice. Take another look in the mirror. You’re property now, his property. Both of us, we’re owned, his possessions. We have to find a way to co-exist.” She held up her left hand, linked to Penny. “Like it or not we have to get along.”

Penny studied the collar around her neck, lost in thought at its implications. It wasn’t a question of if, but of how; how the three of them could find a way to live together in harmony. The Facility had delivered on its promise; she now belonged to what she hoped was a decent, thoughtful man. What she hadn’t anticipated was sharing her dream with her best friend.

Penny backed up to the doorway, giving Sheila another opportunity to use the mirror. Glancing over her shoulder she saw the Director and their new master in conversation, going over some papers in the Director’s hands. At that moment Virgil happened to look up and caught Penny watching them. He shook his head while pointing down with one finger, once again twirling it in a circle.

Penny got the message: turn around, this doesn’t concern you. When she did as ordered Sheila tipped her head to one side. “So, what was that?”

“Master and the Director are reviewing paperwork. I assume it has to do with us. Master indicated he doesn’t want us involved, so back to the mirror.” Master, the word seemed to come easily, as if she’d been using it for years. It must be the collar; it’s changing how I see myself.

“Those papers, do you think they’re…” Sheila suddenly halted, with a worried expression reflecting in the mirror.

“What?” Penny asked.

Sheila slowly shook her head. “No, better I let it drop. We have to think this through. Our position has changed; we have to be very careful from now on.”

Sheila was the deep thinker, the intellectual of the pair. Penny was more of a “live in the moment” type. “Okay, you lost me. What did I miss?”

Sheila stepped back so she could grab Penny’s arm and pull her further into their tiny room. “Remember our training? As our owner he has an obligation to decide what’s best for us, even if we don’t see it that way. Our job is to support him in whatever direction he points us. That includes avoiding areas that are forbidden, regardless of our curiosity. What’s going on out there? That’s off limits for us. We don’t discuss it, we don’t speculate, we do our best to forget whatever we weren’t supposed to see.”

Sheila’s warning brought back all of Penny’s Facility training. Absolutes, that’s what Mrs. Yates always said. It’s what sets us apart. There is no gray area; everything is a clear black and white. “You’re right.” Penny laughed. “Maybe master was prescient in assigning you the right side, and me to the left. You always get it right, and I’m left behind.”

Leaving the Facility

Penny and Sheila sat in the back of the car, still cuffed together. Virgil, their new owner, was in front with the driver from the Facility. He leaned over the seat to face them.

“Here’s the plan for this afternoon. After landing on South Island, the car will take us over to the Channel ferry terminal. We’ll have about an hour before the cross-Channel ferry leaves for North Island. Our car is parked at the North Island terminal. We’ll stop for lunch on the way home.”

Our car, home, it felt strange to hear those terms. Penny glanced over at Sheila. A new beginning, for both of us, and a shared one at that. For all the training they’d received, nothing had prepared either of them for belonging to the same owner, or living on North Island.

Virgil turned to face them again. “In case you didn’t know, there’s a South Island law concerning all females who cross to North Island. You have the option to refuse to board the ferry. If you do, your status as property is immediately revoked. You will be free to go your own way. South Island has an agency to assist you if you make that choice.

“That’s the standard regulation text. How it applies to you is complicated. Being Facility graduates you cannot be set free. I’m not sure what happens if you decline to go.”

Penny knew about the law but didn’t think it applied to Facility women. Sheila beat her to the obvious question. “Sir? I don’t understand. As you said, we are Facility, a lifetime commitment. I thought we were exempt?”

Virgil grimaced. “Normally you’d be correct, except there are two of you. South Island doesn’t recognize multiple ownership, so only one of you falls within the regulation’s exemption. The other one has to decide, in private, to go or stay.”

Penny saw the problem immediately, for once thinking faster than Sheila. “Which one, sir?”

Virgil shrugged. “That’s my dilemma. This is one of those occasions where I can’t treat you both the same way. I don’t like it, but I don’t have a choice. Unless one of you can offer a better alternative, I’m going to flip a coin.”

“Sir? If I may?” Penny didn’t want to see him agonizing over what wasn’t all that important. At his nod she continued. “Please, sir, don’t flip a coin. Pick one of us and let it stand. We both,” she glanced at Sheila, “understand the situation. This isn’t favoritism. Pragmatism, sir, sometimes you’ll be faced with situations like this. We, and I’m sure Sheila agrees, will accept whatever you decide allowing for the circumstances. I assure you, if you pick me, I don’t see it as a slight in any way.”

“Sheila, what’s your opinion?” Virgil turned to face her.

“The same goes for me, sir. You choose; we follow you. That’s what we anticipated when we entered the Facility. Either one of us, there’s no bias.”

The trip on the ferry from the Facility to South Island was uneventful. Penny and Sheila, free of the handcuffs per safety regulations, sat near the stern, watching with a twinge of nostalgia as their previous home faded into the distance. Virgil had gone to the snack bar to get them soft drinks.

“Think we’ll ever see the place again?” Penny asked.

Sheila shook her head. “I doubt it. Same goes for South Island. No, I think we’re going to become very familiar with North Island, at least the parts Master takes us to see.”

Virgil returned with the drinks. Penny saw him first and immediately sat up, hands carefully folded in her lap. Sheila copied her without thinking about it. He came around to the front of their bench and stopped. Penny could feel his eyes sweeping over the both of them, a move they would grow to accept as normal in record time.

All those long hours of practice, all the yelling from Mrs. Yates every time she got it wrong, it all paid off now. He could stare at her all day but he wouldn’t find a single mistake in her presentation. The same went for Sheila; they both knew the one right way, complete with all the tiny details.

Penny began to worry when his scrutiny didn’t stop. What did I miss? Is it me or Sheila, and would that make any difference? He hadn’t said anything yet, but she had a distinct feeling that both of them would be held equally responsible if either one misbehaved. She was relieved when he finally nodded.

“Excellent, exactly what I want. No one will ever doubt you earned that Facility collar.”

Penny’s relief took her by surprise. Only a few hours and already she was preoccupied with not disappointing her master. Did Sheila feel the same way? Would that be a point of contention between them in the future?

Leaving South island

The driver pulled into an unloading-only parking spot. “It’s nearly full today. This is as close as I can get to the Channel terminal.”

“Thanks! I appreciate your driving us here. We’ll wait in the terminal, so you can return to the Facility.”

Virgil got out and opened Sheila’s door. The two women slid out and stood by the car. He led them on to the sidewalk. “There’s a bench. You two sit down.”

Removing a key from his pocket he unlocked the handcuffs. “It seems I’m the one getting a fast education. Okay, this is what we will do. Inside the South Island terminal, I’ll drop off Penny for the exit interview. After they check your registration, Sheila, I’ll take you to a bench in the waiting area. Then I’ll come back for Penny. Any questions?”

Virgil left Sheila on an unoccupied bench. Her wrist was cuffed to a convenient ring on one arm of the seat. “If anyone tries to talk to you, tell them you aren’t allowed to respond and to call me instead.” He reached into his back pocket, took out his wallet and handed Sheila one of his business cards. “Here’s my cell phone number.”

“Yes, sir, I understand.” She took the card in her free hand. Virgil noticed she looked anxious at being left alone, but he was sure no one would bother her, especially in such a public place.

It was Penny’s turn to look worried when they reached the exit interview office. Virgil squeezed her arm softly. “Relax, this shouldn’t take very long. They’ll ask you a few questions, you answer, and that will end it.”

“Sir? What should I say?”

Virgil shook his head. “I can’t answer that. My advice is to listen carefully, think about the question, take your time before you reply. They can’t rush you, so if you feel pressured to answer immediately just say so. They’ll back off. That’s the law here on South Island.”

The actual interview was anticlimactic. It started with a short lecture on the law of refusal and what would happen if she chose not to travel to North Island. Next were a few questions on if she was being pressured to go across the Channel.

The man conducting the interview didn’t seem too interested in the proceedings. It struck Penny as a bit odd considering the consequences for any woman crossing over. Then she realized, in her case, the outcome of this interview wasn’t all that important. She wore a Facility collar, which meant she’d never be on her own even if she chose to stay on South Island. At best she’d be returned to the Facility under less-than-ideal circumstances. Though Virgil had been her owner for less than one day, he seemed to be a nice guy. Better the devil you know, she concluded.

The Land Unknown

When Penny stepped off the ferry onto the entrance to the North Island terminal, she was prepared for anything, except for the stares. Virgil stood between them, a hand on each arm. “The car’s out in the parking lot. We’ll head home today. Tomorrow we’ll go sightseeing.”

“Sir?” Penny whispered. “Why does everyone look at us? Surely, we aren’t that unusual?”

Virgil smiled. “Well, actually you do stand out. Not that you’re a pair. What’s different is both of you have Facility collars. That’s a rare sight here. One is notable, two are remarkable. Whenever you are in public, remember you represent the Facility, so act accordingly. I insist.”

Penny straightened up. That was clearly an order that required immediate, unquestioned obedience. From the side she noticed Sheila did the same. They trained us well, she thought.

Right away Penny noticed a glaring difference compared to South Island. Every woman, without exception, wore a collar. The men here do take that property thing seriously. When they walked out the terminal entrance she spotted the sign on the door, a warning that all females must be escorted when entering. If there was a point of no return, she was well past it by now.

Penny exchanged a sideways glance with Sheila as they exited the terminal entrance. Sheila smiled and shrugged, as if to say that whatever happens next is far beyond their ability to influence. Virgil was behind and between them, still with a grip on each of their arms.

“Sir, may I ask?” The Facility had not prepared them for a life on North Island. Aside from what little she’d learned from local TV the place was substantially different from South Island, though Penny had no idea about the specifics. There were the ever-present rumors, but then the Facility was also subject to the same gossip mill so those whispers hinting of a brutal regime where women were subjected to daily abuse weren’t likely to have any truth to them.

Virgil pointed to the right. “The car is down this lane. Go ahead, ask whatever you like. I’ll let you know if it’s out of bounds.”

“Sir, we weren’t educated on North Island regulations. We only know about South Island laws concerning women like us. Do we need some kind of permit here to be out in public?”

“Normally, yes. It’s no different from South Island. But as long as you’re with me you don’t need to be concerned. The Director warned me about the gap in your training. We’ll make sure both of you are ready before venturing out in public on your own. There are some differences, plus a few extras I’m going to add. All that’s for later. Right now, I need to get you two in the car and on the way to our home.”

Our home, Penny liked the sound of it. Their surroundings might be unfamiliar for now, yet this was her town, her neighborhood, the place where life begins again. Superficially it could be any small town, anywhere in the world. People passed by, no doubt headed somewhere on some sort of business.

There were also crucial differences, starting with the handcuffs linking her to Sheila. Anywhere else that would turn heads; here it was nothing out of the ordinary. The ironic part was that their collars garnered more attention than the fact they had to walk to the car hand in hand.

“Here we are. You two will ride in back.” He opened the left side passenger door. “Sheila in first, then Penny. Wait for me to fasten your seat belts.”

It was a bit on the awkward side, with Sheila having to slide over to make room for Penny, and then holding up their arms so Virgil could put on their seat belts. It would have been much simpler if he had removed the cuffs, but that wasn’t going to happen. He had to go around and open Sheila’s door to fasten her belt. In the few seconds between closing her door and going back around to the driver’s side Sheila quickly whispered, “Think back, our trips to South Island.”

Penny caught her warning immediately. The few times they had earned a reward with a trip to a theater to watch a movie, all the trainees had been hooked up in pairs. Facility rules were especially strict concerning their behavior while on those trips, since they were in public. Copying Sheila, Penny straightened up, carefully lined up her feet and legs with Sheila, placed her free hand in her lap, and rested the cuffed wrist on the seat. Some things you never forget, Penny thought.

When Virgil opened the driver’s door he suddenly halted before sitting down. Leaning forward he looked over both his women. Penny didn’t miss the flash of a smile and the slight nod before he got in. While his head was turned, she squeezed Sheila’s hand in silent thanks.

“Prim and proper,” Virgil chuckled. “I like it.” He turned to look at them. “You both did well. I assume that’s from the Facility?” He turned back to starting the car. “By the way,” he said over his shoulder, “from now on that will be mandatory when you’re in the car.”

Penny glanced over at Sheila, who shrugged but gave her a thumbs up. Prim and proper, what an odd expression, she thought. If it was a clue to his personality then it fit well with their Facility training. She stared at the back of Virgil’s head. I…make that we…need to understand what goes on in there, and quickly.

The Drive Home

In terms of scenery North Island didn’t have much to offer. It wasn’t exactly prime real estate, being mostly composed of hills and rocky beaches. The only town on the island, North Harbor, reflected the small population. South Island wasn’t far away, a short ride on the ferry, but for Sheila and Penny the Channel separating the islands was an impassible barrier.

Penny held up her right hand, dragging Sheila along. “Sir? If I may ask, will this be a common practice? It’s a matter of practicality, sir, so that we can be prepared.”

Virgil glanced back at the two women in the mirror. “A good question, though I don’t have an answer for you right now. It appeals to me, but as you say, there are practical concerns. Let’s do this for now. Outside, in public or in the car, yes, I want you hooked together. At home, or inside a building, that will be on a case-by-case basis, which means whenever I have the urge.”

When Virgil turned his attention back to driving, Sheila jerked on the cuffs and frowned in disapproval. A shake of her head stopped Penny from asking what was going on. They’d have a conversation about Penny’s question in private, later on.

She had a good idea of why Sheila would object to Penny’s asking. This wasn’t the first time they’d disagreed on the propriety of questioning their owner’s actions, except this time it wasn’t theoretical.

When Virgil slowed down to turn into the driveway the two women got the first glimpse of their new home. From appearances it was a good neighborhood, well-groomed lawns and the rows of single-family houses, though of a modest size, were all relatively new and in good shape. No mansion full of servants, but that didn’t fit at all with their initial impression of Virgil. Upper middle-class US suburban, professionals, white collar, if Penny had to put a name to the overall style.

The garage door rolled up, allowing Virgil to park in the attached garage. As the garage door started to drop back down, he turned in his seat to face Penny and Sheila. “Before we get out of the car you need to know the boundaries here at home. The garage, basement, attic and front yard are off limits unless I’m with you. During the day you have the run of the house, except for my office, which is always off limits. You can use the back yard until curfew. You will not leave the house without my permission. Any questions?”

Penny spoke up again. “What about emergencies, sir? The house catches fire, or the police come to the door to order an evacuation?”

“Your personal safety is paramount. When it comes to emergency situations like that, use your own judgement and don’t be concerned about the consequences. That applies anywhere, any time. I can’t foresee every possibility; do as you think best to stay safe. You two are Facility trained; I think I can rely on you not to abuse what might look like a blank check for improper behavior.”

Facility trained, Penny sat up a bit straighter, full of pride in knowing he trusted her. She glanced over at Sheila, who smiled and nodded. She feels it too, Penny thought. Are we really something special? Mrs. Yates often took the time to pound that into their heads, along with a warning not to get carried away with some kind of superiority complex. Would a Facility collar generate resentment here on North Island?

Penny mentally shrugged off the worries. Their acceptance in local society was Virgil’s problem now. He brought them here; he had to deal with the consequences.

“Okay, you wait until I open the car door. By the way, that’s a rule from now on. Always wait for me to open or close the car door.” While Virgil got out of the car Penny exchanged a quick look with Sheila. The smile and nod were enough to confirm she had remembered the training classes too. Virgil definitely had a streak of the control freak, which he would satisfy with a growing number of small, almost insignificant rules that added up over time. Both of them were well-prepared for just such an occurrence.

On the Couch

“Before we go any further, I’ve prepared a little speech, sort of an orientation, for you.” Virgil sat in his chair opposite the two women on the couch, Penny on the left, and Sheila on the right, still attached at the wrist. Both of them, in the proper Facility way, sat with both feet on the floor, legs together, back straight and head held high. After seeing their training on display Virgil decided not to make any changes.

He’d been briefed on the general principles of the goals set by the Facility. Whatever the controversy, the results spoke volumes as to the effectiveness of the attitude instilled in the woman who graduated. For the first time he realized what a challenging task it would be to ensure the pair in front of him did not lose their edge.

Virgil took the time to savor the moment. There was no rush; they would wait for him, as long as it took. He certainly had their undivided attention. Considering how much they had to depend on him they had all the motivation in the world to please him in any way possible. So I’m selfish, Virgil told himself.  I don’t care. They belong to me, my property; I have the power to deliver their dreams, or nightmares.

Clancy Yates, the Facility Director, had been the first to bring up the unique situation with Penny and Sheila. Separately they did well, but did not stand out among the other trainees at the Facility. But when they were put together, there was a synergy where the whole far exceeded the sum of the parts. Clancy had been the first to spot the pattern. When placed next to each other, working in unison, the pair came as close as humanly possible to the perfect Facility woman. They never made mistakes, their adherence to rules was infallible, and their attitude remained positive and upbeat day after day.

The challenge to Virgil was in how he might keep together the mysterious bond between the two women, and in the process take advantage of it for his own benefit. A few words from him could radically alter their lives, now and into the future. They knew it too; a fact he could see in the anxious expressions while they waited for him to speak. Never had Virgil imagined he would have such tremendous power over not one but two living, breathing human beings. The surge of power, and lust, was overpowering; yet it was held in check but another new emotion, the compulsion to see to their happiness, to keep them safe, to ensure they had everything they needed to flourish.

“I’m sure you want to know what kind of a man I am, and what to expect from me. I’ll start with the obvious. You’ll form your own opinions of me soon enough, so to begin I’ll describe myself as easy going, for the most part. I’m not looking to trap you into making mistakes so I can punish you. I don’t demand the impossible, either.

“However, bear in mind we have a unique relationship, one that is unequal in many ways. I will accept nothing less than total and immediate obedience to my wishes. There will be rules, some quite inflexible, with a few that can depend on circumstances. I am confident you will quickly adapt to the restrictions I will impose on you. You’ll find, and I’m sure this startling news to you, I will often exercise my power over you for no other reason than it pleases me to do so.

“This isn’t new to you two. When you applied to enter the Facility, you did so with the knowledge one day you’d be sitting here. I’ve also heard the claims about how the Facility brainwashes you into some kind of mental state where you are little more than zombies. If I believed that I’d never have shown up at the Facility’s door. The training you received is no different than going to college or a vocational school, except the subject matter isn’t quite so academic.

“You are both accomplished, educated and ready to put the new tools you have into practice. So you know, you have already impressed me with the way you pay attention to tiny details, many of which I’m sure I’m missing. Have no doubt I want to see what you’ve learned.”

Penny knew all about dominant men and their guilty pleasures, often sexual, but always involving their ability to control women like her. Her own guilty pleasure came from the knowledge she could fulfill all his desires. She looked forward to the times she might demonstrate how she positively responded to the many ways he would control her.

“I’ll start with my background. I believe you’ll gain some insight into my personality if you know about how I grew up. As I mentioned, I’m originally from Mesquite, in southeastern Nevada. It’s a small town on the Utah border. The freeway runs through the town, on its way from Salt Lake City to Las Vegas. It’s the first place past the border coming from Utah, so there are a number of casinos and resorts. One block off the tourist district though, it’s all small-town USA. Like many rural areas my values are very conservative.

“What makes the town unique is its location. I doubt you’re aware the surrounding area is settled in part by what are known as Fundamentalist Mormons. I’m sure you heard of the LDS church, the Mormons, in Utah? The LDS church had to renounce polygamy in order for Utah to become a state. Well, these Fundamentalists are splinter groups who remain faithful to what they believe are the founding principles of their religion. I think you can see where I’m heading. They are organized into communes with polygamous men, multiple wives per husband, not legally but recognized spiritually. Today it isn’t legal of course, that was outlawed well over a hundred years ago in Utah, and polygamy never was legal in Nevada. But in their closed society it’s still practiced.”

Sheila raised her hand. “Sir? May we ask questions, or should we wait?”

“How about…” Virgil started to answer before abruptly halting. The polite response would be to ask them to be patient until he finished. That wasn’t the right way. From now on he had to be aware of the subtle nuances of how he treated them, especially his duty to be the leader in all respects.

“You will wait until I open the conversation for your comments. This is how it will be from now on. Be patient while I’m talking. If I’m not making any sense, then raise your hand to interrupt me. Otherwise hold your questions. You might hear the answer while I continue.”

The nods confirmed he’d managed the moment successfully. They were in familiar territory, covered by what they’d been taught. I have to remember, do not ever negotiate or suggest. I can always ask for opinions, but they expect me to take charge in all situations, to dictate my terms with confidence, and most of all avoid being indecisive. Why that was so important to his precious treasures might remain forever a mystery, one his personality barred him from truly comprehending. What did matter is the manner in which he met their needs.

“As I was saying, they live in a tight-knit farming communities, not unlike our Island society. They buy up all the land around their town, so there are no neighbors to complain. Being out in the desert, and off the busy roads, they don’t get visitors. They do need plumbers though, so I was called in on several occasions.”

Sheila figured it out first. The startled expression on her face said it all. A moment later, Penny worked through the connection. They looked to each other before turning back to Virgil.

Virgil nodded his head. “Does it make sense now? To answer the unasked question, I was impressed by what I saw. I’m sure you’ve seen the lurid shows on TV about child abuse, the manhunt for the fugitive leader accused of molesting children, all the salacious details that make for sensationalism. There are a few places like that, especially the infamous one down the road in Arizona, but none of that occurred where I lived.”

Everything suddenly fell into place for Penny. Her master wasn’t exactly monogamous. No wonder he asked for both of them. But why had the Director not refused out of hand? Instead, he’d left it for her and Sheila to accept a single owner, and on North Island of all places.

“I can anticipate your next question. Why are both of you sitting there? It was the Director who contacted me. He was of the firm opinion you should stay together, yet that was clearly impossible if you remained on South Island. Maybe you don’t know about what Clancy Yates, the Director, noticed in you two. Once he pointed it out, I saw it too.”

Penny turned to Sheila. Neither of them had a clue as to what Virgil meant. At the Facility she had never thought of herself as exceptional. It was true that, after the two had been assigned as roommates, they had avoided the morning inspection reprimands that were all too common, judging by the yelling from Mrs. Yates in other rooms. She had always attributed good fortune to hard work and more than a little luck on their part.

“Perhaps you are too close to have an objective view. When both of you are paired together there’s what I call a serendipity, a fortunate discovery of something unexpected. You two perfectly complement each other. Penny the extrovert, outspoken, lively, adept at social skills; and Sheila the introvert, who carefully weighs each word before she speaks, content to remain in the background yet always aware.”

Virgil studied the two, looking for a reaction. “You don’t get it, do you? It’s that old cliché, can’t see the forest for the trees. I do see the forest, and I’m going to insist you keep at whatever it is that makes the pairing of you become a magical combination. You both have unique talents that fit together so well. If I see you trying to become more like each other then I will take whatever steps are necessary to put a stop to it. Keep that in mind.”

House Rules

“I’m going to keep this simple. Our relationship, the three of us, isn’t what you might call typical. In order to keep us together, these are the rules we will live by. And I do mean we, including me. The first one, the most important and bears repeating, is that I will treat you both on equal terms. If either of you ever feels neglected, or slighted, you come to me immediately. I’m not perfect; I’m well aware I might develop some unconscious bias. I depend on you to let me know if I’m not holding to this promise in any shape or form.”

Even with the best of intentions, I can easily slip into favoring one over the other. Virgil battled with that sword dangling over his head, and how he could avoid it. It wasn’t enough to ensure he spent equal time with each of them. Quality matters just as much as quantity, he thought.

“The second rule, and this one you must never violate, is that you do not, ever, compete against each other. If I see the slightest indication one of you is attempting to profit at the expense of the other, no matter how slight the advantage, then you will experience me at my worst, full of anger. Understand, you will bear joint responsibility, regardless of the instigator. This extends to every activity, even something trivial like a round of cards. You will never play a game where you are on opposite sides.”

Virgil brought up a bit of Facility training based on what he’d learned from the Director. “This is a hard rule, no exceptions, no hiding behind the letter of the law. Consider it to be a ‘zero tolerance’ decree that will never be violated. To the point, breaking this rule will be treated as willful, deliberate disobedience, for both of you.”

From the expression on their faces, they must have seen he wasn’t bluffing. In truth he’d never send them off to the Disciplinary Center, the worst possible punishment for extremely poor behavior. His threat was real enough; he would use any tool at hand to prevent jealous infighting. But he would never part with either of them, regardless of the fact he had a right to essentially send them to a prison if they failed to adhere to his orders. The “willful disobedience” big stick had to be used sparingly or it would lose impact.

“I’m realistic about the stresses that will arise from our being in close quarters. That’s why each of you has her own room. That’s your private space. Do not, ever, enter the other’s room unless invited. You will not share passwords, phones or laptops either. Whenever you get that crowded feeling you can ask me for permission to retreat to your room for a break. I won’t require an explanation, so don’t feel pressured to find an excuse.”

Penny and Sheila exchanged a quick glance before turning their full attention back to Virgil. There was some kind of non-verbal communication between them which puzzled him. He was about to ask them about it when he abruptly stopped. Was this cryptic means of backchannel discussion really any of his business? If it helped to smooth the way for them to live together then it was better to look but not see.

“And now the third rule. Being Facility graduates you will no doubt be shocked to discover I am a classic control freak. I doubt I’ll ever tire of seeing those collars fixed around your throats. Mine, all mine, owning you is as addictive as a daily dose of heroin. To help feed my habit, you will make every effort to ensure that dazzling bit of jewelry is visible, from the front, every minute of the day. I want the entire world to see you are my prized possessions, marked as my property by the collars around your lovely necks. Never doubt, not for one second, you will belong to me for a lifetime.”

Slow down, Virgil, you’re getting carried away. He leaned back in his chair, to take a moment to calm down.

“About that third rule? In a way it’s also a request for your help. I have this compelling urge to dominate you, to shape your lives, how you behave, how you speak, even the way you think. Expressed that way it makes me sound like some kind of insecure megalomaniac. Who knows, maybe it’s an accurate description. If so, I make no apologies for who I am.

“I’m also pragmatic. I have to be realistic about what will work between the three of us. So, I’m asking you to assist me, to find ways I can enjoy the benefits of my power over you, but not in ways where it becomes an unbearable burden that leaves you dreading the prospect of getting out of bed in the morning.”

Once again there was that flash of unvoiced words exchanged between Sheila and Penny. Much as he wanted to know what they were saying his better judgment warned him away from demanding they reveal all.

“And to satisfy what I know must be a worrisome question about bedtime, you will alternate spending nights with me. Sheila will be first; Penny will join me tomorrow night.” One more way in which he had to make tough choices, picking one over the other. I hope they see it in the same light.

“If either of you want a break, feel tired, whatever reason, you can arrange to switch, but you must ask me first. If I happen to be in a bad mood then you’ll both get a night off.” His starting choice had been entirely random, but he would not offer an explanation. Virgil had no intention of setting any kind of precedent where he felt he had to justify his actions as their master.

Back and Forth

“That’s enough from me. It’s your turn to share what’s on your minds. We’ll go one at a time.” Which one to start? This was a question that would show up over and over. He’d have to remember who went first the previous time in order to keep it balanced. “Penny, you have permission to speak. Feel free to say whatever you like, though I will expect you to keep within the usual bounds of polite conversation.” That was a roundabout way of reminding her to remain within the limits of respecting his authority.

“Yes, sir.” And again, there was that lightning-fast glance across the sofa to Sheila. “About your third rule, I believe we all share a common goal. At the Facility we’re taught to be prepared to offer suggestions along the lines you suggested. Those little hints can be subtle or overt. Since you ask for our help, we can offer our opinions freely. Sheila can go into more detail about our ideas, from our free time conversations after classes.”

Virgil nodded. This was good news. He was self-conscious about leaving them with the impression he was overbearing and narcissistic. Encouraging them to become involved would smooth over any resentments. “Sheila, when it’s your turn you can elaborate on what she mentioned.” He gestured for Penny to continue.

“The first rule, sir, I’m sure we both agree with your sentiment. You also mentioned being pragmatic. We came to a common agreement in accepting there will be times you can’t be as balanced as you wish. The real world has a way of intruding on good intentions. What I’m trying to say is we do get it when one of us needs you more than the other. We have to come together as a family. I urge you not to hesitate out of a sense of fairness when you must deal with a situation that might strain your desire for balance. Do what you think is right for the moment. We aren’t so fragile that a little short-term, one-sided compassion will forever destroy our family.”

Virgil had to admit she was right. There would be times the needs of the one would outweigh the needs of the many. He liked the way Penny referred to his little group as a “family”. “You’re right,” he told her. “As you can see, I have no monopoly on wisdom. Rule one will have the occasional exception.”

“About rule two, all I can say, sir, is that Sheila and I are joined at the hip, so to speak.” She paused for one of those back and forth looks, while at the same time they both raised their cuffed wrists. “I don’t envy your job in keeping us in line. Even though we’re the best of friends it isn’t easy to set aside petty jealousies.”

He had to laugh at her honest admission. Virgil was fortunate in that he’d found someone who could mentor him on what to expect. One of his business ventures was occasional trading in foreign exchange with the help of Jim Lassen, North Island’s well-known expert in the black art of currency arbitrage. Jim owned three women and had managed to hold a potentially explosive combination in check for several years. His success story had inspired Virgil to overcome his reservations and approach the Facility.

“When you feel that surge of anger, try to remember what I told you. I don’t care who started it, or even what it’s about. Both of you will share the blame, so find a way to work it out before I have to become involved. If you can’t then I’ll solve it, the same way as Solomon.” That was a Biblical reference to a story of how Solomon offered to resolve a custody case involving a baby, by the simple expedient of cutting the baby in half. Both sides quickly reached an amicable agreement.

“Your turn, Sheila. Penny will listen. You have permission to speak freely. Tell me what you think of all this.”

“Yes, sir.” She paused, carefully choosing her words. Virgil was patient. Unlike Penny it would take some time to draw Sheila out. “I agree with everything you and Penny have said about the first two rules. Even the suggestion I might be willfully disobedient terrifies me, sir. Do what you think best even if it seems punitive. I may resent it, but I trust your intentions and your judgment.”

Virgil was taken aback by the depth of her sincerity. He was still the unknown, a stranger who had swept into her life, yet she had placed her faith in him as her owner. It confirmed his initial impression of the pair. Sheila was the deep thinker, the philosopher, the one who looked beyond the obvious of the present moment.

“Our third rule, sir, is one where I would like to contribute. As Penny mentioned, at the Facility we ran through many scenarios about the ways our future master might run our lives. If you like, I can write them down when our laptops arrive.” She didn’t deviate from her Facility training on how to sit, but Virgil could tell from the way she held her hands tight she was nervous.

“Yes, I look forward to it. You and Penny will collaborate. I am curious though, so describe one of your ideas.”

“I…yes, sir.” He heard the pause. This was very private, perhaps something she’d never shared with Penny. It was the perfect opportunity to encourage her to be more open within their intimate family time. “Physical control, sir, it’s about a way you impose your will on us to obey your orders.” In her element, Sheila became more animated. “Sir, please see this as only a suggestion. I would never attempt to interfere with your absolute, unquestioned authority.”

Virgil nodded. “Don’t worry. You’re fine, keep going. I’ll stop you if it becomes a problem.”

“Yes, sir. At a specific time in the evening, after supper, Penny and I would be required to kneel before you, legs together and hands behind our backs. You must use handcuffs to lock our hands in place, to serve as a reminder we are entirely under your control. I am on the right; Penny on the left.”

Virgil had a definite picture in his mind, to match her description. “You’re doing well, continue,” he ordered.

“You must inspect us, sir. This is a formal position, one we must deliver to you without any mistakes, every day, without fail. It is an affirmation of our place, and even more importantly how we all fit in this puzzle of life together. We are ordered to silence. We must hold this position, motionless, with the certainty of swift and painful punishment if you are not pleased. You sit in a chair, facing us, your property. At some point you gesture with your hand. That is the signal for us to slowly spread our legs until our knees are wide apart.”

The sexual connotation was all too obvious. She had a talent for figuring out what a man like Virgil would find appealing. Helpless, vulnerable, open and inviting, it was the magic combination for seducing the unwary male. Or the well-informed wary man too, Virgil reminded himself. I am not immune to the ways in which a female can trigger certain instinctive responses from the male.

“You keep us in that position for as long as you wish. We must serve you to perfection, doing our best to remain in a precise position, held there by your command. Only you can release us, sir. It is an affirmation of our relationship. We are on one side of an invisible line; you are on the other. Neither of us will ever cross that line.” Sheila’s eyes were wide open, caught up in her fantasy.

Virgil was positive the scenario originally included only Sheila, though she had skillfully modified the narrative to add Penny. He would come up with his own version in making the transition from fantasy to reality. In the meantime, she had planted a picture in his head that wouldn’t go away.

“I admit it’s very appealing. The kneeling part I have some doubts. That’s hard on the knees, and as we get older there’s a risk of real injury. I will consider your idea, Sheila, though it will be in a somewhat different form.”

“Of course, sir. It was only a suggestion.” Virgil sensed Sheila took his comment as a mild rebuke. That had to be set right immediately.

“You did well to bring this to my attention. Keep in mind I have to factor in what I think is best for you both, so there will be changes. Don’t let that discourage you. It’s my sole responsibility to account for your welfare.”

Sheila seemed to relax. Satisfied he’d bridged another minor crisis Virgil turned to what would be on the agenda for tomorrow.

“I have a meeting for lunch, so you will be on your own. There should be enough in the way of groceries to fix yourselves something. If it’s nice out you have permission to eat on the patio in the back yard.” He had stocked the kitchen, although he was sure it was inadequate.

“Your assignment for tomorrow will be to go through the house, except the areas I mentioned as out of bounds, and think about what you’d like to change. I’m putting the two of you in charge of the house, everything from decorating to cleaning. Sheila will be head housekeeper on even days; Penny on odd ones. Make a grocery list; my bachelor days didn't include much shopping. You’ll need new clothes too; what the Facility returned to you isn’t much. We can visit the local mall to start. As long as I’m with you there’s no need for travel permits, which haven’t arrived yet. Give it some thought; I’ll go over my requirements on your appearance tomorrow.”

At Lunch

When Virgil walked into the restaurant Jim Lassen already had a table. He waved Virgil over to join him.

“Hi, Jim. Thanks for the lunch invite. So, I’m guessing you have an opportunity I might find interesting?” Virgil was a member of the small group of local backers who occasionally helped to capitalize Jim’s currency trades.

“I think you’ll be interested. But let’s order first. The hamburgers here are one of my favorites. The beef is imported from Kenya, an uncommon African breed called Sanga. They’re grass fed, no feed lots, and the frozen carcasses are butchered over in South Island. It’s still hamburger, but a little bit different.” Jim pointed to the menu.

“Okay, I’ll try it. Your advice has been on the money so far; I’ll take the risk. What’s this new project?”

After ordering Jim leaned back in his chair. “Ever hear of a place called Djibouti?”

Virgil frowned. “It sounds familiar, somewhere in Africa?”

Jim nodded. “It’s a tiny place, nothing there, except it sits at the entrance to the Red Sea. Virtually all the shipping from Asia to Europe sails by the place on its way to transit the Suez Canal.”

Virgil nodded in recognition. “Oh yeah, it was in the news, something about pirates. I’m confused though, what’s it got to do with currency trading?”

Jim smiled. “Normally, nothing at all. The economy there is insignificant, miniscule GDP. However, the major industry is coastal military bases, specifically China, Japan, the U.S. and a few European powers, for anti-piracy patrols. Personnel number in the thousands, and they all want western style infrastructure. That means construction, and that’s where I come in. Local wages are paid in Djibouti francs, converted from major trading currencies. I did some research, and it looks like there might be a market imbalance.”

“Okay,” Virgil agreed, “so why don’t the big investment banks gobble it up?”

Jim had that “cat who ate the canary” look. “Not big enough to interest a trading desk. They depend on margins from trading millions. This is in the tens of thousands, way too small to bother, except for the little guy, like you and me. If we time it right, I think we can get five percent ROI with a trade of around 100,000 in U.S. dollars. Does that sound like something you’d get in on? I’m limiting the pool to myself and a few others, starting at a manageable $25K buy in each. There is potential in this being a recurring operation if we keep a low profile.”

Foreign exchange was always risky, especially in an area where a war could break out any time, day or night. Still, the amount at risk wouldn’t be too painful if it wound up a loser. The profit wasn’t enormous but Jim had a talent for finding quite a few of his “imbalances”. Over time the amounts did add to a decent return on his investment, especially if it could be rolled over with the same terms. “Okay, I’m in. Email me the account and I’ll wire the money.”

“Good, that’ll fill the pool. A little bird informed me there will be two large construction contracts announced next week in Djibouti City. At least one of the local banks will need dollars to import materials…and the construction company will need the francs to pay local workers. That’s our edge.”

Their food arrived and both men began eating. “So, what do you think? Gonna convert to native African beef?” Jim asked.

“It is different. Not bad, but I’m used to corn fed Midwest US beef. I suppose this is healthier, but if I worried about that I wouldn’t be eating a hamburger.”

Jim shrugged. “Well, at least you can say you had the experience. Speaking of different, how is it going with your Penny and Sheila? I gather from your description they are nearly opposites in personality.”

Virgil nodded. “That’s true. Penny is active, an extrovert, sometimes outspoken nearly to the point where I have to intervene, though she has a good sense of what she can get away with and the point where she has to stop. Sheila is the opposite. She is obsessed with rules and how well she follows them. Anything I say she takes literally, too often as criticism. The two do balance each other out, though. I can see how Sheila tends to keep Penny in check, and Penny’s exuberance helps draw Sheila out. I did take your advice about separate rooms, and coming down hard on any hint of competition or jealousy.”

“Trust me, they need a sanctuary when frictions build up. It’s natural they want to keep their individuality. Giving them a place to go, and a promise it’s sacrosanct, is vital to keeping your house in order. If you ever catch one of them violating the room rule you have to be especially nasty in ensuring it never happens again. Both of them rely on you to keep your promises.”

On the Patio

When Virgil arrived home after lunch, he found Penny and Sheila at the patio table on the back porch. They were hunched over a sheet of paper; Sheila furiously writing while Penny held up another page. They weren’t actually arguing but he could tell they were negotiating over some kind of disagreement.

Standing in the living room, they didn’t notice him watching them at first. At some point when Sheila looked up and saw Virgil, she immediately put down her pen and sat up with her hands folded in her lap. Penny noticed and quickly sat down next to Sheila, also with her hands folded in her lap. He didn’t miss the small detail of how they kept to his left-right rule. It might just be coincidence but he liked to think they were being diligent.

He walked out onto the patio and joined them at the table, facing both women. The two boxes under his arm were the center of their attention. The logo of a well-known mobile phone company was prominently visible on each carton. “I stopped to pick up your phones after lunch.” Virgil slid one across the table to Penny, and the other to Sheila.

“Don’t open them here. When you finish what you’re doing you can unpack the phone in your room. There’s a sheet of instructions along with your passwords inside. Remember these are your personal responsibility. You will not share passwords, you will not lend the phones to each other, and it is strictly forbidden for you to try to access the other’s phone. These,” he placed his hands on the boxes, “will remain in your rooms when not in use. They will not leave the house unless you have permission to go out on your own. If you are out with me, they stay home. You are not available on a 24-hour basis for your friends.”

At the Facility mobile phones were prohibited. For Penny and Sheila, the prospect of once again being connected to the outside world was as exciting as finding a huge pile of presents under the Christmas tree. “These phones are configured for the typical North Island profile, so don’t be disappointed when the “ask for permission” screen pops up. My personal opinion some of the restrictions aren’t necessary, so we’ll work those out as they show up. I can change your settings.”

The news didn’t seem to dampen their enthusiasm. “We know about the phone controls, sir. Should we hand them over to you at the end of the day?” Sheila asked.

At the phone store he had asked for light access controls. The most restrictive setting shut off the phones at 11pm each night, and would not turn back on until he reset the daily use timer. He opted for the lenient version, which used a weekly reset. “You are responsible for keeping the battery charged overnight. Sunday evening, I will collect your phones. After I review your activity, I’ll enable them for another week.” He was careful not to mention if they would be returned. Although Virgil trusted them, it was important he still held the pair accountable if he found unacceptable use.

Virgil pointed to the sheets of paper on the patio table. “What are you working on?”

Sheila picked up her stack of notes. “You asked for a suggestion list, sir, about ways you might increase your supervision over our behavior. Penny and I have been going through ideas. I’m writing down the ones we agree on, more or less.” She held out the pages to Virgil. “Would you like to review our progress?”

Virgil held up his hands in refusal. “No, I’ll wait until you’re finished. Your laptops should be ready tomorrow. When they get here, you can switch from paper and pen. Meanwhile, there’s no deadline. The two of you will take as much time as necessary to get it right.” Normally he wouldn’t be so open-ended about a time limit but he appreciated the difficulty in the task assigned to them.

“Sir? I do have a relevant question, for the list. We had several discussions about this at the Facility, with no clear answers. Sheila and I have been at odds over the same issue in adding to the list.” Penny had an apprehensive look, hinting that whatever was bothering her might be construed as a challenge to his position as head of the household.

Virgil leaned forward in his chair. “Maybe if you tell me what this ‘issue’ is? Then I can help to resolve it.”

The two women exchanged glances. There it was, that same unspoken communication, Virgil thought. “It’s simple in theory, sir, but devilish to apply in practice. If I may, I’ll start with a simple question. May we leave a room without your permission?” That was Sheila, the logical one.

Virgil didn’t see any problems with his answer. “If I’m present, you ask first. If I’m not nearby, then it’s a moot point. Okay, what am I missing?”

Before Sheila could answer Penny spoke up. “Sir, what if we’re watching TV and you fall asleep in your chair. Do we sit on the couch until you wake up? That could get, umm, messy. Do we rely on our own initiative?”

“That’s what we’re arguing about, sir,” Sheila interjected. “I’m uncomfortable if I don’t have clear instructions. ‘Winging it’ is not what this is about.” She ran a finger along her collar.

That was the point where Virgil realized he’d made a major mistake. It wasn’t their fault; he had no one to blame except himself. Before anything else he had to reverse course immediately.

“Both of you, stop what you’re doing. Hand over the pen and paper to me. This wasn’t a good idea.”

“Please, sir, we can do better. We’ll finish it today, if we have to work non-stop…” Penny was protesting what both women felt. It was clear to Virgil they assumed they’d done something wrong.

“Hands on the table, left hand crossed over right.” He needed them to focus on him before he started to explain. A firm order was always a good place to start. It worked too; in an instant they complied. He reached out to place his hands over theirs.

“You didn’t disappoint me. On the contrary, though it wasn’t intended you did well to remind me of certain basic principles. When I gave you permission to work on that list,” he nodded toward the stack of paper, "I was lazy. I failed in my duty to you.”

From their expressions Penny and Sheila had no idea what he was talking about. That was understandable; they lacked his point of view. “It’s my job, mine alone, to determine how I choose to run your lives. Your nature is to look for order imposed from without, not from within. Asking you to come up with a definition of the ‘right way’ is inexcusable on my part. I offer my apologies and assurances it will not happen again.”

“Sir, you don’t ever have to apologize to us…” Penny began.

Virgil cut her off. “I will decide how to best make amends when I get it wrong. Now then, forget about that list. I will not be deprived of the pleasure of playing the tyrannical dictator, handing down the occasional edict to you from my lofty position of supreme leader.” He smiled and cocked his to one side. “I look forward to the intellectual challenge, coming up with some particularly nasty requirement intended to turn your days into unending misery.”

Neither of them seemed to be overly concerned at his ominous-sounding statement. “Do your worst, sir. After all, it is what we signed on for, the day we arrived at the Facility.” Penny was speaking for both of them.

“Besides, if we can survive Mrs. Yates, I’m not sure you can add on to the misery.” That came from Sheila, in a voice so low he could barely hear her. Penny stifled a laugh.

“Whatever you wish, sir. Don’t hold back. Penny and I, we do quite well strapped into a tight straitjacket of rules. We need to know what’s allowed and what is prohibited.” Sheila looked him straight in the eye. “May we assume that list is firmly in forbidden territory?”

Virgil shook his head. “Let’s say it’s history and leave it at that. Did you have lunch already? I have about two hours of work in the office this afternoon, so you’re on your own. After supper we’ll spend some time together.” He stood up and turned to go back in the house. “You don’t have to sit there with your hands on the table.”

Not There Yet

Penny leaned back in the patio chair and held up her arms to stretch. “I did not see that coming. It looks like we still have a lot to learn about our man.”

“We worked on that list all morning. A few minutes and it’s all for naught. We were very creative, not that it’s worth much now.” Sheila turned to look out over the back yard and to the mountains beyond. “It’s frustrating, especially when he changes his mind like that.”

Penny didn’t reply immediately. She stood up, went to Sheila’s other side and sat down in a patio chair after turning it to face the back yard. The mountains sheltered the town from the bad weather that swept in from the Indian Ocean. There wasn’t much to see, mostly scrub and a few, scrawny looking trees clinging to the steep slope.

“His apology, I’m sure it was sincere. Think about it; we have the benefit of Facility training for more than a year. He’s essentially starting from scratch. Imagine what that’s like.” Penny turned to Sheila. “He’s right, y’know? We should never have offered to make that list. He may not be there yet, but he’s already spotting his mistakes and quickly correcting them. How he manages us has to come from his perspective. What were we thinking?”

Sheila nodded in agreement. “We do have the makings of a good man, Penny, no argument there.” She sat quietly for a minute, thinking. “That request for help, we need to look at it as offering pragmatic suggestions to add to whatever he comes up with. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Penny answered. “Remember that when he picks out matching purple dresses with big yellow polka dots and orders us to wear them to a party.”

Sheila began laughing. “Master’s orders,” she echoed, shrugging her shoulders, “what can we do but obey? We can get away with anything using that excuse, even if we have to look like clowns at the circus.”

Alarm Clock

Her door burst open, catching her red-handed. She glanced at the clock, 4:47 AM, way too early. There was no way Penny was going to explain this one. The email was open on her screen, clearly visible. She reached for the screen, thinking she could quickly close it with a swipe.

“Don’t you dare touch that screen,” Virgil warned, standing in the doorway. As always there was no hint of anger in his voice. He never lost his temper, something she found appealing. Which didn’t mean he wasn’t mad at her, only that his self-control would not allow that anger to influence whatever was to come next. She folded her hands in her lap, the proper way, his one right way. There was a right way for everything. Checking her mail this early in the morning was not one of those right ways.

It was no coincidence Virgil had known of her transgression. Neither Penny or Sheila knew about the alerts that appeared on his phone when one of them misused their phone privileges. An early riser, he had been shaving when the phone beeped. A quick glance out the bathroom door was enough to verify Sheila was still asleep in bed. The alert indicated it came from Penny’s phone, which left no doubt as to the culprit.

