A Sanctuary of One
If The Anticipated Question Does Not Come, Then What Of The Answer?
It wasn’t until today, Wednesday late afternoon, that Hannah was able to take a shot at getting into the Gilbertson’s house. She’d had to wrangle some favors and call in some IOU’s to, quietly, get a handle on any security systems or cameras on site.
As it turned out, the apparent surveillance at the house was not in use, the hardware basically for show. Gilbertson had terminated the contract months before but left the cameras, etcetera, up.
Hannah parked her car on a side street and made her way up the alley, five houses. She was happy that Gilbertson’s yard had a high rear fence and that the houses around it either had fences or trees. It was quiet with no sign of any neighbors or anyone. The back gate was unlocked and Hannah crossed the yard with her long strides, coming to the patio doors. The locking mechanism was simple and easily jimmied with the tools she had kept from her street days. In less than three minutes she was standing in the dining room, thinking of her youth when she did this sort of thing regularly.
Moving cautiously, she scouted through the house, main floor and upstairs. She noted the large armchair in the living room; that would work well. She noted ‘Dickhead’ had a land line and she jotted down the number. She looked on the calendar, then took one of his business cards from the pile on a desk in what was clearly his home office.
Satisfied with her search, she left, locking the patio doors from the inside and going out the back door. All remained quiet outside.
In five minutes, Hannah was driving down the road back to her motel; there was nothing more to accomplish now.
But in a while, that would be another story. She had already thought out her plan and she smiled thinking of Kyle Gilbertson, explaining to her how he had targeted and attacked young Courtney Farrell, all those years ago.
He would tell her everything; she was sure of that.
Danielle waited, feeling nervous and exposed. The guy she was supposed to meet was late and she was rattled. Suddenly a hooded figure came out of an alleyway and moved quickly to where she was standing in the shadow of a dumpster. “Got the cash?” the man grunted.
Danielle nodded her head and gave the man the envelope containing two hundred dollars. He gave her a bag and then was gone, just like that. Inside the bag was a Glock, just like the one she had been practising with, and twenty bullets.
She stuffed the envelope into a pocket and headed quickly down the street, certain every eye on the block was watching her.
Courtney lay against her mistress, who had returned this morning; this was their first chance to be together. “Miss me, Slave?” Hannah murmured.
Courtney snuggled her face into the warmth of Hannah’s throat, kissing it. “I missed being with you; I missed this, lying against your body.” Courtney replied honestly.
“You didn’t miss my paddle?” Hannah chuckled.
Courtney snuffed. “Ummmm, Miss Gena is very, em, generous with her paddle,” Courtney said quietly. Hannah laughed at this; she had already spoken with Gena and knew how things had gone. Then Courtney continued, “Will you share what you were doing? Did you learn any more about…him?”
“His name is Kyle Gilbertson, say it.” Hannah commanded.
“Kyle Gilbertson,” Courtney repeated softly.
Hannah gently stroked her slave’s face. “What I’m doing there is best left with me. I will share, um, whatever happens, but I’m good with the trip; how it went. It did what I wanted. For now, sweet slave, you need to stop thinking about that or him, got it, and concentrate on me? Pleasing me is your purpose in life, at least for this month. Yes?”
“Right,” Hannah said, flipping Courtney onto her back and pressing down on her pelvis, mashing their pubes together, sucking hard first on one rigid nipple then the other. “What do you need, Slave?” Hannah purred into one delicate ear.
“Mmmmm, oh God, I need you Mistress, mmmmm. Ooooooohhhh…”
Hannah chuckled and licked the side of Courtney’s face, kissing her eyes and then sucking on her lips. “Miss Gena used the double on you, right?”
“Ummmm, yes, Mistress,” Courtney moaned, grinding herself against Hannah’s shaved patch of hair and wrapping her legs around the slim, muscular body.
“Because you’re a fucking slut, right? Say it…”
Courtney moaned, “Mmmmm, ahhhh fuck, I’m a fucking slut, Mistress…”
Hannah smiled; this was coming together so beautifully, even she was amazed. “What do you want me to do, tell me,” Hannah urged.
