The Kingdom: Chapter 4 - The Old Man's Widow

[southrook]

CHAPTER 4 - THE OLD MAN'S WIDOW

I woke up to the sound of knocking on my bedroom door. Still hallway asleep, I ignored it and buried my face into the covers. More knocks on the door followed.

“Miss O’Connell?” A voice asked.

Disoriented, I groaned, and turned my head toward the voice. I squinted from the sunlight that was pouring through the windows. I was still lying on top of the comforter, exactly where I’d landed the night prior. Standing in the doorway was a woman in a sexy black and white maid outfit. She wore a burgundy ***r around her neck.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Miss O’Connell,” she said apologetically. “But you weren’t answering the phone or your suite door. I was asked to make sure everything was alright.”

“I’m fine,” I mumbled, rolling over onto my back. As I rolled, I suddenly realized how sore I was. Every muscle in my body seemed to ache. “What time is it?” I asked.

“8:20,” the woman replied. “…in the morning,” she added, sensing my continued state of disorientation. “We didn’t here from you yesterday, so we just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Huh?” I asked. I sat upright, rubbing my eyes. “I was being chased naked through the woods all day yesterday.”

“Umm, my apologies, ma’am. But the hunt was the day before last,” the woman replied.

I stopped rubbing my eyes and looked up at the woman. “How long was I asleep?” I asked.

“Well, our logs indicate that nobody has entered or exited the suite in the last 32 hours.”

Shit, I thought. I must have really been exhausted.

“Well, like I said,” the woman continued, “I just came by to make sure everything was okay. Is there anything you need before I leave?”

“Uh-yeah,” I answered, standing gingerly to my feet. I winced as I put pressure on the bruised soles of my feet. “Where’s all my stuff? I asked. “Clothes and bag that I came in with.”

“Oh,” the woman replied, stepping into the room and toward the closet. “Everything’s been cleaned and sorted.” She pulled open the door to the walk-in closet reveal my backpack and outfit hanging on hooks against the far wall.

“I imagine you’ll be needing some more clothes,” she said, stepping toward the dresser and picking up the pamphlet I’d tossed there earlier. “This is a map of all the boutiques and shops we have on the grounds. I’m afraid most are costume and lingerie shops, but these stores listed at the bottom offer more everyday casual clothing.

I walked over and took the pamphlet from her. Looking at the map for the first time, I noticed that its layout looked remarkably similar to ours at the Renn Faire except for the color scheme and building names. But the most glaring difference was the absence of the words ‘Notts’ Renaissance Faire’. Instead, the top of the pamphlet simply read ‘The Kingdom’.

“Can I help you with anything else?” the woman asked.

“No,” I replied, still staring distractedly at the pamphlet.

“Okay then,” the woman answered, smiling. “Sorry for the intrusion. Enjoy your stay, Miss O’Connell!”

“Thanks,” I mumbled. Moments later, I heard the front door click shut, leaving me alone in my castle suite. With my nose still buried in the pamphlet, I walked toward the bathroom. I had to *** like a racehorse. But I also craved a long hot shower. I felt gross.

Tossing the pamphlet on the counter, stripped out of my jumpsuit, and stepped eagerly into the giant walk-in shower. As hot water began pouring over me, I felt like I could have cried. This was just what I needed. I spent the next half hour drinking copious amounts of water, urinating freely, and rinsing the dirt and sweat off of every inch of my body. I shuddered to imagine what I’d be doing right now had I not escaped slavery.

Speaking of slavery- I was suddenly snapped out of my daydream by the thought of Brandy. Wait- what ever happened to Brandy? I turned off the water, staring at the tiled wall, deep in thought. If I’d really been asleep for the last 32 hours, who knows what’s happened to her during that time. I stepped out of the shower and used a towel to dry off. Grabbing the pamphlet, I began to flip through, looking for any kind of instruction about "fetching slaves". At the bottom of the back page small text read-

 

Have questions or concerns? Need assistance?

Please dial 0 or use our app to reach the operator.

 

Still naked, I walked into the foyer, picked up the phone on the accent table, and dialed 0.

Moments later, a woman answered the phone. “Thank you for calling the Kingdom assistance hotline, how may I help you?”

“Hi. I’m uh- I’m calling about my slave,” I replied awkwardly. “I, uh… overslept and I don’t know how exactly I’m supposed to get her.”

“Absolutely, I can help you with that,” the woman chirped pleasantly, “Your slave should be waiting at the kennel. Would you like for me to transfer you?”

Kennel? “Sure,” I replied.

“Alright, then. Please stay on the line,” the woman chirped pleasantly. “Thank you and have a wonderful day.”

With that, classical waiting music began to play through the phone’s speaker. I looked down at the map on my pamphlet. After a few moments, I spotted the word Kennel above the new indoor horse stables by the stadium.

Moments later, a man’s voice interrupted the waiting music. “This is the kennel. Mark speaking.”

“Uh, yeah-” I answered. “I’m calling about my slave... I didn’t get out yesterday-”

“Is this Miss O’Connell, by chance?” The man asked.

“Yyyes,” I replied, hesitantly.

“Ah,” he said. “We were wondering when we’d hear from you. Your slave’s here with us.”

“Oh. So… how do I get her? Do I pick her up at the... kennel?” I asked.

“You bet,” the man replied. “We’re open til 9 o’clock tonight, so you can swing by anytime before that.”

“Uh, okay,” I answered. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” he replied. “Have a nice day.”

And then, the call was ended. I sighed, dreading the reality that I had to leave the suite. I wanted nothing more than to veg out, order room service and watch Netflix for a solid week. But from the little I knew about Brandy, I imagined she was more than ready to leave the kennel. I know I would be. I walked back into the closet where my belongings were. I quickly got dressed and tied my damp hair into a ponytail. Grabbing my phone and room key-card, I headed out the door. What I saw on the other side shouldn’t have surprised me, but low and behold-

The square was packed with people. Loud, seemingly drunk men led around naked and scantily clad women by the leash. Some of the women wore arbminders and cuffs, while others were tied elaborately with rope in shibari-style. Many sported gags and hoods. Live musicians performed from the center platform, accompanied by naked pole dancers wearing chastity belts.

