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A Mask of Love by LongDarkRoad Chapter 7 Let Go Of That Which Cannot Be Mended

A Mask of Love

By LongDarkRoad

Chapter 07 Let Go of That Which Cannot Be Mended   

“So here you go, Dear.” Carol Douglas announced, placing a sheet of paper on the coffee table beside the couch Lauren was lying on. Carol was dressed smartly in one of her expensive suits, as she was off to a board meeting, continuing the process of discarding and wrapping up much of her business.

She still wasn’t totally comfortable with what her daughter was up to; however, including why she had returned at all, but she was willing to at least work with her, the young woman’s comments hitting home.

Lauren had asked for an opportunity to work in one of the many companies that Carol owned or controlled; was there a chance for a fresh start for her?

Was there? Carol thought. What harm was there in at least trying?

“Thanks, Mom. See you later?” Lauren commented, glancing at the paper and then up to her mother.

Carol pondered; her mistress would expect her tonight, but maybe that could be after dinner? “I’ll call you. I would like to have dinner with you; how would that be?”

“Sure. See ya’.”


In her office, Kendra Chand was having trouble wading through the dry and complicated deed transfer documents before her. Not only was it a boring task, but her mind kept running back to the weekend and all that had happened; a.k.a., the opposite of boring.

It had occurred to her, as they were ‘welcoming’ the newest arrival Meg and her modest collection of boxes yesterday, that it was a good thing she had decided on buying a larger house. At the time it had meant the need for her to find housemates, and ones that actually became financial partners (and friends), but now the extra room, and rooms were becoming necessary.

Meg would not have her own room; she would sleep in Jessica’s room or the ‘Dungeon’ as her mistress decided, but she still had boxes to stash. And then there was the guitar. Meg’s guitar, and what it stood for, was something that raised questions.

Meg was a singer; a performer. In talks with Jessica it was clear that that part of her life was not something she wished to just give up. Meg’s modest income from her part-time job was inconsequential, but she identified as a performer, an artist. Her guitar was symbolic of that. Could Jessica take that away?

The discussion was left as ’to be continued’, and the guitar was placed in the storage area of the basement; but it would not rest easy.


Lauren looked over the list prepared by her mother; it was typical Carol Douglas, organized and efficient, the seventeen company names listed alphabetically. Included were businesses in Toronto and its adjacent smaller cities, plus Ottawa and Montreal. Sitting in place at number seven was HeyThere! V-Streams, the company that Simon wished to pursue.

“Hi,” Lauren said as Dawn answered, “I have info, put the man on, D”

“Hey Bitch, dat’s cool; here he is. Oh, btw, happy Fourth. Your holiday sucks,” she chuckled.

In a moment, Cutter’s clipped and precise voice came on. He was, even if he didn’t show it, very pleased and a little excited by Lauren’s progress, but he had only given her a little bit to start with, not trusting her by loading too much on her plate. It was encouraging that she had called before stumbling forward on her own, and Cutter now spent several minutes outlining clearly her next steps; then having her recite back what she was expected to do. When he was satisfied that she was good to go, he ended the call.

Lauren now sat in thought; how far could she trust

Simon Cutter? Was this a betrayal of her mother? Did that matter?

Her life had become more complicated in the last twenty-four hours.


Lia Robinson also sat in thought, at work. Her partner had taken a new arrival down for interrogation but Lia had begged off, “Paper work”, she had lied. She really wasn’t into the thing they did, not tonight. The weekend had given her lots of sexual release, but it wasn’t just that.

Her mind was on Lillian Clark, and the fact that in just over a week she would turn eighteen. But do I really need to wait ‘til then to bring her home? She wondered, and was lost again in thought.


Her business concluded, Carol was seated in the back of her Cadillac as her driver wound her way through modest Monday traffic, heading back home. Carol took a chance and texted Kendra and was delighted when her cell rang a minute or two later.

“Mistress,” Carol murmured warmly.

Kendra chuckled softly before replying, “Well, my wee muff muncher, meetings concluded?”

“Yes, Mistress, and I was hoping you had plans for your obedient girl. I would like to have dinner with Lauren but I will do as told.” Carol could not help but smile at the words coming from her mouth and the arousal they gave her. What a Slut-slave I am, she pondered; her mistress was right.

Kendra smiled as well; when you are naturally dominant, submissive actions, even words, make you smile. “You have my permission to have dinner with your daughter, but be at my house by eight. Dress casual in slacks and a top and wear nothing underneath. Oh, and make sure you have one of the new butt plugs I gave you in. Got all that?”

Carol began to feel the heat starting between her legs; it was amazing, really. A simple conversation with another human being and yet it produced this arousal. She shook her head in wonder and replied. “I understand, my mistress, and will show my…gratitude, completely.”