And as if she’d been saying it all her life, Courtney welded her now sweating body against the other, moaning, “Please fuck me, Mistress, please, mmmmmm. Please!” Now that it had happened, being entered, Courtney could not lie to herself; she wanted Hannah inside her. She wanted it every day; she definitely wanted it right now.
Hannah paused and propped herself on her elbows, wondering just how far she could push this woman. “Go to the drawer and get my harness; bring the black dildo,” she said, smiling down.
“Yes, Mistress,” Courtney said quietly, sliding out from under the taller woman and hurrying to the chest of drawers.
Denise had the signed documents couriered to Kyle’s dealership office; she didn’t want to see the man, ever again, really. Against her lawyer’s advice, she had signed off, accepting a lump sum payment for everything. She just wanted to be rid of him. But would she ever be? He had only leered at her when she asked about the videos, etcetera.
Among her dark thoughts that involved hit men and even herself, pushing him down the stairs or running him over with her car were the only logical ways she could imagine dealing with him; handguns terrified her. She had considered some way to set him up, with drugs or hookers, but in the end all of it was just wishful thinking; he would likely haunt her for years. She should just move away.
Far, far away; Thailand perhaps. Or Mars.
“Hello, Courtney,” Marcie Woodhouse answered, recognizing the number.
“Hi, um, Marcie, there’s someone I’d like you to talk to.” And with that, Courtney passed the cell to Hannah, who then spent several minutes talking with the agent about some ideas concerning the model. These centered around photo spreads on BDSM sites and publications. Hannah herself was interested in being included in the shots.
In the end, a cautious but curious Woodhouse invited Courtney and ‘her friend’ in for a meeting. Woodhouse was definitely interested in coming face to face with this Hannah; she sounded worth the time. A quick series of texts with Gena then convinced her beyond doubt, and definitely heightened her interest.
Danielle stayed on her knees as instructed, allowing Jason to spew his cum on her face. After he was finished, he sat back in his chair and laughed softly, then he got up and made his way to the bathroom.
Quickly, Danielle darted to the extra set of keys hanging by the door and removed the key she knew was for the back door. She stuffed it into her jeans, lying on the floor beside her, and resumed her kneeling position.
After another minute or so, Jason returned, going first to the fridge for a beer, then slumping back into his chair. He regarded the kneeling figure; he’d enjoyed using this woman, he’d enjoyed abusing girls since as far back as he could remember; it was what had forged the bond between Kyle and him.
But now he was beginning to think of other possibilities; like making some cash by renting her out. Certainly, sex with her was nothing great; she let him do things, as she had no choice and that was kind of fun, but was already getting a little old. “Okay Slut, go clean your fucking face, you look disgusting,” he sneered.
“Yes, Sir,” Danielle said quietly, moving to the bathroom and washing. She returned and stood awaiting further commands.
After a few minutes, Jason mumbled, “Okay, take off. I’m done with you today, but I’ll see you Thursday night. Be here at seven or I’ll whip your ass.”
“Yes, Sir,” Danielle replied, pulling on her clothes and heading for the door praying, to whoever might be listening, to make sure the man did not notice the missing key.
“So, your family gets back…tomorrow?” Gena asked, looking at the July calendar, her slave kneeling at her feet. “Wow, time flies.”
“Yes, Mistress, the fifteenth; it’s exciting and distressing.”
Gena nodded, “So, you ready for this, Bitch ? You’re going to need to do some juggling?”
Slave-Julie knew this to be true, but the sale of her company assets and departure from the business had made her bank account four hundred and forty thousand dollars healthier and removed one major commitment, making her life simpler; the only brief moment of remorse came when she had said good-bye to Tina, thankful she had kept the woman out of the whole scene.
Working her family into the situation, especially before the kids were back at school, would be a challenge, but she was determined to make it work, just as she was determined to make the new arrangements with Mistress Claire work.