For fuck’s sake, I thought, stopping in my tracks. I missed the days when I thought that Handmaid’s Tale was as fucked up as it could get. I stood there for a moment, wondering if I should even risk enjoining the mob before me. Taking a deep breath, I mustered the courage to descend the stone staircase into the crowd. To my pleasant surprise, none of the men even seemed to notice me. They were too entertained by their own women and their booze. The women, on the other hand, all seemed to take notice of me. As I waded through the crowd, I kept catching glares from captured women, staring at me jealously from behind their gags and restraints. I tried my best to avoid eye contact as I passed by. Poor bitches. I guess I’d be pretty jealous of me too.

I continued down Centre Street toward the kennel. The smell of turkey drumsticks and fried onion blossoms filled the air, reminding me how hungry I was. For a split second, life felt normal. If I closed my eyes, it would have almost felt like just another busy day at the Renn Faire. But, alas, I found myself unable to look away as bound, naked women were exhibited all around me. Most of them were mobile, but some were being used as window models and salespeople in front of the shops. To my left, two women knelt on podiums positioned on either side of the pub door, dressed in skin-tight black latex body suits. Each looked to be bound with nearly a dozen black leather straps. Whenever someone would enter or leave the pub, the women would say ‘Welcome sir’ or ‘Have a nice day, sir’.

I felt sick to my stomach by the thought of what this place had become. My uncle was surely rolling in his grave right now. I so wished there was a way to shut this all down. But short of arson, I didn’t have the first clue how I could go about making that happen.

I continued to weave my through the crowded street, until I arrived at the building I knew to be the stadium horse stable. Surely enough, it now had a large sign hanging above the double-doors that read, KENNEL. It suddenly hit me why Mason had designed the space the way he did. When I originally saw the blueprints, I couldn’t imagine why he was making the stalls so wide or why each one had its own electricity and plumbing. I honestly figured he just didn’t have a clue about what a typical horse stable was supposed to look like. But now, it all made sense. His primary goal was not to create a building for stabling horses. It was for stabling humans.

When I entered the building, two guards looked up at me from behind the reception desk.

“Hi,” I said hesitantly, “I’m here to pick up my slave?”

“Miss O’Connell?” The guard asked.

“Yep,” I replied.

“Then, you’re in the right place,” he said, reaching into a file cabinet and pulling out a folder. “You ready?”

I stared back at him, confused. “Sure,” I replied.

“Alright then, here you go,” he said, handing me the folder. “You can have a seat over there and bring it back when you’ve finished.”

My eyes followed his gaze to a line of chairs against the wall. “…Okay,” I said, taking the folder from him. So, apparently I had to fill out forms…

I walked over to the nearest chair and sat down. Inside the folder was a pencil and a dozen papers clipped together. At a glance, the form looked like a multiple-choice questionnaire. At the top, in bold letters, was text that read SLAVE OWNER PROFICIENCY EXAM. 

The first question read:

 

            What is a normal average heartbeat for a slave in her resting state?

    a.     80-100 bpm

    b.     100-120 bpm

    c.     120-140 bpm

    d.     140-160 bpm

 

Confused, I scanned through the questions, flipping from page to page. “Uh…” I said, looking up to the guards. Both were busy typing on their computers. “I’m sorry-” I continued, “-what is this?”

The guards both looked over at me. “Sorry?” one of them asked.

“I, uh… I don’t… I’m not sure what this is,” I explained uncomfortably. The two men just stared at me. “I just came by to pick up Brandy.”

“Well, ma’am…” the guard replied, glancing over to his partner. “Each Master or Mistress is required to pass their proficiency exam before a slave can be released into their custody,” the guard explained. “Since you didn’t register as a hunter, you have to take the exam on the grounds.”

“I didn’t know that,” I said bluntly. “I…” I turned back to the top page, shaking my head. “I honestly don’t know any of this stuff.”

“Didn’t you read the material in your welcome package?” The guard asked.

“Welcome package?” I asked.

“It looked like a wrapped gift box,” the guard explained. “It should have been in the entry hall of your suite.

Ugh. The gift box. I’d completely forgotten about that!

“Oh- I… didn’t open that,” I answered. “I saw it when I arrived, but I honestly forgot all about it until right now.”

The guards continued to stare at me, clearly unsure of what to say.

“So, what do I do?” I asked. “Should I go back and open the box?”

“Actually,” the guard replied, glancing nervously at his partner. “-since you’ve already seen the exam, I’m afraid you have to complete it as best you can. If you don’t pass, you’ll be eligible to retake it tomorrow.”

I stared at the guard in disbelief. “Are you serious?” I asked.

“I’m afraid so, ma’am. The exam can only be attempted once every 24 hours,” the guard answered, apologetically.

“So, I have to just guess for every question?” I asked, perturbed.

“Unless you'd like to just hand it in as it is and come back tomorrow,” the guard replied.

I sighed in frustration. Not only was I begrudgingly taking in a full-time slave, but I also had to study up for it? This was starting to seem like way more trouble than it was worth.

“What if I just don’t do it?” I asked. “What will happen to Brandy?”

The other guard answered, “If you don’t pass the exam by the third day following the hunt, which is tomorrow, then your slave will be placed in the custody of the park and be put up for auction.”

I rolled my eyes. “So, I’ve only got two shots at this and then that’s it?”

“I’m afraid so,” the guard replied. “If it’s any consolation, 90 percent of hunters pass on their first try. After you’ve had a chance to study, I’m sure you’ll ace it tomorrow. Especially now that you’ve got all the questions in front of you. You’ll know exactly what to expect for the second attempt.”

I looked back down to the exam. As irksome as all of this was, I couldn’t help but feel a little relieved at the prospect of having the suite to myself for one more night. I’m sure Brandy will be ***ed to learn that she’s stuck in the kennel for another night, but this was shaping up to be a huge relief.

I began reading through the ridiculous questions. Many of them were surprisingly informative and addressed how to recognize distress signals from your slave. And judging by the questions, the slave’s collar appeared to actually be a highly sophisticated piece of medical equipment. Certain sounds and light sequences apparently warned the owner when the slave’s vital signs reached potentially dangerous levels. They could detect oxygen intake levels, heart rate, *** pressure, temperature, sugar levels, and even the wearer’s state of consciousness. I took mental note of each question and guessed on the multiple choice for each and every one of them. The whole test took me about 15 minutes. Once I was done, I brought the folder back up to the guards at the front desk.

“Welp, I’m pretty sure I got everything wrong, but here it is,” I said.

“Alright,” the guard replied. “Let’s run this through the scan-tron and see what we’ve got.”

He removed the papers from the folder and fed them through a machine sitting next to his computer monitor. After a few clicks on his mouse, he looked back at me with a frown.