Penny stared at the innocent looking but oh so incriminating text on the screen. The phone was close to hand, but it might as well have been in another room. Standing behind her his shadow was visible on the screen. No point in denial now, Penny told herself. The smoking gun was on the desk in front of her.

“Not even 5 o’clock. Where are you supposed to be?” Again, she heard that quiet, level tone. She would almost have preferred shouting.

“In bed, sir, asleep.” It was a weekday, and that meant weekday rules were in effect. They were very explicit, detailed, no loophole rules she knew by heart.

“Remind me, when are you allowed to read your messages?” As if he needed a reminder, she thought. She could recite them word for word, exactly as he had dictated.

“I am not to use the phone before ten in the morning. By 11pm I must stop whatever I’m doing and go to bed immediately, if tomorrow is a weekday. That is a hard deadline; I must shut off the phone within 90 seconds.” There was no way to get around the way the phone recorded shutdown times to a fraction of a second. It was impossible to get around the shut off, but she was sure the phone didn’t record early morning activity. It was all too apparent now she had been wrong.

“Can you explain why you are up at,” he paused to check the time, “4:50 in the morning, reading obviously prohibited material for this time of day?”

What could she say? Overpowering curiosity, lack of self-control, the insatiable need to know what was in those precious texts? None of those explanations would temper his disappointment at what she’d done. If anything, it would only make matters worse. Contrite, she spoke in a whisper, “No excuse, sir. I was wrong to get up so early. I was foolish enough to think you wouldn’t notice.”

“Stand up.” Virgil pointed to a corner of the room. “Wall. You know the routine.” Obediently she went to the corner, facing the wall. A timeout? There was no way she was going to get off this easily. He’d never trivialize something as serious as this. No, there was more to come; she was positive about that.

She heard him sit down at the desk, behind her. There was the distinctive tapping on the screen, followed by silence. Then he was behind her, hands on her shoulders. “Turn around,” again in that icy cold tone she dreaded.

She raised her eyes to look up at him, towering over her. There were tears running down her cheeks, yet she could not raise her hands to wipe them away. Not without his permission. For a moment his stern face slipped, showing the tender, caring side. But just as quickly it came back.

“When it comes to your welfare I have to weigh discipline, the consequences of failure, and the punishment needed to prevent future mistakes. I’ve spent many hours on the system of rules for you, the basis for proper behavior. I believe they teach you what to do in most situations. For the rest, those times not covered by the rules, they serve as a guide for you to navigate a safe path through the unknown.”

Virgil sighed. Penny cringed when she heard the disappointment in his voice. “This particular weekday rule I put in place for a good reason. You have a commitment to me. You should show up every morning rested, alert, and ready for a new day. Turning up at the breakfast table in a tired, sleepy, and distracted state cheats all of us. That’s the purpose behind the rule. Failure to obey requires correction. That’s the consequence when self-control fails.”

His argument was simple, direct and irrefutable. She had formed some half-hearted justification, that she could still get her work done, but he’d turned it into an illusion. There was only one question left.

“That brings us to the necessity of righting a failure in self-discipline. Punishment has to be tailored to the specifics. It must reinforce the need to honor the spirit and letter of the law, in this case the email rule. The severity must match the level of disobedience. Above all, it must discourage any repetition.”

Penny didn’t like the sound of that at all. She winced at his use of the word “disobedience”; that hurt. Whatever he had in mind was going to be extremely unpleasant.

“I’ve changed the password on your personal email account. For the duration of your punishment, you are forbidden to access text messages and email, from anyone. Or to send to anyone either. I will monitor your account and pass on anything I deem important. All other senders will be notified you are not available until further notice.”

It was not undeserved, yet still worse than she expected. Totally isolated, cut off from everyone online. And no idea when it would stop, assuming it did have an ending date. She was angry he would impose such a wide-ranging sentence, but there was a little voice in the back of her reminding her she had brought it on, and he was only doing his job. As quickly as it came the anger faded, replaced by remorse and acceptance that he did know what was best for her, even if she sometimes ignored it.

“This isn’t the end of it. Sheila will receive the same punishment, even though you were the guilty party. I’ll leave it up to you to explain why this occurred. I’m sure she will be understanding.” Virgil considered it a sure bet Sheila would be anything but compassionate when he took away her phone due to Penny’s lapse. He didn’t like what he had to do, but it would serve as a reminder in the future that they had to consider the shared consequences of disobeying him.

Ralph’s Story

Enlightened Selfishness

Monday afternoon found Ralph Welk sitting on the park bench, watching the boats out in the Channel gliding back and forth between South and North Island. He was a few minutes early for the meeting, just in case. Would she show up? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been stood up at what could only be termed a blind date.

The park was busy, with people taking advantage of the nice weather to get out and enjoy some fresh air. Was she out there, somewhere in the crowd, debating whether or not to go through with it? They had connected through an “Introductions” app, one that acted as a go-between, with the primary function of filtering out the usual suspects on any typical dating site. Ralph had made the cut by proving he was real and his very short background statement held up under scrutiny. He had even managed to catch the attention of a woman who apparently liked what she read. Like Ralph, she had cleared the obvious warning signs. Now came the true test, a face-to-face meeting. Spontaneous, with no preconceptions to cloud first impressions; that was what the app promised. After that it was up to the two of them to decide what came next.

“Ralph?”

There she was, standing behind the park bench. Ever the gentleman, he shot to his feet. “That’s me. And you must be Erin?” The instant of the first impression; she was nicely dressed but not especially attractive. For that matter Ralph didn’t regard himself as being movie star material, except for those potholed, ten miles of bad road for a face drug runners made so popular on TV. She didn’t run away screaming, which he chose to interpret as a positive start.

“Please, have a seat. We have a great view of the sailboats. I find it relaxing, watching them go back and forth.” The requirements of their meeting place were somewhere very public, and nothing but conversation. A park bench in midday struck Ralph as ideal.

It was immediately apparent to Ralph she was nervous. The way she held her purse in a death grip was the first hint. This is the Island, he told himself. It’s up to me to put her at ease. It was on him to start the conversation and provide a direction.

“How does this sound?” he asked. “I’ll tell you a little bit about myself, and the reasons why I posted on that app. All you have to do is listen. If what you hear doesn’t suit you, well then, we part on good terms. Assuming you don’t flee in horror, I’ll keep going until you feel comfortable about joining in. No pressure, okay?”

Ralph could see the relief when her anxiety vanished. She even let go of her purse, setting it down next to her. “I appreciate your offer, sir. I admit I’m not at my best with casual conversation.” There was a change when Erin carefully folded her hands in her lap while turning only her head to face Ralph.

The way she sat with her legs together instead of crossed, and that she had chosen a very conservative, businesslike skirt and blouse, unusual for a casual day in the park, didn’t escape his attention. Most telling of all was the far from subtle shift to “sir”. He’d guessed correctly. Once he pointed the way it was much easier for her to follow him.

“To introduce myself, I’m from Laramie, in Wyoming. I grew up there, went to high school and university. When I decided to be a lawyer I went to law school in Nebraska, a day’s drive away on the interstate. I set up my office back in Laramie, mostly to handle oil and gas leasing around the local fracking oilfields. It can get complicated when mixed with international companies and foreign currencies. Laramie isn’t a big city, and I’m no Perry Mason. My biggest criminal case was defending a cattle rustler, both in court and from the lynch mob. Wyoming, in many respects, is still stuck in the 1870s.

“The gas well leases are what brought me to South Island. In the legal profession it’s a highly specialized niche. It requires a good working knowledge of accounting and engineering, aside from the complications of international law. One of the local engineering companies based on the Island was in desperate need of that expertise after they won the bid for a massive civil engineering project in Central Asia. As it happens my views on relationships are in general alignment with our little society here on Isla Del Sur, so it seems I was the ideal candidate.”

Which was true enough. The recruiter had done his research on Ralph. As a lawyer the legal system on the Island was fascinating. As a man with archaic views on gender-specific roles, at least by modern standards, he was drawn to the prospect of all the Island had to offer.

“That brings us up to today. The whole concept of owning a woman, complete with a binding contract and all the attendant legal infrastructure to enforce it, as a lawyer I admit I find it enticing. I trust this is not a shocking revelation to you, given where we live and the premise of that internet app?”

Erin actually smiled at his question. “No, sir. I too find the prospect appealing, but as I’m sure you know the devil is always in negotiating the details. Do you mind if I ask you to continue, about yourself? You are answering many of my questions. I promise I’ll still be here when you finish, and I’ll be ready to share my side.”

“It’s a deal. So, just who is Ralph Welk, and what goes on inside his head?” The initial meeting was going much better than he expected. Even though he was doing all the talking he’d been right to take the assertive approach right from the start. She was clearly at ease now. Now all I have to do is remember not to be overbearing and obnoxious. For an attorney that was quite a challenge.

“If I had to pick one word, I’d have to go with ‘caveman’ as the best description. I like being the one in charge, a personality type that’s not in short supply here on the Island. I’m at the opposite end of the spectrum from the ‘woke’ ideal of relationships. My version is closer to, oh, say 1950, or maybe 1850. I believe in gender-specific roles, heresy in our modern times. My job, as the man, is to be head of the family. I take the risks, I gather the resources, I provide security and stand between the world and my family, protecting them from harm. If that kind of paternalism isn’t pure Neanderthal, I’ll turn in my club.”

Erin started laughing. “I’m sorry, sir, it’s just that I’ve never heard it put so, um, bluntly before now. Trust me, I’m not making fun of the caveman description.” She brushed off some imaginary lint on her skirt, drawing his eyes to the line the dark blue fabric drew across her legs, slightly above her knees. “We share a common set of core beliefs, sir. I would say I’d choose 1950 over 1850, purely on practical grounds. I like having electricity, running water and sliced bread.”

It was Ralph’s turn to laugh. “No argument there. I may be a caveman in spirit, but I like my creature comforts. I like to think I operate on the moral principle of enlightened selfishness. What I want is important, but it’s tempered by a pragmatic view that includes those closest to me. Fair warning, under the terms of an Island agreement, I take that ‘property’ clause seriously. I’m very possessive, which inevitably leads to being dominating. I have no qualms about making my wishes known, and demanding they be followed. I don’t mean to sound overbearing, only that order and structure are important to me.”

Ralph stopped when he realized he was getting ahead of himself. He was starting to think of Erin in terms of being her owner, and that was going too far.

She must have sensed his sudden hesitation. “I find those to be desirable qualities, sir. If a man truly values what he owns, he should take whatever measures are necessary to keep his property. The methods he employs should be at his discretion even if it includes imposing a code of conduct, the framework he believes is essential in maintaining that order and structure.”

He hadn’t gone too far after all. Based on what she was saying they had much in common, though they approached it from different points of view.

Her Side

“Sir? You are very considerate, giving me time to feel comfortable with you. I don’t mean to interrupt. With your permission I’m ready to talk about myself, unless you prefer to continue.”

She’s asking for permission? Maybe he hadn’t gone far enough. “Of course, go ahead. I didn’t mean to monopolize the conversation.”

“Thank you, sir. My background is growing up in a military family. My father was the navigation officer on what’s called a ‘boomer’, a nuclear missile submarine. He was absent for months at a time, patrolling somewhere at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. We could send him occasional messages, a few lines in a telegraph format. It’s a limitation of being in that kind of submarine. They usually can’t respond; it would give away their position.

“When not on patrol he’d be home almost every day, if he wasn’t out on a training exercise. He was a good father, but he knew the only way to hold our family together while he was absent was discipline. Discipline in the sense of we all knew where our responsibilities lay, and how important it was we were committed to meeting our obligations.

“I know, it sounds like a terrible home life, but for me I thrived in that environment. I looked forward to the day my dad would come home. He was so patient, listening to me tell him all about how good I had been. Those were the happiest times of my life. I never wanted it to end, so when I left home to venture out on my own, I had no idea how vulnerable I was.”

She reached up to push a wisp of hair out of her face. “You might guess what happened. Each guy I moved in with turned out to be worse than the one before. In one respect I was successful, learning all about the ins and outs of running the restaurant where I worked. I went from afternoon cashier to general manager in three years.

“The better conditions improved at work, the worse it got at home. I was an emotional wreck when a girlfriend told me about Isla Del Sur. I didn’t believe her at first. In the meantime, I hit an all-time low. Unless I wanted to become another police statistic, I had to do something.”

It all made sense now, using “sir”, asking for permission, it wasn’t deliberate. In Erin’s world that was normal. If anyone belonged on the Island it had to be her.

“That’s what brought me to this park bench, sir. By the way, you were the first to pass my little compatibility test.”

A test? Ralph had no idea what she meant, and said as much.

“I doubt you noticed, sir. As soon as I asked if it was you, what happened? You took over, though in a very low-key way. You showed me where to sit, you set the agenda, and you immediately recognized how nervous and unsure I was by shifting the conversation to yourself. Very skillfully done, sir; I found myself responding without even thinking about it. I don’t believe you realize how persuasive you can be, at least for someone like me. Unless that’s what lawyers are supposed to do?”

Ralph was feeling more optimistic about this meeting by the minute. That’s when it stuck him that, in her own unique manner, Erin was doing exactly the same thing. She was building up his confidence, putting him at ease, using her innate talents in reading people. He couldn’t call it manipulation since it was more akin to drawing out his best qualities.

This was a first for Ralph. What he initially mistook for weakness was anything but. If he wasn’t careful, she could put thoughts in his head and convince him it was all his own idea. The irony was, though he could see it happening, he wanted more. Was she seducing him with a power against which he had no defense?

“Your caveman, sir, doesn’t scare me. On the contrary, long as you don’t drag me around by the hair, I’d be right at home in your cave. You gather those resources, sir, and I’ll do my best in making use of them to create a warm, cozy home. You are the provider, so of course you are in charge. Possessive, controlling? I certainly hope so. The lack of those qualities is a definite deal breaker.”

This is too good to be true. “Maybe I should be asking what we don’t agree on.” Ralph watched her, trying to gauge how she would answer.

“Since you ask, sir, I have a fear of being punished in certain ways. Specifically, being beaten, either by hand or with a whip. I have this image in my head from those American Civil War movies, the exaggerated brutality of the callous Southern plantation overseer. Don’t get the wrong impression, if I fail to carry out reasonable assignments, or I willfully disobey orders, disregard unambiguous rules, there must be consequences to discourage bad behavior.”

“There are provisions in an Island Agreement where objectionable issues can be listed and legally excluded. You can…”

“No!” Her sudden and emphatic reaction caught Ralph by surprise. “Sir, I apologize again for interrupting. This is a subject where we disagree. I would never sign an ownership agreement that placed restrictions on my owner. To me that represents an admission of failure from the start. As an attorney I understand you view that it’s a reasonable approach in a contract. It isn’t to my taste. If I cannot trust the man whose name is on that Agreement then I shouldn’t have signed it.”

Ralph had to concede she had a point. “You may be right. When drawing up business contracts there are certain principles that have to be followed for it to stand up in court. Contract Law 101: both parties must come to a meeting of the minds; the terms must not discriminate against one party; and something of value must be exchanged. You reminded me that for a relationship Agreement the part about not discriminating can be complicated. I’m still learning about the intricacies of the laws governing us here on the Island.”

Ralph pointed over his shoulder to a coffee shop across the street from the park. “Would you like a cup of coffee? Let’s go over there and continue our discussion about agreements.”

“I’d love to, Sir. Full disclosure, you should know I am very, umm,” she paused, “selfish about how I sign away my freedom. I’ve gone through the classes, I know about the three levels, starting with one year. What I’m looking for is a rapid progression toward the end goal of a permanent arrangement. I don’t want half way measures, sir. Either the commitment is for a lifetime or not at all. If that’s a dealbreaker for you, please tell me now.”

Forward Or Out

Ralph took a sip from his coffee cup while listening to Erin. “You can understand, sir, I might come across as a little on the self-centered side. I’m being honest in what I’m looking for if I become a man’s property. I’m not what you would call a strong-willed woman. I don’t handle stress or conflict very well. I don’t think of myself as the ‘high maintenance’ type either, though I readily admit I need to depend on my man to take care of me.

“Not many men can handle the dependency issue. That’s why I’m naturally cautious. The first month or two isn’t bad, but how many will still be there for me a year, or ten, down the line? I’m sure that’s why all my prior relationships have failed so badly. Maybe it isn’t fair, or reasonable to demand so much but that’s who I am, and I don’t apologize for it.”

Ralph marveled at the woman sitting across from him. He felt embarrassed at his preconceptions before meeting her. Subconsciously he’d always associated submissive with being shy, passive rather than assertive, unwilling or unable to speak in a blunt, forthright manner. Erin turned out to be none of the above, yet in ways that did not challenge him.

He set down his cup, leaned forward and placed his hands on the table. “You touched on a subject near and dear to me. That possessive streak? One of the ways it shows up is building a sense of dependency on me that is so overpowering my grip is unbreakable. Normally that’s about as bad as it gets in a relationship. I’m sure that’s why I also had no success with women back in Wyoming. Here on the Island, different standards apply. What would ordinarily be a disgusting, repulsive personality trait suddenly turns into a positive.”

Erin wrapped her hands around her cup but didn’t take a drink. Without thinking Ralph put a stop to it. “Unless you plan on actually drinking that coffee you will keep your hands on the table.” It was way out of line; she didn’t belong to him. He regretted the impulse immediately but it was too late to retract.

Instead of becoming angry her hands went down flat on the tabletop. “I’m sorry, sir. Now that I know, it won’t happen again.”

This isn’t right, I’m moving way too fast, and she isn’t trying to slow me down. Ralph had to do something before he went too far.

“Erin, look at me.” Her wide-eyed expression only confirmed his apprehensions. “This is how we will proceed.” He reached for his wallet and took out a business card. On the back he wrote down his personal phone number and email address. “This is my direct contact information. I want you to go straight home and think about our meeting today. Look at it objectively, consider what I’ve said. Tomorrow, if you sincerely believe we should keep talking, at exactly one o’clock you will call me. If you don’t call, I will assume there is to be no further contact between us. We’ll part on amicable terms and go our separate ways.”

“And if I do call, sir?”

Ralph leaned back in his chair. “This is what will happen. I will pick you up at six tomorrow evening. We will go out for dinner. It will be upscale, jacket and tie, etc. Afterwards, we indulge in the ancient art of dancing. I must warn you my terpsichorean skills are a world away from what you might call ‘tripping the light fantastic’ but I’ll make an effort not to step on your feet.”

She didn’t reply. Instead, she sat in her chair, staring at him across the table, a thoughtful gaze showing in her expression. Finally, she came to a decision. “It’s a deal, sir.”

Cards On The Table

His phone did ring, and precisely at one pm. Ralph hit the answer button immediately.

“Hello, sir. I did as you asked, thought over what we discussed. What should we do next?”

He was so relieved she had called that he was at a momentary loss as to how to answer her question. If this keeps on, I have to get used to questions like this. “The phone isn’t the place to continue our conversation.” Be confident, take control, Ralph thought. She’s looking for self-assurance, not consensus.

“I’ll pick you up. Give me your address and I’ll be there at six. The original plan holds, dinner and dancing.”

She didn’t hesitate in revealing her address. Erin only had one question. “Sir? If we’re going somewhere, may I ask what dress code to expect? A cocktail dress, and for dancing, low heels would be acceptable? I can be ready by the time you get here.”

Did he risk it all? A good lawyer never asks a question unless he already knows the answer. “I’m sure that will be appropriate.” He didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t ask for more details.

Exactly at six o’clock he was at her apartment door, pressing the doorbell. Within seconds she opened the door and stood to one side. “Hello, sir. Please come in.”

She wore the basic black cocktail dress, with a taper from the hips down to the knees. Very tasteful, he liked that. Most striking of all, she’d done her hair piled up on her head.  I know I’ve seen that look before, but where? Ralph struggled to remember, and then it came to him.  Of course, Audrey Hepburn!

She noticed his stare but said nothing. “I’m not going to apologize for looking,” he said. “You look…stunning, that’s the word.” She must have spent all afternoon getting ready to go out.

“Thank you, sir. On rare occasions we have formal, private dinners at the restaurant. Everyone has to look their best. I make more in tips on one of those nights than in a month of regular diners.”

The apartment was small but neat and clean. Ralph pointed to the tiny dining table situated between the kitchen and living room. “We have a few minutes. Let’s sit down over there.”

He pulled out a chair and turned it sideways. “You sit here,” he told Erin. After she was seated, he took another chair and placed it in front of her, so they were face to face.

She had a puzzled look, understandable since this interlude wasn’t expected. “Your phone call made my day, Erin. Ever since our meeting yesterday you’ve been on my mind. Being a lawyer my job is to present my client’s case in the best possible light. Right now, my client is me, so here goes.”

She didn’t say a word, pro or con. Ralph found it difficult to gauge her reaction based solely on the way she sat facing him, hands carefully folded in her lap. What have I got to lose? Ralph thought. Only the woman of my dreams, that’s all.

“This may be premature, but I’m going to say it anyway. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I feel there’s a certain chemistry between us. Two halves of a whole; we fit well together. I want to spend more time with you. By more I mean years, not a few more dates. Now we’ve known each other for one whole day, so maybe I’m rushing things.”

At that she smiled. Yeah, that’s an understatement. At least she took it the right way. Ralph gathered his remaining confidence and kept going.

“If we continue to see each other, there will be a point where I ask you to join with me in a one-year Agreement. If you don’t see that as a possibility then please, let me know where I stand. If it’s not out of the question, then we definitely need to get to know each other better.”

He could tell she was thinking over his little speech. Finally, her answer came. “I agree we need to make sure we’re compatible, sir. Regarding dinner tonight, I like most any kind of food except Italian. Thirty different ways to mix tomato sauce and pasta never appealed to me.”

She didn’t say no! “I hope that doesn’t include steakhouse breadsticks?”

“Oh no, sir. So you know, I’m not one of those vegan types. I was raised on hamburgers and tacos.”

Ralph burst out laughing. “Duly noted. I made reservations at a Surf’n’Turf style supper club. Shall we go?” He rose and offered his arm. She neatly slipped her own arm into his as he led her out the door.

The restaurant was inside one of the best hotels on South Island. It offered African style cuisine, based on beef or seafood. The moment they entered the host came up to greet Erin by name. He led them over to one of the better tables.

“It’s the restaurant business, sir, we all know each other. Jarrod, that’s the host, probably figures I’m here to check out the competition. He’ll ‘just happen’ to drop by Fu’s in a few weeks to return the favor and see what we stole from him. Cutthroat competition, but in a friendly way.”

Ralph picked up the menu and began reading. “Okay, you’re the food expert. I’d like a steak, but you’ll have to help me out on what to order.”

Erin perked up. “No problem, sir. Part of my job is keeping track of foodies and their trends. Do you like a T-bone?” She pointed to an item on the menu. “Braai-style steak, think of it as South African barbeque. It’s best served with potato wedges cooked in butter. Lots of exotic flavors, but not a hot, spicy type dish. Umm, do you usually have a beer with your steak?” Ralph almost laughed; she’s slipping into hostess mode.

“Naturally. Only tourists drink wine with steak in Wyoming. I usually have Negra Modelo, the dark Mexican beer, if I’m at a gourmet place.”

She giggled. “I can imagine, sir. If you like dark beer, then you might try Laurentina Preta, a dark lager from Mozambique. A lot of traditional African beers use sorghum malt, not always the best choice for Westerners.”

“How about you? What would you like?” There was a reason he had to know in advance.

“Durban-style curried prawns, sir.” Erin pointed it out on the menu. “And Chibuku to drink.”

He felt lost now. “What is that? It sounds like a tongue-twister.”

“Traditional African beer, sir, one of those made from sorghum instead of barley. The recipe goes back thousands of years. It’s marketed to the, umm, less affluent clientele. You can even find it in paper cartons. The texture is hard to take if you aren’t used to it. It sounds awful but I’ve developed a taste for it.”

Ralph was starting to feel like the country hick having dinner with a very cosmopolitan lady. He was quickly learning to appreciate she was just as much an expert in her field as he was in gas and oil contracts.

When the waiter came to take their order, Ralph spoke up first. “She’ll have the Durban prawn curry, and Chibuku to drink. I’ll have the Braii T-bone with potato edges, and…what was the name of that beer?”

“Laurentina Preta, sir.”

Was it presumptuous for him to order for her? Sure, but this was a special case. It was significant that she didn’t interrupt him or speak up on her own. Even though it had only been a day there was shift in the dynamic between them. He felt it; she must be affected by it too.

“I had a good day, sir.” She didn’t continue. She’s looking for my okay to continue, but doesn’t want to appear as if she’s turning the conversation to be all about her.”

“Tell me all about it.”

“After I woke up I started the laundry before I made breakfast. While sitting at the table, sipping on my coffee and eating a muffin, I did as you asked, going over our meeting yesterday. After I finished I put the laundry in the dryer, the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher, and then back to the table to think some more. I like a well-ordered world, sir, one that includes keeping the home neat and tidy. I suppose I get that from my father.”

Her father? Of course! Erin had mentioned how she loved the times she’d tell her father how she’d been a “good girl”. Now Ralph had become the authority figure, though he was in no way a substitute for her father. A daughter out with her family didn’t dress like the woman across the table from him.

End Game

Two months had gone by for Ralph and Erin. During that time, she had moved in with him on an interim basis. It was going so well between them Ralph had decided to advance to the next step. It started on a Monday morning, her day off, before they left to have lunch at a new sushi place in the mall food court.

Before they left, sitting at the kitchen table he pulled out a chair and turned it sideways. “You sit here,” he motioned to Erin as she walked by. From their time together, he’d learned a firm, insistent tone had an instant effect on her. She immediately sat down, looking up at him with a puzzled expression. Ralph took another chair and placed it in front of her, so they were face to face. He carefully placed his leather portfolio on the table between them. She looked at it with some curiosity but said nothing.

“I prefer to be direct, so here goes.” He took a sheet of paper out of the portfolio and slid it over to Erin. At his nod she picked it up and began reading. It wasn’t long, yet she read it over and over again.

He set down a pen on the table. “Fill out your section, but don’t sign it. We have enough time to file it at the Registration office before lunch.”

She looked up at Ralph. “Sir…I have to ask. Do you feel pressured to do this?” She held up the sheet of paper.

Ralph smiled. “I should be asking you that question. No, no pressure. Impatient, that’s a different question.”

Erin picked up the pen and began filling in the form. She suddenly stopped to look over at Ralph, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Sir? Will you be good to me, take care of me?”

“Yes, I will. I won’t make promises I can’t fill. Judge me by what I deliver, not empty words.”

The short reply seemed to satisfy Erin. She finished the form and pushed it back across the table toward Ralph. He read it, nodded and slipped it into his portfolio. “You’ll need your passport for an ID. Bring me your purse too. Do you happen to have one of those kitchen plastic storage bags, the kind that seal at the top? I’ll need one.”

Erin made a quick trip to the bedroom and returned with the passport and her purse, which she placed on the table. Then she went to a kitchen cupboard and came back with a plastic Ziploc bag.

When she sat down again, he pushed the passport to one side before he opened the bag. “Remember the Island regulations? We need to check your purse. Put your phone, wallet, keys and any loose change in the bag.”

It only took Erin a few seconds to figure out what he was doing. “Of course, sir. I was distracted and forgot about the requirements. No loose change, I hate being disorganized. All the coins are in a coin purse.” She began transferring everything that would be prohibited or controlled by Ralph into the plastic bag.

“That’s all, sir.” She pushed the open purse toward Ralph. “Do you want to check?”

He picked up her passport and stuffed it in his jacket. The sealed plastic bag he dropped in her purse and closed it. “No, I’m sure you were thorough. Hold onto your purse until we get to the Registration office. After all, it isn’t official yet. You will hand me the plastic bag before we go in.”

One and No Way Done

While waiting for their names to be called Ralph handed Erin her passport. “You’ll need this, since the signatures have to be notarized. Think of it, this will be the last time you can sign anything for the next year.”

“Not just the next year, sir. It will not be one and done. That is our understanding, isn’t it?”

Ralph nodded. “You’re right. It’s an odd feeling, knowing from today on we’re inseparable, forever and a day.”

When their names were called, they both made their way to the counter. Ralph took the one-year Agreement from the portfolio and presented it to the clerk. He placed his passport on the counter, followed by Erin. “Good, it isn’t signed. You have no idea how many times a day someone doesn’t read the instructions. Sir, if you will sign here,” she watched while Ralph scrawled his signature. “And Erin, you sign here,” she pointed to a blank line at the bottom.

The clerk examined the document one last time before affixing the notary seal. “Erin, you are enjoined to obey your master and obey all Island laws and regulations. Mr. Welk, Erin is now your property for the specified period, ending at noon on this date, one year from now. Per the terms of your Agreement, there are no restrictions on how you choose to oversee her.”

Ralph drew out the metal collar from his portfolio. “Pull your hair back,” he ordered. Erin’s eyes went wide when the band went around her neck and she heard the click of the lock; well aware she might never hear it open again.

“I suppose I should point out that was the point of no return. For better or worse, we’re committed now.” Ralph dropped her passport into the portfolio. “You won’t be needing this any longer.”

Erin said nothing. What is she waiting for? It took a moment for the obvious to occur to him. Me, she’s waiting for me. “We’re done here, let’s go.” He took hold of her arm and steered her toward the exit.

When they reached the car Erin stood by the passenger door but made no effort to open it. This is new, Ralph thought. It seems she has decided she can’t open the car door without my permission. He had a premonition this was not going to be the end of the changes she envisioned for this new phase. And what’s so bad about that? She had an image in her mind of how this new relationship should work. As long as it didn’t conflict with his own plans he saw no reason to call a halt.

The Same But Completely Different

In the car, heading back home, Erin was unusually quiet. “I hope you’re not having second thoughts?” Ralph asked. “If so, your timing could not be worse.”

“Oh no, sir, nothing like that. I’ve always known this moment would come. Now it’s here, I suppose I feel a bit overwhelmed.” She hesitated a few seconds before asking, “Sir, may I touch the collar?”

Ralph had no problem agreeing to her request. “Go ahead. From now on you don’t need to ask permission. Think of it as a permanent part of you.”

Suddenly she reached up, curled her fingers around the left and right side of the metallic oval, and began pulling with all her strength. Nothing happened; the locking mechanism was sturdy and not so easily defeated. “I can’t take it off, sir.”

Ralph glanced over at her. “Good, that’s the general idea.” They both started laughing. “Enough of that,” he told her. “Place your hands in your lap, left crossed over right. From now on that will be required when you are in the car.”

“Is that an order, sir?”

“Not exactly,” he answered. “It’s a rule governing your behavior. It is necessary that you sit a certain way in the car. I will not explain why.” So, I’m revealed as a heartless dictator. There’s not much she can do about it.

He wasn’t particularly concerned about the proper way to sit in a car seat. The details were completely random, based on nothing more than the first thing that popped into his head. The what was immaterial; it was the why that was important. Ralph had picked up on Erin’s need for organization, clarity, a set of rules she could focus on. Left hand carefully crossed over right went from idle gesture to driven compulsion, an obsession for perfection in what would otherwise be trivial.

Erin did not appear to be unduly concerned about his entirely arbitrary modification to how she should conduct herself. “I understand, sir. Please, be sure to correct me if I forget.”

Is oppression supposed to be this easy? Ralph wondered if he should temper his sudden drive to test how far he could go in manipulating his new prized possession. No, he caught himself, don’t let self-doubt creep in. It’s certain to disappoint her, and the first day is no place to set a precedent like that.

“Sit up straight, face forward, do not look around. You will not speak unless I ask you a question.” Ralph was impressed with how quick she was to comply. “That is an order. The difference? It only applies this one time.”

They drove on in silence, both lost in thought. Ralph was adjusting to the realities of virtually unlimited power over Erin. In fact, the last few months she had been his property in all but the legal sense. Nothing had changed, yet it was completely different once the collar was around her neck.

At the next red light, Ralph turned to Erin. She hadn’t moved, frozen in place by nothing more than a few words from him. “I’m cancelling the sushi place for lunch. We have much to discuss, and the car, in traffic, is no place to start.”

She showed no reaction at all. Amazing, how does she manage to imitate a statue? What is going on inside her head? Ralph had no clue, but he had every intention of doing whatever he could to get some idea of how her brain worked.

At home the changes began immediately. He held open the front door for her, as usual. What wasn’t usual was the way she stopped and waited for him just inside the entrance. Normally she’d head to the bedroom to change, or to the living room to sit down and rest. Instead, Erin stood to one side, back to the wall, watching him.

“Something wrong?” Ralph asked.

“No, sir,” she answered. “I need to know the proper procedure when we come home. You wanted to talk? Should I go to the living room?”

She made the transition a lot faster than Ralph. “Leave your purse in the closet. Go to the bedroom and change into a skirt and blouse. From now on, I’m going to ban dresses in the house, during the day. One other thing, when it’s just the two of us, no shoes in the house either. When you finish join me in the living room.”

“One question sir, by ‘day’ do you mean up to curfew? Am I allowed to change after that?”

Details, I have to remember the details. “Yes, daytime starts and ends at curfew times. If we leave the house, day or night, you may ask to change if you think it appropriate. If we stay at home, no guests, then the no dress rule still applies.”

She started to say something, thought better of it and instead headed down the hallway with a simple “yes, sir” in acknowledgement. Why the odd stipulation on her appearance? For Ralph the explanation was easy; because that’s what he wanted. He had made up the requirement on the spot, without thinking it over. If indulging himself with senseless rules was going to be a problem, better he found out right away.

It didn’t take long before Erin reappeared, this time in a tapered, dark blue skirt and peach-colored, long sleeve blouse. The combination appealed to him, and he let her know he approved. Her mood brightened with his words of praise. Use it sparingly, he thought. She’ll know if my approval isn’t deserved.

He patted the place next to him on the couch. “Sit down. I’ll start while you listen. When I’m done it’ll be your turn.” Always take the lead, Ralph reminded himself. Once I set the direction, she’ll be more comfortable with sharing her side. The formula had worked up to now. Ralph saw no reason to change.

“To start, I’ll remind you that what was optional before is mandatory now. You’re familiar with Island regulations. They aren’t theoretical any longer. I’m sure I don’t have to warn you about the consequences if you violate the law, especially in public. Or private; I will insist you adhere to all the Island requirements even if it’s just the two of us. I appreciate habits can be difficult to change. Even so, I will not be lenient or understanding about the basics regarding your new legal status. Do we need to discuss this any further?”

Ralph could tell this was old news to Erin. “No, sir. I’ve had considerable practice these last two months. I rely on you to keep me on the straight and narrow.”

Based on that last comment, he suddenly realized Erin was one who was neither lenient nor understanding. He had certain standards to meet too, at least in her eyes if not in the legal sense. Any mistake on her part, no matter how small, anything that didn’t fit her ideal of a “good girl”, meant that if he didn’t catch it and act forcefully, with immediate effect, then the real failure was on him. Her reminder left no doubt in Ralph’s mind that when it came to keeping on the straight and narrow path, for both of them, the responsibility was his burden to bear.

“Next, there is the sexual element of our relationship. No doubt you will be astonished to learn I have certain…preferences… which I can now insist on. One you already found out: skirt and blouse in the house, and a dress if we go out. Those are your only choices, by the way. I’m very old-fashioned; nothing pleases my eye more than a woman who proudly displays a bit of leg to one and all. I trust this won’t interfere with your job?”

With head slightly tilted to one side, Erin stared at Ralph. “Now that I know what’s expected, sir, I will make every effort to select my wardrobe to meet your wishes. Every woman who ever lived knows instinctively how men respond to our appearance. No, sir, there won’t be any work issues. Your other preferences?”

Ralph paused, debating if he should reveal his greatest weakness. Such knowledge in her hands would be a powerful weapon if she used it against him.  And if I start thinking in terms of hostility, we’re already doomed to fail. “Erin, I’m going to trust you with a secret. Superman has his kryptonite; I have my need for dependency. We’ve talked about this, but there’s more to it. I know I’m not making sense, so I’ll try to explain.

“Being your owner, your master, you have to count on me for all the basics in daily life: food, shelter, stability, you get what I mean. What I long for, always dreamed of, is much, much more. My preference, though it’s more a deep-seated drive, is to shape your life, your way of thinking, into such an extreme level of reliance on me that you could not make through one day without my being there to provide for you. What I’m after is for your mind to see the world, everything in it, in terms of my approval, my help, for me to fulfill your every want and need. I’ll be that voice of your conscience, reminding you about what’s allowed, what’s forbidden, and especially when you need to ask permission first. To be blunt, I want you to be addicted to me.

“It is also my greatest weakness. Give me what I so fervently covet, and you will find you have gained an immense power of persuasion over me. I realize that breaks a promise to you.”

Ralph waited for her disappointment to burst out in accusations he couldn’t deny. “Sir,” she finally broke her silence, “I’ve spent considerable time in contemplation about a moment like this. What you describe, it’s not out of the question. I never mentioned it because I was afraid you might think of me as insecure, constantly seeking your attention. I’ve read about ‘clingy relationships’ that lead to exhaustion by constant intruding into your own private space. Am I wrong to be holding back, sir?”

Ralph felt like the kid who had just finished picking out all the candy he wanted from the store, and then being told to go back for more. “Under normal circumstances, if I encouraged your “clingy’ behavior I’d be considered a first-class jerk for enabling you. Here on the Island, it’s a different matter. You will not hold back any longer.” He took Erin’s hand in his. “If you ever have any doubts, remember I want this as much, maybe more than you. Besides, if it doesn’t work out the worst case is we have to make do for a year.”

Erin suddenly jerked her hand away. “Please, sir, don’t say that. I can be all you wish, if you give me some time to grow into it. But what I cannot stand is a reminder all we work toward might stop in a year’s time. There is no end, sir, so don’t act like one exists.”

She shook her head. “Persuade you? Why would I ever do such a thing? I must, must believe in your infallibility about choosing what’s best for me. I’d be working against my own interests if I tried to change your mind. I accept you’ll make mistakes. I’m also convinced you’ll fix those mistakes. I hope you’ll ask my opinion, though only to see things from my perspective, not open the door to some mystical power of influence.”

Ralph had to be figuratively hit over the head with a club in order to recognize a major mistake on his part. “You’re right, Erin. I did it again. No more talk of time limits. If I slip, you have my permission to whack me upside the head for acting like an idiot. Not too hard though. You know how fragile the male ego can be.”

She started laughing. “Sorry, sir. It’s just the image, me threatening you with a frying pan. I’m afraid that’s one of those cases where you will have to punish me for gross disobedience.”

Other Side Of Preferences

“If I may, sir, I also have some of those preferences. Do I have permission to tell you about them?”

Ralph didn’t answer her immediately. I’m in unknown territory here, he warned himself. Denying her would only kick the can down the road. Sooner or later he had to hear her side. I want inside her head. Careful what you ask for, you might get it. “Yes, go ahead, I want to know all about you.”

“Two points, sir. The first one is no great secret.” She stared at him intently. “I’m not easily broken. At least not when you make demands of me. Never hold back out of concern over what I might think, that’s what I ask. With all due respect, your orders, your rules, frankly they are quite tame, sir. What I’m trying to say is that I’m up for more, umm, challenging demands.”

“The second point, sir, that’s a bit embarrassing. I’ve never admitted to it before now. I’m sure it comes from sexual fantasies, so you can understand it’s difficult for me to talk about it. No secrets from you, sir, which means I shouldn’t hold back.”

Hold back what? Ralph had an uneasy feeling his life was about to become more complicated that he anticipated.

Erin took a deep breath. “So here it is, sir. There is this thing, I don’t know what to call it, inside my head. I’ll just come out and say. I want you to tie me up, sir, in ways that leave me helpless. Not with rope, I really don’t like that. It leaves marks and cuts off circulation. Leather, or best of all solid, heavy, metal chains. Inescapable, with no hope I might ever free myself. In a word, bondage.”

Ralph couldn’t help but stare at Erin, mouth agape at what she had revealed about herself. I did not see this coming. Sure, after curfew he’d followed requirements about restraining her while out in public, but he’d never given it much thought.

Once Erin started all her reserve seemed to vanish. “Those times, after curfew, when you used the handcuffs behind my back? Sir, I wanted to beg you to push me up against the wall and take me; demanding, overpowering, brutal and rough, with no regard to my feelings. I know there’s a word for that, a certain kind of fantasy for women. Don’t ask me to explain; I can’t.”

How was it he hadn’t picked up on that? She hid it well. “You were right to bring this to me, Erin.” He reached out and stroked her cheek. “Set your mind at ease, I’m not shocked. I do need some time to think it over. So you know, I am inclined to meet your preferences. How, I have yet to determine, but you’ll be the first to find out how we’ll fulfill your preferences as well as mine.”

Ground Rules

“So, this is where you work? Fu’s Manchu Fine Dining, I’m told it’s a landmark for restaurants in the downtown area.” Following Erin’s directions, he drove around to the employee parking in the rear.

“Yes, sir. I’ve been here for the last year and a half. I started as a waitress and worked up to shift manager. I love the job. I’ve learned all about the business end, and I get to meet so many interesting people, for all of about thirty seconds.” Left unsaid was a plea to allow her to keep her position, though he could hear it in her voice.

Ralph had marked down this visit as one of their first stops. She had told him more about the job the night before. The enthusiasm that came out when she described some of the humorous incidents left no doubt this was a significant part of her life. Which meant, as her new owner, it was his duty to determine if remaining at the place was in her best interest.

When they entered through the back door all the employees stopped and stared, not at Ralph so much as the collar on Erin’s neck. She led him to the manager’s office and knocked on the door.

When they entered Erin looked up at Ralph first. “Sir? May I…?”

With a nod from her master, giving her permission to make the introductions, she began. “Mr. Fu, may I present my owner, Mr. Ralph Welk. Sir? This is Mr. Fu De Huai, sole proprietor of Fu’s Manchu Restaurant.”

“Why so formal, Erin…” Fu caught himself in mid-sentence. “My apologies, Mr. Welk. Up to now we’ve been on a first name basis.” The two men shook hands. “Based on Erin’s new jewelry I would guess you and I have much to discuss. Might I suggest Erin wait in the kitchen? I’m sure her friends would like to speak to her.”

“Erin? Wait for me outside. Don’t leave the kitchen area. You may talk to your co-workers.”

She hesitated, as if she was about to say something, thought better of it and headed out the door. Ralph watched her go, astonished at how easily he could handle her. It was clear to him she wanted to stay, but he wasn’t about to set that kind of precedent. Whether or not she kept her job was solely his decision to make. She didn’t need to know the details.

“Amazing, if you don’t mind my opinion,” Fu said. “Your Erin can be quite, err, stubborn at times. This is a remarkable change. And please, call me Dennis. Like many expatriate Chinese I adopted an anglicized name for business and social purposes.”

“Dennis it is, if you call me Ralph.” He sat down in a chair facing the desk, at Fu’s invitation.

“If I may begin?” Fu asked. “I have a good idea as to the purpose of your visit. Erin is an extremely valuable asset to our business. Whatever I can do to persuade you to let her remain, please, tell me.”

“From what she tells me Erin loves working here. I don’t want to be the cause of her losing it, but there are issues we need to clear up. There are some questions. Can she continue now that she can’t handle money, will her new status change how she interacts with customers, and then there’s the problem of coming home after curfew? You must have encountered this before; how did you handle it?”

“Her role is more the hostess and managerial roles these days. Erin rarely waits on tables or acts as cashier. For those occasions the bus boy can handle the check. Many restaurants have a similar policy. I can arrange for someone else to tally up the shift receipts and make out the bank deposit. Now, she will be exposed to the daily accounting, both receipts and food orders. She has a good eye for it, especially if there’s an unexpected drop off in customers. South Island regulations are ambiguous on bookkeeping. She would be limited to examining the figures, not actually posting to the ledger. If that’s acceptable I can have someone else count the till, fill out the deposits and sign the purchase orders. She would not be subject to questioning by an auditor.”

“I’ll have to read the statutes first. From what I know the law does allow for employment in clerical positions. Accounting should fall within the same scope, as long as any form of access to funds transfer isn’t involved, and no signatures are required. I can work with it.”

Fu smiled. “Halfway there! Transportation, yes that is rather more complicated. At the moment she works days, lunch times to early supper, and Sunday Brunch. She’s off Monday and Tuesday, our slowest days. Normally she leaves an hour before curfew; that won’t change. If she is allowed to continue using her car that should be plenty of time to go home.

“The problem comes in when we are unusually busy, or if someone doesn’t show up for work. Up to now she’s always offered to stay on through the busiest part of the suppertime crowd if we are shorthanded. It’s not a big problem, but this is the restaurant business. People come and go without notice.

“I’ll see to it you are notified if she has to work late. I know she has her own car, but she won’t be able to use it after curfew. If you pick her up in the evening, then I can have the deliveryman stop by your place to bring her in before lunch begins. I’ve used this arrangement before. I can vouch for my driver, who’s also my nephew.”

Ralph nodded. “That can work. What about customers? Naturally she will be deferential to men, that’s not optional. Are there occasions where you have to deal with overly aggressive, or drunk patrons?”

Fu sighed. “Sadly, it does happen, though not often. We are in an upscale neighborhood where those types of incidents are rare. I keep two guys on the payroll as helpers in the kitchen. They aren’t all that skilled at cooking, but can handle themselves if we need bouncers. It is well known that mistreating a waitress at Fu’s often results in a terrible accident when the offender is abruptly escorted out the back door. It seems our alley is strewn with safety hazards.”

“Back in Wyoming we have a similar policy. Okay, she can stay.” Ralph took out his business card. “You can contact me regarding information to update your payroll. Erin is no longer allowed access to her employment records or salary arrangements.”

Fu De Huai stood up and extended his hand. “I will see to it personally. Then it’s a deal. By the way, you should know that in all my years running restaurants I’ve never come across someone who has a better intuitive sense of what it takes to keep the doors open. If Erin ever went out on her own, she would be a fierce competitor.”

Overtime

Ralph followed Erin into their apartment after holding open the door for her. Fu’s restaurant had been unusually busy at dinnertime, requiring her to put in several hours of overtime. Unfortunately, that meant she missed the cutoff for the evening curfew and was unable to drive home. Ralph had come to the rescue.

“I apologize for this, sir, but you know how it is. The restaurant business can be unpredictable. We had two large parties come in late, and the scheduled night manager called in sick. It was nonstop chaos.” Erin stood at her designated spot in the entrance hallway, facing the wall. Her hands were cuffed behind her back, and leg chains on her ankles restricted her to a slow walk. Curfew regulations were every bit as inflexible as her restraints.

Ralph closed the front door. First things first, he thought, while carefully inspecting her position. This wasn’t the first time she’d been stranded at work, though he didn’t mind. The restaurant business was her passion; he’d never deprive her of such a key part of her life.

Besides, he liked the view from where he stood. Casual conversation was allowed, but he insisted on a rigid procedure when they arrived home during her curfew. Admit it, he told himself, this is just an excuse to give in to your own guilty pleasure, seeing her bound, helpless, subject to my restrictions, and obediently following my entirely arbitrary orders.