After the call ended, Carol permitted herself a little giggle. She already had a butt plug in.


Jessica and Meg sat at the table in their kitchen. Oddly, Meg was wearing clothes, as Jessica wanted to talk with her as…Meg the regular woman. “So, how do you, um, feel about, hmmmm, things?” Jessica asked, a little cautiously, and sipped some black tea.

Meg brushed an auburn curl from her face and looked up at her…mistress. Saying the word in her mind made her smile. “Well,” she smiled again, this time self-consciously; it was so much easier to sit on the stage and sing to an audience of strangers, something that would rattle many people, than do this. To talk seriously about feelings to someone one cared for, deeply.

More than deeply, really. What she felt for Jessica was new, she had truly never felt this degree of…love? Devotion? Desire? Whatever word came out, it meant something serious, and she found it difficult to discuss.

“Welllll, as far as things go, I want to be with you. I, um, want to, fuck this is hard.” She smiled and looked down, took a deep breath and continued. “I want to be yours, to belong to, um, you. I have never thought of, you know, the slave, um, thing. But, yeah, I want to be your slave, I guess. Not a slave, see, but your slave.” When she looked up, it was directly into Jessica’s eyes, her own eyes shining.

Jessica reached out and stroked Meg’s lovely face, her soft, perfect skin. “And, the deal, the, um roles we explained, you can do that?”

Meg giggled softly at the thought. “Yes, here, in this place, your place, I will be who, and um, what, you want and I’ll do what you want. Because it’s for you, right?”

“Ok, so tell me the plan.” Jessica looked at Meg with a small smile playing on her lips. This was exciting, and a little stressful. In the back of Jessica’s mind was the thought that at any moment Meg would ‘wake up’ and yell, “What the Hell is going on?”

But she didn’t; she spoke quietly, evenly, controlling the obvious emotion. “In your house, I will be your pet, Cindy-Lou, or the House Maid. Or sexy Sapphire, a hot, insatiable bitch.” She smiled at this.

The two women sat in silence, their breasts rising and falling together on either side of the table. Jessica spoke quietly, “And if you are obedient, your mistress will allow you out, in the world, to be, um, Meg, and that includes…Meg the performer.”

There was silence again, both women focusing on the white tablecloth that covered the table between them.


As his daughter was discussing her relationship, four hours away in Toronto her father Kevin was wrapping things up. He would be leaving direct communications in the hands of his capable assistant ‘Sunday’ (my girl ‘Friday’ he always joked, ‘is named Sunday.’ Kevin generally laughed louder at the joke than Sunday, who only smiled. She liked her boss, but he could be something of a nerd).

“So, you really don’t know when you’re coming back?” Sunday looked up through her round spectacles, concern showing clearly on her face.

“Don’t worry, kid. You’ll be great. I’ve concluded all my deals, there really shouldn’t be anything for you to do but relay info to me. And computers make the world small, right?” Kevin assured her, although she still looked doubtful.

“Yeah sure, Mr. G. But I hope you’re right.”

“I’m right, Sunday, trust me.”

Kevin Greenfield sounded more confident than he felt, but at least he was finally doing something. He didn’t know how Meg would react, but he had waited years for this, and he couldn’t wait any longer.


Unless one was watching very carefully, one would not have noticed ‘Sphinx’, a short, Asian girl, slip something into Lillian Clark’s hand as, during a ‘shift change’, the two girls passed each other. Since both girls were only wearing bras and panties, as one was leaving the drug packaging room and the other was entering, Lillian needed to be crafty in what she did with the note. All the girls under Loess’s roof knew the rules: no talking of any kind with each other. None, and the rules were enforced.

As humans do, however, the girls had found ways, brief and dangerous as they were, to communicate. What Sphinx had given Lillian was the title of a book (Bad Endings by Carleigh Baker) the older girl believed the younger, indigenous girl should read. Lillian, even with her difficulties with reading, was determined to have a look at this book. It was about her people; her heritage; her ancestry. Things her own mother had denied her by not living with other native peoples. Living instead on the fringe of ‘white’ society.

Something in Lillian was needing information, and hopefully understanding. She was tired of drifting.

As Lillian was surreptitiously tucking the tiny paper roll just under her panty band, the front door opened, and Lia Robinson’s imposing bulk filled the doorway.


Jessica sat on one couch, drinking tea. Kendra sat on the opposite one, drinking wine. On the carpet between them, the coffee table moved off to one side, Carol Douglas lay, naked of course. Above her face, in a classic sixty-nine, was the trimmed bush and enticing labia of Sapphire, wearing dark nylons and nothing else, although her face was different. The Mistresses had added dark eye shadow and bright red lipstick and back-combed her thick, auburn tresses into a wild, mane. ‘A sexy beast’, Kendra had remarked.