“I’m sorry. I’m afraid you didn’t pass,” he said. “But 65% isn’t bad for someone who didn’t study. I’m sure tomorrow will be better.”

“Sure,” I said, disinterested in being patronized further. “Look, in the meantime, is it possible to see Brandy? I’d like to explain to her what’s going on. I’m sure she’s freaking out.”

The guards looked at each other and chuckled. “That’s an understatement,” one of them replied.

“Of course you can see her,” the other one said, standing to his feet. “She’s actually the last of the captured slaves to be picked up so we moved her to the closest cell. This way, please.”

The guard walked over to the door located behind the desk and waved a key-card over a card reader. A green light blinked and I heard the door unlock. He opened the door and gestured for me to enter. I stepped in to the wide hallway that once reeked of manure and hay. To my surprise, it now smelled like a hospital that had recently been scrubbed with Clorox. The guard walked past me and waived his keycard over a card reader next to the first doorway on the left. Wide glass doors suddenly slid open, filling the silent hallway with what sounded like the loud roar of a generator or vacuum cleaner accompanied by muffled screams of whom I could only guess were Brandy’s.

I stepped forward into a room that looked somewhat like an insane asylum patient’s room. On both sides of the room was a bed with medical straps secured to the corners. I imagined they were for keeping the women bound spread-eagle as they slept.

Sitting on the floor with her back against the wall was Brandy. She was completely nude, collared, bit-gagged, and restrained in her seated position. Her wrists still had the black cuffs she wore earlier and they were padlocked to brackets on the wall over her head. Her cuffed ankles were also padlocked to brackets on the floor. This kept her limbs spread far and wide apart. Over each of her nipples was a metal nipple tassel of sorts, minus the tassel. They almost looked like domed metal coins. Beneath her sex was what looked like a black seat cushion. But after looking closer, I could see that it was actually a vibrating saddle of sorts with a dong that extended up from its base, impaling Brandy’s vagina. Based on the loudness of the contraption, it sounded to be vibrating at a high intensity. Brandy’s face was beet red and she looked downright livid. She was panting heavily and her naked body glistened with a layer of sweat.

Squatting at eye level in black latex and heels, holding an iPad, was none other than Annabelle, the black-haired vampire lady that had tranquilized me back at the inn.

“You,” I said, feeling my heart drop.

“Well, hello again!” Annabelle said cheerfully, turning to face me. “We were wondering when you’d show up.”

She raised her iPad and slid her finger across the screen. Instantly, the loud roar of the vibrating saddle faded to a barely-audible hum. She then laid the iPad on the floor in front of Brandy and stood up. Brandy pointlessly stretched out her toes toward the iPad, seemingly in an attempt to tap an 'off' button on the screen, but she came about 2 inches short and groaned in dramatic defeat.

“Jodie, it’s wonderful to see you again,” she said, walking over to me, her heels clicking the floor with each step. “Congratulations on your escape.” I remained silent and continued glaring at her.

“Come now, let’s not be like that,” She said, patronizingly. “First impressions are always rough around here, but I think it’s safe to say that everything’s turned out pretty well for you. Here you are, our very first champion ever! 1 million dollars richer, and the proud owner of your very own sexy slave.”

As much as I hated to admit it, she was right. With exception to my failed exam, virtually everything I’d done so far had worked out in my favor. And after all was said and done, I’d probably be able to retire if I wanted to.

“Speaking of which,” Annabelle continued, “-you sure roped yourself a spitfire! I don’t think I’ve ever had the pleasure of babysitting anyone quite so headstrong.” Brandy grunted unintelligibly behind her, prompting a smirk from Annabelle. “It’s a shame we don’t have more time. We nearly had a breakthrough just before you arrived.”

“Actually,” the guard beside me interrupted, “-Miss O’Connell didn’t pass her exam, so this one will be staying with us for another night.”

Brandy’s eyes suddenly shot wide open and her gagged face contorted in what looked like a mixture of shock and ***. She let out a muffled shriek that sounded like, “WHAT?” The black-haired lady’s face suddenly lit up and her mouth opened up wide in excitement.

“What a wonderful surprise!” she exclaimed. She turned back toward Brandy, leaning over and placing her hands on her knees. “That means you get to spend another whole day with Mistress Annabelle! How exciting!”

Brandy closed her eyes and screamed at the top of her lungs, ferociously tugging at her bonds with all her might and writhing atop her saddle.

Annabelle cackled joyfully, straightening up and turning back to face us. “One more day and she’ll be meek as a kitten. You have my word.”

“Don’t I have any say in any of this?” I said, breaking my silence. The guard and Annabelle just stared at me. “I mean, she is my slave. Don’t I get to decide what happens to her?”

“Once you have custody, of course,” Annabelle replied. “But until then, my duty is to prepare her for the rigors of slavery.”

“Well, I don’t plan on doing this kind of shit,” I challenged, raising my voice slightly. “So you’re not exactly preparing her appropriately, are you?”

Annabelle smiled back at me, seemingly amused by my aggressiveness. “Depending on the results of your exam tomorrow,” she explained, “-there’s no guarantee that you’ll actually win custody of your slave. God forbid, if you do fail again, she’ll be joining the others on the auction block. In which case, she’ll definitely be needing all the preparation she can get.” She turned back toward Brandy and continued, “As I’ve told her countless times now, the sooner she submits and drops the whole wonder-woman act, the sooner she can look forward to a more relaxed stay. The auction ladies in the other cells are currently enjoying their hour of free time. That could be you, but you keep insisting on fighting me. Not very smart.”

“HUCK OOO!” Brandy hollered into her giant bit-gag.

Damn, Brandy really wasn’t doing herself any favors. Brandy was undoubtedly in a bad place at the moment, but seriously- this woman seemed to be searching for reasons to *** her. And Brandy was just serving them to her on a silver platter. Definitely not very smart.

“Can we have a minute alone?” I asked, nodding toward Brandy.

“Certainly,” Annabelle replied, walking back over to Brandy and picked up the iPad she’d laid on the ground. She tapped on the corner of the screen, prompting a loud zap sound. Both of Brandy’s nipple tassels suddenly flashed red. Brandy shrieked and writhed in her bonds. Her hands grasped the air pointlessly and her toes clenched tight. The nipple tassels must have been electric shocking devices, I thought. Remote controlled by the iPad the same way her saddle was. Damn this technology was perverted!