“You must be tired after a long day. I’ll warm up our dinner while you soak in the tub.” The restaurant chef had made up some dishes for them.

“Yes, sir. Oh, the curry? Warm it on the stove, low heat, not the microwave. Chef’s version has a very delicate taste.”

The bath might be heaven, but she wasn’t going anywhere until he released her. Erin knew the routine. She wouldn’t budge until he gave the word. And there was the small matter of the chains. Ralph sometimes questioned the necessity but the law was clear and enforced. After curfew she had to be “closely supervised”, the exact wording of the law, which was defined as in full restraints, essentially the same as U.S. jail transport procedures, and escorted by a man at all times. He might have ignored it, if possible, but Erin would be the first to remind him of his duty as her owner. And there was the small matter of how much she wanted to be exactly where she now was, neatly trussed up in a manageable package.

It can’t be all that pleasant to be bound hand and foot, yet she never complained. He placed his hands on her bare shoulders. She didn’t flinch. In fact, he would have been shocked at any sign of an objection on her part. This was Erin’s version of being selfish, giving in to her guilty pleasures. She enjoyed the unyielding steel that forced her to obey him, the self-discipline required to hold still, and most of all meeting his accountability with her perfection.

Ralph slowly ran his hands down her arms, stopping when he reached the handcuffs. Taking the key out of his pocket, he unlocked her wrists. Free of the linked bracelets her hands went to her side, palms in, below her hips. Crouching down he removed the leg irons. The moment he stood up her feet were together, precisely lined up. Turning around he opened the hall closet and hung the cuffs on pegs.

“Okay, go soak. I’ll call you when supper is close to being ready.” Those were the magic words that freed her from the wall. Until he gave her permission she would stand there, facing the wall, all night if need be. He’d never understand just what it was that made this little homecoming ritual so important to her, but he’d learned early on if he ever attempted to skip it, or not give it his full attention, it left her upset, confused, and oddly, blaming herself for some imaginary failure.

She headed for the bedroom, stopping for a moment to look back and ask, “Sir, are you sure there’s nothing I can do for you first?”

Ralph shook his head. “No, now go. I do have some news but we’ll talk about it after we eat.”

The Excursion

On the couch Erin stretched out while Ralph massaged her sore feet. “Oh, sir, you have no idea how good that feels. I was on my feet all day, and in heels. Why, oh why did I ever think managing a restaurant was my calling?”

The sighs of contentment were all the reward Ralph needed. “Because you’re so good at it?”

“You’re aware, sir, now that I have this,” she touched her collar, “I can’t process the overnight receipts, or tally the afternoon shift anymore. Just because I can’t handle money doesn’t let me off the hook though. I have to stand in front of the desk and watch my assistant while he counts out each register. I don’t understand why; I’m not allowed to fill out the deposit slips, as you know. Mr. Fu, the owner? He tells me my presence is enough to keep the employees honest.”

That was a concern when she signed the one-year ownership Agreement. As it turned out, her other skills were so valuable all it took were a few adjustments to accommodate her prohibition on handling money.

Ralph shifted to rubbing her other foot. There was a slight rattle of the chain linking the cuffs around her ankles. It was her idea to make sure she could only manage a slow shuffling walk around the house. Privately he had some concerns about her obsession with being restrained so often, but for now he’d let her proceed.

He’d given in to handcuffs too, but not behind her back. And he’d insisted on getting a pair with an extra-long chain. It was his way of tempering her tendency to excess.

“I bet you’re curious about my news?”

“You know very well I am, sir. I also know you will tell me when you’re ready, so I’m not going to ask, even though the suspense is driving me crazy.” Limiting her access to information, whether it was blocking websites on her laptop, prohibiting certain TV shows, or like tonight making an announcement without providing details, often left him feeling vaguely guilty. It didn’t stop him though; she was aware of his never-ending thirst for her need to depend on him. He was certain it was one of the most irritating restrictions imposed on her by signing away her freedom, yet she never complained, or showed any sign that it bothered her.

“I’ve been asked to provide legal advice for a group of investors, concerning a financial venture. These investors are all located on North Island. The meeting will be over two days, Monday and Tuesday, so it’s an overnight trip. Since those are your days off, would you like to come along? Keep in mind it is North Island, so you’ll be subject to local laws once you step off the ferry.”

Erin’s reaction was totally unexpected. It started with silence, a glare underlined with a frown, followed by her sitting up and turning away from him.

“This isn’t right, sir. You promised me. You promised….” She trailed off. He could see tears on her cheeks.

Ralph felt like he missed the “Bridge Out” sign after he’d driven halfway across the collapsing structure. What had upset her? All she had to do was decline to go along. What was she talking about, a promise?

“Erin, look at me.” Although clearly angry she could not disobey him. Slowly she raised her head, wiped away the tears and turned to face him.

“Look, I missed something here. Tell me two things. What isn’t right, and what promise did I break? You don’t have to go to North Island if you don’t like the idea.”

“No sir, it isn’t about North Island. I don’t mind coming with you. What isn’t right is you asking instead of ordering me. Should I go to the kitchen for a frying pan, so I can bang it over your head? Why are you asking me? It’s your job to decide what’s best for me. I thought we agreed I didn’t have to be concerned about those kinds of decisions. You promised, sir, you promised!”

I’m an idiot. I forgot she doesn’t see the world even remotely like I do. No question he had made a serious mistake once he’d heard her out.

“Erin? I owe you an apology. You’re right, although it was unintentional I broke my promise.” He took her hands in his. “Let’s start over. The news is you are coming with me for a two-day trip to North Island. You can see for yourself if all those stories are true. While I’m busy on Monday you are going to a meet and greet type reception, courtesy of some of the local women who belong to the investors. Sunday night you will pack two overnight bags, one for each of us. Plan on eating at a nice place Monday night; we have an invitation. I’ll finish with the business on Tuesday morning. We’ll catch the afternoon ferry across the Channel.”

The change was like flipping a light switch. “Yes, sir. May I spend some time reading about North Island? I’ve never been there,” she brushed her fingers against her collar. “That is, I’ve never had the opportunity before now.”

“Sure, and if you encounter any blocked websites, let me know. Aren’t you concerned about what happens once you’re there? Your status changes to unrestricted, permanently owned as long as you’re on that side of the Channel.”

Erin shrugged. “That? No, sir. Other than a few technicalities, as far as I’m concerned, we’re already there. It’s kind of exciting, actually. Only two days, but you can do as you please, sir, and it’s legal. I know that’s important, you being a lawyer.”

It was moments like this when Ralph began to comprehend just how unfathomable her priorities were, compared to his own. What he would think of as trivial extended to earth shattering levels for her. And conversely, issues he saw as of critical importance she dismissed with a wave of the hand.

Across The Channel

Ralph and Erin sat on the ferry bench, watching the water churn in the wake of the boat. “How did it go with your exit interview?” he asked. South Island law required a private interview for all local women in an Agreement, where they were offered the chance to decline transport to North Island, along with cancelling their status as owned property.

“I wasn’t sure what to expect, sir. I knew I’d have to go through the motions. I must confess I might have been a bit on the disrespectful side in answering the official’s questions.” Ralph noticed she had a guilty look on her face.

“You’d better explain,” he demanded. If what she said was true it deserved a reprimand.

“When he asked me if I wanted to stay on South Island instead of crossing the Channel, well, the question bothered me. I told him only my owner could answer, and that I wasn’t permitted to make choices like that on my own. Then he demanded to know if I was being pressured to go to North Island, and if I really understood what it meant. That’s when I might have crossed the line, sir. I snapped back indignantly, saying I had always been obedient and it was an insult to imply I was being forced. I added insult to injury by ending with something like my master insists I should go, so it must be what’s best for me. At that point he told me the interview was over.”

Ralph swelled with pride, though he tried to hide it. His immediate problem was her belief she’d behaved badly. “Under other circumstances you’d be hearing a reprimand just now. However, you did answer the questions honestly, even if somewhat lacking in discretion. Next time, try to remember that guy is just doing his job, so don’t take it personally. The law says you have to be given the opportunity to refuse passage across the Channel.”

She looked relieved. “Yes, sir. I do understand it’s a formality; one you can’t ignore. Will there be a next time? Going to North Island?”

Ralph shrugged. “I’m sure there will be other meetings. This will be a good experience for you, sort of a glimpse into what the future holds for us.” He peered over the ferry railing. “We crossed the middle of the Channel. That means we’re in North Island jurisdiction now. Wave goodbye to the very last tiny bit of freedom you had. As of this moment your legal status is roughly equivalent to a kitchen appliance. My permanent property, to use as I see fit, and no recourse for you.”

Erin looked past Ralph, noticing for the first time the mid-Channel buoy marker bobbing back and forth in the wake of the ferry. “Sir?” she asked, the unease evident in her tone. “Will I be coming back with you?”

She watches too many of those movies about North Island. “Of course you will. Don’t worry, this isn’t some nefarious plan to sell you off at some sleazy brokerage. You’ll see for yourself. We’re not headed into some kind of nightmarish concentration camp. That does remind me…”

Ralphs reached into his jacket pocket and took out her travel permit. He slipped the cord over Erin’s head. “You’ll need this whenever we go out, even if I’m with you. Remember that kidnapping a while back, on North Island? There’s a new security regulation that went into effect a few months ago. Most all public places now have permit scanners at entrances and exits. There are also scanners at street corners You’ll see them; they’re clearly marked. Be sure you hold up your card as you go by.”

Erin held up her permit, studying it. “This keeps track of me?” she asked.

“That’s right. If you disappear, or reported missing, your last known location is where the search starts. It’s nearly always a false alarm, but there was a vote. The majority favored the expanded tracking system to be on the safe side.”

He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “It’s important to me I know where you are, as much as it’s possible. We’re not going to be separated while on our trip, but I like to plan for contingencies. Also, I’d like for you to get a feel of what life is actually like here, not the TV version.”

The ferry reached the North Island terminal dock and came to a stop. Ralph took out his phone to check his messages. “The rental car is ready and waiting at the baggage exit. We’ll check in at the hotel, rest for a little while, then head to the meeting.” He scrolled down a few more texts. “Dress code for the meeting and party is casual. Daytime rules, you will wear a skirt and blouse.”

Alex’s Story

At the Brokerage

The guard held her arm while Róisín sat down in the chair. In front of her was a table and one other chair, in an otherwise bare room. She was still in shock, waking up in her bed one morning, and then suddenly finding herself shipped off to a brokerage after lunch, without a word of explanation from her now former owner. A week later and the disbelief still lingered.

“Sit up straight,” the guard warned her. “You know the drill. You will remain seated, facing that chair.” He emphasized his instructions by pointing to the empty seat across the table. “Do not look around. There’s nothing to see anyway. Keep in mind you will be judged on your conduct. It is to your benefit to be on your best behavior. You’ve been sold once before. You should know the routine; act accordingly.”

That much is true, she thought. I always knew this might happen. Their relationship had not been going smoothly yet she had no real warning, no hint her former master would go so far as to get rid of her. What had she done that was so terrible he didn’t want her around?

It didn’t really matter. She was here at the brokerage; the deed was done. Sooner or later, she would be the property of a stranger, sold to a man she had never met. Róisín was sure she’d be sent to the auction block, a degrading proposition but the choice wasn’t hers to make.

The guard walked away. She heard the door shut behind him, leaving her alone. The chair, I have to stay focused on that chair. Her instructions had been clear. This might be a test, to see if I’m obedient. She was determined not to disappoint whoever was watching her.

Idly Róisín ran her fingers over the handcuffs fastened around her wrists. They weren’t necessary, though like much of her life the choice wasn’t up to her. Causing trouble would gain her nothing, and definitely cost her plenty. The cuffs were attached to a chain that ran around her waist, held on with a padlock at her side, out of reach. Maybe it’s only company policy, she told herself, not a sign I can’t be trusted.

Róisín heard the door behind her open and shut once more. There were footsteps; someone had entered and was standing behind her. Curiosity tried to tempt her into turning around to see who it was, though she knew better. This really was a test; one she dare not fail.

After a long moment a man appeared, walking around her. Rather than sitting down he halted between her and the table, leaning back on it, arms folded. “Well done. You’d be surprised at how many can’t resist looking back. You can relax; you’re not destined to turn into the proverbial pillar of salt.”

Róisín recognized the familiar story from the Bible, about Lot’s disobedient wife turning into a pillar of salt after looking back at the city of Sodom. She breathed a sigh of relief. I can’t afford to make any mistakes. My future is on the line.

“Wondering who I am?” he asked. “My name isn’t important. I own this place, which means for the time being you belong to me. Why are you sitting there? Let’s say I sometimes take a personal interest in those unfortunates who wind up on the block. Or maybe it’s not such a terrible fate? I have no idea why you were discarded. Sorry about being so blunt, but I think you are the type who prefers reality to empty promises.”

So, she was destined to be auctioned off after all. It wasn’t exactly good news, yet Róisín was relieved to finally have some idea of what awaited her. “I wasn’t told the reason why either, sir. It seems I’ll never know. Did I understand you correctly? If I may ask, am I headed to the auction block?”

He shrugged. “Yes, and there’s not much I can do about that. In general, I don’t approve of the way you were treated, but I have limited resources, so I can’t afford great moral crusades. What I can do, and this is why you are here, is inform you that I’ve been working with a customer for several weeks, helping him to find what he’s looking for. He will be attending your sale.

“Now, this last week you’ve been through several interviews. Those were recorded, and they are available to anyone attending the auction. I can tell you this particular individual was the only one who asked to see them. Interpret that as you like; I can’t comment on it. However, what I can do, purely to maximize my profit you understand, is to encourage you to be on your best behavior this evening. You are on tonight’s list to be sold.”

So that’s it, the moment has arrived. At least I won’t have to go to bed worrying if tomorrow will be my last day here. Róisín asked, “Sir? Is there anything specific I should keep in mind? I would be grateful for your help. It seems to me we both share a common goal, you to profit from my sale, and in my own way I might also benefit if there is some way I could influence a potential buyer you have singled out?"

The man across from her didn’t answer. For a long moment he stared at her, with no expression on his face to give her a hint as to what he was thinking. Did I go too far? Something told her to leave that question unasked. This was one of those times patience was of paramount importance.

“Before I answer, let me pose a personal question to you. Those handcuffs,” he pointed at her hands, “tell me how you feel about being forced to wear them. I can assure you there is a reason, though I’m not going to disclose what it is. I will add that if you truly want my help, then you should answer honestly, without being evasive or simply telling me what you think I want to hear.”

She held up her hands off her lap, as high as possible given the restraints. “This, sir? I tend not to give much thought about being bound. As you said, sir, you own me, for the moment. I would never expect you to justify these,” she tugged at the chains, “or how you use the tools available to control me. How do I feel about it? I must believe, for my own sanity, that there is a sound reason for it. Even if this is only a way to demonstrate how powerless I am, perhaps to satisfy some control freak fantasy, that’s good enough. As I see it,” she dropped her hands and folded them in her lap, “if I can’t fend for myself that all but guarantees you’ll look out for me.”

The man smiled and nodded his head. “A man’s fatal weakness, the damsel in distress. Be patient, I’m getting to your question. I want to add that your…” he paused, searching for the word, “situation isn’t unique. In the years we’ve been in business, a number of women have passed through these doors under similar circumstances. Typically, we have to keep them for a month or more to give them time to adjust. You, however, have shown a remarkable resilience in accepting what has happened. That’s why I’m here talking to you now.”

Róisín wasn’t sure what to make of his last statement. Then a light turned on in her head. The color of the company uniform she had been given, the stern but courteous way she’d been treated, all the details triggered memories that led her to recognize the man facing her.

“Sir? You’re Mr. Madsen, am I correct? I heard about your Barbara’s story, so inspiring.” She mentally kicked herself for not identifying the distinctive color and pattern of her dress the moment she put it on. This was the Madsen Brokerage, and he was the sole proprietor; for the moment, her legal owner as well.

“You’re right, seems my infamous reputation precedes me. But this is about you, not me. I’m going to be frank. There will be someone special in the audience tonight. He knows all about you. Keep in mind this is information available to anyone who asks. My auctions are not rigged, and I can’t determine the outcome. I won’t go any further except to urge you to keep two things in mind for tonight. The first, be yourself, don’t overthink this and try to be someone else. And the second point, do exactly as you are told, without hesitation. Relax, don’t be distracted, focus on your instructions and don’t think about who’s watching you. You would be surprised at the number of women who can’t manage that. An auction is a stressful event, I won’t deny it, but you have an advantage, that resilience you’ve shown us. Concentrate on that and I’m sure it will all work out for the best.”

Priming The Pump

On the display, Róisín was once again answering the question about her handcuffs. Alex paid close attention, hanging on every word. “Okay, Ray, I have to ask. Is she serious? Like I told you, I’m new to the Island. All my experience with women is based on the outside world. I’ve never come across anything like this before.” Alex Wolfe was a recent arrival to North Island society, having been recruited for his unique technical expertise in managing ferry operations. He had a basic knowledge of Island life but had not been present long enough to gain practical experience.

Ray Madsen leaned back in his chair. “Alex, given the years I’ve been in this business I’ve learned to spot the pretenders. Róisín is what we call ‘profoundly submissive’, meaning everything she said reflected how she thinks, how she sees herself, and most of all what she wants out of life. Don’t be fooled by her calm exterior. That ‘Damsel in Distress’ comment wasn’t a joke. In her own way she feels like she’s tied to the railroad tracks, the train is coming, and her only hope is a White Knight riding to the rescue, if you’ll excuse the mixed metaphors.”

Alex laughed. “And you want me to be that White Knight? I’m impressed by your selfless act of charity.”

Ray shook his head. “I’m a businessman first. I don’t do the Good Samaritan act, and I’ve yet to come across anyone who would describe me as anything but selfish. I’m betting you and Róisín are an ideal match, that you see it too, and you’re willing to gamble a substantial amount of money to find out if I’m right. I don’t know who will bid against you tonight, though I do guarantee all customers I never use shills to force up the price.”

Alex tilted his head to one side. “Fair enough, I can accept those conditions. Is that why you asked to see me, hedging your bet?”

“Think of it more as priming the pump. Nothing I’ve told you about Róisín is private; anyone who asks I’ll give them the same recordings. And I’ll tell them what I’m saying to you now. The auction is a level playing field. If you choose to put in some extra time for research, then perhaps you’ll benefit from it. My sole interest is to recover my investment and make a few dollars in profit.”

Alex began laughing. “I admire a man who can admit to a purely mercenary sales pitch. You’ve certainly put in your research on me. We’ll see if it pays off tonight.”

Fresh from the Block

When the door opened Alex stood up. Admit it, I’m old-fashioned, he thought. Gentlemen stand when a lady enters the room. He’d won the bidding, although there had been few others who showed any interest. Even so, the amount he’d just transferred to the cashier was a significant percentage of his assets. Money is a means to an end, not a goal in itself. That’s what he kept telling himself, trying to justify what he’d done. And it helped to keep his mind off the moral implications that went with buying another human being.

Róisín waited at the doorway. The brokerage guard had one hand on her upper arm, holding her back in case she tried to enter without permission. It wasn’t necessary; she knew how to behave in a situation like this. Ray Madsen’s parting advice was foremost in her thoughts. The man who rose to face her, a stranger she’d never seen before, might very well be her lifetime companion from this moment on. All she had to rely on, to make that critical first impression, were her years of experience living on North Island. She felt safe in assuming he would be the type who fit the general stereotype of dominant men.

Alex wasn’t so knowledgeable. He’d only arrived on Isla Del Sur about six months ago. The job offer came with the option of working, and living, on either South or North Island. He had some idea from his contacts on what to expect if he chose what he thought of as “mainstream” Island society, on the much larger South Island. Alex still couldn’t explain why he opted for the North Island posting; maybe it was the sense of adventure.

Tonight, he had taken full advantage of the unique culture that set his new home apart. There she was, framed by the doorway, his very recently acquired possession. “Recent” defined as in a scant two hours ago, when he won the bidding for her at the auction sponsored by the brokerage house. If the outside world ever discovered what he’d done there was a nice long stretch behind bars in Alex’s future, where he could, in enforced solitary leisure, debate the moral arguments dealing with treating women as property, assuming he wasn’t lynched first.

He had to admire her poise. When Alex stood up, he saw that momentary, unguarded look of surprise mixed with curiosity. Considering what little he knew of her history his simple act of courtesy might not be a common occurrence in her life.

“Come in, please sit down.” He pointed to the chair across the table. “Thanks for bringing her. I’ll take custody now.” It was a bit on the formal side but a legal necessity; Alex was required to acknowledge her being in his custody.

“When you’re ready to leave, press this button.” The guard pointed to a large, red pushbutton mounted in the wall to one side of the door. “I’m supposed to remind you it’s after her curfew.”

Alex knew exactly what he meant. He’d come prepared. “I’ll see to her.” The guard nodded, closing the door when he left.

Alex had arranged for a few minutes to talk before they left. She’s been through this once before, but not with me sitting across the table. He kept that thought in mind. Her relaxed yet precise position in the chair spoke of years of training and experience. She had to be anxious, worried about confronting her new owner for the first time. Her fate was in the hands of a total stranger, the enigma wrapped in the mystery, a puzzle she had to solve as quickly as possible.

“Your name is Róisín? I have no preference. Would you like to keep it or change to something else? My name is Alex Wolfe, with an ‘e’ on the end.”

That brought a smile to her lips. “If you don’t object, sir, may I keep it? My mother spoke Gaelic, though she wasn’t Irish. Anyway, she picked out my name. It means ‘Little Rose’ in English.” She held up a hand, covering her mouth. “I’m sorry. I should ask if you wish for me to use ‘sir’ or something else.”

“Then Róisín it is. And ‘sir’ is fine for now.” There were several long discussions Alex had planned for the next few days. This wasn’t the place to start. “We’re going straight home from here. Relax, don’t worry. You’ll find I don’t demand the impossible from you. Rely on your intuition, past experience and common sense for now. If I see a need for a change, you’ll be the first to know.”

She hid it well but he saw the tension drain out of her. Alex didn’t want her to start out afraid of him. He couldn’t begin to understand what she’d just gone through, being sold off like a piece of used furniture. Add to that he was one of those men bidding on her. What had to go through her head, standing on the block, knowing the auction was going on all around her but unable to hear it?

Women were never allowed to listen to the bids, or the final sale price. She had been isolated in a separate room while cameras displayed the merchandise to the audience. Secret bidding was strictly enforced by North Island law, the idea being it was better she didn’t know her market worth, or the temptation to compare with other women would only cause problems. It made sense to Alex.

“Sir? May I speak?”

Whatever she wanted to say would have to wait. “No,” he answered, perhaps a bit too sharp but Alex was determined to establish tight control over her from the very start. “Be patient. When I’m finished then you’ll have your turn.” A firm hand, but he didn’t want to give Róisín the impression he was totally unreasonable.

For a long moment they sat opposite each other in silence, voluntary on his part, mandatory on hers. According to the information supplied by the brokerage she had lived on North Island for about four years, and on South Island before that. There was no explanation as to why her previous owner had chosen to sell her. Alex wasn’t going to ask; as far as he was concerned it was a private matter between Róisín and her prior master. What was significant is that she was aware of what it meant for a woman to live on North Island. There was no need on his part to question her motives for choosing this kind of life.

The brokerage had returned the dress Róisín wore when she arrived. Now that he owned her it wasn’t appropriate for her to continue wearing the brokerage uniform. Her dress was nothing fancy, a sleeveless pastel blue, knee length, attractive but subdued. Had she picked it out originally? Or had it been selected for her? Either way it was her only possession, though technically she was unable to own anything; whatever Alex gave her to use still belonged to him. Island regulations forced her to depend on him for everything, be it food, shelter, clothes or anything else normally taken for granted.

Depend on me, the thought brought a smile to his face. Mine, all mine, and nobody to stop me from possessing her, body and soul. Róisín tilted her head slightly, closely studying him. Suddenly she sat up, very straight, rigid as a statue. Maybe she wasn’t allowed to talk, but her actions spoke volumes. She’s reading my mind, he realized.

“I’m at a disadvantage here,” Alex explained. “Yeah, how is that possible? Well, the truth is I’m the beginner and you’re the expert. Island society, especially here on North Island, is all very new to me. On the other hand, you’ve been here for some time. I guess what I’m saying is, I need your help to ensure we get off to a good start. Don’t think I’m trying to avoid my obligations as your master. By help I mean you need to speak up if there’s something I should know, to keep me from making avoidable mistakes.

“Now it’s your turn. You have permission to speak.”

“Sir, I…” She stopped in mid-sentence, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Sorry, sir. I intended to say something about doing my best to please you, to be obedient and loyal. Nothing of real importance, I just wanted to assure you I’m aware of my place. Based on what you just told me I’d like to add more, if I may be allowed to speak freely?”

Speak freely? What did that mean? She felt it was necessary to ask first, so it must be out of the ordinary. He didn’t answer immediately. This was all so new; he had to proceed carefully. There she was, patiently waiting for him to decide if she might continue. Róisín certainly had a talent for reminding Alex that he was in charge. Maybe it was pure selfishness but he still enjoyed the sense of power he held over her. “Go ahead,”

“Sir, you took me by surprise with your unexpected honesty. I don’t see myself as any kind of expert, but naturally if it helps, I’ll share my knowledge and opinions. I’m sure you can understand why I can only offer suggestions. I would never presume to tell you what to do.”

It was Alex’s turn to be caught off balance by her response. In theory he had total control over Róisín’s future, the rest of her life, from the moment the guard handed her over. In practice he actually had no idea what to expect. From what he’d read the owner was supposed to be confident and assertive, to be the leader, firmly in charge. What he didn’t anticipate, and what she just made quite clear, is that she would not settle for anything less. What Alex assumed was a great privilege turned out to be an equally large obligation.

“Let’s get out of this place. You heard the guard, it’s after curfew.” He reached into the laptop bag resting against the table leg. Out came with two boxes, purchased from a store earlier today.

It was time for him to put theory into practice. “Stand up, step away from the chair, face the door.” He kept his voice even but with a firm tone to reinforce direct orders.

Róisín was out of the chair and turned toward the door in record time. Unquestioned obedience, it was one thing to read about it, quite another to see it in action. To say Alex was enthralled was an understatement. To have such power over someone, especially an attractive woman, was a heady drug. And like any drug it came with a warning. From now on he had to be very careful in choosing his words when speaking to her. A feeble joke could easily become an all-consuming obsession on her part.

Island law was universal in one important aspect. After curfew all collared females had to be escorted and restrained in public, outside of buildings. Róisín wore one of those collars, locked on, with a registration number that now listed Alex as her legal owner. That meant he was ultimately responsible for ensuring she was properly supervised at all times.

“Hands behind your back.” Again, he tried to project a calm yet determined attitude. She stood very still, not saying a word. Her hands were close together in the small of her back, palms facing each other but not touching. How many times had she practiced that move? He pushed open the handcuffs and closed them around her wrists, slowly tightening the bows until they were snug but not digging into her skin. He checked each side before engaging the double lock. Her hands hung limp; she offered no resistance. Reaching back, he picked up the leg irons from the box on the table. Crouching down he fastened them around her ankles, being careful not to over tighten them. After running a hand around each cuff to check the fit he double locked them.

The moment Alex stood up she widened her stance, pulling the ankle chain tight. That must be a common procedure, he thought. While putting the empty boxes back in the laptop bag he noticed for the first time how she held herself in a rigid pose, back straight, head held high, as if frozen in place. It was obviously for his benefit. The display of obedience required an acknowledgement of her effort.

Leaving his bag on the table Alex went around to her side. Backing up for a better view Alex put on a good show, eyes sweeping up and down, slowly circling her, as if he were on an inspection, looking for the slightest mistake. Truth was, he didn’t know what to look for, not that there was any need to tell her that. Then he realized it was entirely up to him to decide if anything was amiss. “I don’t want you to keep the ankle chain taut. Bring your feet in a small amount.” Was he overly concerned about it? Not at all; the purpose behind the change was to place a personal stamp on her picture-perfect position.

The chain drooped down to the floor. “Good, that’s what I want to see.” Now came the hard part, remembering to check in the future for the change. He was beginning to appreciate the work involved in setting rules. It wasn’t enough to simply dictate a demand; he had to remember every point, make sure she didn’t miss anything, and do it all in such a way that she could see he took it seriously. He made a mental note to write down each restriction imposed on her, in order to keep track of what had to be verified from now on. Somehow Alex knew she would never forgive him if he missed the tiniest detail.

Taking hold of her shoulders, he turned her around before moving in very close. “Look at me.” He spoke softly but still clearly an order. She tilted her head up. “We’re going to have a good life together. You know why I’m certain? It’s because I’m not going to allow anyone or anything to come between us.”

Always project sincerity, he thought, even if I’m weighed down by the doubts of how I’m going to guarantee that good life. The little speech sounded trite, meaningless promises not to be taken seriously, but he could not have been more wrong. Alex wasn’t an expert on reading people’s expressions, but it was readily apparent his reassurance had a positive effect. Hope, that’s what he saw, hope for the future.

On the Way Home

When Alex led Róisín out to the car he got an immediate lesson in how the “escort” part of the curfew law was interpreted. His initial assumption was that he only had to be with her; he soon found out it meant maintaining a physical hold onto her. The moment he let go of her arm she stopped dead in her tracks.

He found out later it wasn’t just about the curfew. Any time, day or night, when she was restrained in chains, he had to be there to govern her movement. In a way it made sense. If Róisín were to stumble there was no way to break her fall except his holding onto her arm. The law was designed specifically to ensure she had to rely on him, along with keeping her from harm.

There was a certain grace in the way she managed almost a normal pace while walking with those leg chains on. Alex was Róisín’s second owner. It wasn’t clear what happened to the first; the brokerage didn’t provide any details. Reading between the lines of her sketchy background, Alex’s conclusion was he had traded her in for a newer model. It was a callous way to treat a woman who had been devoted to her man. A waste too, because Alex could see she had the skill and confidence that only comes with time. That’s why he had picked her out of an auction catalog that usually stressed physical attraction over life experience.

He was convinced he’d made the right choice. His real concern was how well she would accept him. Being summarily tossed out without any warning had to be traumatic, yet she showed no external signs of her inner turmoil. Alex suspected that was for his benefit.

They crossed the parking lot in silence. What was it like for her, locked in those chains? Not being a hardened criminal Alex had never enjoyed the dubious pleasure of being handcuffed and shackled, nor did he have any desire to rectify that omission. For Róisín being restrained was an integral part of her life, something she must encounter on practically a daily basis.

When they arrived at the car he ran into a new problem. Exactly how did he get her into the car seat? He opened the passenger door, unsure of what came next.

Róisín must have sensed his confusion. “Sir? May I offer a suggestion?”

Alex needed assistance and wasn’t too proud to accept it when offered. “Sure, help me out,” he told her.

“If you could put your hand over my head, so I don’t bump it on the car, then I can sit down sideways and turn in the seat to straighten out. That way you don’t have to release me.”

That’s what they did, and it worked. Her dress slid up but she had an answer to that as well. Bracing her shoulders against the seat back she lifted herself up far enough for him to pull down the dress hem and preserve her modesty. Alex finished by leaning over her to fasten the seat belt. He noticed the belt latch was out of reach with her hands behind her back.

After he got in the car, he leaned over to check on her. “You okay? Is the seat belt too tight?” The seat did have a slight indentation in the back to accommodate bound hands.

“I’m fine, sir. If I may say so, you are very considerate to ask. Over the years I’ve spent quite a bit of time with my hands behind my back. With the seat belt where it is I’m comfortable.”

He was sure Róisín was sincere, yet Alex still put a hand on her shoulder to push her forward so he could see for himself. She was his responsibility from now on; he was not going to take that duty lightly. Since there were no apparent issues Alex let her sit back, though he left his hand on her bare shoulder. She held very still, except for swiveling her head to look up at him.

Old habits die hard. His first impulse was to jerk his hand back, ready to offer some excuse for an inappropriate touch. No! This woman, Róisín, belongs to me. He didn’t have to apologize for anything.

There was something about her, the way she calmly sat there, so helpless and vulnerable, that triggered a need to protect her, to keep her safe. Alex guessed it was the old “Damsel in Distress” at work, though the only real threat Róisín faced at the moment came from him. Maybe it wasn’t right, yet he didn’t want to release her from those cuffs. Nor did he want to stop touching her.

Being a woman, it took her no more than about two seconds to figure out what was on his mind. “Whatever you desire, master,” she whispered. “I’m yours, anything you wish. Don’t ask, sir, take what you want from me. I’ll be there for you, any time, day or night. And I’ll never say no.”

With the greatest reluctance Alex placed both hands on the steering wheel. Her words of encouragement answered a question he hadn’t posed to her. The night would end with them sharing a bed.

His Introduction

Alex hung the handcuffs and leg irons on pegs in the hallway closet. Róisín stood next to him, rubbing her wrists. “Let’s go into the living room.” He took hold of her arm to lead the way. Maybe it wasn’t necessary, since the room was clearly visible at the end of the hallway, but he liked that subtle bit of control.

She was cautious, which he expected given the drastic changes taking place. Alex’s plan was to put her at ease by talking about himself. The more she knew about him the more confident she would be in trusting to his lead. “You sit here, on the sofa.” He pointed to where he wanted her.

Before joining her Alex took a moment to observe the way she carefully sat down, keeping her legs together, gathering her dress to straighten it out, and the small details like the way she folded her hands in her lap. It had a natural look though he was convinced it represented years of practice. Poise, he thought, she knows I’m watching. The little show was meant for him and her efforts were very effective in attracting his attention.

He joined her on the couch, casually laying one arm on the back, behind her. It was a way of showing her he had a possessive streak. In the outside world that might be a negative, but for a woman like Róisín it represented a form of security.

Alex wasted no time in starting the conversation. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll tell you a bit about myself, how I see our relationship, and what I want from you. After I’m done it’ll be your turn. Anything you’d like to say before we begin?”

She had a thoughtful expression. “That’s very nice of you, sir. Are there any specific instructions for me, something you might like?”

He was going to say no but paused to consider why she asked. There was almost a hint of desperation in her voice, as if finding some way to please him was a question of life or death. Maybe that’s how she felt, perhaps not quite so dramatic yet anxious to prove to Alex he’d made the right choice in buying her. Her question could not be dismissed out of hand.

Then an idea came to him, simple but effective. “I approve of the way you sit. You will discover I like order and adherence to rules. However, I will insist on one change. Now, I assume you are forbidden to cross your legs?”

“Of course, sir. That’s a very common practice.”

“Not for you,” he interjected. “From this point on you will sit with your ankles crossed, right over left. It will be a fixed rule, public or private, indoors or outside. It starts now.”

Róisín didn’t hesitate. “Is this acceptable, sir?” she asked, looking down at the floor.

Alex stood up to get a better look. Was it something he enjoyed? Not really, but that wasn’t the purpose behind the command. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m looking for.” He walked around to the other side, checking from every angle. “This is important to me. I will not tolerate mistakes. You will get this right every time, no lapse of memory, no excuses. Failure to comply will be dealt with in the harshest terms. Do we understand each other?”

Her eyes were wide, surprised at the ferocity behind his little speech. “Yes, sir, I am well-acquainted with zero-tolerance rules. I won’t disappoint you. And if I do fail you, sir, I expect to be severely punished for it.”

She was so adamant about that last part Alex was positive there would never be a time when he’d be called on to enforce the implied threat. Her response was more evidence he’d made the right choice.

Alex sat back down. “Okay, about me and my countless character flaws. As you see I am quite self-centered. I won’t hesitate in making unreasonable, even ridiculous demands on you purely for my own gratification. I am both stubborn and overbearing, which translates into ordering you around with little concern about your feelings or opinions. I will decide what’s best for you, whether or not you agree.”

She didn’t answer but he could tell she wasn’t overly concerned about his revelations. All I’m doing is confirming how normal I am for a North Island man. Let’s see how far I can stretch the definition of normal.

He reached out to place a hand over hers. “I’m going to be honest with you, even if it sounds like I’m a jerk. I look forward to the opportunity to impose restrictions on you. Don’t expect it to be for your benefit. This is a thing I do purely because I can, by using my unrestricted power over you. Obviously, your obedience is mandatory.

“It doesn’t stop there. I will oversee every aspect of your life, regardless of how you feel about it. To me, that translates to dependency. You will, and I stress the will part, look to me for all your wants and needs. If I catch you holding back there will be unpleasant consequences. You will never be a burden, so don’t ever let that idea influence you. Remember, I can always say no.

“The number one question you should ask yourself, all during the day, is ‘Do I have permission?’, and the answer better come from me. When in doubt, always ask first. If I’m not available, use your best judgement based on what you know, and then check with me later.”

Alex paused, to gauge her reaction. “Fortunately, since we’re here on North Island, I don’t foresee any problems. There’s no need to explain your place; you’ve had plenty of experience wearing that collar. And what it involves.”

Alex was aware from her records Róisín had firsthand knowledge of life on North Island. She had deliberately chosen an environment where women had no freedom and no rights. What drove her to seek a way of life that defined her purely in terms of literally being a man’s possession? It was a question that would pop up over and over again, emphasizing how different they were.

Whatever the motivation, it worked out well for him. “That brings us to why we’re sitting next to each other. I’ve known for a while the only type of relationship that will last, for me, is one where I’m in charge. You can guess where that leads and why you’re here. To have that relationship flourish I need a like-minded woman, one who’s happy for me to be running things, to guide our common future as I see fit. I believe that woman is you.”

Her facial expression remained neutral, as if she’d heard all this before. “As I told you, I’m not out to ask the impossible. I want you to have a good life with me, even if it has to be on my terms. You can always come to me, to speak freely, as you put it, on anything that bothers you. I admit I’m not an expert when it comes to relationships. There will be times I’ll miss the subtle clues. Not intentionally, it’s just that I don’t know what to look for.

“That’s where you come in. I have to rely on you to point out those little things I miss, no matter how difficult it may be for you. Holding back out of concern for me is to erode the ways you help keep our connection alive. Always remember, we see the world in fundamentally different ways. What is obvious to you may well be outside my ability to recognize.” He laid a hand over hers, neatly folded in her lap. “I can’t stress this enough. We each have our strengths, our talents. I’m counting on you to use your skills, your emotions, your reaction when I do something that seems incredibly stupid, to share it all with me. I make no pretensions about being flawless and omniscient. When I make a mistake, I’ll do whatever I can to remedy my blunder.”

Expert and Novice

“One way you can help immediately is advice on how we can fit into daily life here on North Island. I’d prefer not to blindly stumble along in ignorance, making a fool of myself in the process. Your experience, no matter how trivial the details, is of immense value.

“I might not heed your words of wisdom; after all I am set in my ways. Even if I take us in a different direction, I still want to hear from you. I believe my fragile male ego can withstand some criticism. And if it doesn’t, well, I’ll simply order you to shut up. How does that sound?”

Róisín appeared to be confused. “I’m happy to do what I can, sir. Again, I’m uncomfortable with the idea I might inadvertently be telling you what to do. That wouldn’t be right.”

She was correct, though he wasn’t too concerned. “Let me worry about that. If you cross the line, I’ll deal with it as an honest misunderstanding. It’s on me; you needn’t be concerned about the right or wrong.”

“Yes, sir. If I may, I’ll start with some context. Even though I can’t leave, I'm here on North Island because it’s my home. This is where I want to live, in my little world of absolutes. I’m at my best when I have one consistent set of rules to follow, one right way to behave, and most of all one man to take care of me. Ideally there must be no uncertainty, no indecision, no ambiguity. Rules are not meant to be broken. You are my absolute authority in all that matters, above all others. Absolute, that’s the word I’d use to best describe myself.”

Was she real? Judging by the intensity behind her little speech Alex had to assume it wasn’t an act to impress him. On the Internet he’d come across accounts about this sort of situation. From now on caution was the watchword about how he spoke to her, because everything that came from him would be taken literally. No joking about rules or how he ordered her around; definitely no sarcasm; and most of all Alex had to be consistent in how he treated Róisín. Any instructions that came from him had to be specific, clear and carefully thought out beforehand. He had the power to permanently alter her behavior with a few words.

“I grew up in rural Nevada, sir, in the north east, what’s called the Great Basin. That part of the state is much like rural Utah, very conservative, deeply religious, a world away from the ‘woke’ culture down south in Las Vegas. My only real exposure to the outside world, after high school, was working in one of the local casinos. Eventually I became a dealer for poker, blackjack, and on special occasions Pai Gow poker or baccarat if we had bus tours stop for the night. Of course, I can’t deal at tables with real money now, but if you ever need a card dealer, sir, keep me in mind.

“Anyway, you probably aren’t aware of the polygamist communities that live hidden away in Nevada. There are several, known to the locals but never discussed. The Old West, sir, everyone minds their own business. The point I’m slowly getting to is I had some friends from those towns, and visited them at home on a few occasions. That’s quite rare; they don’t welcome outsiders. You’d fit right in, sir. It’s all about gender-specific roles patterned after the 1850s.

“I halfway expected to see rampant abuse, all the grim stories from TV news and reality shows. There are a few of those communities where that does happen, but some is not all. What I found is a tiny society where everyone had a well-defined place. I felt right at home. If I were the religious type I might have joined, but faith didn’t move me in that direction. However, a contact did put me in touch with the Island. That’s how I found my way here.”

Alex stopped her at that point. “Your prior history here on the Island, the man who owned you, it’s all old history, a private matter between you and him and not open for discussion. We start from today.”

“I appreciate that, sir. I have no secrets from you, if you ever wish to question me about my prior life here. If it meets with your approval I will mention, in general terms, my experiences from the past, if they seem relevant.”

“Yes, I’d like to hear what’s commonplace here. Not too specific; I want you to respect the privacy of your prior owner.” While talking he ran his hand across hers, brushing his fingers against her lower arm.

When he looked back up at her she was studying him intensely. “Sir, stop me if I’m being presumptuous. I’m not a mind reader, yet I do have some experience at reading a man’s body language. What I’m seeing is how much you enjoy imposing your will on me, with my hands. You don’t have to hold back, sir, if you want more. If I may suggest, you can tie my hands behind my back. It’s not a painful position for me. If you are careful, I can go for several hours that way.”

Alex blinked in surprise. “Tied? You mean, with a length of rope?”

“It wouldn’t be my first choice, sir. Rope cuts off circulation, and it leaves abrasion marks on skin. Handcuffs are much more comfortable, safer, and easier to use. More secure too, sir. I’ve never seen anyone cut off steel cuffs with a knife. I should have said ‘restrain’ instead of ‘tie’, to be clear.”

Was she offering this for his benefit? He was tempted. In that respect she had shown a remarkable sense of perception. Now that Róisín mentioned the possibility, no, make that encouraged, Alex couldn’t get it out of his head.

He stood up. “Stay where you are. I’ll be right back.” Alex headed toward the hallway closet. After retrieving the handcuffs, he headed back to the living room. Other than watching him she hadn’t moved. At that moment the realization struck Alex that she’d remain on the sofa all night unless he gave her permission to move. I have that much influence over her, he thought.

“Stand up,” he ordered in a brusque tone. “Turn around, hands behind your back.” Róisín knew exactly what to do. Scarcely had he finished speaking when he was presented with her hands in the small of her back, with her palms almost touching. For the second time tonight, he fastened the cuffs around her slim wrists. I could easily get used to this. Alex smiled. All I need is practice, lots of practice.

Holding onto her arm Alex helped Róisín sit back down. Once she was situated she immediately crossed her ankles and looked up at Alex, still standing over her. She remembered, now it’s my turn. He took his time running his eyes up and down her legs, looking for anything out of alignment. I have to match her effort, he told himself.

On the Rebound

“Sorry, I kinda lost focus for a moment. Is it okay with you, sir, to keep going, about myself? I don’t want to annoy you, except for one of those absolutes I mentioned. I need the reassurance that comes with frequently asking and receiving approval from you. Or being told it’s not allowed. Is that acceptable?”

That was music to Alex’s ears. “Yes, asking permission is definitely encouraged. If it becomes excessive, I’ll let you know. For now, you may err on the side of caution. That is, more rather than less, use your own sense of when it’s needed. And yes, you will continue with your story.”

Oddly, with her hands behind her back Alex got the impression she was more relaxed. He’d have to think about what that implied. He had to admit to himself it was becoming easier by the minute to control her, to order rather than to ask. There was still a nagging feeling he shouldn’t be so domineering, yet her encouragement was pushing aside the last vestiges of those lifelong inhibitions. Sensitivity and compromise were giving way to baser instincts.

“What I was going to say, sir, is that I was devastated when I was dumped. A brutal word, but I’m realistic. All I had lived for, worked so hard to maintain, everything was wiped out in a flash. I’ve been in a deep depression since that moment, until now. You came along and tossed me a lifeline after the ship sank beneath the waves. Before the moment that door opened and I saw you stand up, I was sure my life was over.”

Róisín began to cry. “You were so polite. That simple gesture of courtesy won me over, sir. I know I’m on an emotional rebound, but I don’t care. You are all I have. I hope you are a good man who will take care of me and treat me decently, even though I don’t know you.”

He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. She laid her head on his shoulder. “I’m not a saint,” Alex warned her. “I have very selfish motives for buying you.”

She looked up at him. “You deserve to think of yourself first, sir. I’m not worried about giving in to your desires. You have the power, use it, even if the reason is sexual. I’ll be disappointed if you don’t. If you want me to strip down and clap my hands three times before opening the refrigerator, trust me, you won’t be disappointed. Bored and impatient after a while, maybe, but I promise you’ll never have to correct me for forgetting. I’m here to contribute my fair share to our future, sir. That auction block was the last pedestal I ever want to be placed on.”

Alex nodded. “I’ll keep that ‘fair share’ in mind, though remember I decide what’s fair. However, if, from time to time, I choose to spoil you, purely to satisfy my own perverted ends, you will not oppose me. We are clear on this? Meanwhile, I’ll take that suggestion about the refrigerator under consideration.”

Róisín gave him an odd look. “Understood, sir. I will do my best to be obedient in even the most trying of circumstances…”

A Request

After two weeks together Róisín was showing visible signs of adjusting to her new life with Alex. She wasn’t constantly apologizing over imagined mistakes. However, the need to ask for permission had not let up.  Everything, in moderation. That was the famous cliché by the philosopher Epictetus, warning about too much of a good thing. Much as he enjoyed exercising his unlimited power, he was worried about how it might affect her.

He was sitting at the kitchen table, going over some fuel consumption reports on his business laptop, when she came in and stood before him. “Sir? I have a request. May I discuss it with you?”

“Go ahead. Is there something you need to order online?” That was her usual reason.

“Umm, no, sir.” She seemed to be unusually nervous. “I’m concerned it may go against your intentions concerning me. If I’m asking too much, please call a halt immediately.”