“I think Carol-Slave is enjoying this too much,” Kendra commented to her housemate with a smirk, noting the attentiveness with which the older woman’s tongue was caressing the younger woman’s fleshy folds.

“Yeah, we’re not much when it comes to punishment Mistress K. Our slaves have too much fun, period. We need to go to dungeon school or something,” Jessica replied, chuckling at her own joke. “But it is nice to watch, eh? Better than most of what’s on cable, right?”

Kendra sipped some wine and smiled; she agreed. She looked up as the door opened and Lia entered, followed by the tall, attractive Lillian Clark. Kendra looked with surprise and interest. She had forgotten just how beautiful the girl was.


Carol Douglas sat at the ancient, oak desk in her home office; the desk had been her father’s and she felt comfortable with its solid presence. She was finishing paperwork associated with today’s meetings, but her mind kept straying. Visions of vaginas kept coming to her; it should be the name of a new sitcom, she mused with a smile, The Vagina Visions. Her thoughts were interrupted, however, by a gentle knock on her door, followed by the entry of Lauren.

After the usual greetings, Lauren lay the paper which Carol had given her in the morning down on the desk; four companies were highlighted, two in Ottawa, one in Toronto (Markham, actually) and one in…Montreal.

Carol smiled up at her daughter, “And…?”

Lauren fidgeted for a moment; she didn’t want to mess up Cutter’s instructions. “Well, um, those ones interest me. Um, can I ask you a coupl’a questions, or are you busy with something?”

Carol put down her pen. “No, this is fine. Ask your questions, please Dear.”

For the next minute or two, Lauren asked three, simple prepared questions about the three companies that were just decoys, and then she went to where she was to go. ”So this company, I’ve actually heard of it. TBH, I’m surprised you are involved…”

“Why?” Carol asked, although she had a feeling; it was a newish company, one suggested by a young assistant. Carol herself knew little of it, yet her accountants told her it had been a smart investment. Sometimes you’re lucky. She smiled at that, also that she knew what TBH meant.

“Well, it’s just that…”

“It’s just not the sort of company a middle-aged woman would own?” Carol finished with her eyebrows raised and a little smirk on her face.

Lauren chuckled, “Um, yeah. On point, Mom, that’s it. It, sort’a stood out for me and I’m like, what’s my mom doing with this?” They both chuckled. “Is it something I should check out? Do you, like, plan to keep it long? Whaddya’ think?”

Carol pondered. There was so much she could tell her daughter, but that would likely not be wise. She could tell her, a little.

“This one, I’m not sure. I’m sort of cutting down on my holdings; I have more things on the go than I need. But no matter what happens with this, if it interests you I would support you. It is based in Montreal, you know. You’d need to speak French.”

Lauren stood silently for a moment, then picked up the paper. “Thanks, Mom, that’s great, for now. I’ll talk with you again tomorrow, ok?”

“Sure, Dear.” Carol murmured as Lauren, surprisingly, kissed the top of her head and left, softly closing the door.


Kevin Greenfield set his cell alarm. He wanted to head for Ottawa early enough to arrive mid-morning and avoid the heaviest traffic. He had his condo rented and furnished. He was ready to go. For now he just needed to sleep, but that wasn’t happening.

He lay looking at the ceiling, his mind going like crazy.


Kendra unlocked the door. It was midnight, but she wanted to speak, privately, with their newest arrival. They had placed Lillian in a downstairs room that could be used as a bedroom; it had no windows but did have a small, two-piece bath right in it. This was one of Kendra’s renovations; having a self-contained space was likely a good idea, she had considered at the time the workmen were putting in the ‘fun room’, so she had added this renovation to the list.

A good idea it was, and Kendra entered the room quietly, to find Lillian sitting on the bed, still fully clothed, although some night clothes had been given to her. They sat beside her on the bedspread.

The two women eyed each other silently for a moment, Kendra searching the light brown face for…anything. Lillian sat with her mask of acceptance, her dark eyes giving nothing away.

“We don’t intend to lock you in, um, for ever, Lillian.” Kendra said quietly, clasping her hands together in front and standing awkwardly; the girl’s silence was daunting.

Lillian gave a slight shrug with her shoulders, barely a twitch, but it was enough to shake her lovely, full breasts. Clearly she was not wearing a bra. She continued to regard Kendra in silence, her face was not defiant, simply unmoving. Kendra struggled for a moment with conflicting emotions; she wanted to reach out and cup one of those breasts; she also wanted to slip an arm around the athletic shoulders of this young woman and tell her it was going to be okay. She did, neither, just stood.

“But you did. Whatever.” Lillian finally spoke, quietly.

The rich voice startled Kendra for a moment; it was deeper than she anticipated, more womanly than she expected, more enticing than the innocent face that stared impassively behind it. “Have what?” Kendra asked, unsure.

“Locked me in.”