She and Chris had agreed, in a very awkward discussion, on how the sleeping arrangements would proceed. “You need to stay with her Chris, that only makes sense.”
The man was happy if bewildered about that; he and Julie sleeping together again made little sense, but they were still, outwardly, a couple.
“Our kids have never really been ones that come to us in the night. I’ll sleep in the main bed and be available for them, but really, it’s never been needed. You and, um, Claire, can sleep in the spare room,” Julie had said quietly, ashamed at her arousal at this; yet it was a fact, she felt absolutely no sexual attraction toward her husband. Nothing. She was greatly aroused, however, at the thought of watching him have sex with her mistress. And so it was decided, and Julie had then texted Mistress Claire with the agreement.
“I will serve you as much as possible, Mistress,” was what she now quietly replied to Gena.
At that point the mistress’s cell interrupted the conversation. She left her slave and walked into the living room to chat with the caller, Hannah. “Hey Bitch,” she said warmly.
“Bitch yourself,” Hannah laughed.
“So’d, you meet up with our slave’s, um, woman?” Gena had decided to keep her knowledge of Marcie Woodhouse to herself, for now. She liked the idea of Hannah being involved; she’d see how things played out.
“I did,” Hannah murmured, ”we’re actually here now. Our girl is doing a surprise shoot; someone showed up needing a model and they were happy with my bitch.”
“Well, good, but what did this, um, Marcie say about your, idea?” Gena persisted.
Hannah snorted, “She liked it, and is going to get calling today. And she loved me; I thought her eyes would bug out of her freakin’ skull. Asked me how tall I was of course,” Hannah laughed.
There was a pause, then Gena replied, “How tall are you, anyway?”
“What?” Hannah exclaimed. “What the fuck?”
“I’ve wondered, oh queen, so now it’s out there. Courtney is tall to me and you’re taller than her. So?”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, you short people are all the same. Five eleven, now go write a book,” Hannah chuckled. “I’ve got to go. I’ll bring our slave back and we can have some fun together.”
“You got it. Bitch.” Gena grinned.
Hannah laughed, “You got that right.”
“Happy Birthday, dear Abigail, happy birthday to you,” everyone sang and the enthusiastic youngster blew out her eight candles.
“Great timing,” Angel commented to Julie, “we get back and three days later is the birthday, wow, cutting it close,” she smiled.
“Yeah, I know, but the folks extended things a bit. Doesn’t matter, it’s kind of nice that we have this celebration together, after being apart for the last few weeks.”
“Yeah, the kids are, like, different. Crazy. Travel does that, I guess.” Angel added. “And there’s something on this weekend?”
“Yeah,” Julie whispered, “the Whites are having a second birthday party on Friday. They’ve got a surprise.”
“They didn’t…” Angel murmured, her eyes wide.
“They did,” Julie said, her face close to Angel’s ear. “I guess the horse arrived from Scotland this afternoon. They’re going to give him a couple of days to get his um, legs, and then the party.”
“Her legs,” Angel said confidentially.
“I thought he was a boy horse,” Julie whispered.
“Not to our princess,” Angel nodded knowingly, her eye on a beaming Abigail.
“You don’t need to do that,” Julie commented to Angel who was cleaning up from the gathering. Both the kids had crashed and Christopher was having a shower; Claire had just returned and was in the spare room.
“Oh, no worries, Mrs. J. There’s not much.” The two women then gathered and wiped in silence for a few minutes, before Angel said quietly. “It must be odd, having the Mister’s, um, assistant staying here now, hmmmm?”
Julie hesitated, then replied conversationally, “She’s um, a pleasant woman and tends to keep to herself, and it shouldn’t be for long. Divorces are so…disturbing; I’m glad we can help her out.”
“Yes, I can’t imagine,” Angel added, tying up a garbage bag. As she turned to take the bags to the chute she stopped, “Oh, Mrs. White invited me to the, um, acreage on Friday; I guess the kids are staying the night.”
Julie nodded, “Yes, we’re sure that it will be impossible to get Abby home that night. She’ll probably want to sleep right in the stall.”