Róisín was back to apologizing before Alex had any idea what she wanted. “Why don’t you explain first, and then I’ll let you know whether or not it’s out of bounds?”

“Sorry, sir.” She took a deep breath, built up her courage, and began. “Sir, would it be possible for me to obtain your approval more often that what you have set up so far? I know you’ve already instructed me on this, and again I apologize for bringing it up, but sir, I’m not content with things as they are. I bring this to you because it’s not working as is. I feel like I’m not contributing.”

Alex must have missed something, because he had no clue about what she meant. He had initiated some rules on when she must ask, and when she could use her own judgement. If it wasn’t working, he would have to rethink his strategy. “You’re going to have to be more specific. Give me an example of what you want to change.”

“Yes, sir. What I would like is to ask you if I may stand up, or sit down, or leave the room. May I be allowed to get out of bed in the morning, to take a shower, to get dressed. At night I want your permission to get undressed and go to bed, and even fall asleep. All the little details throughout the day, sir, nothing new except it must meet with your approval first.”

There was a name for this: micro-managing. Up to now he’d been very careful to avoid getting caught in that trap. All the advice posted online warned against it. According to conventional wisdom, it robbed her of the opportunity to think for herself, and it would consume vast amounts of his time. There were no obvious benefits.

Where had this come from? Contributing, that’s how she described it. Was it a new development, or was he just the latest to be presented with the same request? Was this compulsion to be overly dominated the motive behind being rejected by her previous owner? Am I dealing with some kind of mental illness?

“This isn’t the type of request I anticipated. Before I answer, I need to know more about why you believe you are not measuring up. Why do you feel you must have more supervision from me?”

“I, I…” Róisín stuttered, seemingly at a loss for words. “I can’t explain it, sir. All I can say is that it feels wrong for me not to ask.” She was starting to cry. “I don’t want to guess at what I’m supposed to do. I get frustrated, and then angry at myself when I’m unsure. That’s your job, sir, to keep me in line. When I hear you say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ there is no doubt left in my mind. No stress, no anxiety, no worries I will disappoint or anger you.”

Alex recognized immediately this was no simple appeal. In her own way she was trying to tell him there was a problem developing in their still fragile relationship. And it was an issue only he could remedy. There was no time for long, introspective, contemplation of possible courses of action. Alex had to act now or risk losing her in a fundamental way that might very well be beyond repair.

Then the root cause struck him like a bolt of lightning. Her rejection had affected her to such an extent she was in a constant state of profound insecurity. She had formed a belief that, by obtaining his approval for virtually everything she did, there would be no repetition of whatever she had done to lose her first master. It all made sense when seen from that perspective.

Now Alex came up against a dilemma, how to convince Róisín her anxieties were groundless while retaining the dependency he craved. The selfless versus the selfish motives, with no easy solution. Trying to talk her out of her present state would be pointless. Continuing as is, enabling her, would only confirm her conviction she should demand more and more from him.

He stood up and wrapped his hand around her upper arm. “Come with me. You are to remain silent. You will answer my questions, and that’s all. You were right to bring this to my attention.” She needed to know he wasn’t upset. “I will explain how we will reach a solution.”

If only I were as confident as I sound, Alex thought. From the startled look on Róisín’s face she certainly believed he would find the answer. She was unhappy; he would see to it.  It must be nice to live in her world of unreserved certainty. I should be so lucky.

In the living room he stopped in front of his large recliner chair. He freed her hands from the cuffs; they would get in the way of what he had in mind. Still holding onto her arm, he picked up a cushion from the couch and threw it on the floor, in front of his chair. “When I let go you will strip down to what you were born with, and nothing more. Throw your clothes on the sofa. Then you will kneel on this cushion, facing the chair, and display yourself to your man. You will not speak. Do as you’re told. You will not keep me waiting.” He let go of her arm.

Her dress came off in record time. She knelt on the cushion, sitting back on her heels, hands on her thighs. She looked up at him, unsure of what he meant by “display yourself” yet trying to improvise based on what she knew.

“Listen carefully. This is how you will display yourself for my pleasure,” Alex began. Project confidence, he told himself, speak quietly yet with a firm tone. Threats aren’t necessary; she wants to obey me.

“Hands behind your head, fingers laced together. Arms out, elbows far apart, lined up with your shoulders. Keep your back straight, knees wide.” He stood between her and his chair, close, towering over her, hands on his hips.

“That’s it,” he spoke in a reassuring manner. “Head up, lift up your chin. I want to see that collar.” He slowly walked around her, studying her carefully from every angle. “Do not move. Show me the real Róisín, the woman who is proud to submit to her man, and not afraid to reveal her inner self to me or the world.”

The answer lay somewhere in a middle ground. Allow her to continue with her obsession with micro-management, but gradually redirect it from acting out of fear to pride of accomplishment. The ideal would be focusing on obedience as a pursuit of excellence, rewarding her efforts by shifting focus to a sense of being special, a woman who complements so perfectly with her man that other women would look on her with envy. It would displace her insecurity with confidence and self-esteem.

Even better, Alex thought, I don’t have to feel guilty about ruthlessly exploiting her fixation to satisfy my own evil desires. More than anything on this earth he wanted to be inside her head, shaping her mind to bend to his will. Alex knew he was no saint. Maybe I’m the one who needs a therapist, he concluded. Whatever his questionable mental state, he had the means, the opportunity and the motive to get what he wanted. But first he had work to do.

Alex sat down and leaned forward. “Róisín, look at me.” She looked up until their eyes met. “I owe you an apology.”

“Sir? I…”

“No!” he cut her off immediately. “We are not going to discuss this. I talk; you listen. I thought I told you to remain quiet. Starting now there will be no more leniency when you ignore my wishes. I made a serious mistake starting out. I blame my own ignorance and failure to pay more attention to the signs we were having a difficult time.”

Róisín stared at him, eyes wide. Yet she said nothing and held to what must be an uncomfortable position. There was plenty she wanted to say. Alex had no intention of allowing it. How could I be such an idiot? Why on earth did I assume we basically saw the world from the same point of view? I’ve never been more wrong in my entire life.

“Don’t think for a moment I’m punishing you in any way, Róisín. I’m the one who should be pounding his empty head against a wall. Your request? Granted, though be careful about what you wish for.”

For a long moment Alex sat there, mesmerized by the sight of his most prized possession. That’s how she sees herself; I need to start thinking in the same terms. “Put your legs together, knees touching. You may lower your arms. Place your hands, palms down, halfway between waist and knee. Keep your fingers together. Tuck in your elbows.”

She obeyed instantly. I can get used to this in no time. Alex nodded in approval. “Excellent, that’s exactly what I want to see. That was flawless. You should be proud of how well you complied.” He felt like he was off to a good start on the right path.

He leaned back, folded his arms and cocked his head to one side. “I could sit here for hours, admiring my good fortune. I’m doubly blessed, once for making the choice to live on North Island, and a second time in knowing it’s my collar encircling your lovely neck.”

Much as he was tempted to continue there were more pressing matters to address first. Róisín was in a receptive mood. She was enjoying his attention and eager to keep it through her efforts to please him.

With a sigh he unfolded his arms and leaned forward again, to emphasize what he expected to be a long speech. His eyes swept up and down her exposed body, the sole purpose of which was to remind her he was paying attention and would hold her to account if she broke her position. His demands were excessive; he knew it and didn’t care. This was only the beginning.

“Starting right now this is how it will be. I am responsible for you. To that end you will ensure I know where you are and what you are doing at all times. When we are together you will ask permission to stand or sit. You will not leave the room without my consent. If you are given free time alone you will explain to me how it will be spent. However, never forget your time is not your own. My demands always come first.”

If one of those ‘woke’ pressure groups ever heard me talking like that there’d be a mob with torches and pitchforks at my door, shouting ‘burn the monster’ or worse. For the first time Alex felt as if he were freed from the last of the outside world’s definition of civilized behavior. The dam had burst on his “guilty pleasures”, the myriad ways he could control Róisín.

“You ask for assurances? You will get them, although there are conditions. From now on I will only accept the highest standards from you, Róisín. ‘Good enough’ will never be heard in this house. You will work as never before to make me proud to own you. Day or night, there will be two questions you must ask yourself. The first, do I have permission; and the second, can I do better?”

Alex leaned forward and took her face in his hands. “I demand this because I can see the potential within you. I don’t ask for the impossible, because I have all the confidence in the world you will succeed.”

What About Work

The next part was tricky, since Alex hadn’t worked out exactly what he wanted for the outcome. There was still so much he didn’t know about Róisín. He needed her opinion, a frank one, not simply echoing what she thought he wanted her to say. The problem was in the details of exactly how he could manage it.

“Before we got together,” he had to smile at the euphemism, “did you have a job? By that I mean, were you employed by a company here on North Island?”

“No sir, my previous owner did not allow it. Before that, on South Island when I was on my own. I was a cashier at a bank. There aren’t any casinos here, so a card dealer was not in high demand.”

Gambling was illegal but that didn’t mean it was non-existent. More than once, Alex had received an invitation to a private poker game. The penalty for being caught gambling was a trivial fine for the players. A woman dealer, given the severity of Island law, might well face far worse in terms of a conviction. Unless she had a collar, in which case it was a real “Get Out of Jail Free” card. Róisín could be the dealer for illicit games with impunity, since she was only obeying her master. Alex, on the other hand, would have to answer for her. No, any idea Róisín might work part time in her chosen profession wasn’t an option.

Cashier wasn’t a possibility either. Any occupation that required handling money was strictly forbidden for women like Róisín. “Cashier, hmmm…to satisfy my curiosity, when was the last time you handled money, legally or otherwise?”

“Sir! I have never touched money in any form since the collar went around my neck.” He could tell she was indignant at even the hint of impropriety. “The last time? I recall it well. Before we drove to the Registration office, I emptied out my purse and wallet. Bills, coins, credit cards, bank card, it all went to my new master. That was the very last time!”

If not for the fact Róisín was frozen in her kneeling position Alex was sure she’d be wagging her finger at him for even hinting she’d misbehaved.

He held up his hands. “I’m not making any accusations. I believe you, honestly. It’s such a foreign concept from my side. Anyway, I’m getting off track.

“What I’m asking, is if you want to work? Financially it isn’t necessary; I can support both of us easily. There are other benefits. Making friends, the sense of accomplishment in a job well done, working together toward a common goal, and I’m sure there are more.”

“Yes, sir.” If she were capable of showing less enthusiasm Alex had yet to see it. “Is it in my best interest for me to take on a job?” The way she put it made him think cutting off her head was at the same level of “best interest” for her welfare.

Alex nodded. “Considering the benefits, of course it would be good for you, as you put it. You shouldn’t be shut up here at home.” She stared straight ahead, resigned to being forced to live with his decision. That answered his question.

“However,” he crossed his arms and leaned back, “I must also consider the inconvenience to myself. You can’t drive, so I would have to make arrangements to get you to and from wherever you are employed. Then there are the tax implications; you have no idea of the headaches at the end of the year. Worst of all, it might reduce the time we’re together. Weighing all that, the conclusion is obvious. No, I’m sorry but this is one of those times when you will have to reluctantly step onto that pedestal and stay at home. I forbid you to hold a job. This is a permanent ban, there is no appeal, and we will not discuss it in the future. My mind is made up, so don’t try to persuade me to change.” He frowned, eyes narrowing. “I trust I have made myself quite clear on this matter?”

Alex almost burst out laughing at the transparent expression of relief on Róisín’s face. “Yes, sir, crystal clear. Although I’m disappointed,” she replied, voice dripping with sarcasm, “you as always have the final word.”

Well, that was easier than I expected, Alex thought. It did open up another problem though. How was Róisín going to pass the time while home alone during the day? His job managing operations for the various Island ferries usually required his presence in one of the business offices, with trips along the ferry routes at unexpected times.

“Okay, I need to ask, how did you keep from being bored when you were home alone?” She couldn’t leave the house without his permission, and with the curfew limitations there were only a few hours she was able to go out in public without him along as her escort. “I don’t want you staring out the window all day long, driven to tears in despair at your lost freedom.”

“So dramatic, sir! Would you be surprised to learn there’s a busy social life going on all day long, for those of us who are subject to certain limitations? It’s the Internet, sir, the modern version of the ancient practice of gathering at the marketplace or the village well. I have a large circle of online friends, female only in case you’re concerned. Of course, I expect you’ll want to set rules on what’s allowed. I will need a laptop, and if you let me make day trips, I’ll need a phone too, so I can keep you updated on where I am.”

Alex nodded. “Laptop and phone, I’ve already ordered them.”

“If I may point out, sir, be sure the electronics are certified for use by North Island women. Those models come with extensive controls so you can monitor my activities. There are various levels of restrictions, ranging from unlimited access to locked down. ‘Lockdown’ means you have to enter a whitelist of websites and email addresses I can visit. By default, everything else is blocked. My prior owner chose the lockdown mode, so I’m used to a limited list of websites. Same for the phone, each entry on the contacts screen had to be approved first.”

“I’ll look into it and let you know what I think is best to start. I’ve already made arrangements for your debit card too. From what I’ve read your restrictions on being out on your own are rather severe here on North Island?”

Róisín nodded and sighed. “So they are, sir. Difficult but manageable, that’s how I’d describe it. Naturally there’s the curfew, to start. If for some reason I’m not home in time then I’m stranded wherever I wind up. You have to come and get me. Plus, there are the no-go areas, off limits to me unless I’m escorted. If I visit a store or restaurant, I have to scan my travel permit when I enter and leave; you get a report on all that. I’m not allowed to drive so you have to make transportation arrangements for me if I am to leave the house on my own.”

Alex knew about that last part. At first it bothered him, implying he couldn’t trust her. Now he saw it in a different light. Like everything else on North Island, the regulations were designed to make her all the more dependent on him. Any twinges of guilt about it were fast disappearing. He needed to be her provider, the one who fulfilled her every need. Maybe it’s the complement to her pleas for more supervision, he thought. Good or bad, I’m not going to discourage it.

Trust Issues

The bank debit card arrived two days later. Róisín was in the living room, checking on new movies. He saw her glance down the hallway to the door while he was signing for the delivery. Evening deliveries weren’t common, though for items that required a signature he had to be home.

When he walked into the living room, she immediately placed the TV controller on the coffee table. Alex paused to carefully scrutinize her posture. Ankles crossed, knees together, hands palm down on her dress, everything lined up to perfection. As always, he saw the irony in how he was compelled to check that his own demand about her sitting position was rigorously enforced. And it was doubly ironic that if he failed to check the consequences were actually far worse for him than if she forgot. High standards; I insisted, I can’t dodge my part in enforcement.

He held up the envelope. “Good news!” He tore off the end and shook out the cards. “This is your revised travel permit.” He placed the first card on the coffee table. “I decided to increase the curfew start time, so you will have to be watchful about restricted hours.”

Róisín leaned forward to look them over. Her hands remained in position, palms down on her dress, so she couldn’t touch them. “Not my most flattering picture, sir.” He flipped it over so she could read the back. “No other restrictions, sir? That’s very thoughtful.”

“And this one is your bank card.” Alex chuckled while examining it. “Very pragmatic, a debit card is not cash, therefore you can use it for purchases.” He held out the card for Róisín to study.

She sighed, “same picture.” She glanced at the front and back. “No restrictions on this card? You’ll have to instruct me on how I should use these, sir. There should be a procedure about how I may ask to use them, where I can go, and what type of purchases are allowed.”

“In due time,” Alex replied. He picked up the cards. “For now, if an opportunity arises you may ask to go out on your own, except it must be at least a day in advance. I’ll go ahead and authorize your cards for one month at a time. We’ll discuss the debit card balance the day before you need to use it. Any problems I should know about?”

Once again, she looked like she was about to burst into tears. “Hey, what’s wrong? I figured it would be a relief to get out on your own for a few hours.” Alex put an arm around her shoulders. The reaction was so unexpected Alex wasn’t sure how to handle it. His plan to bolster her self-confidence was going well. I touched on some kind of emotional hotspot, but what affected her so much?

Róisín leaned her head against his chest and raised her eyes to look up at him. “You trust me, sir. It’s been more than two years since I had a travel permit, much less a debit card. I promise you’ll never have cause to doubt me.”

What brought that on? Alex had given his word he wouldn’t pry into her history with her prior owner, yet he had to wonder at her treatment. What did she mean by trust? The idea the cards could be used to engineer some kind of escape off North Island was ridiculous, not that he believed she would ever attempt to run away. It must be something else, something far deeper.

“I want to know what’s going on,” he demanded, adding a bit insistence to his tone. “What’s with this trust issue? Tell me.” Alex ended on a firm note, leaving her little wiggle room to dodge.

She sat up straight and took a moment to regain her composure. “My former owner, sir, he was having issues with my behavior. After a long lecture on how I had disappointed him, he announced I would have the travel and debit cards taken way indefinitely as punishment for my poor conduct. Since I could not follow even simple rules it was impossible for him to trust me being out on my own.

“I tried so hard to do better, sir. But it was never good enough.” Alex could hear the pleading in her wavering voice. “All I accomplished was to add to his anger. A week later he took away my phone and laptop, isolating me. Honest, sir, I worked day and night to overcome my failures. I was never good enough.”

Alex started at Róisín, stunned by what he heard. That jerk had virtually shredded every last bit of her self-esteem. It confirmed what he assumed about so much of Róisín’s personality. Her need for micro-management also stemmed from her fear of repeating what she believed to be past mistakes. He was sure there had been no such slipups. Her revelation confirmed his plan must be the right way to handle her.

“Sir? Should I…” She halted the instant he raised his hand.

“Give me a minute or two to consider what you’ve told me. I get the general idea; you don’t need to continue.” Once again, the question of how to rebuild her confidence? That begged the larger question, how did she measure her own success?

The direction of this conversation had to change, immediately. “Stand up, hands behind your back, now,” he snapped out the order. Commands like that were guaranteed to distract her from unpleasant thoughts.

One area where Alex’s “high standards” plan had shown immediate results manifested it’s premise of pride in perfection in the way she responded. From head to toe there was a “one right way” she never failed to attain. He took his time to enjoy her little performance. She would patiently wait as long as necessary while he scrutinized all the tiny details that must be delivered to him without any imperfections.

He ran his eyes up and down her form. Feet together; knees not quite touching; back as straight as a steel bar; hand precisely centered; fingers straight and pointed down; head up, rigidly held to the front; shoulders back; and all in a pose she would maintain until he gave his permission to relax. Róisín delivered the same breathtaking performance every single time. Could she do better? Alex didn’t think it was possible.

He reached behind his back for the pair of handcuffs resting in their holder on his belt. He had his part to play in completing the ritual, every bit as important as her own efforts. She remained immobile, frozen into a statue, while he slowly closed the metal bracelets around her wrists. Alex counted off the clicks of the ratchet, until he reached the correct number that ensured she was bound securely. She knew that number too, and would never forgive him if it wasn’t right.

“Hold still,” he told her, well aware the need to say it wasn’t necessary. He used both hands to run over the cuffs on her wrists, testing by feel to see if they were too tight, or worse, too loose. I do enjoy seeing her like this. She wants to please me, and this is one way that works.

When he moved his hands to her arms it was the unvoiced signal that his order was finished, releasing her from the self-imposed rigid posture even as it deprived her of a significant amount of freedom. She turned her head ever so slightly, to better gauge if she had met her obligations. Alex didn’t miss the slightest of smiles when she saw his visible approval of her success. This is what it takes, he realized. This isn’t insecurity; it’s pride in the making.

“New master, new rules,” Alex announced. “No more guessing games; my promise, you will be told exactly what to do. If, for whatever reason, you cross a boundary I set in place, you will inform me about it immediately. I’m not out to trap you, Róisín, that’s not who I am. If there really is a question of trust, it should be concerning how well you trust your own judgement. Don’t second-guess your intuition.”

It would take more than words to accomplish his fine declarations. Róisín needed to see tangible results before believing in herself.

In Public Online

Alex was positive Róisín’s attitude had swung to the positive, after their talk the previous evening. She still insisted on a nonstop string of requests for permission that he would sooner leave to her discretion, although that was out of the question. I suppose it could be labeled as a sort of therapy, he told himself. Of course, that’s about as self-serving as it gets.

Over dinner he revealed the good news. “Your laptop and phone are ready. They’re out in the car. I’ll bring them in after we finish eating. I’ll need to know how your social network is set up. I assume I’ll have to sign off on something?”

“The way it usually works, sir, is I let my friends know I’m back online and have your consent to contact them. I’ll give you the names and you can grant permission through the contacts whitelist. Then you’ll get an email from their owners letting you know there’s no objection. If you’re not satisfied you can remove the name in my contacts whitelist. If you don’t object, you don’t have to do anything else. I am limited to the names you approve. Same for web surfing, you must set up online rules governing where I can go and what I can search on.”

Alex shook his head. “That’s far too much work. This is what we’ll do instead.” He secretly loved the moments when he could issue decrees from on high, without any push back. “I’m going to disable all the whitelist functions and web access rules. If a problem develops then I’ll tell you who or what to avoid. Otherwise, your access will be unlimited.”

Róisín stared at him, mouth agape. “Unlimited?”

Alex frowned in mock irritation. “I believe that’s the word I used. That doesn’t mean you won’t have restrictions.” Great, now I have to come up with something. Way to go, paint yourself into a corner, Alex.

“To start, you are forbidden to search for anything related to the Meiji Restoration, or any Japanese history before 1900. If you happen to encounter a reference, you will make a note of the date and time, the website, and report it to me as soon as possible. You will be diligent in halting any searches if they lead you to forbidden territory. That also applies to conversations, online, by phone or in person. You will excuse yourself with the explanation you are not allowed to continue. I’ll be adding more areas in the future, so you will want to keep a written list handy.”

She stared at Alex, wondering if he was making a joke or being serious. Better to err on the side of caution. “Yes, sir, I will. Uh…I don’t even know what this restoration is?”

He struggled to keep a straight face. It was a silly directive, she knew it, he knew it, but that was irrelevant. “Good, keep it that way. It’s recent Japanese history, by the way. That’s all you need to know. I will not discuss or explain why I ban certain topics.”

Róisín decided he was serious after all. “Of course, sir, you know best. I’ve never been allowed to surf websites on my own before now. I promise, sir, I’ll abide by your instructions on places to avoid.”

That was too easy, Alex concluded. “Now that I think about it, I didn’t go far enough. You are forbidden to read anything about Japanese, Chinese or Korean history, up to the current day. I know, stories will pop up in the news. You will see the headlines, that’s unavoidable, but you can use those as a guide on what to skip. I appreciate my limit will be difficult to maintain. You will find a way.” He ended with that matter-of-fact tone that ended any further questions.

She’ll have to take me seriously, with a broad boundary like that. The task wasn’t impossible, though it will require considerable diligence on her part. “From time to time you will inform me on how well you avoid the prohibited websites and stories. I want to hear from you, about how my rules, my oversight, is developing.” There, make me sound selfish; she won’t realize the real reason for what must be a ridiculous ban.

A Plea In The Night

Alex was sound asleep when he woke to find Róisín clinging to him, shaking in fear from a nightmare. “Please, sir, don’t sell me! I’ll do better, if you give me a chance.”

She shook her, to wake her up. She opened her eyes, blinked a few times, and then began sobbing. He took her in his arms and held her, whispering that everything was fine. Her shivering gradually subsided when she came fully awake.

She nestled in his arms, using her own hands to pull his hold around her tighter. “I’m sorry I woke you up, sir.” She started to let go of his arm. “I’ll go sleep on the…” Her idea of getting out of bed came to an abrupt halt when the chain linking her ankle to the corner of the bed pulled taut. Asking to set out of bed was a request he decided to enforce in solid, physical form.

“There’ll be none of that kind of talk,” Alex rebuked her. “You will stay right here. You had a nightmare. Tell me about it.” Pressed against him, Róisín felt warm and inviting, as if they had been made to fit together. Her bare, silky-smooth leg rubbed against his, which brought up temptations he had to put aside for the moment.

“The worst kind of nightmare, sir, because it seemed so lifelike. I was in a closet, ordered to stand in a corner, facing the wall. The door was shut; I was in the dark. I could hear you shouting at me, saying I was so disgusting you couldn't even bear to look at me. I wasn’t worth the effort any more. You were going to take me to a brokerage first thing in the morning. That’s when I woke up.”

“Your dream will never come true, Róisín. I’m not the same man as your previous owner. I can’t imagine something like will ever happen. No matter how angry I may get, it will never reach the level where I would part with you. Whatever else may be, we are joined forever and a day.” He kissed her forehead. “Why would I ever give up such a valuable treasure as you? I may not be the smartest man on North Island, but I’m sure I’m a lot brighter than the man that didn’t want you.”

“Really, sir? You mean it?” He could hear the relief in her voice. To his ears his little speech, while heartfelt, as usual sounded trite and rehearsed. To Róisín it went a long way toward calming her fears.

“If I didn’t mean it, I wouldn’t have said it,” he told her. “I will withhold from you if I am convinced it’s best, but I’ll never lie or deceive you, Róisín.”

“Yes, sir, when I need to know. I can be very patient when you don’t give me a choice.”

Alex had to stifle a laugh. “Ahh, Róisín, you have a talent for stating the obvious in such a pleasant way.”

Dilemma

In the morning Alex still had a difficult question rolling around in his head. Róisín was asleep when he woke up, so he left her in the bed. While shaving Alex stared at the mirror, trying to resolve some conflicting emotions.

Okay, Alex, you have to make the call. Either he put a stop to her increasing reliance on him to micro-manage her life, or let her keep going until she wasn’t able to get through even the simplest daily routine without his constant input. Sure, he had his plan, but was that just a rationalization? Under normal circumstances the answer was simple, call a halt to limit her dependency. However, this wasn’t anything like normal.

Róisín’s plea last night, not to sell her, spoke volumes as to how traumatic sudden rejection had affected her. Alex began to understand just how close she had come to a complete breakdown before he bought her. She was terrified it would happen again. Any action on his part that hinted in that direction might have unpredictable consequences.

As if that wasn’t enough, he had to confess to a selfish, even sinful indulgence. It was difficult to admit, but Alex didn’t want to put a halt to her “need”. In his entire life he never imagined he would have such incredible power over someone, especially a woman like Róisín. Not only didn’t she fight against his control, she actually worked to extend it in ways he never considered.

Alex had become her rock of stability, and she was doing everything possible to cling to it. The speed at which she figured out how to get to him was unsettling. Even though he might have all the power in the relationship it was still far from one-sided. Róisín instinctively knew what it took to persuade him to head in the direction she sought for the two of them. Sure, Alex could always say no, except she’d woven a web in his head that inexorably drew him in.

“Sir? Are you in there?” she called out, with just a hint of worry in her tone.

Alex came out of the bathroom, wiping his face with a towel. “How’d you sleep last night? Ready to get up?” He pulled off the sheet covering her.

“Best night in weeks, sir. I’m okay for now if there’s something you need to attend to. I will need to get up in about half an hour, or else the bed will be a mess.”

He went around to his side of the bed, opened the drawer in the bedstand and took out the key. She watched him but said nothing. At the foot of the bed, he reached down to unlock the shackle on her ankle. “You may leave the bed and take a shower.” He gestured toward the bathroom.

“Yes, sir. Will I be allowed to dress today? Should I pick out something for your approval?”

She looked up at him expectantly. She had been so persuasive when explaining how well she slept at night if she were chained in place that he quickly gave in. Not that he objected; his only regret was he didn’t think of it first. Last night he was glad he listened to her.

Two days ago, she started in with her clothes. If, and only if, he agreed she could get dressed then he also had to approve what she could wear. There he decided to draw a line, ordering her to make a choice first. Once again, she’d somehow zeroed in on what would please him. He had to specify whether she should select a dress or a skirt and top. He still didn’t quite understand at what point he’d compromised on his original intention not to get involved in the details.

“I came to a major decision about you this morning.” Her expression immediately went to apprehensive.

“Sir, I…” she began.

“Remain silent until I allow you to speak.” That cut her off immediately. “Don’t panic. I think you’ll approve of what you hear.” Alex grabbed the chair next to the dresser and sat down next to her, by the edge of the bed.

“Here is my dilemma. All this supervising you, far more than is usual, worried me. I believed it wasn’t healthy, the way you are so dependent on me. What’s the right thing to do? While staring at myself in the mirror I found the answer.”

He could see Róisín was anxious. She had that look that said she expected a severe reprimand, if not outright punishment for failing him.

“What I had to admit was I don’t want you to stop, or even slow down. Róisín, you are to keep on pointing out ways I can exercise my power over you. I’ll try to contribute, but I have to admit you are in a much better position to bring the, umm, possibilities to my attention.”

When the tears began to flow, he took her hands and lifted her up. Taking her in his arms he held her tight. “That’s an order, in case you have any doubts. If I catch you holding back, I will be quite upset. There are no boundaries; if I don’t like the idea, I’ll let you know and we move on. If, when that happens don’t be discouraged. Your job is to bring suggestions to me. My job is to decide which ones we’ll use.”

She clung to him, her head on his chest. He could feel the tears falling from her cheeks.

Tom’s Story

It Ends Today

“No way I can get you to change your mind?” Even as he asked the question sounded like childish begging. From the expression on her face, it was obvious all he’d accomplished was to confirm what she knew and he suspected.

After the first year Tom had been full of unbounded optimism. He and Greta were made for each other, and nothing would ever come between them. The first, one year agreement had come and gone, not exactly perfect but they’d both worked hard to make it a success. Then came the renewal and the unstoppable downward spiral to failure. The current agreement expired at noon today. Greta had been emphatic that she wanted out.

“No, sir,” she replied. “It’s over and it ends now. We have to face the facts; we are not compatible. There’s no blame, no acrimonious parting. I do wish you well.”

The harsh reality that he didn’t want to admit left no doubt she was right. He slid a plastic bag across the table. “Here’s your passport, your checkbook and bank cards, driver’s license and all the other documents you had to surrender. Are you sure you don’t need any money?”

“No, sir, I’ll be fine on my own. Don’t worry about me.” She stared at the bag but didn’t pick it up. “There’s still fifteen minutes to go, sir. You don’t mind if I wait?”

Technically she did belong to him until noon. Greta had always zealously adhered to the laws regarding collared females. Which reminded him of one last task. He stood and walked back to the safe. She turned her head to watch but said nothing.

He came back and sat down, placing a low, flat cardboard box on the table top. They sat at the table, sipping their cups of coffee in silence. When the clock in the living room chimed the noon hour he stood up.

“Stay where you are for one more minute. I have something for you, before you go.” He walked behind her, parted her hair and inserted the key in her collar. Turning it, the click of the lock was loud in the quiet. He pulled apart her collar and removed it from her neck.

She raised a hand to her throat. “Odd, it’s like a part of me is missing.” Tom didn’t miss the subtle shift; she no longer used “sir” when addressing him. If he tried to order her around now, she had every right to tell him where to go and how to get there, in the most colorful terms.

He placed the now empty collar in the box, along with both keys. Closing it he pushed it toward Greta. “It’s yours. If you ever decide to wear one again, it has your registration number on it. If nothing else, think of it as a memento of our time together.”

The doorbell rang. Greta stood up, opened her purse and dropped the plastic bag with her papers in it. She turned toward the door, hesitated, and then reached down to pick up the flat box. “Thank you for not making this unpleasant, Tom. I guess this is goodbye.”

Extreme Measures

“Have a seat, Mr. Cooper.” Ray Madsen gestured to a chair facing his desk. “Thanks for making the trip. I know North Island isn’t exactly the favored destination for our neighbors across the Channel.”

“I don’t mind,” Tom replied, “although given the reason for this visit, I’ll concede this is the best place for introductions.”

Straight to business, Ray appreciated having to skip the usual socializing. “To be clear, you are looking for a companion, of the female persuasion, without the irritations of the usual South Island agreement system?” He leaned back in his chair, carefully studying the man across from him. According to his form he was a career fireman, specifically Search and Rescue, therefore used to quick, decisive action. Plus, he was a vet; two tours of duty in the Army, serving on front line helicopters rescuing downed pilots and handling medevac dust-offs. No, there would be no need to speak in euphemisms.

“Yes, I am.” Tom met Ray, eye to eye. “As I stated, I’ve recently exited from a failed agreement type relationship. To be blunt, the fault was primarily mine. Much as we enjoy success, it is our failures that teach us what not to do next time. I’ve gone over what I did wrong in great detail, these last few months. It won’t happen again.”

Ray nodded. “When it comes to long term relationships, we often blow it the first time. I can make allowances for that. A record of the same thing happening two or three more times, that gives me pause.

“There are many misconceptions about brokerage houses on North Island. I don’t mean to badmouth the competition, but sad to say in a few cases the poor reputation is deserved. I like to think Madsen Brokerage doesn’t fall in that category. We do not mistreat the women who find their way here, nor do we do business with the mental cases.”

“Assuming I’m not disqualified as one of your ‘mental cases’, can you make a recommendation for me, out of your inventory?” A nice euphemism, inventory, Tom joked to himself.

Ray leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Yes, I can. I have a certain individual in mind who could possibly be an ideal match, but first, a few more questions…”

First Impression

Tom sat in a small room, watching the large display screen mounted on the wall. Next to him Ray was on his phone, making some arrangements. The screen looked out into another small room, adorned only with a table and two chairs in the center. A large man in company uniform sat in one of the chairs.

“Her name is Sandy, short for Sandra. What you’re about to see is a little demonstration of what you will have to consider in dealing with her. She’ll be along in a few minutes, but first I want to give you some background for context.” Ray slipped his phone into his shirt pocket.

“You have to bear in mind she has spent her entire adult life on North Island.” Ray paused, debating how much of her history he would reveal. “She arrived on South Island soon after coming of age. How she got there I don’t know and I’m not going to ask. It was about a month after that she contacted a brokerage office, not mine if you are curious. The details are sketchy, but in some way she managed to sell herself to that brokerage, which is how she wound up on North Island at a young age.

“She has only known one owner, who unfortunately met with a fatal accident very recently. He encouraged her dependency on him, not unusual by itself, but remarkable in degree. She has been taught how to behave in one particular fashion, his way, and no other. Understand, after ten years she has a set way to act, to speak, to respond in just about any situation. The concept of change is not part of her mental makeup. You might say she is in a rut an inch wide and a mile deep. We’re taking a gradual approach, to ease her into a new life after the tragedy.”

Tom took in what Ray explained and mulled it over. He hadn’t been prepared for it; no one could anticipate circumstances like these. He saw the difficulties right away. Any attempt to change her routine, given her inflexibility, would leave her confused and upset. Yet the prospect of owning such a woman outweighed the negatives.

“Interesting,” Tom said. “The challenge is slowly turning her orientation to what I see as the most appropriate. Is this some sort of due diligence, warning me of risks?”

Ray laughed. “Very astute! Yes, in answer to your question. However, I’d like to show you what we have discovered about Sandy. Les, the guy in there,” he gestured toward the display, “is going to have a short conversation with her.”

On the screen there was a knock at the door. When Les told them to come in, a guard, also in uniform, escorted Sandy into the room. She wore one of those purple company dresses, not the most flattering but distinctive if one of the brokerage’s involuntary guests decided to try to walk away. Not that escape was remotely possible. Her hands were bound behind her back, in handcuffs attached to a chain around her waist. Shortened leg irons on her ankles limited her to a short stride, sharply limiting her ability to walk.

She stopped a few steps away from the table. There was a chair in front of her, though she ignored it. Sandy turned her head to the side, looking up at the guard who held onto her arm.

Les rose and slammed his hand on the table. “Look at me!” he snapped. “I am in charge here.”

Tom noticed the instant change in her demeanor. Once it was clear Les was in control her escort all but ceased to exist. “What you’re seeing is the result of years on North Island, coupled with her own personality,” Ray explained. “Disobedience is virtually impossible. We have to be very careful around her, as you will see. One wrong word can result in unimaginable damage.”

Tom frowned at the display. “If she’s that vulnerable, how can she function in public?”

“Good question,” Ray replied. “We’ve discovered her, let’s say fixation, is very selective. Her previous master represented absolute authority, but only him. Any other man, she was respectful but indifferent to attempts to order her around. You noticed how she is ignoring the man next to her? Keep watching.”

“Thanks, Bill. I’ll take custody of her,” Les said. With that the guard left, closing the door behind him.

Les walked around the table, until he faced Sandy. She didn’t move other than to raise her head to look up at him. “My name is Les, Mr. Unger to you. I am the Operations Manager for the brokerage. Until you are sold, I will be responsible for you. Can I count on your cooperation?”

“I will do my best, sir.” Her answer was flat, unemotional.

“She’s still in shock,” Ray observed. He pointed to the screen. “Notice the expressionless tone of her speech, devoid of any emotion? She’s operating on autopilot, responding but not really focused on the here and now. When her master passed away unexpectedly, he left without anyone specifically designated to inherit her. She’s all alone in the world. The estate executor, an attorney, consigned her to us. It won’t be easy to penetrate that black cloud of despair.”

Back on the display Les was talking. “This is what will happen. We are going to sit down and have a conversation. It won’t be a lecture; I expect you to take part. For the immediate future I must decide what’s best for you. We are strangers, so I need to find out more about you. That’s why it’s so important for you to be honest with me, and not hold back. Unless you help, I can’t do my job properly.”

Ray gestured toward the screen. “This is what I mean. See how he takes one step at a time, very slowly, encouraging her to agree rather than simply dictating terms.”

Tom watched but wasn’t impressed. Something didn’t feel right. Sure, she was participating, trying to do as asked, but in Tom’s opinion it wasn’t really sincere. He’d have to think about what he was being shown.

A Done Deal

With a pained expression Tom slid over the envelope with the certified check inside. Firefighters were, as a rule, far from the wealthy elite. The check for Sandy represented a sizeable chunk of his savings, as well as a bank loan. Still, money was a means to an end, not an end in itself.

Ray took the envelope but didn’t look inside. He passed Sandy’s ownership title to Tom. “The registration will be updated in about an hour. We are authorized to post transfers directly, so you don’t need to visit a registration office. That’s it; she belongs to you now. As a long-term resident of North Island her status as property is not revocable, even on South Island. Effectively the two of you are in a permanent agreement per South Island regulations. You may receive a few forms from the Public Administrator dealing with estate details; they do love their paperwork.”

Tom picked up the sheet of paper. Like most official documents it had an elaborate border, plus a notary seal at the bottom. The text was remarkably simple. Tom Cooper is now the listed owner of one Sandra, registration number blah blah blah, with all rights and obligations conferred upon receipt of possession. She must know this document exists, even though she would never see it.

“And here is the receipt, her bill of sale.” Ray was working down a short stack of papers. Inwardly Tom sighed. He had written too many after-incident reports at Search & Rescue to hope for fewer dead trees in other lines of business.

“There is another matter I am obligated to bring to your attention.” Ray picked up the desk phone. “Could you ask Mr. Gleason to come in?”

The door opened and a man in a business suit entered, carrying one of those legal brief cases. He held out his hand to Tom. “Ed Gleason, estate lawyer and executor for the estate of the late Sam Willis. Mr. Willis was Sandy’s owner until the unfortunate accident.”

Sam Willis, the name triggered a recognition in Tom’s mind. He had been on the crew that helped to investigate the wreckage of his yacht, when it had been smashed against the North Island cliffs by a rogue wave. There had been no survivors.

Tom shook his hand. “Tom Cooper, call me Tom.”

He took a seat next to Tom and opened his case. “Make it Ed, no formality here. Well, except for fulfilling the provisions of Mr. Willis’ will.” He took out a sheaf of papers and handed them to Tom.

“Mr. Willis made certain provisions for his women in the event of his demise. It includes a life insurance policy. The beneficiary is a trust fund set up to divide the policy payout among all four of his women. Since they cannot handle finances, the trust fund is charged with seeing to their expenses. You will see the list of beneficiaries? Sandra is on the third line.”

So, Sandy had some money coming to her. Or rather, he did since she could not own assets. “Okay,” Tom said slowly. “How does this trust fund work?”

Ed hesitated. “This is where it gets a little complicated. Sandy is the only survivor in the list of beneficiaries. That means the entire policy amount goes to her, via the trust. As of today, that amount is roughly thirteen million US dollars.”

Tom turned back to the policy. Sure enough, on the last page there it was, whole life insured in the amount of ten million, with dividends to accrue to the principal amount. That was ten years ago.

“At the moment, as executor I am the administrator of the trust fund,” Ed continued. “Between us, although entirely legal the trust is a sham, partly for tax reasons in the US since Mr. Willis was a citizen, and partly to help me to keep unscrupulous opportunists profiting from Sandy’s misfortune.”

He took out another sheet of paper. “I hereby transfer the trust fund to your administration. You don’t strike me as a gold digger. You are free to use the fund as you see fit. The bank account transfer will go through tomorrow. All I need is your signature. Since this is life insurance it bypasses Probate.”

Tom sat there, dumbstruck at the unexpected turn of events. Just like that, he was a millionaire. “I don’t know what to say.” One thing for certain, Sandy would want for nothing. Then he caught himself. “Sahe isn’t aware of any of this?”

Ed shook his head. “Of course not. Mr. Willis was quite firm on keeping his women separated from his business. I’m sure they had some idea he was well off. His boat, while not the largest in the harbor, was impressive. And his house…but you’ll see that soon enough.”

“House?” Tom asked.

Ed took more papers from his case. “This is the last part, I promise. Mr. Willis had no heirs. There was a brother, listed in the will, but he was killed in action while stationed in Syria. The will doesn’t provide for passing on assets to his brother’s estate. The sole beneficiary for Sam’s estate reverts to that same trust fund I mentioned.” He handed Tom a long, legal-sized print out.

Tom was no accounting expert but he could recognize a balance sheet, with assets and liabilities. This one totaled roughly ninety-four million in US dollars for assets. He frowned, what was this?

“This is accurate to one week ago. I hired an audit team to prepare the balance sheet for the Probate Court. Due to the amount, I anticipate it will be at least another month before the judge rules on it. At that point, you will be in control of Mr. Willis’ holdings as part of Sandy’s trust. That includes his house on North Island. You’re welcome to look it over any time, just call my office.”

Tom kept looking at first to Ed, then Ray, and then back again, trying to figure out what had happened. Ray must have known from the beginning, yet said nothing. That made sense; he had to filter out the fortune hunters. “I, uh, I’m overwhelmed.”

Ed slid his business card across the desk to Tom. “You are now in a class where estate management should be a serious concern. I hope you don’t mind if I make a pitch for my services? If you’d rather, I can recommend several other reputable attorneys.”

Ray opened the drawer underneath the desk, sorted through something, and produced two more business cards. “I use these people for financial advice. You are going to find yourself buried in the near future, especially when this leaks out. Not much we can do about that: Public Administrator, everything has to be transparent, by law on the public record; same for Probate Court records.”

Tom had won the lottery, without even buying a ticket. Idly he wondered how Sam Willis hid his wealth from Sandy. Would it make a difference if she found out? For the last ten years she had never so much as touched a coin, let alone handled a significant amount of currency. He’d have to check if she had been given a debit card, or if Sam had required her to ask him to buy everything.

Tom turned to Ed. “Any more surprises waiting for me in that briefcase?”

Instead, Ray spoke up. “There is just one more thing.” Now what? Tom thought. He must be one of those Steve Jobs fans, after delivering that signature line.

Ray picked up the envelope with Tom’s payment inside. He slid it across the desk, unopened, back to Tom. “Your purchase price is covered by Sam’s estate. Prior arrangement, he really did look out for his own. You’re perfect for Sandy, and that’s what he wanted, someone who would look out for his most valuable of assets after he was gone.”

The lawyer stood up. “Time for me to make my exit. Sandy doesn’t know who I am, per Sam’s wishes. If you don’t mind, Tom, I’ll keep it that way for you too.” Ed shook hands with Tom and left.

The Handover

“Sandy will be here in a minute.” Ray picked up a plastic wrapped bundle on the floor behind his desk. “She will be wearing a company dress. If she walks into the ferry terminal dressed like that the phones here in the brokerage will start ringing off the hook. I’d appreciate it if you have her change into something else. I had a dress sent up from our wardrobe manager. She assures me it will fit.”

There was a knock at the office door. “Come on in, Les. We’re finished.”

The door opened. In came Sandy, guided by a hand on her shoulder. She had on that eyesore of a company dress. Tom knew the unappealing though distinctive fashion statement was deliberate, to ensure any woman who somehow walked away from the brokerage would be quickly spotted. Not that Sandy had any opportunity to walk away.

Once again, her hands were held securely behind her back with handcuffs, attached to a chain that wrapped around her waist. Around her ankles larger cuffs were locked in place, with a connecting chain that guaranteed she was limited to a slow walk, no running or kicking allowed. Despite the restraints she gave the impression of calm acceptance, almost as if this were an everyday occurrence.

Maybe, in her world, it is commonplace. Tom noticed the way she quickly scanned the room, first sizing him up before shifting her attention to Ray. Makes sense, she doesn’t know me, so I’m a non-entity for the moment. Ray, on the other hand, was her known authority figure.

Her focus was justified. Ray came around the desk and stood in front of her. “Sandy. I want you to listen carefully to what I have to say. This is information you need to know.”

As far as she was concerned both Tom and Les, standing behind her, ceased to exist. Ray certainly had her undivided attention.

“Your former master did not neglect you. He made plans for your welfare in case he wasn’t able to provide for you. You were not informed of these plans because he didn’t want you to worry. Anyway, I’m here to carry out his wishes concerning your future. I want to stress I am acting under your owner’s express directives. This is what he wanted for you.”

That last sentence drew a reaction from Sandy. She didn’t move, or speak. That would be an unforgiveable act of disobedience. She couldn’t hide the shock of learning that Sam Willis had not abandoned her. The expression on her face, the wide-eyed look, gave it away.

“Sandra, the man standing next to me is Thomas Cooper. From this moment on he will be your new master. You should be aware he was selected based on very specific criteria spelled out in detail by Sam Willis. In his will he left instructions for you to give this man your unreserved loyalty and obedience. In return Mr. Cooper will watch over you, protect you from the outside world, and provide the stability you need to move forward with your life.”

Sandy finally turned her head to take in her new owner. Ray handed a small box to Tom. “These are the keys to her collar. I assume they still work. Her collar hasn’t come off in the last ten years.”

He dropped the keys in his pocket. When he got home, they’d go in his fireproof document safe. Tom didn’t foresee any circumstances where he’d need to use them.

“Les and I have some brokerage business to look after, so we’ll leave you alone. To make the late afternoon ferry you’ll need to be at the terminal in about forty minutes. I’ve arranged for a car to drive you there, as soon as you’re ready. Feel free to use the office until then.” Tom and Ray shook hands.

Les held out a small bunch of keys. “For her,” he explained. The two of them filed out the office door.