“That’s for the potty mouth,” she said to Brandy. “Your nipples can look forward to another 25 of those when I return.” Brandy yelled back at her unintelligibly through her gag. Then, Annabelle and the guard headed for the exit. “We’ll be right outside if you need anything.” Once the two had left, the sliding glass doors closed behind them.

I turned back toward Brandy and walked briskly over to her. I stooped down and began fidgeting with the bit-gag that was buckled behind her head. I instantly realized it wasn’t coming off due to the small padlock on the buckle.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I muttered. “Sorry, it’s locked.”

Brandy groaned dramatically. I then went to remove the nipple tassels from her breasts. To my surprise, as soon as I touched them, I heard another loud zap. Brandy screamed and leaned away from me, frantically shaking her head. I guess the tassels were touch-sensitive. Woops.

“Sorry!” I replied. “Just trying to help.”

Brandy let out a deep sigh. I sat down on the floor, Indian style, in front of her. Now that I was closer, I could clearly hear the low hum of the vibrating dildo and saddle beneath her. I did my best not to look at it, but rather, into her eyes. She wasn’t glaring at me like she was at Annabelle but the look in her eyes indicated that she was clearly wasn’t thrilled with me.

“Look, I’m sorry you have to stay here another night. Nobody told me anything about an exam. They just sprang it on me when I got here.” Brandy sighed, rolling her eyes. “Apparently, I can only take it once a day. So, I’ll have to come back in the morning to get you out.”

“Ehl, hake hoor oo hudy,” Brandy replied. I stared back at her, trying to translate what she’d said into English. “Hudy,” she reiterated impatiently.

“Study?” I asked. Brandy nodded her head. “Yeah,” I replied. “Will do. According to the guard, I’ve only got one more try. If I fail again, you uh… you get auctioned off with the others.”

The *** instantly drained from Brandy’s face. “Ehl, dot hail!” she said ***fully.

“I won’t fail.” I reassured her. “I nearly passed just by guessing. I’ll be fine.”

I accidentally allowed my eyes to wander down Brandy’s naked form. She really was stunning. Despite her obvious discontent, it was somewhat arousing to see someone so beautiful trapped in such a predicament. As a bisexual woman with an affinity for BDSM, I had to admit, the sight of Brandy was a definite turn-on. I had zero intent on keeping her in such a state of slavery, but the devil on my shoulder was definitely whispering frantically in my ear. I ***d my gaze back up to Brandy’s face before she could notice my wandering eyes.

“So yeah…” I said, standing to my feet. “I uh, just wanted to tell you what was going on… and why you have to stay here for another night.” Brandy stared back at me, unresponsive. “Look, it’s none of my business,” I continued, “-but I think you’ll do a lot better if you just play along with this bitch. Do what she asks for 24 hours. There’s no sense in giving her even more of a reason to want to fuck with you.” Brandy’s eyes narrowed to slits and she shook her head definitely from side to side. After a moment of awkward silence, I turned abruptly to leave.

“Okay, then. Your life. Take care,” I said flippantly. Brandy growled after me as I walked away. Obviously, Brandy had been through an ordeal. But given the effort I was clearly trying to make on her behalf, I felt that she was doing a pretty poor job at expressing any sense of gratitude. Whatever. At least now, I now had the rest of the day to myself. I approached the sliding glass door and looked for a handle or button to open it. After failing to find anything, I looked upward to a surveillance camera in the corner and waved my hand. Moments later, the door slid open, revealing Annabelle and the guard in mid-conversation.

“All finished?” Annabelle pleasantly, turning to face me.

“Yep,” I replied, stepping out of the room and walking past the two of them toward the exit.

“Before you leave,” Annabelle called after me, “-I was just telling Jeremy how fond I’ve grown of your Brandy. So much, in fact, that I’d like to purchase her from you. I think she’d make an excellent assistant for my demonstrations.”

I stopped and turned to face the woman. Brandy’s shrieks suddenly echoed from her cell, most likely in response to the proposition that she’d just overheard. Without pause, Annabelle lifted her iPad and slid her finger across the screen, instantly prompting the return of the loud roar I knew to be the sound of the vibrating saddle that Brandy was perched on top of. Brandy’s ***-curdling screams instantly followed. The glass doors then slid shut, drowning out the noise altogether.

“I was told I couldn’t keep any *** once I left here,” I countered, dryly.

“Correct,” Annabelle replied. “But there are a host of other things I can offer you. Perhaps, for starters, a replacement slave?”

I turned once more to leave. “I’ll pass,” I said bluntly, pushing the hallway door open. It felt particularly satisfying saying no to her. Especially after everything she’d put me through.

“You can pick any one of the 37 girls we’ve got here!” she called after me.

“Bye!” I called back as the door closed behind me.

“Have a good day, ma’am,” the guard behind the counter said to me, smiling.

I wasn’t talking to you, dumbass, I thought. I walked briskly by him and exited the building. As good as it felt to have shot Annabelle’s offer down, I couldn’t help but second-guess my decision. Brandy was obviously going to be difficult to deal with. Even though I had no interest in playing the dominant/submissive game with her, it still seemed daunting to have to share my quarters with her. Did I really want to have Brandy as a roommate for three months? Perhaps a trade would have been the smart choice.

Either way, I now had the entire day to myself. There were more important matters to tend to. Like what I was going to eat for lunch or where I was going to find some new clothes to buy. Tomorrow, I’d have Brandy’s fate in my hands. But today, I was free to do whatever I wanted. And that’s exactly what I intended to do.

Barbeque sauce ran down my chin as I devoured my second beef barbeque sandwich. I sat alone at a table on the patio at Vern’s Brisket and Vine. The sign hanging over the eatery, however, had been replaced with a new sign that read Sally’s BBQ. Beneath the lettering was a profile of a hogtied naked woman wearing a ball-gag. Opposite her was the profile of a roasted pig with an apple in its mouth. For the life of me, I couldn’t imagine why this was considered sexy. It almost gave me a ‘Sweeney Todd’ cannibalism vibe. Nonetheless, it didn’t have any affect on my appetite. Once my second sandwich was gone, I washed it down with the rest of the beer from my frosted mug.

Biding time until my waitress decided to show up with my check, I began skimming the weekly park entertainment guide that was printed on my barbecue-stained paper placemat. Each day, there looked to be dozens of bands, singers, dancers, and demonstrators performing throughout the park. Damn, they had far more park entertainment than we ever had at Notts’ Faire.

At the bottom of the placemat, a disclaimer read:

All performers/demonstrators are contracted by ‘The Kingdom’.