Angel laughed as she headed out, saying “See you in Prattsville in a couple of days.”
After the woman had gone, Julie busied herself with putting some things away, hearing Christopher leave the upstairs bath and head to the spare room. A minute or two later, Claire Butler came down to the kitchen and stood behind Julie, reaching around to fondle her breasts, before tugging the nipples strongly. “Go and change into a negligee dirty Whore, nothing under of course; then back here,” she commanded quietly.
“Yes, Mistress,” Julie murmured, heading off to the master bedroom; the spare room was where all her clothes now were, but she kept one negligee in her old room, where all of Mistress Claire’s clothes were now settled, in that room’s wardrobe and Julie’s chest of drawers.
In a few moments Julie was back downstairs and the two women went into the darkened living room. Claire sat on the couch and spread her legs, bringing her slave’s face between her thighs.
“This will be interesting, won’t it, Bitch, us living together?”
“Yes, Mistress Claire,” Julie murmured, lifting her head.
“You’ll change into this each night as soon as you can, understand? You are to be naked and available for my use as much as possible.”
“Okay, lick me thoroughly now Slave. Then I want you to be on guard in the hall; Chris and I like to cuddle and caress before we fuck and crash, and we don’t want any unexpected interruptions in case kids wake up. And I also want you outside the door, on your knees, so you can listen to us as we make love.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Julie murmured as she licked, feeling a strong surge of arousal at her approaching humiliation.
Claire shook her head wordlessly, focussed on the mass of dark hair beneath her; it still confounded her, this acceptance. She said quietly, “After the two of us have finished fucking, you will clean his cum from me, understood?”
Wanting to reach then between her own thighs, Julie focused on her task, but replied, “Y-yes, Mistress.”
Claire chuckled, then moaned softly and moved her bottom back and forth for a minute. She then lifted Julie’s glistening face up, saying, “You really are a disgusting whore. You don’t deserve him.”
Julie swallowed, nodding her head.
“Open your mouth, cunt,” Julie complied and Claire slowly drooled a gob of saliva into it, massaging it into her slave’s tongue, “What do you say?”
“Ummm, thank you, Mistress Claire…”
Claire leaned back, “Rim my asshole with your dirty tongue and suck it, kiss it like a lover,” Julie spread the cheeks and closed her eyes, enjoying the musky scent, pushing her tongue as far into the hole as she could, kissing the brown ring tenderly, sucking the creases, not caring why she enjoyed this act.
After a moment, as if an idea had just hit her, Claire stood and lifted her slave by her hair, pulling off the thin negligee. She then led a naked Julie upstairs, cautiously opening Abigail’s door and peeking in. Seeing the girl soundly sleeping, Claire led her terrified slave in to stand beside the bed. “Lie on the floor and masturbate,” Claire ordered.
Quietly sinking to the carpet, astonished and ashamed at how aroused she was, Julie-Slave spread her legs and rapidly massaged her clitoris, careful of her moans.
Claire then squatted over the prone woman, “Open your mouth you pathetic bitch,” Claire commanded, before urinating into the orifice. “Something for you to drink as you hump,” she whispered, closing her eyes.
The ‘present’ had been spectacular; Abigail’s reaction left nothing to the imagination. Julie in fact needed to wipe away some tears as did Angel, standing beside her. As predicted, Abigail was loath to leave ‘Star-shine’, but in the end, with trainer Della Ostrander’s gentle reminders of a horse’s needs and that Abigail could see…’her’, in the morning, the girl gave in.
Leaving their daughter and Noah with Angel and his parents for the weekend, Christopher was now driving the two of them back to the city; they traveled much of the way in silence, after commenting on the horse, party, etcetera. There really was little it seemed to say to each other, the situation with Claire making Chris wish, guiltily, for Julie to be somewhere else, and now conversations with her were stilted.
And Julie had her mind on what was awaiting her at Mistress Gena’s and then tomorrow; her mistress had informed her that on Saturday she would be taken to her first slave party, a thought that both aroused and frightened her.