Once they were alone Tom reached out, placing one hand on her shoulder. With the other he ran his fingers around her collar. A close fit, but not tight. “This is how it will be. You will continue to wear my collar. You will address me as ‘sir’, and only that, unless you need to attract my attention in a crowd. For now, you will continue to follow you prior master’s rules and instructions, unless I make changes. You will not hesitate to come to me for your wants and needs, no matter how unimportant it may seem to you. Naturally, I demand your unquestioned obedience at all times. Unacceptable behavior has consequences, remember that. It’s not a threat or a bluff, only a statement of fact.”

I’m not making the same mistakes as last time, Tom promised himself. He wasn’t sure but he thought her reaction was positive. She’s not like me. She lives for strict, unambiguous commands that relieve her of any personal responsibility.

He leaned in, eye to eye. “You and I, Sandy, we will have a good life together. I have no doubts on this. You know why? Because I’m not going to let anything ruin it.”

Immediately after he spoke, to Tom the speech sounded trite, stilted, like something out of a cheap romance novel. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Those words were exactly what Sandy needed to hear. He could see tears in her eyes.

“This is what you need to know for today. We will go by car to the ferry terminal. We’ll take the late afternoon rush hour boat across the channel. My, our car is parked at the far end. From there we will drive to our apartment.” He needed to shift his thinking to include both of them.

“But first you need to change your clothes.” He pointed to the plastic bag on the desk. “You will change into this dress. You can use the bathroom over there.” He pointed to a side door. “You have my permission to speak.”

“Thank you, sir. I cannot comply with your order to change while under restraint.”

Tom grinned. “It would be most impressive if you could. Hold still while I get those things off you.”

He started by releasing her wrists, then unlocking the waist chain, and finally opening the leg irons. When he finished, she didn’t budge. Details, Tom reminded himself. “You may change now. After you are done, leave the company dress in the laundry hamper in the bathroom. You will return to this spot.” That should cover it.

She didn’t keep him waiting long. On her return she stopped in precisely the same spot, facing him with her hands at her side, feet together. “On instruction, sir. I have been instructed on set positions to stand, to sit, to kneel, both unencumbered and restrained.”

“Good to know. I will need your help, since I’m unfamiliar with your past history. For now, continue as you’ve been taught. You will provide the details to me. From what I’ve seen so far, I approve of your conduct.”

“Habits are difficult to break, sir. You are kind to grant me time to adjust.” Kind? That wasn’t what Tom was feeling. Here was a woman locked into a behavioral structure so rigid she could barely blink without permission, and he was encouraging her to continue.

While she was changing, he had been examining the keys Les had given him. The handcuff and padlock keys were obvious. The mystery was a tubular key with notches at the open end. He had no idea what it was intended to open.

When she returned, Sandy spotted the odd key in his hand. “Sir? In case you were puzzled over that key, you should be aware it goes to my belt.”

Belt? What was she talking about? There was no belt for her dress, and why would it require a key anyway?

She saw the confused look on his face. “Let me show you, sir.” Before he could reply she lifted up her dress, solving the mystery. Around her waist was a close-fitting band, with a lock in front. Descending from that lock was a triangular plate that narrowed as it passed between her legs. Tom recognized it immediately, a modern female version of the classic chastity belt. Closed, as it was now, there was no sexual access. From the shape of the flat lock, it was obvious how the key worked.

“You can lower your dress,” he told her. “How long… What are the conditions where you wear the belt?”

“The rules are simple, sir. Anytime I leave home its use is mandatory. Once in place I can’t remove it. Mr. Unger, my escort, ordered me to put it on before I was brought to this office.”

He didn’t know what to make of yet one more unexpected surprise for the day. “Is it uncomfortable?” The question was a stall to give him time to think.

“Not at all, sir.” She put her hands on her hips. “The waistband is padded, so it doesn’t cut into me. It’s a little awkward when sitting but not a major concern. After wearing it for so many years, most of the time I forget I have it on.”

Tom was positive he’d never forget if he were stuck in one of those things. One more difference between us; she sees it as a normal part of her daily routine. He came to a quick decision. “I’ll permit the use of the belt to continue. Is it worn at home too?”

She shook her head. “Normally no, sir. At times master would leave it on after we came home from a night out. That applied to all of us, not just me. As you might assume, we were not allowed to ask to have it removed, or even remind him we still had them on. Worst case, we had to wait until the morning before he released us.”

Tom had this nightmare image of him lying in bed next to her, desperately trying to remember where he put that cursed key. What made it all the worse is the way she smiled at him, almost laughing at the way he’d screwed up…or in this case not screwed at all.

He shook his head, trying to get that image out of his head. “You have my permission to remind me about your belt before bedtime, if I ever forget.” Immediately after the words came out, he realized how stupid it was. Its presence would be glaringly obvious. No reminder would be necessary.

Sandy gave him an odd look but said nothing. Yeah, I’m an idiot. Thanks for not pointing it out.

There was no reason to wait any longer in Ray Madsen’s office. “We’re leaving for the ferry terminal,” he announced. She looked at him, then turned around and placed her hands behind her back. It was a little reminder of what she deemed essential for being seen in public.

I am not Sam Willis. I’m going to do this my way. “No, turn around and face me, hands in front.”

She obeyed, though he sensed some reluctance. “You’re used to a certain procedure. That’s fine, but it doesn’t suit me. From now on, the right way will be the waist chain, but your hands will be cuffed in front. This applies when we’re using the car. For other, more formal occasions, I may choose behind the back.”

“Yes, sir.” And that was all it took to make a profound alteration in her routine. Ray’s theory about gradual persuasion was wrong; the best approach with Sandy was direct, domineering commands, not gentle persuasion.

Heading Home

The trip back to South Island was uneventful. Sandy’s registration indicated she had been a North Island resident for ten years, which automatically put her in the equivalent permanent agreement category on South Island. About the only significant difference in her status was the removal of the no driving prohibition. It was a moot point; Sandy had never had the opportunity to learn to drive a car.

She sat next to him, mostly sightseeing while he drove. “Have you been to South Island before?” he asked.

She turned to face him. “Not recently, sir. I think the last time master brought me here was about…” she paused to think, “about five years ago. With four of us it was difficult to get past the ferry terminal. Island laws sir, except on religious grounds they don’t like poly relationships on this side of the Channel. The officials have ways to make you sit and wait.”

Tom shook his head. “Bureaucracy rears its ugly head no matter where you go. However, your status doesn’t change over here, except you can’t be sent to a brokerage or sold to anyone.” Tom didn’t bring up the subject of driving a car. He could certainly afford one for her, plus the lessons, but at the moment he wasn’t prepared to grant her that particular privilege.

“I do like all the places to shop here, sir. On North Island there’s only the one mall, and it isn’t very big. We could always order online, but it’s not the same thing.” She turned back to look out the window, mostly to hide that one tear that came with remembering the times master gave his permission for the four of them to spend an entire afternoon wandering around the mall. Window shopping for the most part, but often master would indulge them by buying something that caught their attention. Those were happy times, sharing the outing like one big family.

They left the commercial zone when Tom turned off into a residential area. “We have an apartment. You can see the building up ahead. It’s not large but very comfortable for two.” And it was, until Greta left. He would have to explain Greta to Sandy sooner or later.

Sandy was back to looking out the side window. Suddenly she jumped up in her seat, as much as the seat belt allowed, and turned to Tom. “Sir!” She was clearly agitated. “Did you see that woman, standing at the curb? She didn’t have a collar, sir! I got the address, if you want to report her to the police…” And then Sandy came to a halt. “Sorry, sir, I forgot where I am. I do know the law here. You must think I’m an idiot.”

“Not at all,” Tom reassured her. “Cultural shock can bring it on.”

“That’s true, sir. I’d be horrified if anyone ever saw me without a collar. How would anyone know who my owner is? Being stripped naked and wrapped up in chains, in public, wouldn’t be half as bad. At least I’d have an excuse, master’s orders and all that. But no collar? I’d be some kind of freak.”

Tom was taken aback by the intensity of her distaste of uncollared females.  She’s spent her entire adult life immersed in North Island society; I can’t ignore that. The differences between them were profound, yet Tom saw them as her most attractive qualities.

Homecoming

Ed Gleason, the estate attorney, handed Tom the keys to the house, along with a slip of paper with some numbers written on it. “Here’s the keys to the house. That combination is for the safe in Sam’s office. I’ve already removed the legal papers, so you’re welcome to whatever is left. Probate is moving along; the house will legally be yours in a few more days. Take anything you want. After all, it all belongs to you now.”

“Thanks for meeting me here. By the way, I’ve thought about it. You’re right, I need some estate planning. Set up a time and we’ll discuss the details.” Tom stuffed the combination in his shirt pocket.

“I’m available any time for you, Tom. As customers go, you’re first priority. Are you on the Island tomorrow? I get in around nine in the morning.”

“Done, nine at your office. I’ll see you then. Um, without Sandy, of course.”

Ed nodded in agreement. “You can always leave her at this house. I can arrange for someone to be here if you want someone to watch her.”

Tom shook his head. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” She would be the least likely candidate to ever run away. He could trust her.

Ed got in his car and drove away. Tom headed back to the rental car to fetch Sandy, who was patiently waiting in the front seat. When he opened her door she remained staring straight ahead, as he’d ordered. She didn’t need to see or hear his conversation with the lawyer.

He leaned over her to release the seat belt first. After than he crouched down to unlock the chain between her ankles from the latch under her seat. Finally, he helped her to get out of the car and stand up. He carefully checked her wrists for any issues with the handcuffs, which held her hands close to her body thanks to the chain wrapped around her waist. Her ankles were linked by leg irons, with the regulation fourteen-inch chain. She could walk without too much difficulty, as long as she didn’t try to run.

Why is it she gets so upset if I don’t “properly” restrain her? More of that culture shock, on my part this time. If Sandy didn’t object, he certainly wasn’t about to make any changes. Like all her other quirks it was growing on him, day by day.

She wore a skirt today, with a sleeveless halter top. The skirt ended above the knee, but not by too much. For a change, Tom discovered he was more interested in her bare arms and shoulders. She had picked it out when he took her shopping the day after the arrived home. For his part, Tom learned to leave the fashion sense to her, reserving a veto if he didn’t approve of a particular choice.

He hadn’t provided her with an explanation of why they had returned to North Island, or why they were standing in front of her old home. She did look up at him with a sideways glance, silently asking an unspoken question: Why are we here?

It’s eerie the way she can almost read my mind, Tom thought. She figured out I want to keep her guessing until the last minute, and for no other reason than I can. Even so, she seemed to sense what was going on anyway. It was selfish of him, but Tom didn’t care. He was truly beginning to understand the scope, and the thrill it brought, of having so much power over Sandy.

“We’re here to pick up a few things for you. I brought two suitcases. You will pack the clothes in your room, the ones you want to keep, while I check the rest of the house.” He led her to the front door, unlocked it, and held it open, gesturing for her to go first.

Inside she showed him the way to her bedroom. After a quick inspection he told her, “Wait here while I get the suitcases out of the trunk.” Tom stopped to mull over an idea. “Sandy? From now on, when we’re together, you will not leave a room without asking for my permission first. This applies in public, or private. You can ignore this instruction if there’s some kind of emergency, like a fire. Any questions?”

She blinked but only replied with a “yes, sir.” He retrieved the luggage from the car trunk and came back in. She hadn’t moved, which pleased Tom. He slung the suitcases on to the bed and opened them. Returning to Sandy he freed her hands so she could begin.

“Leave the clothes you don’t want to take in the closet. The rest, lay them out on the bed. After I walk through the other rooms I’ll come back and we’ll go over what you’ve selected. The items I approve will go in the suitcases.” Tom looked around her old room. “Is that your laptop and phone?” he asked, pointing to a small desk.

“Yes, sir. Master had to enable them every morning. They’re locked out by now; I can’t sign in to either one.”

“Do you have a case for the laptop?”

Sandy opened the closet door. “It’s in here, sir.” She reached down and took out a typical computer bag, this one a pink color, with a shoulder strap.

“Okay, pack up the laptop, charger, and your mouse. Will the phone and its charger fit too?”

“Yes, sir, plenty of room.” She unzipped the top to show him.

“When we get home, I’ll see about restoring access for you.” A daily reset for security; Sam Willis must have been very strict on his women when it came to their electronics. That brought up another unanticipated question. Did he leave the controls in place, or give her more freedom on the Internet? The answer should have been obvious, yet he did have to consider she was used to close control over her sources of information. The laptop he’d have to mull over, but the phone would be unlocked…at least on a weekly basis.

“Okay, you can start,” he told her. “Leave the door open. If you need me, call out.”

There was a long hallway, with several closed doors. Across from Sandy’s room was a full-sized bathroom, with none of the common amenities you’d expect if it was in daily use. Given the luxury fittings it had to be for guests. Next to it was a bedroom, with a queen size bed. Again, the closet and dresser drawers were empty. This must be the guest bedroom for overnight visitors. I wonder if Sam Willis did much entertaining.

Tom decided to work his way down one side of the hallway and back up the other. The next room showed every sign of recent occupancy. It was the same size as Sandy’s room, though the furniture was slightly different. A laptop and phone sat on the desk. It appeared as if Sam didn’t allow his women to bring along any distractions like mobile phones when they went out on the boat.

At the end of the corridor was the master bedroom. Aptly named, for it was much larger, had a walk-in closet, and a bathroom with a bathtub large enough to accommodate two. The king-size bed had silk sheets, and more interesting retaining rings set into the bed frame on one side. Sam did like his fun and games.

The other side of the bed, without the rings, had a bedside table with a drawer. Inside Tom found an assortment of leather cuffs, no doubt intended for use with those rings. He closed the drawer without disturbing the contents. It was uncomfortable when unbidden the image of a naked Sandy came to mind, tied down on the bed. This was none of his business.

On the way out he stopped to examine a picture on the wall. It was a framed photograph, showing Sam and his women on the boat. Sam stood over the four women, lined up sitting at dockside, legs dangling down. He recognized Sandy. On impulse he took down the frame, opened the back and extracted the photo. Sandy should have it, he thought. Those were happy times; she deserves a reminder.

The next room was Sam’s office. This door was locked, but a key, on the ring Ed gave him, opened it. There was a desk, and to one side a safe. Sitting down in the office chair he leaned over, took the scrap of paper with the combination out of his pocket, and quickly dialed it in. The door gave a reassuring click and easily opened when Tom turned the door handle.

Inside was a metal box, on the bottom, and a shelf with neatly organized folder of papers. It was readily apparent someone else had been through the contents already, most likely Ed the attorney, for estate purposes. Taking out the metal box, he opened the lid to find it contained cash, a number of small denomination bills. Petty cash, Tom assumed. He set it aside. There was no point in leaving it.

Going through the folders one by one he found what he was looking for, the service contracts for the mobile phones and laptop Internet connections. There was a slip of paper with an administrative website and password attached by paper clip. It was all he needed to turn Sandy’s electronics back on, and to contact the service company to switch to his name.

The next room was much the same as Sandy’s bedroom, similar layout but customized with a personal selection of furnishings. Did her companions have any family he should contact? Or maybe they were here because they didn’t want to be found. He had resources; there must be someone he could hire to trace them down and find out their story. Sandy might know something, though he was reluctant to bring up any of her past history. He could check with the attorney too.

The last room on Sandy’s side of the hallway was another bedroom. Like the others it was small but neat and clean. Tom looked in the doorway but didn’t enter. He was beginning to feel like a burglar, intruding on the private lives of strangers, looting their possessions for his own gain.

Deliberate

When Tom stopped at her door, Sandy was standing next to the bed. The suitcases were open, but empty. Next to it was a pile of clothes she’d picked out. She stood facing him, an almost eager expression on her face, begging for his approval.

I could say a few words to praise her, Tom calculated, but that really isn’t the right way. Instead, he placed the cash box and folder on the dresser, turned back to her, and slowly walked around the bed. The photo was still in his hand.

He took his time, carefully inspecting Sandy’s work. Finally, he nodded his head and spoke. “Yes, that’s what I wanted to see. You did well.” It wasn’t much, but he could tell those were the words she longed to hear. She noticed the photo, studied it for a moment, and then looked up at him, a quizzical expression on her face.

“You recognize this?” Tom asked, handing it to her.

“Of course, sir. It’s from, oh, about four years ago. Master framed it and hung it up on the wall. It was a magic moment. We had just come back from a trip sailing all through the Island archipelago, three or four days. Everything had gone according to plan. The weather cooperated; the seas were calm. I’ll never forget it.”

“Put it in your suitcase,” Tom told her. “It’s something just for you, no one else. I don’t want to deprive you of the memories of your past, good or bad. We’re not going to erase ten years of your life.”

To Tom’s surprise Sandy just stood there, looking at the picture. Then she carefully put it away, in the top compartment of the suitcase. “Sir, I’m about to deliberately disobey you. I understand what this means, and fully accept the consequences. Please, let me speak before you do what you must.”

Deliberate? That didn’t make sense to Tom. He waved his hand, indicating she could continue.

She stood up very straight, arms at her side, facing him, glancing up to meet him eye to eye. “When the police came for me, sir, told me the news, I thought my life was over. Being taken to a brokerage confirmed my worst fears. My next owner would be from the worst of men, the kind who hated women, taking out their own failures on someone like me. Despite Mr. Madsen’s assurances I’d heard all about the perils of being auctioned off to the highest bidder. The best I could hope for was basic survival, though I was doubtful about any benefit that might come with the life I must endure.”

Tom began to worry he’d made some kind of terrible mistake with Sandy, although he’d had no indication she was unhappy, let alone miserable.

“I was wrong, sir. You, Thomas Cooper, are among the best, not the worst of men. You are kind, considerate, understanding, but strict and even harsh when it is necessary. You are consistent in setting my structure, my limits, and you do not hesitate to act with discipline, without being swayed by emotion, when circumstances demand a strong hand.”

Now he figured out the part about being disobedient. She had used his name, without permission and in clear violation of his instructions. The intent was not disrespectful; quite the contrary, she had used the moment for emphasis, even though there must be consequences.

She took a deep breath. “Sir, I have violated your trust in me by using your name. I cannot apologize for it, because I was well aware of what I have done. I am prepared for my correction, in whatever manner you see fit to use.”

Oh great, now I’m painted into the proverbial corner. She won’t rest until I deliver some kind of reprimand, but how do I accomplish that without feeling like a complete jerk? Tom thought furiously, trying to come up with some idea. He stared over her shoulder, at the wall behind her.

Putting on his sternest frown he pointed to the wall. “Turn around, stand next the wall, facing it. You will not speak, you will not move, your eyes will not waver from the spot directly in front of you.” She didn’t hesitate.

“I am disappointed in your behavior.” He tried to add a hint of anger in the tone of his voice. To his ears it came out like lines from a bad movie. “You will use this time out to best determine how you will ensure this does not happen again.” Tom added some emphasis to the “time out” phrase, in order to single it out as a type of punishment.

Standing close behind her he took out his phone to check the time. Even though his sentence was harsh, as she put it, Tom was convinced this was exactly what she expected. Anything less would be weakness on his part. She looked to him for strength, for determination, for confidence, all the qualities of leadership.

The time on his phone ticked over, a full minute had elapsed. He placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. “Time out is over. This will not happen again. The incident is forgotten. We will not speak of it again.” The proper procedures had been followed; all societal norms had been addressed. Maybe the length of her punishment was questionable, but he didn’t care. He was Sandy’s owner; no one else in the entire world had the authority to overrule him.

“Now, let’s see what you’ve picked out for the suitcase. I’ll want a look at what you left behind, too.”

Ghosts From The Past

Before closing her car door Tom checked the cuffs on her wrists one more time. They were close-fitting but not too tight. Since the cuffs were attached to the chain around her waist her freedom of movement was sharply restricted. When he finished, she crossed her hands in her lap in a very precise fashion.

She glanced up at him, a smile on her face. For some reason I may never understand, being bound in chains while out in public was something she accepted as normal. He headed around the car to the driver’s side and got in.

She sat up with head held high, eyes fixed looking out the front windshield. Her feet and legs were exactly aligned, with only a slight gap between them. She was as still and silent as a statue. This routine was her own doing, not something Tom had insisted on.

Picture perfect, and just for me. He had to admit it stirred something in him. Lust, maybe, but there was more to it. She does this for me, without any demands on my part. I should do something to acknowledge her efforts.

He reached out and laid his hand on her knee. She didn’t flinch, though for one quick moment she closed her eyes. Tom might have missed that momentary reaction if he hadn’t been paying close attention. So that’s it, he concluded, her little show is an invitation to touch her, to invade her “space” in what could only be called a sexual overture.

“Look at me. It has not escaped my attention, the way you present yourself after getting into the car. I didn’t ask you to start, but now I’m telling you not to stop.” This time there was the slightest hint of a smile from her. Why do I feel like I’ve just been talked into giving Sandy what she wants, while at the same time thinking it was all my idea?

I’m in charge, sort of, mostly. Tom’s delicate male ego wasn’t so fragile that he couldn’t withstand some gentle persuasion. It’s the results that matter, he reminded himself. After all, her smooth skin felt soft and very enticing.

“Before we leave, you need to know I’ve come to a decision regarding us.” That sounded ominous, even to Tom. “We’re not going to keep that house. It’s too big for just the two of us. We’re not going to stay in the apartment either. Starting tomorrow we’re in the house-hunting business, here on North Island.”

Her eyes lit up with joy. It was obvious she didn’t like the idea of living on South Island. She’d never complain, since it was up to him to choose where they made their home, but he could tell she missed the more conservative lifestyle of North Island society.

“Both of those places have too many ghosts from our past. We need a fresh start. I’m convinced it’s best for both of us to start over here, on North Island. I realize you’ll be disappointed, losing some newfound freedom, and the chance to have your own car.” Tom was well aware nothing could be further from the truth. “Truth is, I intend to keep a tight grip on you. South Island isn’t the place for it.” What he was after were excuses to move that didn’t make her feel guilty. He had to convince her it was all his idea, and for the most selfish of reasons.

“Yes, sir. You know best.” The way her eyes lit up in excitement belied her feigned disappointment. Moving had been a good idea after all. One more mistake I caught and fixed in time, Tom thought. I’m getting better at this role of master and owner.

New Start

Sandy was standing in the living room, looking out the front window at the view. She heard Tom come up behind her but didn’t say anything.

“Do you like it?” Tom asked. He put his arms around her from the back. She took hold of his arms and leaned back against him.

“It’s a beautiful house, sir. This is like a large painting.” She swept one hand across the expanse of the window. “We can see all the way across the Channel to the ferry terminal on South Island. I bet if we had a telescope, we could make out individual people standing in line to board.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Tom promised. The place had been expensive, mostly due to the unobstructed view and the relative isolation high against the cliffs. Sandy had fallen in love with the house the minute she saw it. At my old salary it would have taken, oh, about two hundred years to pay off the mortgage. Although he was determined not to let his newfound wealth change his life, the cost this one time didn’t bother him; Sandy’s happiness was priceless.

A new home, decorating with all-new furniture, a fresh start had worked to bring Sandy out of her shell, as Tom had hoped. Gone were the silent moments when she brooded over what she’d lost. I’m better off too; I can feel the change.

How quickly the woman in his arms had come to fill his every waking moment. She twisted around to face him, her arms outstretched around his neck. “Sir? Did you buy this house for me?”

Tom was about to answer when he suddenly stopped. On the surface it was a simple question, but he felt the nuances behind whichever way he replied. He pulled her arms down to her side.

“This is an ideal location and a sound investment. I decided to buy it before you looked it over. I’m glad you like it but this is where we are going to live from now on, even if you had been disappointed after seeing it.”

Tom did his best to make it seem like he had acted selfishly, without regard to Sandy’s opinion. I have to show I’m in charge; I’m not easily influenced. From the blank look on her face, he realized she’d seen through his little act. I’m in real trouble now, he told himself. That ability to read his mind made it virtually impossible to bluff.

“You know best, sir,” she said. There was no hint of sarcasm but Tom knew his clumsy attempt at misdirection had failed. “I’m glad it was a wise financial decision, and that you took such decisive action. I like it when you do that.”

This is what I have to look forward to, he concluded. It’ll be all my idea; sure, she mustn’t influence me. All a polite fiction to maintain that line between them. I’ll never really be sure if some subtle persuasion on her part is behind what I’d like to think of as ruling with a firm hand.

He slipped an arm around her waist again and held her close while they both looked out over the Channel below. “Our home will be your responsibility,” I told her. “My office, the garage and basement will be off limits to you. The rest of the house is your domain. You choose how to decorate. Whatever you don’t like, we’ll bring in replacements. If you can’t stand the color of the towels, they’ll replenish my supply of garage rags. I will approve all purchases, but don’t let that limit you.”

To emphasize it was an order, he switched to a sterner tone. “You will also be the hostess for parties. I count on you to manage the socializing. Any questions?”

“No, sir. I would ask if you could give me a warning beforehand, as far as entertaining?”

Tom pretended to debate her request, furrowing his brow as if in deep thought. “It is information you need to know. That’s reasonable.”

They continued to stand in front of the window. Suddenly Tom shook his head. “This isn’t working. Stay where you are.” Sandy gave him a puzzled look.

He dragged a loveseat from the living room over to the front window. “Okay, now it’s your turn to go to work. If we’re going to enjoy this magnificent view, we’re going to be comfortable. Show me where the best place is for this.” He took a few steps back.

She glanced at the loveseat, then at Tom, and back out the window. “If I may, sir?”

I told her to stay there, dummy. I’ve got to remember those things in the future. “Go ahead,” he told her.

Sandy walked around the small sofa, stopping behind it and backing up. “It isn’t centered, sir. Can you move it to the left, about this much?” She held up her hands to indicate the distance.

He pulled it to one side, “Just a bit more, sir.” One more tug and she nodded. “That’s much better.” Again, she circled around the loveseat, finally halting between it and the window. “May I sit down, sir?”

He gestured with a hand to give his approval. Congratulations Tom, he thought, now you’re micro-managing her every move. Sandy was shaking her head. “Too far away, sir. It needs to be closer to the window.”

“Stand behind me while I push it forward.” This time I did remember. She didn’t have to ask to stand up. Tom slowly pushed the loveseat forward while Sandy checked the perspective.

“That’s good, sir. May I try it again?”

Tom couldn’t take his eyes off her when she sat down. Every movement was natural, the way she ran her hands along her skirt, all the while keeping her legs together, ending with hands folded in her lap. It must be choreographed, yet she performed the little ritual as if it were spontaneous, delivered without thinking about it. That’s likely true, Tom realized. She’s done this so many times it’s a habit.

He joined her, casually placing his arm behind her along the top of the loveseat. “Does this work for you, sir?” Out in the Channel the afternoon ferry was leaving South Island. “I could sit here for hours, watching everyday Island life.” She looked up at Tom. “Will you miss South Island, sir?”

Tom laughed, shaking his head. “Less and less, by the minute. I do regret leaving the Fire Department though. I made some inquiries about volunteering for Search and Rescue here on North Island, in case they need help in an emergency.”

Sandy tilted her head up to look at Tom. “You’ll be okay, sir? Nothing risky?” He could hear the apprehension in her voice. It was only natural she worried about him, given what had happened to her last owner.

“Not to worry, we’re well-trained in Search & Rescue not to endanger anyone on the team. I’ll be fine.” What he told her was true, although it glossed over the hazards of the unexpected. “I intend to be around to take advantage of you whenever I please.”

“Sir? May I speak freely? I have something to say, about me, about us.”

Tom was about to give her permission when he caught himself. I haven’t criticized Sandy for speaking up, so why ask for permission now? Could it be some kind of test, a way to gauge what he thought of her? Don’t make the same mistake again, allow it but set boundaries.

“When we’re alone you may speak freely, regardless of the subject. You will maintain the line between us at all times, especially in showing respect for my authority. Certain topics will still be prohibited. You will not bring up financial matters or ask about details of my business deals.” He frowned. “In particular, any talk regarding a change in belonging to me will be treated as disobedience. I’ll never let you go; live with it.”

Sandy’s eyes went wide with surprise at the ferocity of his last words. “I…” she seemed to be at a loss for words. “What I mean to say, sir, is all my life I’ve relied on someone to take care of me. I’m not one of those strong, independent women that you see on TV and in the movies. There’s been a man to tell me what to do, how to behave, for my entire adult life. I want you to know, sir, I have no desire to be treated any other way.”

She reached up to touch her collar. “I know exactly what this means. I chose this life, and I have no regrets. I’m well aware I gave up the freedom to walk away long ago. Even if I could do as I please, I’d still be here, sitting next to my master. I won’t lie to you, sir; it isn’t always easy. There were times I was so angry and frustrated I wanted to jump up, stamp my foot and yell out how some new rule was stupid and idiotic. It never happened.”

She lowered her head. “It never will happen, sir. No matter how irate I might be, it is not within me to be disobedient. Maybe there’s some brain defect, some mental disease that affects my ability to think rationally. Whatever the reason, you have this immense power over me, sir. I’m fixated on you; I can’t say no. All I can do is trust your judgement concerning what’s best for me, even if I can’t understand why.

“The reason I asked to speak freely is about this house. I worried that you might be spending on me rashly, first by quitting your job on South Island and now buying what must be a very expensive home here, all to make me happy. I realize now that was wrong. If I don’t have faith in you, no matter what actions you take, the rules you impose on me, or the way you order me around, then I’m lost, alone in the world.

“Your intentions are clear to me now, sir. You have matters in hand; I’m not supposed to be concerned about money issues. The new start, sir, I got sidetracked. No longer, from this moment on I’ll put it out of my mind.”

Sandy’s revelation gave Tom much to think about. Her concerns made sense, given she was unaware of the details of her previous owner’s financial legacy. From her point of view, it would appear as if he was being reckless.

He laid a hand over hers. “Sandy, look at me. I’m not going to explain why, but I do want to reassure you about buying this house. It’s not going to bankrupt us, so in the future don’t hesitate to ask me for something you might want, regardless of the cost. If you want to make me angry then adopting some sort of noble self-sacrifice attitude is a fast and certain way to piss me off. If your request isn’t practical then I’ll say no and that will be the end of it.”

Sandy leaned in close to Tom. “It’s difficult for me, sir. I don’t know you well enough to sense if I’m being a burden.”

“First of all, it’s my job to determine if you’re a burden, as you put it. If I disapprove, you can be sure you will be the first to find out. I don’t expect miracles. The only way you can learn about me is to test how far you can go. Once I make it clear what is prohibited, then you have guidelines. You have considerable experience in adapting to your man. I’m not worried about the times you come to me, or whether it’s a need or a want.

Time to lighten the mood. He sat up straight, looked down at her with a determined expression, and delivered his command in the most emphatic terms. “I do want to make it clear you will never be allowed to keep a pony in the backyard. Don’t ask, don’t even think about it. If you even mention the possibility, you can expect an immediate, long and severe reprimand.”

He could see she thought he was joking, at first. When Tom did not smile, she got the message. “Yes, sir.” And that was all she never said about ponies.

Secrets Revealed

Sandy did take the hint on changing the subject. “I have more to say about myself. I think it’s important you know. I was not forthcoming when that Mr. Unger questioned me. The brokerage did take care of me, which deserved my cooperation but not devotion. My secrets, sir, are only for my master to hear. I belong to you; it wouldn’t be right to hold back.”

Tom felt some satisfaction in judging her correctly. The reticence he sensed in her demeanor at the brokerage wasn’t from shock at losing her family. Sandy was no weakling, desperate for approval, grasping at proverbial straws for stability. She had an inner strength he was finally seeing emerge.

“From an early age I knew how I would turn out as an adult, sir. I’m not the type who can do it all without any help. There was no question, no doubt that I would be with a man, someone who was self-assured, domineering, someone who could love me but have the strength to keep me on the road he mapped out for me.

“I do have a mirror, sir. In terms of beauty, I was not at the head of the line when good looks were handed out. I had to find another way to attract and hold onto the right man. That’s when I discovered my special talent, sir.” Sandy came to a stop, closely watching Tom.

Tom laid a hand on her knee. “Okay, you have my full attention. I give up, what is this special talent?”

“I’ve noticed how you watch me, sir. Especially when I sit down, in that special way, just for you. You like that one right way, I can tell. That’s my talent, sir. I have an instinct for what pleases men, in all the little ways that add up. Best of all, I enjoy it, at least as much as you if not more. I can seduce you, sir, but in such a way it’s your idea so it doesn’t conflict with your need to have power over me.”

Seduce me? The candor of the remark caught Tom off guard. No way, I’m in charge. She doesn’t tell me what to do. All that was true, except the results pointed to choices that benefited her. She’s right, it’s all my idea, as far as I can tell. He studied her face with newfound respect. She wasn’t exaggerating about her special talent. If he wasn’t careful, she could become a skilled opponent.

“I’m not your adversary, sir.” Tom flinched. She read my mind again!

“If I may elaborate, sir, I’m no threat to your position. What I do is encourage you to look after me. What does that mean? I can’t answer that question. Your duty is to figure it out. How do I seduce you? By giving you everything you desire. Obedience first, then loyalty and finally my love. Absolutes, sir, until the day comes when unavoidable events force us to part.

“All I insist on is the line between us. Demand from me anything you wish, that’s your right as my owner. My side of the line is to deliver the goods. Understand, sir, this is a compulsion within me. You must treat me as your property at all times. Give me the tools to be the woman of your dreams, of my dreams.”

Tom held up a hand to order silence. Sandy came to a halt.  I didn’t even have to instruct her on that particular gesture; she picked up on it immediately. “I need a few minutes to digest all you’ve explained. You did well to make me aware of how you felt.”

Angela’s Story

The Alliance

Angela Van Rijn tapped on her glass. “If I could have everyone’s attention?” The background conversations died down as the meeting came to order.

“I see we have a few newcomers. Welcome to the Alliance for Humane Treatment. As I’m sure you know we’re holding our quarterly fundraiser to help fight against the inhumane conditions prevalent at the so-called Facility. Contrary to what some people would have you believe, we do not oppose the principles underlying our unique little corner of the world. What we do object to are the abuses that have gained a foothold in our society. I’m referring primarily to the Facility, and that abomination of North Island.”

Angela paused to take in the mood of the audience. There were fewer empty seats compared to a year ago. Best of all, contributions were steadily climbing. There was a newfound air of optimism, refreshing after the dark despair of struggling to keep the Alliance going after the disaster of the previous year, when a kidnapping of two women in broad daylight had been linked to an anti-Facility group.

“I’m pleased to report the Alliance is alive and well, and growing stronger by the day. Our legal team is working tirelessly to target specific instances of the most egregious violations perpetrated by the Facility. I’d like to single out our paralegal volunteers and all the work they’ve done researching public records. I won’t go into specifics here but I want everyone to know we are planning legal action in the very near future. Your contributions today will go a long way to fueling a proactive strike against the barbaric policies we are sworn to end.”

A good speech, upbeat, hinting at action rather than endless meetings. The reality wasn’t quite so bright. They had enough cash to, barely, fund one civil case. The problem was to choose one that would generate enough publicity to bring in more people. Piet had a proposal, and it did look promising, but Angela was aware of how precarious the existence of the Alliance was, and how more bad press could wipe it out.

And on top of all the other problems, there was Donna Harbo. She wanted Angela’s job in the worst way. Angela had to be on constant watch for her takeover schemes, always jockeying for power to emphasize her accusations the organization was too timid to act.

Central Committee

Later that night the Central Committee met in executive session to debate further action. This was not open to rank-and-file members because they had to discuss reality, not rhetoric.

“I’m convinced this is the best opportunity we have,” explained Piet Van Rijn, Angela’s husband and chief attorney on the Alliance legal strike team. “There’s no legal precedent to hinder us. The facts of the case are ambiguous in interpretation, which opens the door for an emotional appeal to sway a jury. A judgement in our favor would not only embarrass the Facility but also call into question existing regulations regarding their graduates, and might even extend to crossings over to North Island.”

“And what if we lose?” That came from Donna, the ever-present thorn in Angela’s side. It was no secret she disagreed with Angela on the future direction of the Alliance. “We’re draining our treasury to fund this gamble. Need I remind everyone what happened last year, when that direct action group kidnapped a Facility woman and tried to deprogram her? The backlash nearly destroyed us. You’re betting our future on a flimsy legal case with no guarantee we’ll prevail.”

Angela almost burst out laughing at the dizzying rate Donna could switch positions. She had been the one in favor of secretly funneling money to that same group in support of blatantly funding criminal activities. Only Angela’s intervention had prevented the entire Central Committee from winding up in jail.

“And what would you suggest, Donna?” Angela asked. “More demonstrations where no one shows up and the media ignores? Maybe you’re content to let those Neanderthals at the Facility continue to churn out brainwashed female zombies while we pretend to care? No, we’ve got to make some noise, attract attention, show the membership we’re not just a debating society that never accomplishes anything.”

Donna glared at Angela but managed to keep her anger in check. “Okay, fine, we’ll try it your way. I trust the Central Committee will remember today, and how we’ll need new leadership to clean up the mess when this falls apart.”

Angela looked around the table. “Show of hands, all those in favor of the lawsuit?” She counted the hands, which didn’t include Donna. “Ayes in the majority, we proceed. Piet, you will be the lead attorney. The Alliance will file as the Plaintiff. Make sure our name is prominent when this hits TV and website news. Publicity is money in the bank.”

No Sure Thing

“Don’t kid yourself, Angela. When it comes to court cases there is no sure thing, unless you bribe the judge beforehand. This isn’t going to be easy. If this guy finds a sharp attorney we’ll be in for a quite a fight.”

Angela grabbed a sushi roll with her chopsticks and dipped the edge in soy sauce. “Piet, we have to do something. The hard fact is our membership is stalling. Before too much longer it’ll start to decline again, and then we’ll be in real trouble. We’ve got to rally the faithful, up the emotional level, generate some confrontation, or we disappear. I’ve made arrangements to line up some paid protesters, so we’ll get good initial coverage on our side of the Channel. I’m relying on you to enflame the issue, give us a chance to dial up the rhetoric, and come up with some soundbites.”

Piet scooped up some Lo Mein noodles. “We need to get a change of venue before anything else. If the case is stuck in a North Island courtroom there won’t be a supportive audience in the courthouse or a shouting mob outside. There’s no way to slip in our people to get the sound effects needed to discredit the Defendant. We won’t be able to shop for a sympathetic judge either. Worst of all, most of our volunteer legal team will be stuck on South Island. I’ll have to coordinate remotely.”

She reached out and touched his arm. “We have a mission, Piet. Those women at the Facility, they don’t realize what’s being done to them. We know what’s best for them; we have to act to save them from their folly. I have no doubt you’ll prevail.”

Barbara’s Story: Podcast

Part Of The Job

Ray was at his desk when Barbara came in through the open door. One of the guards held onto her with a hand wrapped around her upper arm, the standard grip when escorting "guests” inside the brokerage. Barbara wore the standard uniform required of all women in custody, even though she was the owner’s private property. Her status bestowed on her no special privileges. On the contrary, she was treated exactly like all the other inventory awaiting purchase, except she wasn’t available for sale.

He pointed to a spot in front of his desk. Barbara was led over to it. “Thanks, Harry. Mark her down as transferred to me for the rest of the day. Can you get the door on the way out?”

Whenever she had on the company uniform Ray tended to be very formal with her. Don’t move, don’t talk without permission, she knew the rules by heart. He was busy reading a sheet of paper, one of many judging from the stack on his desk.

Finally, he looked up at her. “Certified audit, for the tax man,” he explained, holding up the document. “I have to read and sign off on the entire audit for the year. See what you’re missing? In the outside world you’d be co-owner and have to sign it too, on penalty of perjury and other dire consequences. Here, not only are you barred from reading it, you don’t even have a legal signature.”

Barbara wasn’t the least concerned about what she definitely wasn’t missing. The only time she would ever encounter the taxman would be the, hopefully never, event of her being sold. Not for the first time she was reminded of her technically impoverished state. Legally forbidden to handle money, except for her debit card, she didn’t have a penny to her name, nor did she own any assets. Just the opposite, according to Island law she was the asset, and Ray was the owner. The irony was, although she had nothing, in some odd way she had all she needed.

“Go sit on the couch,” he ordered. “You have permission to speak.” She could hear an undertone of irritation, though Barbara could tell it was directed toward the audit rather than any disapproval towards her. In a well-practiced yet natural appearing routine she ran her hands under her dress when she sat down, while at the same time lining up her feet and legs in the precise manner he demanded. The ending flourish consisted of placing her open palms on her knees, with her elbows tucked in.

To characterize her little performance as trivial would be a gross understatement. Ray had made it quite clear, in the most unambiguous of terms, there was only one right way, his way, and there was to be no deviation. The simple act of sitting down was far from simple for Barbara. It had to be perfect, every single time.

When she finished it was Ray’s turn. She saw his eyes narrow, sweeping up and down, seeking out the slightest imperfection. The accounting, as she liked to call it. If he wasn’t satisfied the heavens would fall while the earth opened up to swallow her. At least that’s the level of catastrophe she expected. At first, she had been near a panic attack when subjected to his inspection. Since then, some of his self-confidence must have rubbed off on her. She could meet him, eye to eye, secure in the knowledge there was no flaw to discover.

“Was there something you…” Barbara stopped in mid-sentence when he raised his hand.

“It’s been a bad morning and not going to improve this afternoon. You can help by providing me with a distraction. I want you to sit there, quietly, while I unwind.”

This was nothing new to Barbara. She held still, acutely aware of his stare. Ray was surrounded by numerous beautiful and talented women who were being held at the brokerage awaiting sale. They were eager to win any kind of small favor from him. She faced daunting competition for Ray’s attention on a daily basis. Despite the temptations he faced, this was the moment when she ceased to worry. Out of all his alternatives, she was the one sitting on the couch, relishing the hunger in his eyes. Sexual? Yes, but that was only the beginning.

Ray’s secret, known only to Barbara, was his insatiable need for domination. Not just the physical control of her body, but the power he exerted over her soul, her mind. How he managed it she could not explain, but she certainly felt the effects of the ways he had developed to reach into her head, reshaping her thoughts into alignment with his wishes.

Anyone else would turn away in disgust at her supposed brainwashing. Barbara knew better. This is who I am, she thought, unshakeable in her belief the two of them were a perfect fit that no person and no incident would ever split asunder. I’m not a robot, she told herself. I know exactly what I’m doing. It might be his influence more than my choice, but there’s really no difference.

Ray leaned back in his chair, folded his arms and cocked his head to one side. The frustrated irritation brought on by the paperwork drained away, to be replaced by a relaxed smile. “How did I ever keep it together before you arrived?” Suddenly he leaned forward, arms resting on his desk. “Raise your chin. I want to see that collar.”

Swelling with pride she raised her head and pulled back her shoulders. His collar, his mark of ownership, was an integral part of her life. Every time she passed a mirror there was that thrill of seeing it encircle her neck. I’ll do everything in my power to ensure it never comes off. Maybe there was a hint of vanity in the delight it brought her, knowing she was Ray’s property by his choice. The weight wasn’t uncomfortable; she regarded it as a constant reminder he wanted her.

His eyes were fixated on the band around her throat. “Mine, all mine,” he whispered. He sighed and settled back in his chair again.

For all the subtle clues she had learned to read from his body language, his expression, the tone of his voice, there were facets of Ray she would never fully comprehend. What drove his compulsion to dictate the smallest details of her life, to impose arbitrary rules, to impose strict discipline, and yet at the same time display loving tenderness?

He rose from his chair and came over to her. “Stand up,” he ordered in that calm yet firm tone she loved to hear. “Turn around, hands behind your back.” Again, that voice of authority that seemed to blank out any hint of defiance on her part. She knew what was coming next.

The familiar sound of the ratchet on the handcuffs was followed by the weight of the steel bracelets around her wrists. They must be leaving the office. Securing women in the brokerage was at the discretion of their escort. Some guards were on the lenient side, often foregoing the formality of bound hands. Other men at the brokerage were rigorous adherents to the policy of enhanced security at all times. When it came to Barbara, Ray nearly always opted for ensuring she was properly subdued.

“This way,” he told her, heading toward the office door. Where was he taking her? Barbara had no clue, although she knew better than to ask. Either she would discover their journey's end when they arrived, or he would tell her if he thought she needed to know. This was one of Ray’s minor pleasures he derived from controlling her. She wasn’t going to spoil it.

Public Image

When they stopped at the entrance to the dining hall Barbara finally learned of their destination. It was lunchtime, and she was hungry. Passing through the entrance Ray steered her toward the regular serving counter instead of the area reserved for employees. That was far from normal. Ray nearly always held to a policy of strict separation between brokerage staff and guests.

There were two women in front of Barbara, both guests waiting for their turn to order lunch. One noticed Ray waiting behind them. She nudged the other woman, who turned and saw the brokerage owner, the man who literally held their lives in his hands, calmly waiting for his turn. Both women immediately offered to let Ray and Barbara go first. Ray politely declined and insisted they precede him. Barbara, aware she still wasn’t allowed to speak, remained silent.

He let go of her arm in order to lift two trays off the stack. He laid both of them on the counter and slid them forward. How am I going to pick up that tray, let alone eat, without my hands? She was trying to come up with some plan when Ray told her, “You have permission to talk. The sign says this is retro fast-food day. The special is a cheeseburger, fries and milk shake. How does that sound?”

Barbara had tried this particular special before, when she was on her own at lunchtime. Although it sounded like a gastronomical disaster the cook did an amazing job with some mysterious spices. “I’d love a burger, sir, no pickles. Strawberry shake, if that’s okay with you.”

When their turn came to order Ray did the talking. “Two specials, the works for me, no pickles for her. Two strawberry shakes, with straws.”

“Yes Mr. Madsen, right away.” The cook was a long-time employee of the brokerage. She had arrived as a guest, slated for auction, when one of the guards bought her instead. Her owner happened to be today’s floor supervisor for the cafeteria. He was currently directing the two women who had been ahead of them in line.

Ray took hold of her arms and positioned her to face the end of the counter. “Eyes front, don’t look around, don’t turn your head.” His voice was low, almost a whisper.

There must be some purpose to this, Barbara thought. This was not the typical lunchtime routine. It felt more like she was putting on a show. That’s it! He’s deliberately staging a performance for the noontime audience. Confident she’d figured out his plan she did her best to go along.

The floor supervisor returned to the counter. “Do you need some help?” he asked.

“Could you arrange to have…” he paused, looking around. He suddenly pointed to two women sitting at a nearby table. “There’s an empty table in the corner. I’d like these two ladies to take the trays over there. Could you see to it?”

Ray took hold of Barbara’s cuffs with one hand, and grasped her upper arm tight with the other. This was the procedure used by the guards to forcibly steer an uncooperative “guest” to wherever she was supposed to go. The stunned silence in the dining hall embarrassed Barbara. Ray had to know she’d never show any resistance, yet he was treating her as recalcitrant, requiring brute force to overcome her poor behavior.

Seconds later the trays were at the table and the helpers headed back to their table. Barbara stared down at her tray. So near yet so far, she lamented silently. Ray was behind her. Then the cuffs came off. Relieved she wasn’t going to be fed by hand, she stretched out her arms for a moment before letting them down to her sides.