Unsanctioned public performances/demonstrations are

punishable by fine and/or Kennel accommodation

“Can I get you anything else, Miss?” a voice asked from behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see my waitress, holding an empty tray by her side. She looked to be in her mid-20’s and was attractive enough to have been a supermodel. Like all of the servers, she was dressed in a sexy Oktoberfest-style outfit. And similar to the female concierges from check-in as well as the maid in my suite this morning, she too wore a burgundy ***r around her neck. The nameplate in the middle read ‘Tina’. I had come to guess that all female employees of The Kingdom must have been required to wear one of these.

“Uh, I think I’m all finished,” I replied.

“Alright, then. You’re free to hang out for as long as you’d like. There’s a bluegrass band playing here in about 15 minutes if you wanna stick around,” she added, leaning over my shoulder to point to today’s date on the entertainment guide on my placemat.

“Uh, I think I’m good, actually,” I replied. “I’ll probably just head out.”

“Sure thing! Thank you for visiting Sally’s BBQ. Have a great day at the Kingdom!” she said smiling.

“Wait, uh-” I replied, “Do I get a check or…”

“Oh, no ma’am,” she answered. “All counter service meals are free of charge. Or rather, they’re included in the meal package you’ve already got.”

“Oh,” I replied, “Well, I don’t have cash. How do I pay tip?” I lifted up my key car that was dangling from the lanyard around my neck.

The server smiled and shook her head. “That’s very sweet of you, but we’re not permitted to accept tips.”

“Really?” I asked. “Sorry, that kinda sucks.”

“Oh, it’s quite alright,” she leaned in and whispered, “We get paid more than enough without it. Discretion has its perks.”

“Oh,” I replied. “That’s good.” The woman giggled and began to walk away.

“Have a great day,” she replied.

“Thanks. You too,” I responded.

I wiped the remaining barbecue sauce from my hands and face and folded my entertainment guide/placemat to take with me. I winced as I stood up. The soles of my feet still ached horribly from my ordeal in the woods.

What I needed a pedicure! A pedicure! Why hadn’t I thought of that earlier?! I wondered what were the odds were that The Cedarhouse Spa was still up and running. Unlikely, but worth checking out, nonetheless. During the regular season, The Cedarhouse was my go-to place for pedicures, manicures, and massages. And as you may have guessed, the entire parlor smelt of cedar wood.

Exiting the restaurant patio, I made my way through the crowded street. Nearly every woman I passed was either naked or practically naked. All of them wore various types of restraints and gags and were led by their male “owners” by a leash. I did my best not to stare, but most of these women were drop-dead gorgeous. As a bisexual somewhat-kinky, sexually active woman, it was quite the challenge to ignore the view.

And despite my eagerness to blend in, nearly every woman I passed seemed to lock eyes with me and stare jealously at my lack of restraints. The unwanted attention I was garnering almost made me want to get a fake collar so I could avoid everyone’s scrutiny.

After meandering my way through the busy streets, I finally arrived at Cedar Square. But to my disappointment, The Cedarhouse was no longer. A new sign now hung over the storefront window that read, “Murphy’s Hall”. Dammit.

In the courtyard in the center of the square, a large group of people were gathering. During the regular season at Notts’, this is where the Cedarhouse massage chairs sat. Now, a large banner hung between the lampposts that read “Murphy’s Hall”. Beneath the banner, an older bald man in jeans and a white t-shirt was encouraging the crowd to draw closer for a demonstration of sorts. He looked to be in his 70’s but had a surprisingly athletic build for his age. Beside him stood what looked like a futuristic piece of fitness equipment that resembled a giant spider. Jointed metal arms extended forward from both sides of a pod-shaped body. The entire contraption stood several feet taller than the old man and was nearly half as wide. But a sea of heads was preventing me from gaining a clear view of the device.

I reached into my pocket and retrieved my folded placemat. I scanned the guide to see who was demonstrating, but couldn’t find any performances listed at the Cedar Square courtyard during this time slot. Similarly, I couldn’t locate anything that referenced the name ‘Murphy’. Out of curiosity, I stowed the placemat back in my pocket and pressed forward, eager to get a better look.

As I made my way closer toward the front, my jaw suddenly dropped. Through the crowd, I gasped as I saw a naked, ring-gagged woman locked in a seated position at the device’s front. The woman was none other than Tasha from the hunt! Tasha’s afro had been shaved off. Her eyes were cold. Her face: emotionless. I quickly side-shuffled to my right, hoping to shield myself from Tasha’s view. The awkwardness of seeing Tasha face-to-face was not something I was ready for. But as I hid behind the guy in front of me, everything suddenly dawned on me. The old man standing next to her must be the racist fucking machine guy that the gamesmen had laughed about during the hunt! And Tasha was his slave!

I ***ked out to get a closer look at Tasha’s predicament. The seat that she sat on looked to be made of steel piping and sections of padded leather cushioning, similar to that of a workout bench. Her feet rested together on the ground and her head came roughly to the old man’s waist. Her weight appeared to be supported by the metal arms that extended from the sides of large pod behind her. Wide metal cuffs encompassed her ankles, thighs, wrists, elbows, and neck. A larger metal cuff encompassed her entire torso, resting above her breasts and wrapping around her back from beneath the armpits. Each individual cuff was connected to at least one of the jointed metal arms. This kept Tasha completely immobile in an upright and seated position. Her knee and ankle cuffs were pressed together as were the cuffs on her wrists and elbows behind her back.

It was then that I noticed the black dildo rising up and down from a dome-shaped contraption beneath her seat. An attached piston kept the dildo slowly plunging into Tasha’s pussy about once every second. How long Tasha had been subject to this, I knew not. But judging by her stoic expression, the dildo didn’t appear to be arousing her very much.

“Alright, come on in, folks,” the old man urged the crowd. “Come as close as you can get. We’re all friends here. Don’t be afraid to rub up against your neighbor. Especially this one. Damn, what a bombshell! Well done, sir!” He nodded toward a naked blonde woman wearing an armbinder. The man holding her leash raised his tankard of beer toward him in appreciation. “You can rub up against me any day, miss! I mean it. Keep coming in, folks! The demonstration is about to begin! I promise, you do not want to miss this!”

The crowd began to get more congested and I took a deep breath as I began to feel claustrophobic. But as I stared at Tasha, bound and gagged as she was with a dildo impaling her over and over, I couldn’t help but feel like my claustrophobia was a perfect example of what people had come call “white privilege”. Deal with it, Aly, I thought.