Abigail came bounding out of the ensuite that adjoined her room (every bedroom in the luxurious home had its own bath) and jumped on her bed. She then sat naked on the edge and looked at her grandmother. “How come you don’t make me get dressed right away like Angel, Gramma?” She asked.
Joyce White, sitting in an antique rosewood-framed armchair, smiled at the child. “You can be free with me, my dear. I know how you like to romp around. When others are around, well, you need to wear your clothes, that’s just manners. But be natural the rest of the time. I think it’s lovely. I used to run around naked as a girl too, you know.”
“Wow, cool Gramma,” Abigail said, unable to imagine her grandmother as a girl, then smiled and lay on her bed, stretching out her long, for an eight-year-old, legs. “Can Sarah come over again tomorrow, before we haf’ta go?” She asked, of her also eight-year-old neighbor; the Davidsons lived south of them; while the Ostranders lived one acreage north.
Joyce White nodded, thinking briefly about Sarah’s parents, who she was looking into. Joyce White loved information. “Yes,” she nodded, “I think she’s coming over in the morning to ride, um, Star-Shine with you. Then the two of you could play. Gramma has to go out tomorrow night, but Sarah can stay until after lunch.”
White then looked at the incoming text message and smiled. “Maybe you and Sarah can play here with all those Barbies and everything your, mmm, grandfather bought you.”
Abigail smiled; she liked Sarah but didn’t really care for dolls. Joyce White had never enjoyed dolls either.
“George signed the papers,” Claire murmured, pressed against Dr. White, with the house to themselves for the night. Abigail, Noah and Angel would not be returning until Sunday; Abigail maybe not even then. From her reaction to her horse it was clear she didn’t want to leave at all.
But tonight they would enjoy the closeness with just the two of them. “He’s being tight with what I should get from the house, but he wants to own it so it’ll get settled soon.”
White lay pressed against this woman he enjoyed holding so much; it would be devastating, he considered with horror, to lose this. “And then we need to decide what happens, um, here,” he said.
Claire snuggled back into the lean frame against her, thinking back to the previous evening and how she had used his wife. As far as what happens here, she wanted to do more to the woman.
After Julie had actually drank her piss, Claire had had her clean her labia completely, even as the slave continued masturbating. She was then amazed at the silent orgasm the ridiculous woman experienced within a few minutes.
Claire then allowed the slave to retrieve her negligee before placing her outside the spare bedroom door, open a tiny crack, allowing her to listen to the sex within.
No, she definitely wanted more of that, she actually wanted to have the slave lying on the floor beside them. “Well, we have probably a year before people start asking questions, so we can take some time, Dear,” she said quietly.
“And then…Julie needs to decide, as well,” the doctor murmured, in difficult territory for him.
With a private smile, Claire thought for a moment how Julie had eagerly licked out Mistress Claire’s ass after the sex. She was a complete, total (and to Claire, disgusting) slave. The woman who had not wanted her husband, as Chris had related to her one night, to come in her mouth was eagerly eating his goo out of another woman’s anus. Truly bizarre.
No, there would be no problem with Julie, but Dr. White needn’t know that; not right now, anyway.
Mistress Gena had arranged for a town car and driver to take her and her slave to the evening’s event. While she was resplendent in a black gown and expensive shoes, Slave-Julie was modestly dressed in a simple work dress and flat sandals; it wouldn’t matter, however, as all the slaves would be naked for the night.
Gena had briefly explained the arrangements to her slave that afternoon; there would be eight owners, Masters and Mistresses, made up of two couples and four singles; three of the singles being female. Each owner or couple would bring one slave and there would be four female slaves and two males.
During the evening, all the slaves would be available for pleasure or punishment by all the owners, and at the end of the evening, each owner could leave with someone else’s slave, if they wanted to. The following morning the slaves would be taken back to their Masters or Mistresses. Julie was a little nervous at the idea of serving a man; it had been a long while since she had handled a cock.
“It’s just like riding a bike, Slave,” Gena had teased her, “it will all come back to you for sure.”
(End of Chapter 18)