Lauren Douglas was on her cell phone much earlier than usual, for her; it was eight-fifteen. In the morning. But she knew Simon Cutter was an early riser and she wanted to get her info to him.

Simon listened to Lauren’s rushed flow, thinking again that she was like a twelve-year-old and he would cut ties with her as soon as she had served him. After she finally stopped, he began. “So what I think you’re saying is that this company is likely available, but you’ve, em, presented it as a potential job for you. So, listen carefully my dear, you need to let Mommie-dear know that you have a, em, friend, a business-guy, who is very, no, just say, interested, in this particular company.”

Lauren sat, considering, “But my mom will want to know more about you.”

Cutter felt his usual annoyance rising rapidly; he had a short fuse and many things; noise, smells, people, could light the fuse. He worked to calm his breathing. He had spent longer on this, and more money than he intended, and he just needed this fucking little girl to follow directions. Why was there always questions?

“Lauren, forget that, forget questions. Just give your mother my number.”

Lauren paused again, until Cutter’s agitated voice prompted her, “What if she just, like, ignores that. She’s busy…”

“Look it, kid, I’m running out of time and patience. My condo lease expires this month, and I intend to be done and out before then. Just get the info to her and try not to fuck anything up, right? Okay?”

Lauren paused again, aware of not annoying the man any more, but wanting to be clear. “What, um, what happens to me, like, when this is all over?”

Now Cutter sat in silence. He wanted to say, no, he actually wanted to yell, that it didn’t matter, or that he hadn’t given that idea a moment’s thought, which he hadn’t, but he simply sighed and said, “We’ll talk, okay. Now get on with it.”

The call ended.


Kendra was able to work from home today and that was a good thing; she had a lot to deal with and little had to do with any of the cases she was working on. Right now she was sitting in the living room with Jessica and Lillian. Lia had, with a lot of grumbling, headed off to the Detention Centre, with day shift all this week. Earlier Meg had been taken to the bookstore by her mistress and would be coming home by transit. Carol Douglas was at her home but had already had two conversations with her mistress.

“Ok, Lillian, I wanted you here to listen to what Jessica and I are going to say, so that you know where we’re at involving, um, you, and this…situation, and, um, what options, you know, there are?” Lillian gazed back with mild, emotionless eyes. She had not spoken today at all, but had accepted some toast and juice.

Jessica was regarding her with interest and a certain, reverence, like one might a large, wild, exotic bird. Lillian simply tilted her head at Kendra’s words.

Kendra sighed and began. “This is a problem, Jess.”

Jessica was aware of Kendra’s feelings of discomfort when it came to the young woman sitting two feet from her on the couch, but being as far away emotionally as possible. She did not know, however, just what Kendra’s concerns were or what plans, if any, might be roaming around in that fertile imagination. “How so, Queen K?” Jessica smiled, and Lillian actually glanced at her, but did not speak.

“Well, and I’m not feeling good with discussing this without Lia, but I think you and I need to lay out our cards, so to speak. At least that is what I’m hoping for, because I do intend to talk to, well, confront actually, Lia on this. That’s what I want Lillian to hear, that this, whatever is happening with her and this house, is not some shared plan. I do not think Lia and I see eye to eye on Lillian.

But before Jessica could reply, Lillian spoke in that surprising, dark voice. “But here you’ve got me, and talk like I’m not here.” She said evenly, with a slight shrug of her shoulders, her face expressionless.

Kendra looked at her and leaned forward. “But that’s why you’re sitting here with us. I want to hear you; I want you to hear us. I want you to speak out.”

“And so I speak out and say I wish to go, then what? You’ll let me walk out the f’n door?”

“No, I won’t,” Kendra said mildly as Lillian snorted and Jessica snickered. “But hear me out. Where would you go? You have no money. You have no identification. You have been arrested but not processed. You have a drug-dealing boyfriend out there who knows you could rat him out. I’m not going to just let you walk out the door, at least not today. But I want, look at me Lillian please, I want to say this to you directly.” When Lillian raised her beautiful face to her, Kendra continued in an earnest voice, “I want you to be able to leave if you wish, someday soon, when you have something to leave for.”

The room was silent; Jessica was madly imagining Lia’s reaction to this, but yet she could see Kendra’s point.

Kendra continued. “You know the problem, Jess. And it’s not Lillian’s age. She turns eighteen very soon.”

Jessica looked from one woman to the other. When she spoke there was no snicker or sarcasm in her tone; she was being as genuine as she could be. “The problem is that Lillian is not here on her own, um, accord, I guess it would be. She’s a prisoner, of sorts. And that is not what we wanted.”

Kendra nodded her head sagely, and Jessica continued, “But our friend wants her.”

Kendra nodded again; that was the problem in the proverbial nutshell.

(End of Chapter 07)

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