“Alright! Welcome! Thanks for joining us today! Some of you know me, some of you may not. My name’s Tom Murphy, but most folks just call me Murphy. This is my third year as a vendor at The Kingdom and I specialize in the engineering of fucking machines.” Chuckles and snickers filled the audience. “Yes, you heard me right. Fucking machines. Why would I specialize in such things, you ask? Well, the answer is simple. Because all of us are getting older. And many of us don’t have quite the… shall I say, stamina that we used to. We pay a lot of *** to come here each year and enslave our women, only to remember that our natural equipment… isn’t quite what it used to be. We’re able to put our women to use maybe once every hour or so. If we’re lucky. And in the meantime, we’re left to suffer through the looks of boredom on their faces while we regain our energy for the next round.”

The crowd had now grown well past the confines of the courtyard and onlookers spread onto the sidewalks in front of the surrounding shops to see Murphy speak.

“Well, with the help of my machines, you won’t have to witness those looks of boredom any longer. Because fucking machines promise to keep the party going,” Murphy explained. “Need to step out for a new pair of clamps or a new gag? No problem. Hook your lady up to a fucking machine while you’re out. Need a bite to eat? No problem. Strap your lady in and let the fucking machine exercise her body until you return. I’ve found that there’s nothing quite as satisfying as watching your slave come to terms with the reality that her master has the ability to keep her going all day and all night if he so chooses. Isn’t that right, pet?” Murphy looked down at Tasha with a grin on his face.

“This *** creature’s name is Lehana,” He placed his hand on Tasha’s head. Did he say Lehana? Tasha remained still, but I could see fire ignite from behind her eyes. “Lehana comes all the way from Western Sahara. I actually looked it up- as ironic as it may seem, in African, the name Lehana actually means ‘one who refuses’.”

Laughter erupted in the crowd. Holy shit, the gamesmen were right. Old-man Murphy really was a racist bastard…

“As you can see,” Murphy continued, “-Lehana is no longer in a position to refuse much of anything. Whatever she’s given is exactly what she receives. Isn’t that right, Lehana?” He lifted her chin with his hand, prompting her to turn her face away from him. “Truth hurts sometimes, doesn’t it?” he asked, chuckling. Tasha exhaled deeply, seemingly in an effort to settle her boiling rage.

“So, I figured,” Murphy continued, “-that it was only appropriate to find Lehana a new and more suitable name. But we also want to be respectful of her African heritage, right? I thought, perhaps we could find a name that still honors her roots?” The audience laughed in agreement. “So I’ve done some research and I’ve narrowed it down to three beeeauuuutiful traditional African names. The first is… Deka, which means, ‘one who pleases’. Rest assured, folks- she would definitely be living up to that name. The second name is Thulani. Lovely, right? Thulani means, ‘be still, be quiet’. Always great tips for slave-life.” More laughter filled the courtyard. “And the third choice, which happens to be my personal favorite, is Sanura. Just rolls off your tongue, doesn’t it. Sanuuuura. It means, ‘kitten-like’. She looks like a kitten, doesn’t she? Definitely less black panther, more calico.” Murphy petted Tasha’s head, causing her nostrils to flare.

If it hadn’t been for Tasha’s dark complexion, I’m certain that her face would be *** red with anger. It’s one thing to use BDSM to humiliate. It’s another thing entirely to use it as an opportunity to further a racist agenda. This was yet another first for me... Tasha may have been a royal bitch to me earlier, but I still hated to see her have to put up with shit like this. As a woman, I couldn’t help but want to see Tasha get revenge on this fucker.

“So, I’d like your input,” Murphy said. “Before you leave today, please fill out a form with your name of choice and place it in the box by the entry of my shop.” He motioned toward the building that read ‘Murphy’s Hall’ on his left. “The name that wins the most votes will become Lehana’s new name from here on out. And on top of that, one lucky person will be chosen to win this beauty for the entirety of their stay.” Excited murmurs filled the crowd and many began moving toward the box that Murphy referenced. “Not the slave, of course,” Murphy chuckled. “Lehana’s mine. No, I’m referring to the advanced piece of machinery that she’s currently restrained to. So let’s stop messing around and see all that this puppy can do. Once again, for those who are just joining us, I’m Murphy and this is a live demonstration of my newest fucking machine. I call it the Widow.”

Murphy paced back and forth confidently as he spoke. “The Widow was designed to solve a host of problems for slave owners. Since coming here, I’ve seen a lot of my customers land themselves in a bit trouble for not properly monitoring their slave’s heart rate. As you know, according to the bi-laws we all agree to, a slave’s heart rate cannot be kept higher than 150 beats per minute for longer than 30 minutes out of each hour. When you miscalculate, the collar detects it.” Murphy tapped on Tasha’s collar. “And it’s not long before the authorities come knocking at your door. I know- the red tape will drive you nuts. I’ve had to watch ***ly as too many of my customers have been ***d to spend an evening in the kennel for this minor infraction. So, I sought out to fix it. And today, I’m proud to say that I’ve officially solved the problem.”

Murmurs and applause filled the courtyard. I couldn’t help but subconsciously compare this old guy to a perverted, jacked Steve Jobs. He certainly had a way of keeping one’s attention. Even I, who had Zero interest whatsoever in purchasing this stupid machine, found myself being drawn in.

“Starting now,” Murphy continued, “-each of my machines, regardless of model, is equipped with the capability of communicating directly with your slave’s collar. They analyzes your slave’s heart rate, *** pressure, oxygen levels, and they automatically adjust the settings accordingly. You no longer have to stand by with a stopwatch to monitor your slave’s heart rate. You no longer have to *** a visit to the kennel. The equipment simply does all of the work for you.”

More Cheers and whistles echoed through the courtyard. Tasha remained stone-faced and stoic.

“One of the main requests that I’ve received over the years is to simplify the rigging. No matter how technologically inclined you may be, it can still be tricky to hook up your slave up to certain machines. Well, if this has ever been a struggle for you in the past, I would encourage you to look no further than the Widow,” He motioned to the contraption that Tasha was seated on. “This is by far the most user-friendly sex machine we’ve ever sold. And it also happens to be incredibly customizability. Allow me to demonstrate.”

Murphy walked behind Tasha to the large metal pod. He raised his hand toward a touchscreen located on the side.