Ray pulled out her chair. “Have a seat,” he said. “Don’t let your food get cold.” He pushed in the chair once she sat down. Hands on her knees were out, so she improvised by placing each hand, palm down, on either side of the tray.

He joined her on the other side. “You may eat,” he quietly gave the approval she needed before she could start. Her back was to the other tables, yet she could feel all eyes upon her.

Before she could ask, he handed her the ketchup bottle. He knows me too well, she laughed to herself, while liberally covering the French fries with red goo. She picked up a fry and sent it to its fate, savoring the salty fried potato goodness. She watched while Ray attacked his burger. He really does know me, at least what’s best for me, even if I can’t always see it.

“Am I on company time, sir? The part about being a role model for all the newcomers, show them how it’s done when master is in charge, that sort of thing?”

He glanced up from his milkshake. “Didn’t take long for you to figure it out?” She noticed his eyes shifting to a spot past her shoulder. “You are aware just about everyone in the dining hall is staring at you?”

Barbara resisted the temptation to turn and look. The right way was to keep her focus on Ray, as if eating lunch in the main dining room was nothing out of the ordinary. It was a pretense; she was certain that throughout the brokerage the main topic of conversation for the rest of the day, and on to tomorrow, would be Ray Madsen, the brokerage owner, sitting down to eat with everyone else, with a possibly misbehaving Barbara in tow.

Conversation during lunch was wide-ranging. At one point it turned to the local news from South Island, about activists demanding the Facility be shut down. “If they succeed then it’s only a matter of time before they come after North Island too, especially the brokerages. I’ve organized a fund with other brokerage owners to help Director Yates with the legal bills.”

“Isn’t the Facility sort of a competitor, sir?”

Ray shook his head. “I don’t see it that way. The Facility is non-profit, plus there’s virtually no overlap with North Island in general. It’s a public image battle. I’m sure you’ve seen those fake ‘documentaries’ about the brokerages. You know, how I keep you chained to a basement wall all day long, often beating you senseless for no particular reason. And that’s all on a good day.”

Barbara laughed at his ridiculous scenario. “I do appreciate the break from hanging from the wall, sir. I hope you won’t think me insolent to mention it.”

“Careful, woman, I can be easily provoked. Speaking of public image, I have some news that applies to you. You’re going to be Selene’s guest on this weekend’s Moon Maiden podcast, for the entire hour.”

Public Exposure

Back in Ray’s office Barbara was worried. “Are you sure this is a good idea, sir? It’s one thing to go to a party, quite another to sit through a lengthy interview. She broadcasts live; there’s no way to edit out mistakes. I’m no expert on social media and how to handle the scrutiny.” She was close to begging Ray to reconsider his decision to have her appear on Island Moon Maid, the highest rated locally produced podcast in the entire Island archipelago.

“Part of your appeal is you’re not one of the usual talking head pundits. Like it or not, you’ve become a minor celebrity, mostly through Selene’s efforts to promote you. Just be yourself, that’s all I’m asking.” There was a shift in his tone of voice. “You will go to the interview. You’ll do fine. I have every confidence in you.”

It’s a done deal, Barbara concluded when Ray finished his pep talk. “Sir? What if she wants to get into personal, intimate details? How can I refuse to answer without looking like I’m hiding some dark secret?”

Ray sighed in an elaborate exaggeration of impatience. “That’s the least of your worries. You forget, you have the perfect excuse. If a question makes you feel uncomfortable, simply explain you are not allowed to answer. No one would dare criticize you for being obedient. Now they might think I’m a petty tyrant, but that’s nothing new. Fact is, if you look at it objectively, I am a tyrant, arbitrarily ordering you around purely to suit my deviant pleasures.”

Barbara had to concede he had a point. Not that he was an evil dictator; she never thought of Ray in that way. She had the catchall “Get Out of Jail Free” card, the collar locked around her neck. It was one of Island society’s greatest benefits, at least for women like her when faced with awkward situations. Master’s orders, the single constant that was never challenged. Ray was the one responsible for handling delicate issues, not Barbara. No hard choices, that was the implicit bargain she had with the man who owned her.

“Our pleasure, sir, except I don’t share the guilt about it. I can dump all the responsibility on you with a clear conscience. Thank you, sir, for reminding me I can dodge any question with impunity. If the Moon Maiden wants to know what makes Barbara tick, well then, I’m ready to bare all. In a figurative way, sir, I assume. I won’t have to take my clothes off?”

Ray had a thoughtful look on his face. “I hadn’t considered it. She does simulcast a video feed, live only as I’m told, nothing recorded. Do you think you could remain cool and collected if she conducted the interview with you stripped and kneeling in chains?”

For one moment she was afraid he was serious, until she saw the grin on his face. She couldn’t imagine he’d actually carry it out, but there was always that little voice in the back of her head, warning her there were no limits on what he could demand of her.

“I’m not sure how I’d react, sir. Would you like to rehearse the interview first? Should I take off my clothes now?” He could tease her, but Barbara was learning how to hold her own when he started off on a power trip.

At first, he said nothing. “That’s a good idea. Rehearsing is always important. I’ll be right back after I get the necessary, uhh, studio props.” She saw the look in his eye that predicted what was coming next.

It was all Barbara could do to keep a straight face. Ray was every bit the stubborn and strong-willed master, yet there were times all it took was a tiny push on her part to steer him in the right direction. She reached behind her back to unzip her dress. There would be only one result from the impromptu rehearsal, and it wouldn’t have much to do with her scheduled studio date tomorrow night.

The Podcast

“Good evening listeners! Tonight, the Moon Maiden has a special episode featuring an in depth, live interview with one of North Island’s rising social luminaries. I’m looking forward to an exciting hour. Remember, if you like to hear more of the Maiden’s podcasts, be sure to subscribe and hit that ‘Like’ button.”

The announcer, who happened to be Selene’s master, inserted the usual disclaimer. “This podcast has been authorized by Zachary Keller, Selene’s owner. Female guests appear with the permission of their owners. North Island regulations are strictly enforced at all times. We respect all restrictions applicable to Selene and her guests.”

Selene picked up the rest of the introduction. “Thank you, sir. We’ll take a break for our sponsors to pay the bills before we begin our conversation with Barbara, owned by Mr. Ray Madsen. If that name sounds familiar, it is! Mr. Madsen is the owner of Madsen Brokerage, the largest and one of the most respected brokerage houses on North Island. Barbara has quite a story to tell us! I’ll try to get to some of the questions you send in during the next hour. We’ll be right back.”

Selene waved her hand, cutting the microphones. “We have two minutes before we’re back on. This first part will be to introduce you to the public, a bit on how you’re adapting to North Island, maybe an anecdote or two about surprises you’ve encountered in everyday routine. That sound okay to you?”

Barbara sat across from Selene in the tiny studio. The Moon Maiden broadcast went out live, which did make Barbara anxious about mistakes. “That’s fine, although I’m not sure I have any really interesting stories to share.”

The studio proved to be far less that what Barbara imagined. It consisted of a soundproof room containing a table, chairs, and two microphones. The sound engineer and announcer, Selene’s owner, watched them through a window.

“And we’re back. If you’ve been watching the video then you’ll know the top question I absolutely have to ask. Barbara, what’s with the costume? What’s it called, a burqa?” Far from being stripped and chained, Ray had gone to the opposite extreme. “For our audio-only listeners, Barbara is wearing what I’m told is an authentic burqa from a bazaar in eastern Iran, near the Afghan border. I have to say, this is a first for the program.”

Knowing a camera picked up her every move, and how popular the Moon Maiden’s podcast was, Barbara was conscious of being under intense scrutiny. “Selene, I’d like to say I’m not of the Muslim faith, nor am I from that part of the world. I mean no disrespect to any woman who chooses modest clothing. Why am I wearing one? My master’s company is developing a new training program for non-Muslim women who might find themselves in a traditional, observant home. Part of the course is public appearance. Non-western cultures in that part of the world tend to be very conservative, with a vastly different standard for what constitutes proper behavior for a woman. Proper behavior, isn’t that something we all have to be conscious of, what is and is not acceptable to our owners?”

Selene laughed. “I think you’re preaching to the choir on that subject. I’m sure most of our listeners would agree with you.”

“Not that you can tell, Selene, but underneath the burqa I have on a company uniform. I’m not allowed to show you, but I’m sure you’ve seen a Madsen Brokerage dress before.”

Selene laughed. “Oh yes, it’s quite, uh, visible.” That was being tactful.

Barbara didn’t have to be discreet about her opinion. “It’s an eyesore, and that’s being charitable. Sure, it’s visible, for all the wrong reasons. My master’s choice of design isn’t driven by any hint of fashion sense. And it’s okay, I have permission to say that, in case your listeners complain.”

“And speaking of listeners, this email just arrived. Georgette writes, ‘Is wearing the burqa uncomfortable, and was it your idea to appear in one tonight?’ A good question; how about it, Barbara?”

“No, it wasn’t my idea. Master did offer me a choice, though. I could go with the burqa, or I could show up in my birthday suit.” Ray had a way of letting her decide, but only if he stacked the deck first. “As you can see, I figured this might be more suitable for a broadcast.

“It really isn’t unpleasant, despite what it may look like. It’s a light cotton fabric, lets the air circulate, and the loose fit is quite a contrast to one of those skin tight club dresses. This little panel in front,” Barbara pointed to her eyes, “does limit what I can see, no peripheral vision, and it’s a bit fuzzy. I’d have to say the only real drawback is eating or drinking. I have to reach under this piece of cloth,” again Barbara demonstrated by holding out the covering over her mouth, “so it can be messy. By the way, thanks for the straw in my glass of water.”

Selene shook her head. “I have to say, if I were ordered to wear one of those things I’d beg for forgiveness after committing some terrible mistake. You know, if you passed me in the street, I’d have no idea who you were.”

Barbara nodded. “I think that’s the idea. Our instructor told me in the villages the women get to know each other and can tell just by the way you walk, what you’re carrying, or naturally your voice. If I had to, I could get used to it. I admit I do like to dress up if we go out for an evening, but if it’s just a trip to the supermarket I’d survive the stares.”

“Speaking of stares, have you been out in public, inside that thing?” At Barbara’s nod Selene continued, “When you mentioned stares, what exactly do you mean?”

Barbara reached up adjust her headdress. “As women we all see the appreciative glances from men as we pass by. I don’t criticize; their brains are hard-wired to notice us. I admit I want to look nice for my master, and if I were pressed to be truthful, I enjoy the thought other men envy my owner for what belongs to him alone.

“But in a burqa, everything changes. I stand out for being singularly unattractive, in the sense there’s nothing to see. The looks from men, and women, are because I’m the odd one standing out in the crowd. I have to admit I have mixed feelings about it. Of course, I am obeying my master, and that’s more important than anything else. But! There’s a kind of freedom in not being on display that makes up for the inconvenience. I tell myself my master ordered the burqa because he’s possessive; he wants me all to himself. I have a better understanding of the reasons why women who wear modest clothing everyday are just as insistent on the tradition as the men.”

“Food for thought, isn’t that right, listeners? It reminds me of that old cliché, ‘walk a mile in my shoes’, or what look like army boots from here.”  Selene glanced at the sound booth.

“We’ll be back right after a short break. Thanks to all our listeners who support our program through our sponsors. Plenty more to come, including a firsthand account of the terrifying ordeal Barbara had to face last year.”

The Ordeal

Selene changed the subject. “We have so much to cover tonight. This next segment, as you heard, will be about the incident with the driver. You sure you’re okay to talk about it?”

“Not to worry, I’ve worked through the shock of what happened. Master gave me permission to be candid about how I felt when it all unfolded. I do have limits on what I’m allowed to say, so if you go off into prohibited territory I’ll have to decline to answer.”

“Fair enough, and I’ll mention it before we start. Oh, for the last segment I’d like to ask about you and Mr. Madsen. We got a ton of email when I announced you’d be on this week. They all want to know what it’s like, living with North Island’s most famous, or infamous depending on where you live, trader in women.”

Selene held up her hand, counting down the last few seconds on her hand. “Welcome back, everyone. Before I start, I have to warn you this next segment can be disturbing if you are the sensitive type. It involves a level of crime we don’t normally see on the Island. In particular, the end of the story is…” Selene paused. “All I can say is you might not want to listen since it involves extreme violence.

“Barbara, why don’t you start with a little background. Many of our listeners will remember what we’re talking about, but very few know the details.”

“The story doesn’t start with me. You might say I was the innocent bystander, caught up through no fault of my own. I had been given permission to go shopping, alone. My master prefers one of the high security car services, actually a van, to drive me to the store. If you’ve never used that kind of service, basically you are closely restrained, cuffs behind your back, very short leg irons, and the seats have numerous straps to hold you in place. The back of the van is covered in a metal grate, essentially a small cage. Suffice to say, once in there you aren’t going anywhere except to your destination. No one can get to you, either.”

Selene asked, “You were alone?”

Barbara continued with her narrative. “I was first on the pickup list. There was one more stop, to collect two more headed for the mall. It was up in the hills. I remember looking out through the grate covering the side window, a nice view of the Channel, as we drove up. Moving your head is all the freedom you get inside one of those vans.”

“There was just the driver? No other guards with you?” Selene asked.

“One was all that was needed. Anyway, we reached the house. The driver got out and retrieved two women, whom he led back to the van. Both of them had their hands behind their backs. He seats the first of them next to me, gets her strapped down, and turns back to the last one, standing next to the van. As he turns toward the third woman, he says something to my new companion. Suddenly she starts screaming for help, struggling with the seat straps, and yelling at the third one to run back to the house for help. Meanwhile I’m sitting there, watching the drama, completely helpless, unable to do anything else.”

“Imagine yourself in a situation like that, listeners! What happened next?”

Underneath the burqa Barbara’s face was hidden, so Selene, and the camera, didn’t pick up on the anguish of her minutes in the van. “The third woman tried to run, but her hands were fastened behind her back. He easily caught her, hit her, hard, and she went down on the concrete driveway. I heard the thud of her head when she fell. Right away there was a lot of blood; I figured the driver must have killed her. Fortunately, she did survive with a concussion and a nasty scar to show for it.

“He slammed shut the van door, got in and drove off. All this time the woman next to me is constantly yelling at him. My impression was she had snapped, because it was crazy the way she appeared to provoke the guy. I found out later that’s exactly what she was doing, deliberately. Eventually it worked. He pulled off the road, got out and came around to us.”

“The worst was yet to come?” Selene asked.

“The driver had one of those electric stun guns. He started in on me, hitting me over and over with jolts. By the way, those are extremely painful. I was flopping around, muscles convulsing from the shocks. He told the other woman to shut up or he’d keep up with me until my heart stopped. That worked; she shut up.”

Selene held up her hand, signaling Barbara to pause. “Okay listeners, fair warning time. What comes next contains extreme violence. If you want to pass, turn down the volume for a few minutes. Go ahead, Barbara, let’s hear the end of the story.”

Under the table Barbara gripped her knees to keep them from shaking. Maybe Ray had the right idea after all, about me being covered up in the burqa. “We drove on until we arrived at a rental garage. He opened the door and drove in. He closed the garage door but left the side entrance ajar, I suppose to get some air. Then he came for us.

“By this time I knew the guy was obviously insane. He was talking wildly about all the things he planned for the woman next to me, whom I gathered was his ex or something like it. What I didn’t want to hear is that he bragged he’d demonstrate on me first, so she could anticipate what was coming. He zapped me a few more times just for fun.”

Selene stared at Barbara, shocked even though she already knew the details. “You didn’t expect to survive?”

“No, that was plain to see. There I was, regretting a bright future about to be cut short. Then the side door swung open and a man came in, the owner of the woman next to me. The driver, he also had a large knife, became enraged and charged the newcomer. From where I sat the new guy didn’t have a chance. I was so wrong about that.”

“That was the final act to the drama?” Selene asked.

“Yes. This guy calmly raised his arm and fired a pistol three times. The sound was deafening. I could see the bullets strike the driver. He went down and didn’t get back up.”

Selene finally broke the silent pause with another question. “Before the show, you mentioned something to me, about what you’d learned. Care to share it?”

“”Alright. We talk about how our men, our masters, our owners, will protect us and keep us safe. What struck home to me was seeing it in action. This man risked his life to save the two of us. He came in without any idea of what he would face. For all he knew the madman was armed too, and ready to shoot it out. Yet he didn’t hesitate. We are that important to our owners. I’ll never forget the lesson.”

How It Started

“Okay listeners, you have to stay tuned in for this next part. I found it hard to believe myself, but I did confirm it’s all true. After you hear this, send me your thoughts in the comments!”

Barbara knew exactly what was coming. It was a potentially sensitive area so Ray had sat in on the planning meeting with Selene and her master the day before. Even Barbara was taken back by Ray’s insistence on telling the entire story.

“Barbara, your journey from South to North Island is a unique and fascinating tale. Tell us how you got from there to here.”

“Selene, it is unusual. It began when I was invited to move to South Island with the help of some friends. To keep it short, I liked what I found. I’m neither ‘woke’ nor ‘politically correct’, so settling down in an openly male dominated society wasn’t a problem. I won’t get into politics except to say I believe in the underlying principles behind Island society in general.

“Anyway, it didn’t take long before the Island worked its magic on me. There was this irresistible compulsion building inside me. You can guess what it was. I could go with the usual answer, find someone and start out with a one-year agreement. I know it’s a safe approach and works well for most people, but it wasn’t what I was looking for.”

“Would you say you were impatient?” Selene asked.

Barbara shook her head. “It sounds that way but no, I had a definite goal and the South Island system wasn’t the answer. There were two problems. The first one, I didn’t want to go looking for the right guy. What I expected is for him to show up and lay claim to me. Don’t laugh, it’s true. Here on North Island that’s the norm; we take it for granted. It’s an extreme view, one that’s frowned upon across the channel. They are focused on informed consent. I prefer how it works here.”

“You said two problems. What was the second one?”

“I had zero interest in taking small steps. When my dream man showed up there weren’t going to be any time limits. No limits at all, for that matter. I’d belong to him for as long as he’d have me, and he’d be free to treat me as he saw fit. As you can guess, I had a puzzle to solve and no easy solution.” Barbara left out her application to the Facility.

“So, there you were on South Island, but in reality, you needed to get to North Island? Being a single woman, that must have been difficult.”

“Exactly! There were days I’d drive down to the Channel ferry terminal and sit there, staring across the water. Can you imagine the frustration, so near yet so far away? I came up with all kinds of crazy schemes, like building a raft and crossing at night. Of course, even if I made it across, I’d be sent right back.”

Selene interrupted with a disclaimer. “The regulations are there for a reason, to protect against abuses. Here on the Moon Maiden, we don’t encourage anyone trying to cross the Channel illegally, in either direction.”

“That’s right,” Barbara added. “Sneaking across was just daydreaming on my part. Following the rules has always been important to me. Eventually I did find a way. It sounds weird, but I literally sold myself to a North Island brokerage. I won’t go into the details, mostly because master has forbidden it. The end result was a trip from South Island to Madsen Brokerage on North Island.”

“Not every day you come across that, listeners. Even Selene never heard of anyone who managed to, all on their own, go from unencumbered freedom to a brokerage auction in the span of a few days. Good or bad, post your opinion in the comments. This is bound to be controversial. We’ll be back after the break.”

Brokerage Life

“Before we run out of time, can you tell us a little bit about your daily life? What’s it like, belonging to one of the most influential men here on North Island? Any little quirks you’re permitted to reveal?

“Before you start, I should mention I’ve met Barbara once before, while out with my master walking along the Strand in town. I posted a picture from that meeting on the website. What caught my attention is the way you have to sit with your hands on your knees. Anyone watching live on camera can’t see it with the burqa on, and the camera is at the wrong angle anyway. So, can you explain the mystery?”

“To be clear, it wasn’t my idea,” Barbara began. “Naturally I assumed the usual practice, hands folded in lap, would be the rule. I’d practiced it for hours in front of a mirror. You know how it is; I wanted to present myself to my future master in the best possible light. In fact, the first few days at the brokerage I had some help from an expert on the intricacies of sitting in a chair. Anyway, no one was more shocked than me when my new owner upended all my careful planning.”

Selene nodded in understanding. “So, it was entirely your master’s idea?”

“Yes, it was. In fact, it was one of his first rules on how I was to behave. He showed me exactly what he wanted to see. It is a hard and fast rule; one of those ‘no discussion, no questions’ type of commands where you simply do as you’re told. No discussion means I can’t ask why either, so whatever the reason may be, he won’t share it with me.”

“I’m sure many of our listeners can relate,” Selene added. “Is it difficult, having to sit that way? It’s quite rare, or so I’m told. Have you encountered anyone else who has to follow the same rule?”

Barbara didn’t want to mention her friend Elise by name, to protect her privacy. “I did meet someone else, by chance. I won’t mention her name, but she’s in virtually the same situation as I am. She did mention her master is typically very lenient, but in this one particular he is quite insistent in enforcing his wishes. Now if pressed I might say my master is, umm, not exactly strict, maybe he is so accustomed to being obeyed he doesn’t think about it? Like my friend’s case though I would say my master verges on the fanatical when it comes to where my hands belong. And before your listeners start sending in scathing comments, my master did permit me to use ‘fanatical’, so it’s his characterization as much as mine.”

Selene changed the subject. “You came to our little slice of heaven from South Island. How has it been, making the adjustment as a woman living here in North Island?”

Barbara expected that question and was prepared. “Of course I’d read all about the laws here, plus as many personal blogs as I could find. Even so, it still hit me as soon as I stepped off the ferry. All of us are property, for a lifetime, not just a year or two. It changes your perspective when you pass that point of literally no return. Good or bad I couldn’t turn around and get back on the ferry.”

Selene interrupted. “In the last segment we talked about how you arrived on North Island. The brokerage you chose was Madsen Brokerage, the one run by Mr. Madsen? Do you spend much time there now?”

“It depends on master, of course, but in general I am often at the brokerage. I’m not permitted to work at a regular job, though I do help out at master’s direction. He likes to have me participate in new training programs, to find out what I learn from it. And if my owner is traveling without me along, I always stay at the brokerage until he returns. We don’t live there, but I do have comfortable quarters while I’m on my own, waiting. As long as I behave, he doesn’t leave me chained to the wall in a dungeon basement for days at a time, despite the claims you read about in the tabloid websites.” Barbara managed to sneak in a low key commercial by mentioning Madsen Brokerage’s reputation of decent treatment and advanced training. She hoped Ray would notice.

Selene laughed. “And here I was hoping for an exposé on the brutal, sordid details of the inner workings at one of our more famous businesses.”

“Sorry to disappoint. As master often reminds me, cruelty is bad for business. Of course, there are rules, reasonable ones, and they are enforced. After all, we need structure and boundaries in our lives.”

“Our listeners love to hear specifics. Can you give us some examples?”

Barbara paused for a moment. “Sorry, I had to review what I’m allowed to say. Anyway, there are some policies that are security-related. Obviously, I can’t discuss those, other than to say they are in place as much to protect the women as well as ensure they don’t leave without permission. My own kidnapping resulted in some extra precautions my master takes to keep me safe. They can be, um, inconvenient at times, but I understand the necessity.”

Selene asked another question. “What about your daily routine? You mentioned you don’t live at the brokerage. Are there days you’re on your own, at home?”

“At first yes, I was allowed to stay home. After the incident, not at all. I can still go out on my own during the day, shopping or meeting with friends for lunch. I’m never alone though. There’s a bodyguard from the brokerage somewhere in the background, every minute, watching over me. In the beginning, I didn’t think it was necessary. Master told me it was for my own good, and he knew best. You can’t argue with that! After that kidnapping of a Facility woman on South Island, I have to confess it is reassuring now; master was right.”

Selene nodded. “The abduction left us all a little paranoid. Okay, do you have regular assignments at the brokerage?”

“Master does keep me busy, though I wouldn’t say there’s a regularity about it. I’m his guinea pig for new programs.” Barbara ran her hands down the sides of the burqa. “As I mentioned earlier, I’m a participant in the test program for an introduction to living in an observant household. No special privileges, by the way; I’m treated as part of a group consigned to intensive training. We all live, eat, and sleep together in the dormitory. The guards are just as tough on me as the rest of the group.”

“And when you finish, what then?” Selene asked.

“Master wants to hear all about it. Did I think it was worth the effort, what should be changed, what were the good and bad points? He listens, and takes me seriously. Of course, I miss seeing him when on assignment, but working together, it’s something special. You know?”

Selene didn’t answer, except to glance over at the control booth. She knows, Barbara thought, she works with her owner on the podcast every day. “What about the times when nothing special is going on, how do you keep busy?”

Mentioning her Gilded Cage was forbidden, so she’d have to improvise. “I do have time to myself. I’m not allowed to go into details, Selene. I’m sure your listeners understand, master’s explicit orders. Sometime master does call me into his office, just to keep him company. We might talk, or I’ll sit on the couch quietly while he works. He tells me I’m a calming influence when he’s had a bad day.” Barbara smiled. “I like to think that’s something special I can do for him.”

A red light started flashing. “We’re out of time for tonight. I hope we can persuade Barbara’s owner to permit her to come back again. Please, be sure to ask if you can like and subscribe to the podcast, you know the drill. Help keep the Island Moon Maid on the air by visiting our sponsors. Til next week…”

The Syndicate Meeting

Last Minute Addition

Ray was off to another business meeting, which left Barbara alone in her Gilded Cage sanctuary. No program today, which meant she had some free time to relax. From what little he had mentioned, some kind of business meeting, it sounded like he’d be busy most of the afternoon. Exactly how long was something Ray almost never shared with her. I don’t need to know, she reminded herself. For some time now she’d come to appreciate how much Ray enjoyed his little power play, keeping her in the dark until the last minute.

Why am I complaining? It’s better I have to guess. It keeps me from getting lazy. That’s how she justified accepting her situation, even though it did bother her. In the meantime, there was no reason she couldn’t take advantage of the opportunity. There was a bottle of wine, plus a new flavor of cheese in the refrigerator. Time for a little wine-tasting event.

Before she reached the kitchen the outside door opened unexpectedly. She rushed to her designated spot in front of the bars. In came Les Unger, Ray’s head of operations and backup monitor for Barbara’s Gilded Cage. He had one hand wrapped around the arm of a woman Barbara didn’t, make that couldn’t, recognize. She had her hands cuffed behind her back, with a waist chain, and shortened leg irons that slowed down her walk. A cloth hood over her head acted as a blindfold. She wore a simple, pastel green shift, not a company uniform, which told Barbara this woman wasn’t part of the brokerage inventory.

“There’s been a last-minute change of plans,” Les announced. “This is Sandy. Her owner, a Mr. Cooper, is a very recent addition to the business meeting you know about. Mr. Madsen has graciously offered to look after her while they are busy.” Translated that meant Ray had volunteered Barbara for the hostess assignment.

Since he hadn’t asked a question, Barbara remained respectfully silent. Les unlocked the gate and led the woman inside. He began removing her restraints, hood last, and finished by closing and locking the gate behind him.

“Sandy is here as Mr. Madsen’s personal guest. Her presence is confidential.” He nodded toward Barbara’s companion. The implied meaning was clear. She was to be treated as a visitor, not an involuntary asset due to be auctioned. Without any other explanation he left, shutting the outside door. Confidential, which meant Sandy was someone hiding from the public eye.

Sandy stood as still as a statue. She isn’t sure about what to do. Time for me to go to work. Barbara took a step back. “Hello, my name’s Barbara. I was just about to go fix a snack in the kitchen. Why don’t you join me?”

Sandy silently followed Barbara, already heading to the kitchen area. “Sorry,” she spoke up for the first time. “I’m not sure what the rules are in here. I don’t even know where ‘here’ is. Master didn’t have time to give me any instructions.”

Barbara pointed to the ceiling. “You’re in the basement of Madsen Brokerage. Mr. Madsen is my owner. You might say we’ve been parked in here until they conclude some kind of business deal, however long that takes.” She took out the bottle of wine and placed it on the counter.

Feeling more at ease, Sandy jumped into the conversation. “My owner is Mr. Cooper. He is, or was, I’m not sure, with the Fire Department’s Search & Rescue. We just moved back to North Island. Aside from some time across the Channel I lived on this side for a little over ten years.”

Barbara didn’t miss the momentary look of shock on Sandy’s face when she saw the wine bottle. She’s a hardliner; a perfectionist who doesn’t tolerate any mistakes. In a way that makes two of us, except I only judge myself. Barbara took down some saucer plates from a cupboard and added them onto the counter. No wonder she arrived trussed up in all those chains. I bet she insists on it.

“I’m having cheese, some crackers, olives, and a glass of that red stuff. I know nothing about wine, so I have no idea if it’s good or bad. Master picked it out for me. Ahh…do you have permission to drink wine? If not, there’s plenty of other choices in the refrigerator.”

Sandy looked thoughtful. “Before dropping me off Master said I could use my own discretion, as long as I didn’t violate any brokerage house rules. I’m sure if you can have a glass, then so can I.”

“Wow! A blank check for behavior; I’m jealous. Let’s take these into the living room and get comfortable. We may be here a while.” Barbara picked up her glass and plate of munchies; Sandy followed close behind.

When they sat down on the sofa Sandy tasted her wine. Looking around, she asked, “Okay, I’ve heard Madsen Brokerage is very progressive, but all this can’t be standard issue for the women housed here. I thought I was fortunate when I had a room to myself; an entire apartment, that’s beyond belief.”

Barbara started laughing. “Sorry, but you’re right. Master created this just for me, when I have to be left alone.” She pointed to the bars. “It’s what I call my Gilded Cage. It’s very comfortable, yet there’s always that reminder I’m confined in here. Not that I’m complaining; I like my creature comforts. Between this and sitting stripped naked on a cold concrete floor, chained to a wall, in the dark, I’ll take the cage anytime.”

“A gilded cage, what a nice turn of phrase,” Sandy said, before sipping some more wine. “The olives go well with the cheese. I like manzanilla olives with pimentos; it’s a nice contrast. My previous master took us to Spain once, where I saw a pimento bush. I never knew this, but pimentos are a type of chili pepper. Columbus brought back the seeds to Spain, starting a whole new food trend.” She bit into a chunk of cheese, followed by an olive.

“The ‘Gilded Cage’ dates back almost as far as pimentos, to the 1600s. It means a life of luxury, but without true freedom.” Barbara waved her hand around, encompassing the whole apartment. “It is accurate.” She pointed to the bars. “We’re literally in a cage, luxurious but deprived of our freedom. Of course it’s voluntary; I want to be here. Not that it matters; I go where I’m told.

“It’s taken me a while, two years, but I feel like I’m at home now. It helps that I have a good man for an owner. He’s not lenient or particularly forgiving though. I wonder if any of the men on this side of the Channel could be considered as ‘lenient’ types? I wound up here after I sold myself to Madsen Brokerage, with no clue as to who would be my master. I was incredibly lucky that Mr. Madsen picked me out of the crowd.”

Sandy smiled. “You weren’t the only one to take a short cut to get here. I sold myself to a brokerage too, but not this one. I had to go through an auction. To this day I’d give anything to know what I sold for.”

She stared at Barbara. “Wait a minute, you’re that Barbara, from the Moon Maid’s podcast? You were involved in that kidnapping, the crazy guy; I listen to her every week, since she began.” Sandy’s eyes widened. “I remember I read everything I could find about that incident. For weeks afterward I was afraid to leave the house on my own, until Master finally put a stop to it.”

Sandy abruptly halted with a chagrined expression. “Is it true, you saw the guy being shot? Sorry if I shouldn’t ask. It’s just that you don’t often come across someone who was an eyewitness to a violent crime.”

Barbara shook her head. “No, I can talk about it. It’s true, I had a front row seat, so to speak. That guy was seconds away from carving me up with a knife, so you’ll understand I don’t have much sympathy for what happened to him. It’s not at all like a TV drama; he just sort of fell over. Anyway, morbid subject. Did I hear right, you lived on North Island for ten years?”

Sandy took another bite of cheese. “Most of my adult life; I was only 21 when my previous master bought me. There were four of us, that’s the legal limit here. I was the youngest. He had definite ideas about what he wanted, though in retrospect he was patient with me, until I learned how he wished me to behave. Overall, the four of us were treated very fairly. Which is to say we were all punished if any one of us made a mistake.”

Sandy set down her glass. “We had a very good life, comfortable but not extravagant. My previous owner was well off, but I had no idea how wealthy until I accidently heard the news after the accident. We didn’t have one of those ‘rich and famous’ lifestyles, other than master’s boat. He was so passionate about sailing…” Her voice trailed off.

That was the moment Barbara recognized Sandy, from TV and websites. All of Island society was talking about the sudden death of Sam Willis, and how there was only one survivor, Sandra. The big news was the size of his estate and what had happened to it. No wonder this visit was secret. It also explained why she was at the brokerage. What better place to keep her safe and avoid publicity during the business meeting.

Sandy spotted the sudden change in Barbara. “I’m guessing you figured out who I am? Master tells me I’m a minor celebrity. He didn’t allow me to read any stories about myself, until a few days ago. You probably know more about what happened than me. Anyway, if you can see your way to avoid the subject I’d appreciate it. Master’s orders, I’m sure you understand. It’s not an outright ban, but he prefers I avoid talking about the accident to anyone else.”

Barbara rested her hands on her knees, leaned forward, and said, “Okay, change of subject. There’s someone you should meet, if you can obtain permission. Her name is Selene. You mentioned you listened to the Island Moon Maid podcast? I’m sure she’d love to have you come on her show. I can ask my master to pass on her master’s contact information.” Like Barbara’s visit, any negotiations would be between owners. Mr. Cooper would decide if Sandy was to be interviewed.

“You really met Selene? She always has these fascinating interviews, along with news about the Island.”

“You heard, I was on her show not too long ago. I like the way she doesn’t go for those ‘gotcha’ type questions like TV reporters. You’d do most of the talking, about anything you want. I’m sure women like us would love to hear your story.”

Sandy looked hesitant. “I confess I’m not comfortable being in the spotlight. I like a nice, simple, quiet life, without people pointing at me when I’m out in public.”

Barbara waved off their celebrity status as old history. “The price of fame, I suppose. Neither of us can go out on our own without being mobbed. Oh well, something else will come along and we’ll be forgotten.” She lifted up her wine glass. “Until then, we can drown our sorrows together.”

Sandy raised her glass in salute. “In case you didn’t know, there were four of us. The day of the accident master wasn’t pleased with me that morning, so I was left behind. The other three, my sisters, as I thought of them, were all on the boat. I don’t have any close friends left. It’s so nice to have someone I can talk to again.”

Greed Is Good

When everyone was seated around the table in his backyard patio, Jim Lassen called the meeting to order. “I’d like to thank all of you for coming today. The reason we’re here is to make money, so let’s get to it. As I’ve explained to each of you in the invitation, the object of this syndicate is to raise private capital in order to take advantage of certain imbalances in African arbitrage rates for foreign exchange, FX for short.

“Before we start getting into details, I’d like to announce a late addition to the syndicate. Tom Cooper, from South Island, has decided to invest in our enterprise.” Tom stood up to introduce himself. “Tom’s contribution will significantly increase our leverage, which I’ll explain in a moment. Share percentages will decrease, but we’re looking at a much bigger pie to divvy up in terms of return on investment.”

Jim turned to the man sitting next to him. “These market imbalances indirectly involve gas well operations on the Arabian peninsula, so I’ve invited Ralph Welk, the resident expert on oil and gas wells here on Isla Del Sur, to provide us with legal advice and some perspective on the regional politics. Part of the imbalance I spotted involves deals with financing natural gas being sold to foreign militaries. Working in Africa, especially across borders when it comes to energy sectors, can be complicated.”

Ralph stood up. “I’m not a syndicate partner, only the legal advisor, so keep that in mind. My participation is based on a contingency fee, so in a sense I’m an investor too. I will remind everyone that as a formally retained attorney anything you discuss with me is subject to privileged communication. I’ll skip my background, since Jim has provided it as part of the prospectus. I am based on South Island but I want to reassure everyone I have no bias against North Island society. Or against making money!”

He turned to their host. “And I’d like to say thanks to Jim, for hosting my Erin while we’re meeting. It’s her first time here, so I’m sure she’s learning all about the, umm, peculiar nature of living on North Island.” That brought a laugh from all present.

Jim stood up again. “Okay, down to business. This syndicate is a private venture, formed for an express purpose. All of you have bought in, with varying share percentages based on capital ventured. That’s why Tom’s addition is important. We can now move a much larger trade in those critical first few seconds. This is a onetime opportunity, so secrecy is paramount.

“Once I execute the FX trade the high-speed trading computers on Wall Street will spot the currency fluctuation and that’ll shut the window of opportunity almost immediately, so it will be a single trade only. Now, nobody is going to become an overnight billionaire from this, but I am convinced the rate of return will be at least twice what a six-month T-Bill yields. Given we’re covered by Saudi tax laws the actual ROI is even better, no capital gains. However, we’re dealing with Africa, so there’s a risk, as Ralph described in the prospectus. Here’s how I plan to proceed…”

The P Word

Sheila sat across from Karen at the kitchen table. “Looks like all the men are out in the backyard. Everyone else is in the living room,” Karen observed, while nursing a glass of iced tea. “We can’t go outside without permission. That includes the backyard. I hope you don’t mind being stuck in the kitchen, waiting to see if they need anything.”

Through the patio door they could see the meeting in progress, though they couldn’t hear what was being discussed. None of the women were to interrupt except in an emergency. Sheila and Karen had volunteered to stay at the kitchen table in case the men signaled they needed something.

Sheila nodded. “That’s okay, I think we all know about rules. Made to not be broken, et cetera, et cetera. Master told us about how Mr. Lassen owns three women, which I found hard to believe at first. What keeps you from coming after each other with kitchen knives?”

Karen laughed. “There are days I wonder about that question myself. I’m the latest addition. You met Jeanne, who was first, and Anna. Jeanne is what you might charitably call overzealous; she keeps us all in line when it comes to behaving. She doesn’t mind the label, by the way. Anna is our source of warmth and compassion; she never argues with either of us. And me, I’m the intellectual. I suppose we’ve learned to rely on each other; sort of one big, mostly happy family.”

Sheila sipped at a glass of beer, always careful to keep one eye on the meeting outside. “As you can see, Penny and I are from the Facility. We met there and became close friends, thrown together in adversity, I suppose. We eventually earned a semi-private room which we shared together. That’s a giant step up from the group dormitory, or what we called the Barracks. Penny is the extrovert, outgoing and the life of the party. Me, I’m the opposite, introverted and content to stay in the background. Neither of us ever expected to wind up on North Island, much less belonging to the same owner.”

She stared out the kitchen window. “I noticed you have a great view of the Channel from your living room.” She pointed to the cliff behind the yard. “From our front room we have a close in view of the side of a mountain, much like that one. I’m at the point where I recognize individual bushes.”

Karen laughed. “Other side of the street and we’d be looking at that cliff too. I assume you’re aware you and Penny stand out here on North Island? You’re minor celebrities. This is the first time I’ve ever met someone who went through the Facility, other than a short stay at the South Island clinic. One of the nurses who looked after me was from there too. I’m sure you know about what happened to Anna, the kidnapping, and how I tried to run away? By the way, running with your hands bound behind your back? Despite what you see on TV, in reality it’s almost impossible to keep your balance.”

Sheila had seen the story on the news from two years ago. Karen was downplaying her part in trying to obtain help and preventing a real tragedy. “I read everything I could find about your attack. I remember it because a week later I got the acceptance notification from the Facility. After that what news we were allowed to see was heavily censored.

“The Facility trains us for almost any foreseeable contingency. Ending up on North Island as half of a pair wasn’t one of them. No one ever mentioned the “P” word, polygamy. I don’t think anyone at the Facility gave it a thought. It was just one more weird thing about North Island. None of us ever expected to live here. We didn’t even talk about if it might ever happen.” Sheila picked up her glass.

Karen shrugged. “This is my first, and I hope last, time I’m sharing an owner. Of course, I knew it was always a possibility. Like the Facility, for those of us who live on North Island it’s a lifetime commitment, and we don’t have the option to say no thanks.”

Sheila held up her hands. “Oh, but we did get a chance to turn down our master. The Facility had no policy about being sent to North Island, so the Director, though he approved it, told us we could decline, since it was outside the scope of what we’d been promised. Penny and I talked it over, decided we could live with sharing, and so here we are. That’s sort of true, though master had already decided he wanted us. I’m not sure we could have refused. He was very persuasive.”

Karen nodded. “Yeah, well it has good and bad points, like anything else. The bad? Aside from dividing up master we have what’s called ‘shared responsibility’. That means if one of us makes a mistake, we all have to answer for it. Is it fair? Not in the least, but we have to live with what he thinks is best. It’s one of those rules we aren’t allowed to question or discuss. It does wonders to discourage jealousy and fighting. Master does make exceptions to the all-for-one though, but that’s always done in private, one on one, and we’re not permitted to talk about it, even among the three of us.

“Did you happen to notice Jeanne, during the introductions? That dress she has on is our standard uniform, when we don’t have guests. Anna and I are allowed some variety, on specific occasions, but not Jeanne. We don’t know why, not a clue. All we do know is it applies only to her. It seems to be permanent too, so whatever happened must have been serious.”

“I wanted to ask you about that,” Sheila said. “Penny and I have that same shared responsibility rule. Up to now it hasn’t really been an issue, but we both worry about it. I know master has been talking with Mr. Lassen. I suspect we will have more in common in the future.”

Karen glanced out the kitchen back door, and then turned to look at Sheila. “There is a good side. We all have those days when everything seems to be going wrong. Naturally, we want to be perfect for master, but there are times the degree of perfect may irritate more than inspire. Somehow, knowing I’m not alone helps me get through it. I always have a sympathetic ear, although I confess Anna is far more understanding that Jeanne. Like Anna, Jeanne will listen, but you can tell she doesn’t approve. In her world master is always right and infallible. There’s no room for complaints.”

“We haven’t gotten to that point yet,” Sheila responded. “I suppose the ‘new’ hasn’t worn off. Penny and I are still adjusting to life outside the Facility. We’re on our own more, which is a nice change, except it puts more pressure on both of us not to stray from master’s rules.”

Karen nodded. “Yeah, the pressure never really goes away. That’s who we are, can’t help it. It’s always our fault, regardless of what really happened.”

Sheila gave a soft laugh. “Oh yeah, and at the Facility they did nothing to discourage that guilty feeling. Mrs. Yates, our senior supervisor, never missed an opportunity to remind us we had to be the best, because we were Facility trained. The smallest error and she would be all over us, demanding we do better, reminding us how ashamed we would feel when master and not her caught the mistake.”

Karen grimaced. “Oh yeah, I know how that works. We have this procedure where every evening we line up for inspection. Master asks each of us if there’s anything he needs to know. Doesn’t sound like much but I get these overpowering feelings of guilt if I felt I didn’t measure up for the day. We all confess what must sound like trivial concerns, yet master takes each of us seriously. I admit I do feel better afterwards, even if I do earn a reprimand from it.”

“Sounds like going to Confession in a church,” Sheila mentioned.

“Same idea,” Karen agreed. “Though it is master meeting his responsibility to take care of us. I know that once I tell all I do feel relieved. After that it’s out of my hands, even if I wind up standing in a corner facing the wall for a couple of hours.”

At A Loss

Anna walked up to the newcomer. “You look lost. Don’t know anyone here?”

Erin grinned sheepishly. “I’m afraid so. We live on South Island. My owner, Mr. Welk, brought me here at the last minute, so I don’t really know what’s happening. I’m supposed to wait until he finishes his meeting.”

“No problem,” Anna reassured her guest. “My name’s Anna. I belong to Mr. Lassen, who’s hosting the meeting. This is our home, so I’m acting as an informal hostess. Let’s grab something to drink and find a place to sit down. Maybe I can clear up your confusion.”

They went into the living room where a drinks bar was set up. “There’s wine, beer and cocktails,” Anna began. “What sounds good? Do you have permission to drink alcohol?”

Erin blinked in surprise. “Um….I don’t know,” she whispered to Anna. “I never thought to ask.”

Anna shrugged. “Better safe than sorry then. There’re soft drinks, water and iced tea in the fridge in the kitchen. I hope the coffeemaker isn’t empty.”

“How about a Diet Coke?” Ralph did allow her to order wine with dinner when they ate out, so it must be okay. Except, those were times when he was right there with her. On her own, it might still be acceptable but Anna was right to err on the safe side.

Anna looked around for a quiet place to sit. The front room, living room and dining room were all occupied, plus Karen was on meeting watch in the kitchen. “C’mon,” she said. “Let’s go to my room. No one will bother us there. I’ll let Karen know if your master needs to find you.”

Erin followed Anna down the corridor to her room. “Come on in and have a seat,” she said, gesturing to the small desk and the chair next to it. “I know, it’s one step up from a walk-in closet, but it’s all mine. Jeanne and Karen aren’t allowed in here, unless I invite them. Master, of course, can come in anytime he wishes.”

Erin placed her can on the desk and looked around. It was small but very neat and tidy. “All this is just for you?” she asked.

“Let me give you the five second tour.” Anna went to the bathroom door. “My private half a bathroom, no fighting for it in the morning. Master was very wise to see to it we all have our own.”

She walked over to the closet door. “My extensive wardrobe.” She pulled out the house uniform. “Most of the time we all have to wear this. You noticed Jeanne? That’s what she has on. Certain days Karen and I can pick out our own clothes, so I have a few extras to choose from. Today is one of those days, special dispensation for a party.”

Erin frowned. “You didn’t mention Jeanne. Isn’t she allowed to choose too?”

Anna shook her head. “No. For some reason, and we’re not allowed to ask, Jeanne can only wear the house dress, even if we go out. I have no idea why, and I’m not going to speculate.”

Some kind of hard rule, maybe discipline related, Erin realized. I better change the subject.

She went back to the desk to sit down. “Mr. Welk and I live on South Island. We just started a one-year agreement, so all this is very new to me. Obviously, I’ve never been on this side of the Channel before today.”

Anna nodded. “I got the impression you were starting out.” She grinned. “So, your master takes you to North Island first thing. Like learning to swim by throwing you into the deep end of the pool, with a few sharks circling around to make it interesting.”

Erin laughed. “Too true. I’ve landed on another planet. Everyone, and I mean every single woman, wears a collar! Not only that, it’s permanent, no agreements, no time limits, no restrictions at all. I can’t imagine what it must be like.”

It was Anna’s turn to laugh. “Oh yes, you can imagine. Unless Mr. Welk puts you on the ferry back to South Island, as long as you’re here then you’re one of us lifers too.”

“Master did point that out. Truth is, a lifetime commitment is what I’m after. It wouldn’t bother me if we moved here, except for my job. Unless there’s some dark secret I don’t know about?”

Anna thought for a moment. “Well, there are the public beatings every Saturday, at the park. After the first couple you get used to it…”

“Beatings?” Erin all but shouted in alarm.