“Without removing any of her restraints, the Widow can seamlessly transfer Lehana into a hogtie position, frog-tie position, spread-eagle position, doggie-style position, you name it. The possibilities are really endless. But first, let’s keep Lehana as she is. This is what we call the home position,” Murphy continued. “As you can see, Lehana’s enjoying the pleasure of a large-sized dildo fucking her pussy. You’re welcome, pet.” The audience laughed supportively.

“Now, from this screen, or from the app on your smartphone, you can change the dildo’s intensity,” Murphy said as he tapped on the touchscreen. The dildo suddenly sped up impale Tasha at a rapid pace. Her eyes shot open wide and she shrieked though her ring-gag. “Somebody’s awake!” Murphy said mockingly.

More laughter filled the courtyard as Tasha leaned her head backward and her eyes closed.

“You can also add some anal probing into the mix if you so choose,” Murphy added, tapping the screen again.

Suddenly, a red light appeared on the domed base beneath her and a second dildo began to ascend from a piston right behind the first.

“That red light you see is actually a laser mapping sensor which guides each phallus to its designation to the millimeter.”

After a few seconds, the dildo appeared to make contact. This was made obvious by yet another shriek and the flexing of Tasha’s abdominal muscles. She groaned as the dildo ***d its way inside her anus. Once fully submerged, the dildo began pumping in and out to the offbeat of the original. With her eyes closed, Tasha shook her head ferociously from side to side. I could see her knuckles behind her turning pale from clenching them so hard.

“We’ll leave those puppies as they are for now,” Murphy said, stepping away from the touchscreen. “Should help Lehana keep boredom at bay.”

Tasha’s eyes opened to scowl at Murphy.

“And the other nice thing about the home position, is that your slave is in perfect placement to service her master as well.” Murphy stepped over the metal arms holding her legs together to straddle her thighs. His crotch rested inches away from her ring-gagged mouth. “I won’t demonstrate that right now for you though. Perhaps later, eh pet?”

I heard a growl escape Tasha’s mouth as she appeared to tug on her restraints. Ignoring her display of resistance, Murphy lifted his legs back over the metal arms and stepped aside.

“Now, I need a volunteer,” He called out. “Anyone care to help me out? Alright, how about this young man, right here?” He pointed to a muscular guy in a tank top who looked to be in his low 30’s. “Step foreword, son.” The muscular guy jumped forward with a big smile on his face. “Now, you look like you’re a strong fella. Do me a favor and pull Lehana’s knees apart.” The man hesitated for a second. Murphy explained, “I wanna get a better look at that pussy. Just go ahead and separate those legs for us.”

The man stepped forward and grabbed ahold of the cuffs on Tasha’s knees. I saw his arm muscles flex as he attempted to pull them apart. After a few seconds of trying, he straightened up. “I can’t. They’re stuck,” he said.

“Stuck?” Murphy asked, confused. “Hold on, let me try.” He motioned the man to step aside and bent over to try. With merely his index fingers, Murphy pushed her legs wide apart, exposing a view of the dildo hammering away at her sex. The audience laughed as the young guy looked genuinely confused.

“I’m sure you loosened them up for me,” Murphy said. The audience roared with laughter. “Now that they’re nice and limber, go ahead and put her legs back together for me.”

The muscular guy stepped in front of Tasha and tried to *** her knees together. They wouldn’t budge from their spread position. Murphy once more stepped in and pressed them together with his index fingers, which prompted more laughter. Murphy then raised his hand to squeeze the guy’s bicep. The guy flexed, enjoying the attention of the crowd.

Murphy shrugged, “Huh… I guess steroids can’t solve everything, huh?” This prompted more laughter.

I could see that the fucking machine was beginning to take its toll on Tasha. Her chest now heaved with each breath and I could tell that an orgasm was approaching.

“You know what? I feel bad. I haven’t been forthcoming,” Murphy put his arm around the muscular guy. “There’s actually very technical reason that you aren’t able to move this slave’s legs. And you’ll be relieved to hear that it has nothing to do with your gigantic muscles.” The man chuckled sportingly. “The reason you can’t move Lehana is because you aren’t wearing these very special wrist bands that I’ve got on.”

Murphy raised his free wrist to show a black and silver wristband.

“I’ve got one on each wrist. These bad boys communicate with the device to tell it that the master is making an alteration. Once their proximity is less than a few inches from the restraint, the mechanisms in these arms unlock and allow me to rearrange.”

“No way,” the man mused in awe.

“Yes way,” Murphy answered. “I can do this-” Murphy spread her legs again and pushed her ankles beneath her into a frogtie position. “I can do this-” He stepped behind her and raised her wrists upward into a ***ful looking strappado. “I can do this-” He pressed the front of Tasha’s collar upward, forcing her head to crane back to face into the sky.

“And if I like what I’ve done, I can easily set the position to a preset so I can quickly return to it at a later time.” He raised his bracelet up to his mouth and said, “Save position.” A green light began blinking on both his bracelet at the center of the black pod of the Widow. “It’s as simple as that.”

The audience ooo’d and awww’d. Tasha’s breathing had increased rapidly and I could hear her wheezing through her ring-gag. Her fingers were no longer clenched, but flexing outwards. She looked to be on the verge of having an explosive orgasm.

“And riiiiight when it looks like Lehana’s about to achieve the climax that she’s so desperately longed for, I can do this,” Murphy raised his hands in the air and clapped three times. Suddenly, the dildos ceased pumping up and down and retracted downward into dome beneath her.

Still staring up at the sky, Lehana, I mean Tasha, let out a shriek that echoed through the entire park. Her toes and fingers clenched once more and I could see her bucking her hips up and down in an obvious attempt to bring her orgasm to completion. She had to have been close. Poor girl. She continued to wail miserably, which only prompted louder laughter and cheers from the crowd.

“Now, now, Lehana. You’re on the clock, remember? Behave,” Murphy said patronizingly. “Maybe once the demonstration ends, okay?”

Tasha screamed into her ring-gag again and shook her head from side to side as best as her craned head would allow.

“She agrees,” Murphy added, sending the audience laughing.

“Bastard.” I said to myself. But for some reason, my words came out louder than I had intended them to. Much louder… Murphy had heard me and raised his eyebrows in surprise. Many people in the crowd also turned to face me. I felt a pit form in my stomach. Why did I say that so loudly?!

“Sorry, what was that?” Murphy laughed.

I hesitated for a moment. My eyes flicked up at Tasha whose head was still craned skyward from her Murphy repositioning collar. From that angle, she couldn’t see my face. After a deep breath, and for no real reason other than spite, I decided to embrace my inner bitch and double down.