“Wasn’t that a scene from one of the TV movies last week? Relax, it doesn’t happen. I suspect the outrage would be so fierce any man who tried it would be hounded off the Island. The men here don’t tolerate cruelty. It is true your owner can do as he pleases; we don’t have any legal protection. What we do have is a society that values us, which, as far as I see it, is much better. I know from personal experience. I was rescued from a psychopath, not once but twice.”

Erin knew all about Anna’s story. “I read about what happened, and heard about it on the Moon Maid’s podcast. You and I seem to get along well. Would it be okay if I asked Master about staying in touch?”

Anna took a notepad from the desk and wrote down her email address and phone number. “Master must approve all my friends, so your Mr. Welk will have to contact my owner first. I don’t know how it’s done on South Island, but here it’s an unwritten law that master must review any recurring contacts for us. I don’t foresee any problems; he’s never turned me down. The phone number is for my mobile. Don’t be surprised if you get voicemail. I have some strict limits on when I can use it.”

“Okay, thanks.” Erin hesitated. “If you don’t mind my asking, how long have you been with your master?”

“I don’t mind. Let’s see, a little over six years now. I was number two, after Jeanne. My previous master…you mentioned you heard the story? I was in bad shape when I was bought by Mr. Lassen. He and Jeanne brought me back from the brink of a complete breakdown.”

Erin did know all about Anna’s story. Being owned by a psychopath, that had to be any woman’s worst nightmare. “Do you have nightmares about the past? Sorry if I’m getting too personal.”

“It’s all history now; I don’t mind talking about it. I have a very good life these days, despite having to share master. We are a closeknit family. No, no nightmares, though it did change me. I love my man; I’d do literally anything possible to hold onto him. The slightest criticism if I disappoint him, I go to pieces. He goes easy on me for just that reason. We never mention it, but I secretly know I’m getting preferential treatment. Jeanne and Karen don’t appear to resent it.”

Erin nodded. “I have this secret dread of being a total failure. I think you understand,” she touched her collar. “I have doubts about keeping up my side of our relationship. I worry that I’ve dumped all my problems, my hangups, in his lap. I can’t imagine how anyone could bear up under the strain.”

Anna smiled and shook her head. “Let me put your mind at ease. If there’s one sure thing I’ve learned about dominant men, it’s that they relish the challenge you hand them. Far from being a strain, they see it as a way to control us. And that they’ll never turn down. You’ll soon see they are at their best when telling us what to do. Whatever else, never think of yourself as a burden. If you aren’t contributing, he’ll let you know in no uncertain terms.”

Erin showed a rueful smile. “I’m starting to appreciate how important that is to master. He’s a recent arrival to the Island. We’re both new at this kind of a relationship. There are days I look at myself in the mirror, seeing my collar, and it hits me that I really am his property. What shocks me is I’m fine with it. This is who I am, and I don’t care if the whole outside world, or at least the Island, knows it.”

“Welcome to the club,” Anna replied. “We are a minority. Out in the real world we’d be ridiculed, at least in the West. I find it does help to be among your peers. No need for apologies and excuses, that sort of thing. If I were given a choice, and that’s something I’d never wish for, I’d still be right where I am now.

“You mentioned you have a job? Your master lets you work?”

Erin perked up. “I’m a shift manager at a popular restaurant downtown. I’ve been there more than three years. When master and I got together he decided I could continue. It’s my passion. I like to think I bring an oasis of relaxation and good food to a desert of everyday stresses. I suppose I’m one of those service-oriented women you read about. I like being the hostess, showing people to tables, mentioning menu specials, maybe a little casual conversation, but not enough to intrude. Then there are the details to manage. I have a good feel for how much traffic we’ll get, and what groceries need to be ordered so we don’t run out, but don’t throw out either.”

“Sounds like you know your stuff. North Island, women can still work but it’s not as common. Our master won’t allow it, period, no discussion, no explanation. We can still go out on our own during the day, but it’s a bit more complicated on this side of the Channel.”

“I learned about that before signing the Agreement. I need permission whenever I leave the apartment, plus the curfew, and I have to carry a travel permit. It was a bit difficult at first, but I’m getting used to it.”

Anna shook her head. “You have it easy. We have the same restriction, except we’re not allowed to drive a car, or even travel on our own. We have to be escorted from place to place, day or night. Master uses a car service. The driver picks us up, takes us where we’re going, and picks us up when we finish. There’s also a mini-bus service. It takes longer but it’s cheaper. Plus, there are places, like the ferry terminal, that are off limits unless we are with master.”

“Do all those restrictions ever get to you? Are there days you just want to scream in frustration?”

Anna shrugged. “When I first started, definitely. I suppose you get used to anything after a while. These days when he says no, I just accept it as the way it will be. Sounds fatalistic, though I don’t see it that way. It’s up to him to decide what’s best for me, even if I don’t particularly care for the outcome.”

Erin looked at the floor, as if she were embarrassed. “There’s a question that’s been bothering me. It’s awkward, not the sort of subject that comes up in normal conversation, especially with friends. In a way, since we just met, and given where you live, you might not be offended, or repulsed, if I ask.”

Anna wasn’t quite sure how to respond. She wanted to help out a newcomer, but she was also aware of the hazards of interfering with someone else’s relationship. “Okay, let’s do this. You ask your question. If I can’t answer, or I’m in a prohibited area, I’ll stop you and we’ll move on. Does that sound fair?”

Erin nodded. “Here goes. I have this, oh, let’s call it a quirk, about how I sleep at night. Before you stop me, I really do mean sleep, not other activities. I like sleeping while strapped down to the bed so tight I can’t move. I could never do it on my own, but after pleading with master, he’s agreed to give it a try.

“I won’t go into details, but master is very considerate in that respect. He found some special medical restraints, used in hospitals to control the extremely violent. Lots and lots of those nice, soft medical restraints, padded leather, I love it. Arms, legs, torso, even a sort of harness to hold my head down. I’m in heaven. I fall asleep quickly, and don’t wake up during the night.

“Am I some kind of freak for sleeping that way? I have no idea, and I’m sure master worries about it, even while he’s locking the buckles. It’s just that I feel so relaxed, lying there in the dark, listening to master’s breathing beside me. I know he’ll be there in when I wake up, because he has to let me go. It’s a magical feeling, lulling me off to sleep.

It wasn’t Anna’s idea of heaven, but she did understand what was going on in Erin’s mind. If master wanted something like that, I’d never refuse. “What you describe would be a nasty form of punishment for particularly bad behavior in others. No thanks, not for me. Fun and games, sure, but all night, every night? I’ll pass. Disclaimer aside, don’t worry about being some kind of freak, as you put it. We all have our secrets, our fantasies, and rarely do we get the chance to live them out. Purely out of curiosity, do you have to wear a gag?”

Erin laughed. “That’s such a relief. Yes, the full kit comes with a gag, but not all night. Master says I might choke on it. He likes to use it to keep down the noise…”

Anna held up a hand. “That’s okay, too much detail. We’ll call a halt. It’s customary to keep intimate details private.”

“Oh, ok, I get that. It’s so nice to hear someone else agrees with me,” Erin said. “I’m more positive than ever I’ve made the right choice giving myself away.”

There was a knock at the open door. Karen leaned in to announce, “The meeting is ending. I’m rounding up everyone to gather in the living room.”

Old Friends

“We finally meet in person,” Róisín began. ‘How long has it been, five years?”

Penny took a sip from her iced tea. “At least that long, though the break was, what, three years now? A lot has happened since then.”

Five years ago, Róisín and Penny had met on the Internet, in an all-Island chat room. Back then Penny was still on her own, on South Island, and Róisín was with her first owner on North Island. Their online friendship had come to an abrupt halt when Róisín’s master had summarily halted any further contact, without an explanation.

“There wasn’t much I could do about the cut off. Master’s orders, no Internet, period.” Róisín shrugged. “Anyway, I have a new owner now. No more ban; I can contact all my old friends after master checks to see if I’m still welcome. Somehow master managed to track you down through your owner, Mr. Sorenson; don’t ask me how. Imagine my amazement when I found out not only did you attend the Facility but you are here on North Island too. And what a coincidence, both our owners are involved in the same business deal.”

Penny laughed. “Yeah, I finally threw caution to the wind. I never thought I’d actually be admitted to the Facility when I applied. It’s been an experience, over a year at the Facility and now Sheila and I are sharing the same owner, and on North Island of all places. I have no idea what this meeting is about. Master says it involves financial details, so we’re excluded.”

“Things went from bad to worse with my previous owner.” Róisín looked away for a moment. “He got mad one day and isolated me, as you know. After that it all went off a cliff. At the end there was a knock at the door, two men came for me, and the next I know I’m delivered to a brokerage. Madsen Brokerage, fortunate for me as it turned out. That’s when I met Mr. Madsen, who’s sitting out in the patio right now. The day I was to be auctioned off, he came by to talk to me. He’s a very nice man, by the way. He told me not to worry, one door closes and another opens, that sort of thing. As it turns out, he was right.”

Penny nodded. “Wow, you actually went through an auction? I can’t imagine what it must be like.”

“I had this image of standing on a platform, stripped and hands tied over my head, while men crowded around, poking me while shouting bids. Reality was anticlimactic. I was given a nice gown to wear, told where to stand, and waited in silence while I was being sold. Everything was on camera; I never saw any bidders. Anyway, after it was over, I met my current owner. Turns out he recently moved from the States to the Island, no he’s new to our little slice of the world.”

“How’s that worked out for you?” Penny asked. “Are you still one of those micro-manage junkies? Pile the rules on, the more the better? I remember how you went on and on about it.”

“Guilty as charged,” Róisín laughed. “It was a rough start. We had a discussion, and now there’s no problem.” She reached down to the floor and took a tablet out of her purse. “This is my Book of Reminders. It’s a long list of what’s mandatory, what’s prohibited, and when I’m allowed to use my discretion. That last one is the shortest.” She held up the wine glass. “This is on the allowed list. I write down everything in case I forget.”

Penny shook her head. “Not my style, but more power to you if it’s what works. What about a job, are you working?”

“Oh no, that’s at the top of the prohibited list. Even bringing up the subject is strictly forbidden. I am so heartbroken, but hey, we must obey our masters.”

Penny grinned at the sarcasm. “Yeah, it’s tough all over. Master told Sheila and me to talk over whether we wanted to stay home, maybe do some volunteer work, or find a job. She’s in favor of staying home, but doesn’t have a strong opinion either way. Me, I never gave it much thought, so I don’t know either. I always assumed I’d be told what to do, rather than choose for myself.”

“Then that’s your answer! Just say he’s supposed to figure that out, not you.” Róisín reached up to her collar. “Remember, you have the perfect excuse to pass the buck, so to speak. I bet Sheila will agree with you.”

“She’s the deep thinker. I miss all those little nuances she spots so easily. I’ll pass on your idea. I planned to go along with her anyway.

“But tell me more about you. You have a new owner too, so what’s he like? Is he strict?”

Róisín made a face. “You would be hard pressed to find any man on North Island who isn’t strict. We did have a bumpy start, because he is new to the whole idea of treating women as property. His outside world inhibitions are rapidly disappearing. I admit I do try to help that part along.”

Penny nodded. “Yeah, the Facility has classes about that. That situation is more common on South Island, so we had to ready to adjust to it. It’s a fine line, encouraging him but not going too far by telling him what he should do.”

Róisín shook her head. “I’m not the patient type. I asked permission to speak frankly, and then I let loose on what I needed. I was afraid he’d get mad, but it didn’t happen. He listened, and started making changes immediately afterward.”

Meeting Over

“I’d like to thank everyone for your support. Ralph will contact you with more details, including a formal statement concerning profit distribution. If this works out, or should I say when, I hope we might consider extending the syndicate to future endeavors. I’ll see to it everyone is kept up to date by courier.” Jim concluded with a warning, “I do want to stress secrecy is paramount in order to preserve the advantageous position we’re in. To be on the safe side, no phone calls or email. I know, paranoid, but you never know who’s listening.”

While everyone filed back into the house Virgil stopped Jim. “Jim, I’d like to invite you, Jeanne, Anna and Karen over for dinner Saturday night. I’m hoping Penny and Sheila will make some new friends, being recent arrivals to North Island.”

“That’s a great idea. I appreciate the invite. What should I bring?”

Virgil frowned. “I have no idea. Dinner parties are not my area of expertise. How about this: I’ll send you Penny and Sheila’s email addresses; you can set up coordination on your end. That way we don’t have to be involved.”

The Memorable Dinner Party

New Friends

This was Erin’s first opportunity to see how normal, or unusual, life could be in a quieter manner when socializing on North Island. Ralph had warned her in advance to bring along something nice to wear, so she was prepared for a dinner party.

The environment could not be more different than the near chaos of the party surrounding the business meeting yesterday. Without being surrounded by the crowd she began to notice little things about Penny and Sheila.

The most glaring quirk was the way the constantly exchanged those quick, almost furtive glances between themselves. There was some kind of communication going on, but how it worked left her stumped. The second idiosyncrasy she didn’t catch until they sat down to eat. Penny was always on the left, and Sheila on the right, whether they were sitting, standing, or walking toward the kitchen.

It was too odd to be something they’d been taught at the Facility. Erin was sure of that, which left one conclusion. While trying her best not to be obvious she paid special attention to Mr. Sorenson. Sure enough, she recognized that stare from her own experience with Ralph. The left-right move was some kind of order he had imposed on them.

They were gathered in the living room for a drink before dinner. After getting a nod from Ralph she had chosen a glass of red wine. Penny had the same, but Sheila went to the bar and fixed herself a cocktail, a vodka martini complete with olive. She mixed it like a pro. I wonder if she ever worked as a bartender. Erin knew the food business, and liquor was an important part, although she’d never learned the intricacies of tending bar.

“Mr. Welk, master tells us you’re an attorney on South Island. Do you handle criminal cases, serial killers, terrorists, slashers, all those nice people we read about?” That came from Penny.

Ralph chuckled and shook his head. “No, nothing so dramatic. Most of the time it’s drawing up contracts. I have defended a few cases, with a mixed record. I got off a shoplifter, although I think she was guilty. The cattle rustler, well, he was caught with the steers in his barn. The judge appointed me to be his lawyer, which didn’t sit well with my friends and acquaintances. I did manage to keep the mob from handing out some Wyoming-style rough justice. The judge agreed to send him to an out-of-state prison in Kansas. If it had been my cattle, well, I have to admit I might have called in sick that day.”

Penny risked a quick look at Virgil, to see if she might keep going on the same topic. Erin saw that barest of nods. Now that had to come from the Facility. She knew exactly where to pause and seek approval. Erin sighed. Will I ever be able to match that?

“I grew up in Pennsylvania, sir. My parents sent me to a Catholic school all the way up through high school. As you can imagine, it was a pretty tame little city. Cattle rustlers, that’s right out of a movie. The most excitement we ever saw was when someone tried to steal one of those beer delivery trucks. He wasn’t very bright; they do tend to stand out.”

“What about you, Erin? Aren’t you from the western US too?” That was Virgil, trying to be the polite host by drawing in everyone to the conversation.

“A long way from Wyoming, sir. My dad was stationed at the Navy base in Bangor, now Kitsap, across Puget Sound from Seattle. We had a house in Seattle. And before you ask, it does rain all the time. The most excitement I can remember growing up was the day a bunch of protesters surrounded the base. We couldn’t get in to pick up my dad. I was so angry, especially since his boat was sailing in a few days.” She turned to look at Ralph. “The MPs held back and didn’t clear the gate right away. It ruined our day. I confess I would have appreciated some of master’s rough justice while we waiting in the car for hours.”

Sheila jumped in. “I wouldn’t mind a dose of that rough justice for the protesters over on South Island. Did you see it on the news today? They want to shut down the Facility, something about how Penny and I were brutalized after being lured in. What planet did they come from?” She saw a slight frown on Virgil’s face, a sign she was going too far. “Sorry for losing my temper, sir. I just wish they’d go away and leave us alone.”

“They won’t stop,” Ralph added. “I’ve seen this before, with the ‘green’ protesters in Wyoming. They are a tiny minority but somehow manage to make a lot of noise. Their knowledge of the issues are poor at best, but that doesn’t matter. Those demonstrations on South Island are for the publicity. No one has ever come forward with evidence to back the allegations, not that it matters. Repeat an accusation enough times, there are always people who will start to believe it’s true.”

Virgil had a concerned look. “Ralph, do you think they can actually accomplish anything? Aren’t we safe here on North Island?”

Ralph shook his head. “Don’t count on it. I’ve heard rumors they have paralegals researching every woman who wears a Facility collar. I have no idea what they’re after, but it won’t be good news, whatever they try.”

“Sir? Does that mean this group is investigating me and Sheila?” Penny sounded worried. She was acutely aware of how vulnerable the two of them were. Lacking any legal standing they had no control over their destiny.

“Don’t worry,” Virgil reassured her. “I met every legal requirement for the two of you. Whoever this group is, they aren’t going to interfere with us.”

Knock At The Door

They were all sitting down at the dining room table when the doorbell rang. Frowning, and muttering about irritating neighbors, Virgil stood up. “Everyone, please remain at the table. This shouldn’t take long. One of my neighbors has been complaining about me not bringing in my trash can right away.” He left the dining room and headed to the front door.

It wasn’t the neighbor who greeted him. Instead, there were two police officers. He noticed a van parked in the street. “Virgil Sorensen? We need to speak to you concerning a matter of some urgency. Could you step outside for a moment?”

Urgency? Virgil didn’t have a clue as to what would bring out the police at this time of night. He followed the officers out to the sidewalk. “Okay, I have no idea what this is about.”

“I’m Sgt. Nguyen. We handle court orders that go into immediate effect.” He handed a piece of paper to Virgil. “This is an order from Judge Scott, Magistrate for North Island, requiring you to turn over two women in your possession to the North Island Public Administrator, pending a custody hearing. I believe their names are Penny and Sheila? The registration numbers are on the order.”

Virgil stared at the document, reading it over and over. A civil complaint had been filed on South Island alleging that the two women had been illegally transported from the Facility through the ferry terminal to North Island. The facts were accurate; that’s exactly what he’d done, but the interpretation of “illegality” appeared to be wildly inaccurate. He said as much to the sergeant.

“I’m sorry, sir, but that determination isn’t up to me. I suggest you consult an attorney before contacting the Magistrate’s office. I have no additional information beyond what’s in the court order.”

He managed to tamp down his rising anger. This isn’t the time or place to fight this battle, Virgil quickly concluded. There had to be more to the story in order for a judge to even accept the complaint.  I need help before I go blundering into some kind of legal quagmire.

He sighed; his shoulders slumped in defeat. “Alright, I’ll bring them to the door. Give me a moment; I have dinner guests.”

“That’ll be fine,” the officer replied. His face reflected an expression of someone who’d just taken a sip of spoiled milk. “I’m sorry about all this. It’s a dirty business and we don’t like being dragged into it.” The other officer, who hadn’t spoken, nodded in agreement.

“Penny, Sheila, stand up and come with me. Ralph, I could really use your help right now.” Virgil looked like he’d just been hit over the head with a baseball bat.

Ralph pushed back his chair. “Erin, stay here at the table. Something’s wrong, and I don’t want you to get involved in it. We’ll talk later.”

Ralph came to the door while the officers were taking Penny and Sheila into custody. Virgil handed Ralph a piece of paper. When he started to read the court order he couldn’t believe it.

“Virgil, say nothing more. Mr. Sorenson is represented by counsel. Notify the Public Administrator and the judge. Here’s my card. Mr. Sorenson is not to be questioned or deposed without my being present.”

Rock Bottom

Ralph sat at the half-empty dinner table, going over the motions word by word. Erin looked over his shoulder at the piece of paper, reading along. He didn’t stop her, so she felt at ease trying to understand what had just happened.

“I don’t get it, Virgil. There’s nothing in here about why a judge would issue an order like this, especially on North Island. You haven’t broken any laws, or it would be you they came for. This is a civil action, which makes no sense. The chain of ownership is well established; there can’t be any question about Penny and Sheila belonging to you. I’ll go to the Courthouse tomorrow to get a certified copy of their deeds.”

Virgil sat in his chair, head in his hands. “I did everything Director Yates asked. He assured me there wouldn’t be any problems if I took both of them, providing they agreed. I admit I did kinda force the issue. I didn’t actually ask them. Instead, I gave them time to talk it over, but after that I simply announced they now belonged to me. Neither one objected when I brought out the collars.”

“Have you ever heard of this Alliance for Humane Treatment? They’re the plaintiffs. I’ll put a paralegal on them tomorrow.” Ralph shook his head, frustrated at the lack of information. “We need some background to get an idea who we’re dealing with. Get some sleep, Virgil. I’ll give you a call as soon as I know more.”

In the car heading back to the hotel, Erin studied Ralph. He seemed preoccupied, understandable given what had just happened. She leaned forward to shift her hands. It was long after curfew, which meant she had to be both restrained and escorted in public. Handcuffs bound her wrists close together, behind her back. The weight of the leg irons on her ankles, along with the seat belt and the buckle she couldn’t reach, was a stark reminder she was virtually helpless. If it had been anyone but Ralph at her side, she’d be terrified.

At a stoplight he glanced over at her. “You doing okay?” he asked. He reached over and laid a hand on her knee.

“I’m fine, sir. I’m slowly getting used to this curfew thing. Thank you for being so patient with me.” As always Erin was very careful about holding still when he touched her. The last thing she wanted was for him to stop. She closed her eyes for a moment, relishing the contact that sent a surge of sexual pleasure through her.

“Sir? I’m not sure if I should ask. Is there anything I can do to help Mr. Sorenson? I’m heartbroken over what’s happened to him.”

The light changed, Ralph moved his hand back to the wheel. “It’s complicated, Erin. In purely technical terms you should be excluded from anything about this case. You’re aware you have no legal standing. I should withhold all details, and even go so far as to ban you from reading the news.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. He was right. On North Island she had the same rights as a kitchen toaster or any of his other property, which is to say none at all. Even when they got back home, he had every right to cut her off from TV and the Internet, without an explanation.

“On the brighter side, since I’m the attorney and your owner, you’re participation is a gray area. For now, I don’t see what you can do to help Virgil. That may change. I do have a duty to order you not to disclose anything you see or hear that’s related to this case. Violating that order has serious consequences, Erin, so please be very careful. I don’t have any leeway in this.”

She could see the hotel sign ahead. “Virgil’s hit rock bottom, losing all that’s important to him.” He turned into the parking lot. “He might be more comfortable if I dealt with him alone. I’ll make arrangements for you to be looked after when I have to come back here in the coming days.”

“I can…” Erin abruptly halted before completing her thought. She was about to say she could take care of herself. That wasn’t true any longer.

Ralph found a spot to park, stopped and got out. She stared at her reflection in the car window while waiting for him to free her from the car seat. When he opened her door he asked, “Can what?”

She had to be honest with him. “I can act like a complete idiot, sir. I was going to say I can look out for myself, but that’s not true any longer.”  Someone has to be watching over me from now on. I better get used to it. “I depend on you, sir. Not just because I don’t have a choice, but because that’s what I want. Look at me.” She leaned forward, wiggling the fingers of her hands to emphasize they were locked behind her back.

“I can’t even get out of the car unless you help me. Please ignore what I should never have said, sir. Blame it on old habits. It won’t happen again.”

Ralph leaned in and unbuckled her seat belt. With his hand on her arm, she was able to turn and stand up. She didn’t miss the big smile on his face either. The more I need him, the more he enjoys it. Don’t kid yourself, Erin, you love it as much as he does.

Slowly they made their way to the hotel entrance and on to their room for the night. As soon as she crossed into the room Erin turned to face the wall. I have to get this right, especially tonight. She widened her stance to pull the chain taut between her ankles. Her hands were carefully centered in the small of her back, palms open and facing each other, with the handcuff chain also pulled tight. Back straight, head held high, eyes on the wall, and don’t make a sound, she told herself.

This was the procedure she was to follow any time they returned home after curfew. The first few times hadn’t gone well, but Ralph was patient with her. She was determined that this time there would be no mistakes. I will be judged and not found wanting, she silently vowed.

She heard the door close. Although her world was reduced to a spot on the wall, she was positive Ralph was standing close behind her. When he reached around to pull her hair behind her shoulders, Erin was able to hold herself as rigid as a statue. He leaned down and whispered that magic word in her ear. “Perfect.”

Her heart swelled with pride. Aside from the tragic ending, the dinner party had been stressful for Erin. There she was, a newcomer to the lifestyle, stumbling about trying to find her way. To be faced with not one but two Facility graduates, women trained for more than a year and already committed for a lifetime, was intimidating to Erin. Watching them she felt clumsy and out of place.

“I was watching you tonight. I suspected you’d start to compare yourself to the polished performance of the Facility twins. Yes, they are skilled, impressive to see. That doesn’t mean it’s what I want.” He ran a hand across the top of Erin’s collar, under her chin.

“You can’t see it, but you have one big advantage over them. You and I, we don’t have to share. Remember this. They are experts at following Facility rules. I’m sure that appeals to Virgil. It holds no attraction to me. I dictate your rules of conduct, me and no one else. I am the only voice in your head, with you every minute of the day, encouraging you to obey me, and warning you not to stray from my wishes.”

The sound of his voice, low and confident, carried his words deep into her being. At that moment she felt what it truly meant to belong to him, body and soul. It’s me he loves, no one else. I have him all to myself. I’ll do whatever it takes to hold onto him. Erin felt sorry for Penny and Sheila, for they’d never know the joy she felt at this moment.

Bewildered

Penny looked over at Sheila, sitting next to her. Both of them were strapped into fiberglass car seats, adult-sized, suitable for restraining violent prisoners. She tugged on the handcuffs on her wrists, behind her back. They weren’t coming off, at least not by her efforts. Across from them an officer was watching their every move, limited as it was.

What had happened? Sheila shrugged, as if reading Penny’s mind. One minute they were at the dinner table, the next bundled off to an unknown destination in police custody. Their owner had offered no explanation other than an order to cooperate but answer no questions. For a moment Penny had feared they were being taken to a brokerage to be sold, but she quickly realized that made no sense. These were police, not brokerage guards, and they wouldn’t come in the middle of a dinner party. She sensed master had been just as shocked by the arrival of the police as they were. And what passed between him and Mr. Welk, the attorney? No, this was something to do with the law, though she couldn’t imagine what it might be.

Sheila was just as puzzled as Penny. The police presence could only mean one thing, they had somehow broken a law, a serious one by North Island standards to justify their sudden seizure. Obviously, they hadn’t tried to run away, nor had they violated curfew. Perhaps someone claimed they had handled money, or had spoken in a disrespectful way to a man? Try as she might, Sheila couldn’t think of any point in time where that might have happened.

“Sir? May I ask…” Penny began. Sheila was surprised; she was sure they weren’t allowed to ask questions either.

“No talking,” the officer snapped. That shut down any attempt to find out from the police why they were here. Penny leaned back in the uncomfortable prisoner seat. This was a familiar pattern. We find out when we need to know, and not before. This is our life now, she thought, accepting her fate. Men decide what happens to us; we don’t have a say.

Even so, it was one thing to hear it over and over at the Facility, and quite another living with the consequences. It felt like there was a tight ball lodged in her stomach. Is he still our owner? Are we going to be turned over to some stranger?

There was still one constant she could count on. She sat up as straight as possible, lifted her chin, and met the stare of the guard sitting across from her. I am Facility trained, she thought, not daring to speak. I wear a Facility collar. Whatever happens, I will meet it with confidence.

Sheila noticed the change in Penny and immediately copied her. Both of them had learned the lesson that there would always be someone looking out for them. It might not be tomorrow, but the day would come when their master would reappear so that they could return to a normal life.

So It Begins

“Yesterday, on the strength of the lawsuit Piet filed, we obtained a court order to take the two women into custody. At the moment they’re being held by the North Island Public Administrator.” Angela paused to look at her notes. The Central Committee sat around the conference table, eager for news.

“North Island has some tough privacy laws, so we don’t actually know where they are. The usual procedure is to house women at one of the North Island brokerages, but the judge won’t allow the location to be disclosed. Today, Piet entered the motion for a change of venue, to move the proceedings, and the two women, to South Island. There will be a hearing in a few days once both sides have a chance to respond to motions and stipulations.”

Angela’s nemesis, Donna, asked the usual awkward questions. “I checked TV and the news sites. The case barely made it in as a footnote. Where is the dramatic coverage we were promised? And what happens if the change of venue is denied?”

Angela was ready for her. “Tomorrow, we hold a press conference. We’ve lined up some talking head pundits to make the usual exaggerated claims, and to top it off there will be a demonstration at Government House right after the press conference. That’ll help Piet shift the public focus of the case to the emotional rather than the factual. There should provide plenty of photo ops.

“If our motion is denied we’re still ready to proceed. The judge has a reputation for being a stickler for legal precedent; we’ll work on that. It will be more complicated in terms of publicity, but we’re concentrating on public opinion on South Island. North Island is a lost cause, as far as Alliance goals are concerned. We aren’t going to waste time on them.”

“What about those two women? Will they be appealing if we portray them as poor lost souls trafficked into a life of sexual slavery? Is there any prior history we can exploit?” Donna wasn’t at all convinced of the lawsuit’s success, but she had a politician’s instinctive nose for sniffing out lascivious details to cloud the issue.

Angela shrugged. “We’re still researching their background. So far, nothing’s come up. I’m sure we can invent something if need be. Nothing on this Virgil Sorenson either; he’s a non-entity. We do know he’s a plumber, of all things. We’ll zero in on the women. It’s what draws attention. Piet? You have something on that?”

He picked up a sheet of paper. “Along with the change of venue, I petitioned for the two women to be transferred to South Island. Our strategy hinges on having the case tried under South Island law. If we can eliminate North Island jurisdiction we have a good chance of prevailing.”

The Court Case

In Seclusion

Ray sat at his desk, reading over the Public Administrator’s email once again. This is going to be a major headache, but it’s for a worthy cause. He rarely indulged in crusades, but this was different. Reading between the lines of the lawsuit was the clear message that once again it was a political faction on South Island trying to discredit the Facility, and if they were lucky North Island too.

From the couch Barbara watched Ray as he worked. Something’s bothering him; she recognized the subtle clues. She didn’t interrupt when he was in that kind of a mood. She looked down at her hands, all but glued to her knees. Her arms were getting tired, but she dare not move. He might not be paying attention, yet the moment she lifted a hand he’d zoom in on her blatant disobedience.

Ray looked up from the screen, still lost in thought. He caught Barbara out of the corner of his eye. She’s been sitting there for a while, I bet she needs to stretch. “Come over here and stand in front of me.” His tone was casual but she knew it was an order, not a request.

“Sir?” He noticed the way she flexed her hands. I was right.

“Something unexpected has come up. We’re going to be hosting some involuntary guests for an indefinite period, for the Public Administrator. You know how that works; you’ve heard me talk about it before. The circumstances are unusual, but I can’t go into the details with you. The complication is in how our visitors are to be treated. You are the best qualified person to play hostess to them, though I have to warn you it won’t be easy. You will have to be held in seclusion for a week or two, maybe longer. That means no contact with anyone but our new arrivals and, of course, me. There’s an information embargo too, so no Internet, phone, laptop, radio or TV. I can manage some streaming movie requests, but they’ll have to be censored. That will include you. You will remain with them the entire length of their stay.”

She didn’t hesitate. “Yes, sir. What can you tell me? Anything?”

Ray paused, debating what he could reveal given the restrictions. “You saw the news last night? It’s that pair of women, the Facility ones, and the court case brought by South Island troublemakers. Don’t repeat that last part; we’re neutral.”

“I’ve forgotten it already, sir. What is my role?”

“A North Island court took temporary custody pending a hearing. We’re in the rotation to handle Public Administrator cases, so we have to house both of them. The judge has specified that they be sequestered, no outside contact at all. You can imagine the amount of stress they are under, especially being kept in the dark. I want you to play the part of companion, hostess, and shoulder to cry on. If tempers start to flare, try to put out the fires. They will be understandably upset about the entire affair. Be a friend to them, someone they can confide in. You will not report your conversations to me. There will be video surveillance, that’s required by the Public Administrator’s office, but no audio recording.”

“When do I start, sir?”

“In about ten minutes. They just arrived and are being signed in.” He gestured to his private restroom door. “There’s a company uniform in there; you can change now. I’ll have further instructions for all of you when they’re brought to the office.”

It didn’t take long for her to change. She ran her hands down the sides of the dress to smooth out the wrinkles before she opened the door. Ray was standing, waiting for her.

“Face the wall, hands behind your back. From now on you are just another employee at the brokerage. Act accordingly.”

While she stared at the wall he fastened her wrists together with the standard issue handcuffs, the hinged type that made it all the more difficult to use her hands. She wasn’t a novice to this procedure. Holding very still she felt the cuffs go around her ankles and ratchet shut. Her eyes never wavered from the spot on the wall she’d picked out. He was taking over, in a very literal, physical way she could not ignore. This was one of those moments she treasured, for the way it brought a warm feeling created by the reassurance he still wanted to possess her.

When she heard him step back, she immediately widened her stance to pull the leg chain taut. Short, she discovered, that means enhanced security. Whatever is going on must be important. It was more difficult to walk in short chains, though that was by design. It felt like wading through knee-deep mud; every step had to be planned and carefully placed.

From behind his arms encircled her waist, pulling her close against him. “You do that so well,” he whispered in her ear. “Any man would be proud to own you, if only so he could show you off. I want to see your best behavior from now on. Keep in mind these are Facility-trained women, with high standards. Don’t be intimidated. Remember, you can match them any day of the week.”

Barbara heard the knock at the office door. “Come on in, Les. We’re ready,” Ray called out. She wasn’t able to see who it was, but it was safe to assume it was Les Unger, the operations manager, number two at the brokerage. Senior executives involved, she realized, that underlined her conclusion this was no ordinary business transaction. She focused on her spot on the wall. No matter how curious she had to remain perfectly still. Anything less than the highest level of excellence would reflect badly on her master, and that must never occur.

Ray turned around to face the newcomers, while keeping one hand on Barbara’s back. He knew she’d remain in position for however long it was necessary. Even so he liked to indulge himself with little reminders he was in charge, especially when she was so helpless. Whether or not she objected was immaterial. He wasn’t about to ask her for consent, and for her part any show of defiance would be met with the severity it deserved.

Les and another guard, Mark, led the pair into his office. Both wore standard brokerage uniforms, with their hands bound behind their backs in handcuffs. When Les removed the hoods covering their heads Ray recognized the women. Penny and Sheila, he remembered their names from the business meeting at Jim Lassen’s home. He felt sorry for their owner, Virgil Sorenson, and his legal troubles. It wasn’t right, and he hoped Virgil would prevail in court. That didn’t affect his responsibilities as the temporary custodian of these two women. Based on Ray’s reputation, the judge had waived the possible conflict when he privately disclosed the investment syndicate of which both he and Virgil were members.

“Good afternoon, ladies. Would you be so good as to line up in front of the desk. Face forward, no talking, remain in position.” The two of them wasted no time, though he did catch the apprehensive glance the two exchanged as they got in line. Why did they risk that furtive move? Both wore the distinctive gold-tinged collar of Facility graduates. They know better, something must be wrong, he thought.

Taking hold of Barbara’s arm, he turned her around and steered her over to join the line. She’d heard his instructions and immediately took up the same pose. He squeezed her arm gently, to indicate he noticed. Barbara didn’t react, that wasn’t proper, but she got the message.

Ray paced back and forth behind the women several times, pausing as if he needed to examine them in closer detail. Walking around to his desk he leaned forward to continue his inspection. Their presentation was flawless, as he expected. Even so, effort had to be acknowledged, and from long experience Ray knew the best way to show it was a lengthy examination for the smallest detail that might be out of place. They were held to account and not found wanting.

When he sat down, he folded his arms and leaned back. Sheila was the leftmost in the line, with Penny in the center and Barbara on the right. Ray pointed to Penny. “You, your name is Penny, correct? Something is bothering you. Tell me what it is, now.”

“Yes, sir, I’m Penny.” She hesitated. “I apologize, sir, but Sheila and I have a special rule we are required to follow in all circumstances. We’re unable to comply and obey your instructions at the same time. This is one of those zero-tolerance rules, sir. We don’t know what to do.”

Ray held a low opinion of anyone who came between a man and his property. The fact she was inserting a “sir” with nearly every sentence told him she was scared to defy him, even though her owner’s orders were supposed to supersede all others. “We’ll have to fix that. Tell me how.”

The two of them exchanged a quick glance. Ray guessed it meant they were silently negotiating who would continue. Apparently, Penny won the argument. “Yes, sir. Sheila and I are right and left. By that I mean where we must be in relation to each other. I am to stand, sit, or whatever to the left of Sheila, and she should always be on my right. We don’t know why it must be this way, sir; master did not give us a reason, and we are not allowed to ask. No questioning, no exceptions, no discussion is permitted. As I mentioned, it is a zero-tolerance command, strictly enforced.”

Very original, Ray thought. I’ll have to remember it in the future. The women standing in front of him might be puzzled by what could be assumed to be a capricious order, but Ray knew better. He had to admire Virgil, their owner, for his creative approach. Far from being a spur of the moment whimsy, his directive served to focus them on a common task that required their constant cooperation, while at the same time building on their need to please.

He glanced over at Barbara and nodded his head ever so slightly. She knew all about zero-tolerance, every time she placed her hands over her knees while sitting down. I wonder if she has figured out the real reason behind her own inflexible rule. Not that it mattered; he was extraordinarily insistent when it came to that particular show of obedience on her part. Barbara never failed to deliver, a point he emphasized with his exaggerated scrutiny.  I’d go crazy being forced to do something like that, yet she thrives on submission to authority.

“Les, help the ladies change places. My apologies, this was not in the information we were provided. I will personally ensure your owner’s requirement will be made known to everyone involved in your supervision.” If only all his problems could be solved so easily. How long could he keep their presence at the brokerage a secret? Once it got out, given the political overtones of the court case, he’d be besieged by media and pressure groups on all sides. What he didn’t need were internal distractions, which is why he had brought Barbara into the mix. With any luck she’d keep Penny and Sheila calm during their ordeal.

With the newly reorganized line now in front of him Ray was ready to deliver his prepared speech. “Now then, this is how it will be. Penny, Sheila, you will be our guests here at the brokerage. For the moment, your ownership status has not changed, but I cannot guarantee that won’t change, nor can I keep you updated. I want to reassure you that in no way are you here to be sold, or even receive any training. Being Facility graduates I’m not sure what we could offer in that respect.

“I regret I cannot provide you with any details of how long you will be here, or the efforts your owner is making towards your return. All I can offer for advice is to be patient and wait it out. I can tell you Madsen Brokerage will extend every possible courtesy to you. But please understand we also have explicit instructions regarding how you are to be treated while in our care. Don’t ask, I am not going to elaborate further.

“Barbara,” he gestured to her, at the end of the line, “will be your companion for the length of your stay. She can’t provide you any more information that what you already know. So you are aware, I have instructed her to treat any conversations between the three of you as private and confidential; she will not pass on anything to me or anyone else. Don’t think of her as a spy. Her purpose is to help you adapt to brokerage procedures. You will be monitored on camera, that’s mandatory for our arrangement about hosting you, but the microphones will not be turned on. Feel free to complain between yourselves all you want.”

That last joke brought a few smiles to the women. “Barbara will fill you in on how we do things here at the brokerage. Right now, we’re going to move you to your quarters. Les? If you and Mark will take charge of our guests? I’ll escort Barbara. You will have to excuse us for the necessity of covering your heads while you’re out and about in the brokerage. Your presence here is a secret.”

Les placed the hoods over Penny and Sheila. Ray took an extra hood from a shelf behind his desk, stood up and covered Barbara’s head. “Unless there’s an urgent problem, I’ll have to ask the three of you to remain silent. Don’t worry, you’ll be supervised every minute. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

Luxury Accommodations

Ray led Barbara into her designated location first, positioning her on the floor mark, before he removed her hood. One look and she knew where she was. She sent him a questioning look but Ray just shook his head, silently telling her to wait. He followed up with Sheila to Barbara’s right, and Penny to her left. For the moment he left the restraints in place.

The newcomers took a quick look around before giving Ray their full attention. When they stood up straight, facing forward, feet as far apart as possible, Barbara quickly copied them. Facility training, Ray thought, when in unfamiliar surroundings rely on what they’ve been taught. Time for me to go to work.

“This will be your home away from home during your stay. There will be no contact with anyone else at the brokerage except for the three of us,” he swept his hand to include Les and Mark, “and perhaps one or two others if we run short of personnel. Under no circumstances will you reveal your names or your owner to anyone, and that includes the guards at the brokerage, unless you receive my personal approval first. I have been given the authority to enforce discipline as I see fit. While you are here both of you answer to me.”

He backed up, folded his arms, and began a close visual inspection of the line facing him. His purpose was to assert control and establish culpability for their behavior. Slowly he walked to one end, starting his review with Sheila, then Barbara, and ending with Penny. Each time he paused, doing his best to keep his expression passive, not showing approval or disapproval. Get them to concentrate on me instead of their own hardships. He made a second pass, behind them, again stopping close behind each of the women. To emphasize his power over them he carefully examined the handcuffs encircling their small wrists, running his hands over the steel bracelets to check for fit. It was a not very subtle way of reminding them he was in charge.

When he finished, he remained out of their sight. Several long, anxious minutes ticked by while everyone waited for Ray to announce if he was satisfied. This little scenario he had practiced many times. The longer he waited, the more nervous the women would become. Was something out of place? They would be frantic, trying to think of what had gone wrong. Was it just one, or all of them? Would he punish all three for the mistake of a single individual?

Les picked up on what Ray was doing and added his own contribution. Slowly he began to frown, as if he’d also spotted some fault on the part of the women. In fact, their display of submission was as close to perfection as possible. To the uninformed it might seem cruel, leaving them in suspense, but Ray was no bully. Penny and Sheila had been subjected to a major shock. They appeared as if they were handling it but he knew better. No one could go through that kind of emotional distress unscathed. He was attempting to redirect a portion of that upset to himself.

Barbara was more familiar with his methods. Even so, the scrutiny was real and the consequences of failure applied to her just as much as the other two. There was no leniency allowed for complacency.

Finally, he relented. Taking the key from his shirt pocket, he removed their handcuffs, but deliberately left on the ankle chains. Give them something tangible to complain about, a distraction from what has happened.

He came back around to the front and walked out the cell door. Turning around he closed and locked it. “The kitchen was stocked earlier, so I’m sure you can find something for lunch. This is pizza night. The dining room will fix your dinner. Decide what you want; someone will be back to put in your order.” With that the men filed through the outer door. It slammed shut with the finality of being alone and isolated.

“Stay where you are,” Barbara whispered, “in case they come back. I’ll let you know when it’s okay.”

Inside the Gilded Cage

Barbara stood at the stovetop, watching the eggs cook. “One large mushroom and egg omelet coming up. Breakfast and lunch, brunch.”

Penny was setting the dining room table while Sheila was fixing the toast. “This isn’t what I expected,” Sheila said. “At the Facility we heard all these horror stories about North Island, especially the brokerages. Bad food, dirty cells, filthy guards, mostly illiterate, thugs who were likely to assault you at any moment.”

Barbara laughed. “Makes for a good TV show, but it’s all fiction. Okay, I’ll admit we’re getting the royal treatment, but even those unfortunates who wind up here under the worst circumstances are treated decently. I can’t speak for other brokerages but this one doesn’t deserve the outside reputation. I know from firsthand experience. When I arrived here, I was just another addition to the inventory. In fact, it was the start of my life as a man’s property. I’d never worn a collar until the day I stepped off the ferry onto North Island.”

“I suppose that applies to us as well,” Penny added while walking back into the kitchen. “I had only a vague idea of what to expect when I arrived at the Facility.”

“What have I done?” Sheila said. “That was my reaction the first day at the Facility. Too late to do anything about it, though. We were past the point of no return. I can’t count the number of times I would have walked away, if it had been possible. The times I was singled out to be the object of Mrs. Yates disapproval left me shaking, convinced I’d never make it. In retrospect the isolation turned out to be a good idea. I had no choice but to do better.”

“Mrs. Yates?” Barbara asked.

“Men have those army drill instructors you see in movies,” Penny started to explain. “We had Mrs. Yates, the senior woman on the Facility staff. Nothing was ever good enough to satisfy her. We all had to start by being perfect, then do better next time. We lived in terror of her morning room inspections. A towel hung crooked in the bathroom, a pillow slightly off center, anything no matter how trivial would set her off.”

Barbara slid the last omelet onto a plate. “I think we’re ready to eat.” She handed out plates to Sheila and Penny before carrying her own to the table. “Listening to you two I realize how easy I’ve had it in comparison. My first day here I met someone who I later found out was a Facility graduate. She helped me out right from the first. Then Mr. Madsen decided I should belong to him, and here I am.”

“Funny how guys seem to just sweep in and carry you away. After Sheila and I told the Director we’d agreed to the change, both of us going to one owner, it turns out Mr. Sorenson had already claimed us and had collars ready.” Penny shrugged. “I suppose it’s fate. One minute you’re on your own, the next you’re waiting to find out what’s going to happen to you.”

Juggling a Timebomb

Back in the office Ray and Les were deep in a discussion. “Geez, Ray, you like to live dangerously. What next, juggling grenades after pulling the pins?”

“Yeah, the media circus is already gearing up. Penny and Sheila’s pictures are all over TV and the Internet, thanks to that Alliance group. So far, we’re still under the radar. The Public Administrator is saying they’re at an ‘undisclosed location’, which works in our favor. I’m sure it’ll leak out eventually. Maybe we’ll be lucky and the court case will be tossed by then. If not, be prepared to act quickly once the media jackals are baying at our door. Our position is no comment, neither confirm or deny, etc.”

Les shrugged. “You really think that’ll satisfy anyone? And what are we supposed to tell our customers? I have no idea how this is going to break, pro or con, with public opinion. We may take a financial hit.”

Ray sighed. “It’s a risk. Thing is, I met Virgil Sorenson. He’s a decent man, and his women are not being mistreated. You’ve seen them, you know the signs, and in their case there’s no indication of any kind of abuse. No, this is pure politics. I’m gonna do whatever I can for him, short of violating our contract with the Public Administrator.”

Les leaned back in his chair. “I see what you’re doing. It won’t work, you know? First of all, Barbara isn’t going to buy your inflexible bully act. And second, those are Facility women. Oh, they’ll concentrate on you, but only because you are the authority figure. I doubt there’s anything you can attempt that’ll make them dislike you. They expect men to take care of them. No matter how harsh you try to come off, they’ll only assume you know best. If you come on too strong, it’ll backfire when they start blaming themselves for angering you.”

Ray stood up and began pacing back and forth. “You’re right, Les. I’m trying to buy a little time to think. They are depending on me, for what I’m not sure. How do I keep them occupied? I don’t want them dwelling on how bad off they are.”

“You have more issues to contend with. Barbara can’t handle this all by herself. She needs help so she can take a break now and then. You’re asking a lot from her. Remember what it is we do? No stress, or as little as possible.” Les folded his arms. “Do you know of anyone we can call on?”

Ray halted in his tracks. “Maybe I do…” He paused, working out how he would approach a certain someone to ask a difficult favor. “I’ll make a phone call. If her owner goes along, I have the perfect solution to that problem.”

As always Les wouldn’t let the immediate problems go unsolved. “Day after tomorrow is a movie night, to reward all our well-behaved guests. I’m not sure what’s showing, but the selections are tailored to the audience. There’s even a small snack bar. I’m told it’s quite popular. It’s an opportunity for our special guests to get out of their cage, avoid a case of cabin fever. What do you think?”

Ray nodded. “That’s a good idea. Except how do we keep them incognito in the middle of an audience? By now everyone knows what they look like. We can’t very well have them sit through the movie with bags over their heads.”

Les laughed. “No, that’s kinda pointless, and all it would do is draw attention. So how do we hide them in plain sight?”

There was something nagging at Ray. “Of course!” He slammed a hand down hard on his desk. “Les, there is a way, and we have the means to accomplish it. It will draw attention, but not for very long, and even then, it’ll be for all the wrong reasons. This is how we’ll hide the needles in the haystack…”

Preliminary Hearing

Across town in the North Island courthouse Virgil had his first opportunity to find out what was going on. Ralph Welk had explained the filing and the motions. He had warned Virgil not to expect anything to change today. This was just a hearing to rule on motions.

Virgil and Ralph sat at the defendant’s table. Across from them was the Plaintiff’s lawyer, a South Island attorney named Piet Van Rijn, and two representatives from some bogus “Alliance” Virgil had never heard of.

The first motion was the change of venue, to move the case to South Island. Van Rijn argued the legal violation concerned South Island law, and therefore it should be heard there. Ralph countered with the argument the violation was not a proven fact. Since Virgil, the owner, was a long-established resident of North Island the current court should hear the case.

It didn’t take the judge long to rule. “Motion denied. Plaintiff did not establish or even claim the two women were residents of South Island, at the time of the alleged incident The claim is based on irregularities which may have occurred in transit, therefore by Plaintiff’s own admission the women in question were never residents of South Island. Sorry, Mr. Van Rijn, you shot yourself in the foot on this one.”

“That’s one for our side,” Ralph whispered to Virgil.

“Now, the next motion is to transfer custody of,” the judge looked at a paper, “Penny and Sheila. Sorry again Mr. Van Rijn, you have no basis to make such a request. Mr. Welk, your motion to return them to Mr. Sorenson’s custody I must also deny. The Plaintiff’s claim, which includes a challenge to the Defendant’s ownership, is sufficient to require a finding of fact at trial. Until then, the two women will remain in the care of the Public Administrator.”

The rest of the motions were legal housekeeping. Virgil tuned them out. Today’s hearing was a mixed bag of results. That wasn’t much of a consolation.

He stared at the group at the Plaintiff’s table. He’d never heard of any Alliance for Humane Treatment, nor did he recognize the men trying to take away the most important part of his life. Why were they going after him? More and more he suspected they regarded him as collateral damage on their way to a loftier goal.

Setback

“That’s just great,” Donna practically screamed at Angela. “We’re going to have to fight this on North Island? Half of us can’t even cross the Channel. Any idea of how we’re supposed to get noticed if we don’t show up? No way we can get the rent-a-mob across the Channel either. We lost on every point that matters.

“This was all your idea, Angela. You and Piet cooked up this hairbrained scheme, and now it’s starting to unravel. What next? Maybe claim that defendant guy is a space alien, here illegally?”

Angela could barely contain her anger. Seeing her about to lose it Piet stepped in. “We didn’t win everything but we certainly didn’t lose. We got in two crucial points. The first one, the judge stated our claim required a finding of fact. That means he’s not going to dismiss the case. And second, he didn’t release the women from custody. That keeps open the question of ownership. Our lawsuit is still very much alive.”

Donna gave out with a sarcastic laugh. “A few more wins like that and we’ll be back to square one, only poorer. This was supposed to be a media event, Piet. How are we going to manage that now?”

Piet nearly lost his temper with Donna too. “Is that what you planned, Donna? Showing up in the courtroom, disrupting the procedures, staging a protest against oppression? Sorry, no histrionics thus time, unless you plan to ask one of the single men here if you can wear this collar? That’ll get you into North Island.”

“Screw you, Piet!” Donna yelled. She stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Angela frowned. “That was rough, Piet.”

He shrugged. “She isn’t helping. I have enough to worry about without her interference. Anyway, the next stage is an evidentiary hearing, about what the judge will allow in and what he’ll exclude. We’re in good shape there. I have the video recording from the terminal, plus testimony from Clancy Yates, the Facility Director.”

Angela looked puzzled. “I don’t get it. Yates is going to be a witness on our side?”

Piet smiled. “Yeah, I pre-empted the Defense. I have some very interesting questions lined up for him. This is a golden opportunity to reveal how the Facility works. Once he appears you’ll have plenty to protest.”

Four’s A Crowd

Barbara, Penny and Sheila were sitting in the Gilded Cage’s living room, having a conversation about what living at the Facility was like. Barbara’s practiced ear heard the outer door start to open first. She immediately interrupted Sheila, rose up and gestured for the two Facility women to follow her. When she stopped at her mark on the floor the other two immediately caught on, joining her on either side.

Ray came in first, leading a woman who had on a hood, and hands bound behind her back. Barbara didn’t recognize her, although she wasn’t wearing a company uniform, which meant this newcomer was a visitor. He halted in front of the bars, as always carefully scrutinizing Barbara and the others to ensure they were following proper procedure. Satisfied with his inspection, he removed the hood from the stranger.

None of the three showed any visible reaction, even though they all recognized her at once from the TV news weeks ago. Sandra the “millionaire heiress”, that was the media nickname given her. She was reputed to be worth a sizeable fortune, or rather her new owner was. What was she doing here? Barbara wondered.

“Sandy will be joining the three of you for an extended stay,” Ray began. “No discussion is permitted regarding the reason she is joining you. Do not ask her about the news concerning Penny and Sheila, or anything else that’s happened since they first arrived here. If you do, Sandy won’t answer, but all of you will answer to me for violating explicit instructions.”

Ray released Sandy’s wrists, opened the gate to the Gilded Cage, and motioned her to enter. She went to the end of the line, next to Penny, turned around and joined the rest in silent attention. He closed the gate, took a step back and slowly walked back and forth, once again putting the women on notice they were being judged.

“Tomorrow evening is movie night. All of you will be attending. There are some special arrangements, which will be explained to you before you go to the dining room.” He paused for a long look at Barbara. She met him, eye to eye, positive he would find no flaw. There was something in his expression…

Sandy is here because of me, she suddenly realized. This is for my benefit. I can’t figure out how or why, but he did this to help me, I’m sure of it. Without another word Ray walked away, closing the outer door behind him.

After a short delay Barbara relaxed, and the rest followed her lead. “Let’s go back to the living room and get to know each other,” she suggested. After introductions all around Barbara led off with a question. “Sandy, we were talking about the Facility, but you have more actual experience than the rest of us combined, especially about living here on North Island. Any insight you’d like to share with us?”

Sandy let loose a short laugh before answering. “I don’t think there’s any secret to reveal. I can’t say if my previous owner or my present master are typical or not. Hmm…” she paused to think.

“There is one thing I’ve picked up on; not just me, but friends too. When it comes to our men, it’s the tiny details that matter the most. You know how men are attracted to appearance? For us it’s a bit different from the outside world.

“Barbara? I see you have to keep your hands on your knees. Penny, Sheila? The two of you might be carved in stone the way you sit up so prim and proper. Facility way, isn’t it? I’ve seen it before, very distinctive. Me, I have to wear a dress everywhere; no pants, no jeans, not even a skirt. Why must we do this? I don’t know for sure, but my educated guess is they want to see some tangible way they control us. My experience is that if we give them what they want, then life can be pretty good.”

Penny spoke up. “At the Facility we’re told, over and over, how important it is we encourage our masters to not hold back, that we aren’t so fragile we’ll break if they stare at us for too long.”

Sheila continued. “In some respects it’s the men who are fragile. They hold back, often out of guilt over being so dominant. They grew up in the outside world, where they were taught to build consensus, be sensitive instead of assertive. That may be fine for most women, but not for us. That’s what Penny is talking about, we have to overcome lifelong prejudices.”

Sandy shrugged. “All I can say is both my previous owner and my current master overcame the guilt trip very quickly. If he hesitates in telling me what to do, I’ve yet to see it. I doubt Barbara has that problem either, considering what Mr. Madsen does for a living.”

Penny and Sheila exchanged a quick glance. Barbara had noticed they frequently did that, some kind of nonverbal private communication that wasn’t comprehensible to anyone else. She shifted to look directly at the pair.

“Don’t take this as advice, per se. Master would throw me into the darkest dungeon cell he could find if there was the slightest hint I was interfering with the relationship between you and your owner. What I will say is the two of you are fortunate in having the time to adjust to wearing a collar. The one drawback, it was designed for a life on South Island, not here. You’ll find many of the preparations from the Facility don’t apply on this side.

“Don’t worry about fitting in. You’ll do fine. You’ll get some stares because you’re unique, but they aren’t hostile. You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished, but also remember you’re among a peer group that’s composed of experts with years, even decades of experience.”

At The Movies

Fatima made a few minor adjustments before stepping back to examine her work. “Excellent, you’d be right at home in Kandahar. Remember, modesty in dress above all. It is your solemn duty to ensure men do not gaze with lust upon your bodies. They cannot control themselves. We must do our best to help them!”

Barbara, Penny, Sheila and even the normally taciturn Sandy began giggling. “Sorry,” Barbara apologized. “I’ve never heard that particular perspective spoken out loud before now. I don’t think I’d like to offer up that particular observation to my master.”

The four women were covered in black from head to toe. The ensemble included: black boots; a black burqa, the head-to-toe garment that covered all from the face down to the ankles; and long black gloves to conceal that last bit of skin. The portion over the face had a small panel covered in lace, to see and speak. The four were indistinguishable from each other except for height.

“The black color means all of you are in purdah, or sexual segregation. It requires strict seclusion from men in public. Never forget, you are ‘behind the curtain’ in the burqa. Under no circumstances will you speak to a man or even answer his questions. That also applies to the brokerage guards, even though they will be our mahram, our escorts.”

Fatima pulled up the veil across her face. “This is called a niqab, a face veil. I’m a married woman, so not in purdah. I can talk to the guards.” She had on a long abaya, a loose-fitting dress, and a hijab, a long scarf covering her head except for the face.

Barbara went into the kitchen and came back with a glass and straw. “There’s a snack bar, where we can get drinks, popcorn and candy.” She lifted up the bottom of the face cover and held the glass under it. “You can drink this way, but be sure to get a straw. Same for a candy bar, reach up under the cloth to take a bite. Always keep your face covered. Remember, no skin at all! Make sure your glove is all that shows.”

Fatima went over the rules one last time. “Barbara’s right. We’re going to attract attention when we go into the dining room. Do not speak to anyone, man or woman, except to me or each other. You are not being rude by ignoring everyone else. Don’t respond to your name if you hear it, or behave in any way that might reveal to others who you are. Especially you, Barbara; no hands on your knees! If anyone sees her forget, give her a sharp poke in the ribs.

“I will be our go-between for the guards. They won’t speak directly to you. I’ll repeat any orders from them, so don’t comply until I say so. If you need permission for something, tell me and I’ll pass it on. I can’t stress this enough. Do not let anyone hear your voice. Low whispers, that’s all.

“The guards will be sitting behind us and to either side; do not turn to look at them. We will be separated from the rest of the audience by a row of empty chairs. No talking once the movie starts. It’s vital that no one knows who you are.”

Fatima looked them over. “I misspoke; times have changed. You’d stand out in Afghanistan now because of the black color. Nearly all burqas there are blue, more modern. Yeah, ironic, isn’t it, too conservative for Taliban Land? Anyway, in Pakistan or eastern Iran you’d be accepted, though viewed as old-fashioned.”

It was Sandy who seemed to be the most troubled by their outfits. “Are you sure this is permitted? Master is very emphatic about me not wearing anything but a dress. Does he approve of this?” She gestured at the burqas.

Fatima held up her hands. “Mr. Madsen is the final authority here, until our masters return for us. All of you were told to give him your full cooperation while he acts in place of our owners. Sandy, I can assure you that you are not being disobedient. Penny, Sheila, I know about your left-right requirement. The guards won’t be able to tell you apart, even if they knew the two of you are present. If you’re seated the wrong way, do not ask to change.”

The Showdown

“Well, it’s a mixed bag. We blocked a change of venue to South Island, which benefits our side. That keeps Penny and Sheila here on North Island. We lost the motion to have them returned to your custody pending outcome. I didn’t have too much hope of winning that one.” Ralph Welk sat at the defendant’s table with Virgil. “The next step will be the Plaintiff’s presentation concerning what evidence he intends to introduce. We follow him. As I explained, they are arguing you broke South Island law when both Penny and Sheila boarded the ferry. The problem is there’s no precedent for this, and the regulation as written is ambiguous. I’ll be honest, Virgil, the case depends entirely on what the judge thinks of the whole mess. I wish I had more encouraging news, but there it is.”

Virgil hung his head, staring at the tabletop. “I blame myself. I was in such a hurry to own both of them. I suppose I should have taken them to North Island one at a time. But, you know, it’s traditional at the Facility to stake your claim immediately, no delays. We were just passing through South Island. I had no idea something like this would happen.”

Wait a minute, Ralph thought, passing through? There was something nagging at him, about what Virgil had just said. “Virgil, did you sign the ownership papers at the Facility? For both of them? Think carefully, this is critical.”

“I’m positive. The Director had everything ready, assuming Penny and Sheila would agree. That’s why I brought the collars with me. Clancy Yates, the Director, assured me the Facility was chartered as an independent registration authority; no one else had to be involved in the legalities. I didn’t have to stop off at the registration office on South Island.”

Ralph nodded in agreement. “He’s right. Legally, the Facility is not part of South Island. They are an autonomous entity, like North Island. Hmmm….” He suddenly slapped a hand on his forehead. “Of course! Why didn’t I see it before? I’m an idiot! Don’t worry, Virgil. Judges hate complicated cases, but I’m going to straighten it out and hand him an easy judgement in your favor. I’m sure this time tomorrow it will all be resolved and you can go pick up Penny and Sheila.”

Judgement

“Your Honor, this concludes the Plaintiff’s evidence. Defendant has demonstrated he was aware of South Island law at the ferry terminal from the video recording. This was a clear violation. At trial I will present testimony from Clancy Yates, the Facility Director, that both women had their status changed to permanently owned before the incident at the ferry terminal. Our contention is the proper procedure was not followed at the terminal. We seek redress by having both women returned to South Island and the ownership agreements vacated, according to South Island regulations.”

Virgil could see the judge wasn’t happy with being given this case. Regardless of how he ruled it was certain to be appealed and could drag on for months or even years. “Mr. Welk, are you ready?”

“Yes, your Honor. I have a single rebuttal witness, professor emeritus Dr. Ivan Silenko from the university’s law college. It’s regarding the Plaintiff’s evidentiary claims.”

“Call Dr. Silenko,” the judge told the bailiff. Glancing over at the plaintiff’s attorney Alex saw the man frown, puzzled as to what was happening.

After swearing in the professor took the stand. “Dr. Silenko, could you tell us of your involvement with the statutes relevant to this case?” Ralph had explained to Virgil he must lay what was called a foundation by establishing the credentials for an expert witness.

“Certainly. At the request of the Island Council, I wrote the final version of the border regulations as enacted. Although it only applies to South Island, it required the concordance of all Isla Del Sur legal entities to enable amendments. I also wrote the amendment in question, the so-called right to transit.”

Virgil noticed the Plaintiff’s attorney suddenly jerked upright. He must know what’s coming, Virgil thought. I hoped he warned his client in advance.

“Dr. Silenko, could you summarize the right to transit?” The judge was looking at the Plaintiff attorney, expecting some kind of objection. None came.

“South Island is the transportation hub of the entire archipelago. Nearly all the ferries dock there, and it is the only deep-sea port for ocean-going ships. Since the monogamous owner relationship is not a universal practice, an exemption from the law was included to allow anyone who was not a resident of South Island to enter the island without complying with local regulations providing the purpose was merely to cross without staying or conducting business.”

“The last question, Dr. Silenko, in your expert opinion, does the right of transit apply to Mr. Sorenson and his property, in regards to this case?”

“No question, the amendment was explicitly added for just this reason. Mr. Sorenson was transferring his legal property from the Facility, an independent entity on its own island, through South Island to North Island, another independent entity. As an established resident of North Island, Mr. Sorenson was within his rights to bring along his registered property while traveling. He did not engage in business or stay overnight in South Island.”

“Thank you, Dr. Silenko. Your Honor, I move for summary judgement in favor of the Defendant, on the grounds no violation of law has occurred. I further ask that Mr. Sorenson’s property be returned to him immediately.”

At the Plaintiff’s table one of the two men sitting next to the attorney started pounding his fist on the table. “There’s nothing I can do!” their attorney all but shouted. Both men at the Plaintiff table suddenly jumped up out of their seats and stormed out of the courtroom.

“Order!” the judge proclaimed. “Does Plaintiff object to the motion?”

“No, your Honor, no objection.”

“Very well. The case is dismissed due to lack of evidence. I’m declaring this a frivolous case; court costs will be paid by Plaintiff. Clerk will prepare a property release order immediately. Mr. Welk, contact my clerk in about half an hour. My apologies, Mr. Sorenson, for being put through all this. Your property will be available as soon as the clerk has the order ready and has notified the Public Administrator.”

Epilogue

Penny: Reunited

Virgil was standing outside on the porch when the Madsen Brokerage car pulled into the driveway. The driver got out and opened the rear door on his side. He helped Penny out and led her around to the other side of the car. When she saw Virgil, she started to run toward him but the driver held her back. Virgil noticed her hands were cuffed behind her back.

Sheila joined Penny when the driver opened her door. Standing behind the two women he removed the cuffs. Virgil concluded that must be some kind of company policy. “Right or left?” the driver asked Sheila.

“Sir, Penny to the left, and myself to the right.”

“Change places,” he ordered.

Meanwhile Virgil walked down to meet them. The driver handed him a slip of paper to sign. “It’s for the Public Administrator, Mr. Sorenson. This is a receipt for two females, personal property, returned to you in good condition. Apologies for the inconvenience.” The driver sounded almost bored, delivering a pro forma speech so many times he’d memorized it.

Virgil held out his arms and the two women rushed into his embrace. The driver backed out of the driveway and disappeared down the street.

Penny started crying, quickly followed by Sheila. “Sir? We still don’t know what happened. We were sent to the Madsen Brokerage without any explanation. They were very nice to us, but kept us in the dark. We weren’t even allowed contact with anyone else there, except for Barbara. She belongs to Mr. Madsen.”

“Let’s go inside and I’ll explain everything. But first, both of you will go to your rooms, get cleaned up, whatever is necessary, change your clothes and take a few minutes to relax. I’ll come for you in…” he considered how long his patience would hold out, “twenty minutes. You will be ready when I open your door.”

Once inside they raced to their rooms. Firm, clear instructions, that’s what was needed to restore normalcy. He grabbed a beer from the kitchen and went to the living room. The black pit of despair that had been an empty house once again felt alive with all of them reunited, a family at home.

At the appointed time he stood up, waited two more minutes, and then headed for the nearest bedroom, which happened to be Sheila. When he entered, she was standing at her designated spot, arms at her side, feet together, head high, in the proper stance for a room inspection. Slowly he glanced back and forth, looking for anything out of place. She watched him with the confidence gained from her Facility training. The room was immaculate, which was no surprise to Virgil.

Still, he had to be thorough. He glanced in her bathroom, her closet, and finished by what he considered comically overacting an intense evaluation of her appearance. He knew they didn’t see it that way, but he did feel self-conscious about it.

He indicated his tacit approval with a slight nod of the head. “Go to the living room and take your seat. You may stop at the kitchen if you want something to drink. We’ll order Chinese takeout.” He waved his hand to dismiss her.

Watching her go he spotted the bounce in her step. He had made the right decision, a fast return to everyday routine. Always take the lead, Virgil, he told himself.  Act quickly, with confidence, speak clearly, and they’ll follow me to the ends of the earth. They weren’t the only ones who needed the return to normal life.

In Penny’s room he repeated the ritual inspection, with one deviation. While the two of them were very similar, they were not clones. When it came time to check Penny’s closet, it required a special procedure. He’d seen the video of their Facility room inspections, which taught him how to conduct his own version of checking her closet.

In the recordings he found several times where Mrs. Yates had reprimanded Penny for some infraction in her closet, a tiny detail that Virgil couldn’t even recognize. As a result, Penny obsessed over properly organizing her wardrobe down to the smallest detail, far more than Sheila. And that meant Virgil had to acknowledge her efforts by somehow faking a concentrated examination for, what? He had no idea, but that wasn’t the point.

Of course she wouldn’t turn around to see what he was doing, but he knew full well she could see every move in the mirror on the vanity which also doubled as a desk. He began by checking the dresses on hangars, but halted after the first two. No, that was too obvious. She wouldn’t take him seriously if he kept repeating himself.

Instead, he crouched down on one knee and leaned forward, lowering his head to examine her shoes on the closet floor. They were supposed to be lined up by back of the heel, with a slight space between each pair. Sure enough, she’d made sure it was all in order. Good, he told himself, I’d hate to reprimand her on tonight of all nights.

Though if there had been an issue, he’d have no option but to do just that. Overlooking even the slightest hint of disobedience was as bad a move on his part as the worst sort of disrespect on hers. He had a straight and narrow path just as intolerant of deviation as the one instilled in them at the Facility.

Relevance

“So, it turns out neither of you had to submit to questioning when we were at the ferry terminal. Thanks to Ralph Welk what happened to you will never occur again.” The three of them were at the kitchen table, finishing off chicken curry and Mei Fun noodles.

Sheila spoke up. “Sir, so it was all political theater? We were pawns in their game?”

Virgil nodded. “Yeah, it looks that way. Small consolation, but I’m told that Alliance is imploding over the loss. They may not be around much longer.”

Penny added, “I’m sorry if this is disrespectful, sir, but I say good riddance. No one ever asked us if we were being abused at the Facility. This Alliance for Humane Treatment had no idea what we faced. Difficult, sure. Strict discipline? Of course, but we were warned about all that going in. This stuff about inhumane conditions though? That’s so far off the scale as to be a joke.”

“You have to see it from their point of view. You don’t realize it, but the two of you are brainwashed zombies sold to subhumans, like me, as sex slaves. You’re treated like animals, forced to wear dog collars. I guess I’m not doing my job if you aren’t suffering.”

Sheila started to choke on a bite of curried vegetables while laughing. “Sorry, sir.” She grabbed her collar in both hands and slid it up and down her neck. “I’m suffering from this dog collar, makes it hard to eat. Arf, arf, sir. Will you be using your club to beat us tonight, or will it be the usual kicking a dog routine?”

Virgil sighed. “Okay, you made your point. But that is what they actually believe. We’re insulated from their activities here on North Island, but over there,” he gestured to the south, “I’m worried it might become a real problem politically. So far, they’ve proven to be incredibly inept, but we can’t count on it forever.”

“What can we do, sir?” Penny asked.

“Hmm…” Virgil pretended to think about it. “I think tonight both of you will demonstrate to me all those sex slave skills indoctrinated into you at the Facility.”

Barbara: Bad To Worse

Les steered Barbara through the office door. “Here you go, Ray, back safe and sound from a grueling work schedule.” Barbara stood next to him, hands locked behind her back, and still wearing the company uniform. Les had just now retrieved her from her Gilded Cage, after delivering Penny and Sheila to their owner.

Ray pointed to her usual place on the office sofa. “I want you to sit there, quietly, until Les and I are finished.” With the help of her escort, she sat down. Quietly, that means I don’t answer, she reminded herself. By habit she tried to place her hands on her knees, but the linked bracelets on her wrists were a quick reminder that wasn’t possible.

Les took the chair opposite Ray. She listened while they discussed the impact of hosting Penny and Sheila. That included, to her amazement, how much they would charge the Public Administrator. Before this moment, Barbara had never been present when Ray discussed financial details. She was so shocked by his out of character inclusion of her that she nearly spoke up in protest.

She caught herself in time but not soon enough for Ray to notice. His face didn’t betray any reaction, except for the telltale way his eyes narrowed when they fixated on her. Oh great, I’m in for it now. She resigned herself to, at a minimum a reprimand, or worst of all outright punishment for disobedience. There was no getting round his “quietly” order. Dumb, dumb, and dumber, she thought, mentally pounding her head against a wall.

He’s such a good man, more than I ever hoped for. And what do I do in return? I practically spit in his face in thanks. He’ll be furious with me, and rightly so. I deserve whatever correction he considers appropriate. Barbara sank into a depression, tuning out the conversation between the two men.

Even though preoccupied with her own problems she didn’t fail to notice how Ray occasionally glanced over at her sitting on the couch. She sat up straight, in position, satisfied he would find no fault with her in that respect. It brought to mind how effortlessly Penny and Sheila knew exactly what to do and never got it wrong, while she still had to work at focusing on the small details. Even Sandy, who didn’t have the benefit of Facility training, made her feel inadequate.

“That should cover it,” Les said as he stood up. The discussion was ending; that brought her back to the present. As Les turned toward the door he stopped and regarded Barbara, and then glanced back at Ray.

“I’ll handle the rest,” Ray replied enigmatically. The rest of what, Barbara wondered anxiously. That odd look from Mr. Unger unsettled her even more. Somehow, he saw it too. By tomorrow everyone in the brokerage will have heard of what she’d done, about how inept she was at following even simple commands. What else could go wrong?

After Les closed the door Ray came around the desk and stood close in front of Barbara, towering over her. He reached down, took hold of her arms and lifted her up. Spinning her around he unlocked the cuffs. With her back still toward him he leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Listen carefully. You will go into the washroom,” he gestured to the closed door near the back wall, “where you will take a long, hot shower. You will not rush. Let the water carry off those stresses. I will know if you hurry, and I will not be pleased. When you finish, there’s a dress I picked out for you on the back of the door. When you are ready, then and only then you will come out to the office and stand in front of the desk. Go!” He gave her a slight shove toward the washroom.

Barbara moved on autopilot. The sky had not fallen. She had already prepared herself mentally for a week in a solitary isolation cell, stripped and chained to the wall, for her transgression. A hot shower and clean clothes were the last thing she expected.

The warm water and fragrant soap did wonders to improve her disposition. When she started to unwind, that only brought on new anxieties. The earth had not opened up and swallowed her whole, but why not? Was Ray losing his edge? That scared her. She counted on his rock-solid stability. If he had lost interest in keeping her on his strict and narrow path…

No, that couldn’t happen. She refused to even contemplate something so absurd. There had to be a reason for both allowing her access to financial details, and ignoring her close brush with direct disobedience. Drying her hair, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her collar gleamed when she wiped off the moisture.

I’m having another attack of stupidity. He knows best, that’s why I belong to him. There has to be a good reason. He’ll explain it when I need to know. Curiosity may eat me alive; until then I will be patient.

Job Well Done

Barbara stood in her spot, arms at her side, head held high. She waited until Ray closed his laptop and raised his eyes to give her the usual once over inspection. He leaned back and crossed his arms.

“You must think I’ve lost my mind. On the contrary, I know exactly what Im doing, and now so will you. The conversation with Les? I kept you in here deliberately, so you’d hear what an impact your efforts hosting Penny and Sheila had on company earnings. Don’t worry, this is a one-time occurrence.

“You are priceless to me, Barbara. You are also one of the brokerage’s most valuable assets. I want you to fully understand how important this last job was to all of us. I firmly believe no one but you could have managed to keep those two calm and under control through what had to be a nightmare. It was a job well done, and that’s not empty praise. I did bring in Sandy to give you a break, but that’s no reflection on what you did. From now on you will be participating at a higher level in brokerage business.”

He held up his hands. “Not when it comes to money, though. I owe you an apology for the lapse, but it was for the best of reasons. It’s true I violated an Island regulation, deliberately, but I acted on the best of motives. Breaking rules is one of those privileges I reserve for myself. Don’t you ever try to copy me.”

Ray leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. “What I’m looking for is your perspective, especially when we encounter difficult cases. Up to now I’ve asked your opinion, and nothing more. After today you are a company advisor. If you raise objections, I won’t ignore them. If you believe we’re on a wrong track, you are free to propose alternatives. Basically, you can speak up freely, without any concern your remarks might be seen as unacceptable or disrespectful.”

Ray stood up and came around the desk. Pulling her close he lifted up her chin with one hand. “I did notice your little near miss too. Be more careful next time. Consider this a reprimand.” He smiled while delivering his rather weak warning. “When Les and I started tossing around billing rates I was afraid you might have a heart attack from the shock. I underestimated you, Barbara. You managed to not only hold your position but keep to my order of silence. I can’t imagine the willpower it took to accomplish that. I’ll let you in on a secret. The sight of you struggling, and succeeding; at that moment I knew I was inside your head, the ultimate in control. The feeling…”

Ray broke off. Barbara wrapped her arms around her man, pulling him tight. Tears welled up in her eyes, tears of joy.

Alex: Celebration

The waiter delivered their food to the table. Tonight, Alex and Róisín were celebrating the successful conclusion to the ad hoc syndicate’s gamble on the foreign exchange market. Alex inhaled the tantalizing aroma of Camarones Al Diablo, spicy deviled shrimp, his favorite Mexican dish. Róisín eyed her Chile Rellenos de Picadillo, stuffed poblano pepper, with anticipation.

“We did quite well with the African arbitrage,” Alex explained. “I’m thinking we might even take a short vacation. How does a week on the beach at Dubai sound?”

Hidden in his suggestion was a statement of how much he trusted Róisín. She was all too aware that, off the Island, without her collar on, she could walk away from him and the Island lifestyle. Major decisions like that held no appeal to her. “You should decide on that, sir, not me. If we go, I’ll need a new swimsuit. It does sound fun. I’ve read about that building, the Burj Khalifa. It would be exciting to see it, or even go up to the observation deck. Supposedly you can see Iran from the top.”

“Then it’s settled. I’ll check on reservations. We’re flush with cash from that investment, so you can do some shopping in the malls, too. Think you can adjust to handling money again?”

Róisín frowned. “Sir, I realize it’s the outside world, different laws, but could we keep to our own arrangement whenever possible, at least in private? You are flush, as you put it; I am not nor do I want to be. I’d prefer you come with me whenever we’re out in public, and you pay for everything.”

He took a bite of shrimp and chewed on it thoughtfully. “You don’t like to step outside your chosen role, do you? Not even for a few days?”

She finished off a chunk of poblano. “To be honest, sir, no I do not.” She reached up and tapped her collar with the tip of her fork. “The thought of taking this off, even if it’s only a week, frankly it scares me. How should I behave? How can I be obedient and respectful without offending other people in the outside world? I don’t want to find answers to those questions, sir.”

She doesn’t want to go to Dubai. She doesn’t want to go anywhere off the Island. She agreed for my benefit. Alex made one of his snap decisions. “We are not going to Dubai. Instead, we’ll visit South Island for a few days. You have a friend there, don’t you? Find out what’s going on for nightlife and perhaps we can make it a foursome. The two of you can take a long leisurely shopping excursion at the mall there, without dragging me along. How’s that sound?”

“Her name’s Erin, sir. I’ll talk to her tomorrow. Mr. Welk is her owner. I think you know him from that business meeting.”

Ralph: Blossoming

Any time he won a case it put Ralph in the best of moods. Tonight was no exception. At his feet Erin knelt in her favorite pose, undressed, knees wide apart while she sat back on her heels, and her hands bound behind her back with not one but two pairs of handcuffs. A short connecting chain ran from between her wrists to oversize cuffs fastened around her ankles, again doubled, so that she couldn’t stand up.

Based solely on their first meeting he would never have guessed Erin was so addicted to bondage that she all but demanded he see to it she was amply supplied with restraints. Although he got off to a slow start, he’d managed to reach a point where he could keep her satisfied. Little did he realize that he now had hold of a tiger’s tail, which meant he had to be increasingly creative in ways to deprive her of her freedom of movement lest he lose his grip on that tail and disappoint her.

He was contemplating how to present his latest find to her when the rattle of chain links came to his ears. He swiftly leaned forward, searching for any evidence she had changed her position.

“I apologize, sir. My hand bumped the connecting chain to my feet.” Whenever she was neatly wrapped up in an attractive package, for some odd reason she imposed standards of behavior on herself that went far beyond anything Ralph demanded.

He stood up and circled around her. Crouching down he tested her bonds, running his hands over the cuffs on her wrists and ankles. Erin knelt, back as straight as a ramrod, as immobile as a marble statue. Ralph stood up but remained silent. She blooms into full-fledged submission when subjected to this, the uncertainty of being judged.

“Be more careful next time,” he admonished her. He was about ninety percent certain she had deliberately made that noise, in order to attract his attention. It was an unspoken game they played, though the stakes for her were high. In order to keep her antics from becoming too blatant, every so often he’d feign extreme anger at one of those minor infraction, even to the point of punishing her with multi-hour timeouts standing in a corner, alone in the bedroom, deprived of his company. She hated that.

Ralph went back to his seat. “To celebrate winning, I picked up something special for you today.” He picked up the remote and turned on the TV, selecting a news panel show discussing some extremely boring topic.

Erin didn’t budge, yet he could feel the angry glare being sent his way. Ralph knew from experience she could hold that position for hours. How she managed it was a mystery; he wouldn’t last fifteen minutes. Once he put the thought in her head about some new form of bondage waiting for her, she couldn’t help but think of little else.

“I’ll show you when you need to know.” Ralph loved that phrase as much as Erin despised it. He was in charge and there wasn’t anything she could do to change it. The occasional reminder didn’t hurt. He turned his attention back to the TV.

He couldn’t see how she clenched her fists in frustrated fury behind her back. He never would, either. That would be unacceptable behavior, an accusation Erin dreaded even more than being punished for it. Along with her irritation there was another emotion in the background, the thrill of being subjected to Ralph’s iron-willed authority over her. It was that passion for discipline that held her in thrall, unable to even speak without his permission.

Abruptly he turned off the TV, stood up, went around behind her and removed the chains. “Stand up,” he snapped in an impatient tone.

Stiff from kneeling for so long she struggled to her feet. Ralph helped, holding on to her until she steadied on her feet. “It’s time for your present,” he whispered in her ear. “You have my permission to speak.”

Hit The Sack

Ralph unrolled the sleep sack on the bed and began opening it. Erin looked on, curious as to what it was. It was clear she was about to become an expert on how well it worked as a means of confinement. “Think of it as a full body straitjacket. A jacket was my first thought, but then I remembered you liked the, umm, ‘total’ experience. Okay, it’s ready. Climb in and I’ll wrap you up.”

Cautiously Erin slid her legs into the sack until her feet reached to booties at the end. When she laid back the top of the sack was just below her collar. “Your arms go into sleeves on the sides. Before you do that, there’s a special addition I found. Hold out your hands.”

She felt the long canvas sleeves on either side. They ran all the way up nearly to her shoulders. Once her arms were trapped in there, and the bag closed, she’d be stuck, unable to pull her hands out.

Ralph held up what appeared to be two nylon cylinders. He slipped one over each of her hands, tightening a Velcro strap around the wrist to hold them in place. The inside had a thick padding that engulfed her hands. “These are called tubes. Normally they’re used with handcuffs, to deprive a dangerous prisoner the use of their hands and fingers. They were never designed for use with a sleep sack but I think you’ll appreciate the addition.”

Ralph pulled down the sack in order to get her arms started in the sleeves. When he pulled it up again her arms were completely encased in canvas. He closed the bag, pulling the zipper up from her feet to her neck. A canvas flap covered the zipper to prevent tampering.

The sack was a loose fit, intentionally designed that way to accommodate the body curves of whoever had the misfortune to be trapped inside. Ralph began with the leather straps at her feet, threading them through rings sewn into either side of the canvas bag. When he pulled then taut Erin began to realize the sleep sack was turning into a snug fit, holding her tight at every point on her body.

When he reached her neck the last two straps were vertical, crossing over her shoulders. The arrangement prevented slipping out while avoiding the risk of choking. “Go ahead, try it out,” he told her. “Let me know right away if you have trouble breathing.”

Erin rolled around on the bed, twisting and turning, looking for some way to escape. She could bend at the knee and waist, and that was all. If she tried to stand, she’d fall over, without the benefit of her hands to break the fall. With some effort she might be able to crawl on the floor, though a closed door would be a formidable barrier.

She stopped her struggles, a tacit admission she was as helpless as a baby. “I give up, sir. It’s almost as if I’m paralyzed from the shoulders down. This is really something. It’s much better than being tied down to the bed.”

“Ahh, but this isn’t just bedtime. This is only the first part of the present. Wait there, don’t go away.” He headed out the bedroom door.

Meanwhile Erin tested out the sleep sack again. She rolled back and forth, but was careful not to get too close to the edge of the bed. If she fell off it could be painful when she landed. She gave up out of a sense of caution; Ralph wasn’t there to watch over her.

Get On Board

Ralph returned, pushing on what looked like one of those medical backboards, except there were wheels. “Do you remember that old movie, Silence of the Lambs? Especially the scene where Hannibal Lector is transported out of his cell?”

Erin nodded. “Of course, sir, it was the one about the FBI agent working with the cannibal serial killer.” That’s when she recognized what he’d found. It was a wide, straight wooden board, taller than she was, with a foot stand on the bottom and numerous straps hanging from one side. The board was mounted on what looked like a wheelchair, with smaller wheels in front, larger ones at the side, and steering handles at the back.

“I was concerned you might get bored lying there on the bed. This way you can still get around, though it might be a bit awkward. Let’s get you up and onto your chariot.” Ralph took hold of her feet and dragged her to the edge of the bed. A few minutes later Erin was standing up, more or less. He propped her up, using the backboard for support.

Ralph started on the straps, working his way from top to bottom. By the time he finished she was lashed down tight against the board. Erin was still able to tilt her head down so she could measure his progress. “All this for me, sir? I hope you don’t plan on going for a walk around the block. Not that I can stop you, but it might draw attention from the neighbors.”

Ralph started laughing. “I did consider your suggestion. You’d be the envy of the block. We’ll pass on that for now. Besides, I’m not finished.”

His cryptic comment was quickly explained when he held up a replica of the face mask from the movie. It was made of soft brown leather, with vertical aluminum bars sewn in across the mouth opening. Erin held up her head while Ralph fastened the straps in back, holding the muzzle in place.

Curious, Erin stuck out her tongue. The bars across her mouth were all too real, putting a halt to her attempt. It wasn’t a gag; she could still talk. “Sir! This is amazing. Where did you find it?”

“I doubt there’s anything you can’t find on the internet these days. Movie prop reproductions are quite common, and not just cheap plastic copies either. Now hold still, there’s one last strap…”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the wide leather belt when it went across her forehead. A strap attached to either side went under her chin, holding the belt, and the mask, in place. Even the tiny bit of freedom she had by looking around disappeared; her head was clamped in place against the board.

Ralph vanished from her limited view. When he returned, he carried a hand mirror from the bathroom. “I thought you might like a look at yourself.” When he held it up the resemblance to the movie was obvious. She could blink her eyes, but that was about it. From head to toe she was wrapped up in a tidy package.

Erin closed her eyes, lost in the sensations from the bonds depriving her of the slightest movement. This was something new and very different from the chains she had grown to love. When she opened her eyes again Ralph was gone. “Sir?”

“I’m here. Close your eyes again. Relax and lean back quietly.” Ralph was using that low, confident tone she couldn’t resist. He continued, whispering in her ear. “Imagine all your worries, the stress and anxieties of life drain away. You are not responsible. I’m here to watch over you, to keep you safe. Feel my hold over you, taking all you have, leaving you powerless. Yet you need have no fears, because you know, deep within your soul, with a certainty that no power on earth can shake, that you can trust me to take care of you.”

Erin was lost, carried along with Ralph’s compelling, almost hypnotic voice. Dimly she was aware it was affecting her in unexpected ways, though she didn’t care. She wanted him to go on forever, delivering the barely audible yet powerful words that were weaving a spell in her mind.

“Are you okay?”

Erin opened her eyes to see Ralph hovering over her, concern written all over his face. It took a moment for her to return to the real world. She had been transported to…where, a place outside her body?

“I’m fine, sir. I don’t know what happened to me. I remember you were behind me, talking. Then I was somewhere else. I can’t explain it.”

When she unconsciously tried to reach up to scratch her nose her situation came flooding back. Never before had she felt so vulnerable. By rights she should be terrified, except Ralph was there. She twisted around, mostly to assure herself that she was still entirely within his control.

“There’s a new movie streaming tonight. If you’re good, I might make some buttered popcorn. And if you’re bad, that’ll be interesting too, although I have no idea how you can manage anything in that state.”

Tom: Vacation Time

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Tom mused, one arm around Sandy, pulling her closer where the two sat on the couch. “We need a break, a change of scene for a few days. What do you think? Is there anywhere you’d like to visit, on vacation? How about a trip to the States? You could visit family in…where is it?”

Sandy rose up straight, a frown showing her dislike for the idea. “If you wish, sir,” she said with the greatest reluctance. “I would rather not see my family. I lost my parents years ago to a car accident. My brother and sister still live in Amarillo. We do not stay in contact.”

Tom was not aware of this aspect of Sandy’s history. So she was from Texas, and apparently left on bad terms. He decided to drop that idea.

“Africa is close by, with lots to see for tourists like us. Anything in particular attract your attention?”

Something wasn’t right. She didn’t show any enthusiasm for his suggestions. There was an easy solution to that. “What is it? You don’t want to leave the Island?”

“It’s not that, sir. What bothers me is you asking instead of telling me. If you allow, I’ll share any objections to a particular destination. I’m not keen on a cruise ship, or visiting exotic places like Antarctica or the Himalayas. Otherwise, Africa sounds like fun. I don’t know too much about where to visit there. I’ve been to Dubai and the Seychelles, but the beaches get old after a while.”

“Okay,” Tom nodded. Tell her, he thought, don’t be indecisive. “We’ll check on a boat trip down the Nile, from Aswan to Alexandria. There should be stops to see the ruins at Thebes, and the pyramids at Giza. First class all the way, too. That business venture? It paid well.”

Sandy’s eyes lit up. “Agatha Christie, sir! Remember her book, Death on the Nile? You’d look very handsome in one of those 1930’s tropical suits, a real Hercule Poirot. And those elegant dinner gowns! I wonder if they have murder mystery dinner cruises?”

Tom’s fortunes knew no bounds this day. Not only had he found out about her family, but also her passion for classic murder mysteries.

There was one more item he had to bring up. “Sandy, the restriction on you reading about yourself, in the news? I’m lifting it. You aren’t that fragile, frightened woman I met at the brokerage. I’m certain you can handle all the events of that tragic moment from now on.”

Sandy had a surprised look. “Is it true, sir? I saw headlines, calling me the ‘poor little rich girl’ and the ‘millionaire heiress’ as well as other less complimentary names. There’s something about a trust?”

He decided to tell her everything. “It’s true. Your previous owner left the four of you his estate, held in trust. You are the only survivor, so it all reverts to you. However, I’m sure you realize you can never access it on your own, for obvious reasons.”

Sandy’s hand went to her collar. “Of course, sir. May I know what happened to this trust?”

“First of all, I wasn’t aware of it until after I purchased you. Anyway, the trust has one director, me, now that I own you. I’ve never explained what kind of job keeps me so busy these days. It’s managing your trust. I won’t reveal the amount in the trust, but you should know that, technically, you are one of the richest women on North Island.”

Sandy laughed at the news. “That and my debit card, with your permission, will buy me a cup of coffee. Somehow, I don’t feel like the jet set, the one percent elite.”

“And we’re going to stay that way,” Tom added. “Our vacation is the exception, not what our daily life will become.”

He made a snap judgement. “I’m going to remove all restrictions on your phone and laptop. I trust you, Sandy. Much as I hate to relinquish any control, this is necessary. In the future I will prohibit certain subjects. There won’t be a blacklist. I’m sure you’ll do the right thing.”

Sandy agreed. “All I need are some guidelines, sir. You will still manage overall access? I wouldn’t be comfortable without your oversight.”

“You’ll still need me to enable the phone and laptop every week. I’m not going to give that up. And I reserve the right to check on your activities at any time.

“Oh yes, one other thing. The chastity belt? It stays in place, along with the rules about using it. Same for wearing dresses only, though you may bring special cases to my attention. You can count on me being extra diligent in checking both.”

Angela: Disunity

Angela tapped her glass. “Meeting will come to order.” She glanced at the faces around the Central Committee table. Universal hostility, about what she expected. After the court case went down in flames, she knew it was all over. Maybe she and Piet could find something else to occupy their time.

Donna spoke up almost immediately. “Before we get to new business, I move for a vote of no confidence in our chairperson.”

That didn’t take long, Angela thought. There was no point in contesting the motion. “All in favor?” she asked.

Every hand shot up immediately. Angela raised her own, to make it unanimous. “The Ayes have it. I relinquish the Chair to Donna Harbo.” She stood up.

Two years of hard work, and in one moment it was all forgotten. She didn’t have one friend left in the Committee. For that matter, she doubted anyone who was still a member of the Alliance would speak to her. Not that it was a large number; the membership count had fallen to lows worse than she had ever seen.

When she reached Donna’s old chair at the table she kept on going, out the door. They can find someone else to replace me; I don’t care anymore. Leaving the building, she walked over to a bench and sat down. Idly she watched the passing traffic, ordinary people going about their business. Except more than a few of those “ordinary” people were women wearing metal collars around their necks. None of them appeared to be in distress. They don’t appreciate how bad off they are, she mused.

A couple of minutes later Piet walked out the same door, saw Angela, and came over to sit down next to her. “They fired me,” he said, shrugging. “I certainly didn’t see that coming…”

Angela started snickering. “Oh Piet, you have such a way with words.”

“You know, we were in the wrong,” he began. “That man, the defendant, Virgil Sorenson is his name. He’s no monster. He was just a guy fighting to bring his family back home. I’d have done the same in his place.

“Don’t get me wrong, I put every effort into winning the case. We had a team of paralegal volunteers go over every word of the law. How they missed that amendment I’ll never know. I’m sure the other side didn’t know about it either, at first. I could sense we were slowly winning over the judge, at least for the evidence phase. Then that guy pulls a Perry Mason on me.” Angela recognized the reference to the old TV show, where at the last-minute Perry Mason produces some trick to prove his client innocent.

“I know you put all your heart into the case. Maybe it’s for the best after all. Time for us to move on. Piet, what do we do now?”