“I said you’re a bastard.” Several people in the crowd ‘ooo’d’ at my insult. Nodding towards Tasha, I continued, “She’s obviously not enjoying this, so how about you rap this up and let her out.” The crowd fell silent. A malicious smile began to spread across Murphy’s face.

“Stickin’ up for a sista,” Murphy mused. “I can respect that. I’ll tell you what- seeing as you’re so concerned for her, what do you say we swap you two out so she can have a rest?”

“I’ll pass,” I replied coldly, interrupting the audience’s laughter.

“Pity!” he replied. “I’m sure you’d look stunning on the Widow. What do you think, folks? Who wants to see the ginger take Lehana’s place?” The audience cheered and laughed. “Where is your master, young lady?”

“Don’t have one,” I replied coyly.

“You don’t have one?” he challenged, confused. “Then, where’s your husband?” I stared back silently. “No husband either?” He studied me for a moment before raising his eyebrows in apparent realization.

“Ahhhh,” he mused. “I see now. No master, no husband, and no collar or employee ***r... This can only mean one thing,” he continued. “Slaves and gentlemen, it looks like we’ve got a celebrity in our midst! If I’m not mistaken, we are looking at the Kingdom’s very first Champion of the Hunt!”

There were murmurs throughout the crowd, but most remained silent, unsure of what to make of this unexpected twist in the demonstration. Every eye in the audience was now looking at me. Whether I liked it or not, there were now over a hundred people who knew my face. Not that it mattered, but it did make me feel a bit apprehensive to be out of the closet, so to speak. ‘So much for blending in’, I thought to myself. I remained silent and stone-faced, determined to show that I was undaunted by Murphy’s provocations. Murphy laughed to himself, proud of his power of deduction.

“So, tell us-” Murphy chided. “How does it feel to be a free woman? Or rather- no, no, no- How about you tell the audience what you miss most about your natural role of servitude?” The crowd laughed.

Unwilling to tolerate his chauvinism, I turned abruptly to leave. There was nothing I could say that would resonate with this crowd. They seemed to delight in watching this asshole talk down to people like me. I could feel proud of the fact that stood up for Tasha. Now, it was time to leave.

“Aw come now-” Murphy called after me mockingly. “Don’t leave angry. I’m just teasing! Look, I may be a bastard, but I’m told I can be a sweetheart once you get to know me.” I ignored him and kept meandering through the crowd. “Just ask Lehana!” The audience laughed harder.

I was almost to the sidewalk when I suddenly came to a startling realization. Turning back toward the courtyard, I could see that most eyes were still on me. Good…

“Hey dickhead-” I called to him. “Have you happened to read this week’s entertainment guide?” The volume of the crowd had died down, helping my voice resonate across the entire square. Even without a microphone, I could be heard by everyone.

“I can’t say I have,” Murphy replied smugly. “Why do you ask?”

Pulling out the folded placemat from my pocket, I continued, “I only ask, because it happens to list all of the performers and demonstrators for the week. And the funny thing is- I can’t seem to find your name listed anywhere on here as a public performer or demonstrator… Why do you suppose that might that be?”

Murphy chuckled, seemingly caught off-guard by my question, “Uh- most likely because I’m not an official demonstrator, sweetie. I’m just a vendor.”

“So you weren’t contracted by ‘The Kingdom’ to demonstrate these machines?” I challenged.

Visibly perplexed by my line of questioning, Murphy gave a ***d laugh and replied, “I think I’d remember if I was.”

“Excellent,” I replied with a grin. I could feel my heart rate quicken. “Allow me to read you the disclaimer at the bottom of this week’s entertainment guide- ‘All performers and demonstrators are contracted by ‘The Kingdom’. Unsanctioned public performances and demonstrations are punishable by fine and/or Kennel accommodation…”

Silence filled the square as the crowd looked nervously back and forth from Murphy to me.

“So folks,” I continued, addressing the crowd now, “-what do you think? Should I alert the Kennel that Dickhead here, a non-contracted demonstrator, is conducting unsanctioned demonstrations in the Cedar Square Courtyard?”

Unexpectedly, a chorus of patronizing ooooooo’s filled the audience, all of which were directed at Murphy. Almost every captive woman in the crowd wore a smile on their face as they beamed at me. Seeing a Man like Murphy be put in his place had to be a morale booster for them. Murphy’s face, however, was no longer smiling and his smug expression had long vanished. Instead, he stood silently, seething, clearly at a loss for words.

“Like I said,” I called out, “-pack up your little shit show and go home.” And with that, I turned and walked away. “You’ve got 2 minutes before I have a chat with security!” I called over my shoulder. “I’d suggest you be gone by then!”

Behind me, I heard few people clapping, some laughing, most booing. Basically, the reactions seemed to be mixed. But I couldn’t care less. I had just owned that racist old bastard in front of all of his prospective clients. And it felt pretty awesome.

Once I reached Center Street again, and turned back around to see that the crowd had already dispersed from the square. A ***ed off Murphy was now standing atop a stepladder, untying the “Murphy’s Hall” banner that hung between the lampposts. The demonstration had ended. I beamed inwardly; proud of the role I played in Murphy’s public ***. That bastard deserved it!

“Making friends already, I see?” I heard a voice say from behind me.

I spun around to see none other than Eric casually leaning against a street lamp. I chocked back laughter as I looked up and down his leather-clad body. He wore black leather boots, tight black leather pants, and a black leather vest that exposed his bare chest. On top of his head, he wore a black leather cowboy hat.

“Holy fuck, what are you wearing?” I asked, between laughs.

“The latest in Kingdom fashion,” he replied smiling. “Hey- don’t mock it till you’ve tried it. I feel great!”

“You look ridiculous,” I said playfully. “Where’s June?”

“She’s at daycare,” he replied. “Look, Jodie- I think we should talk.”

“Oh really?” I asked. “About what?”

“About the little show you just put on,” he answered. “Before you go picking fights with everyone, I think you need to know a few things about this place.” He straightened up and stepped toward me. “Let me get you some coffee. I know a place.”

“Actually- let’s do it another time,” I replied. “I’ve gotta study.”

“Study?” he asked, his face looking confused.

“Yeah,” I answered brushing past him. “Long story. We’ll catch up another time.”

“Try to stay out of trouble!” Eric called after me. I turned back to him and flashed him the middle finger with a playful smile. He chuckled and stuck both of his middle fingers up back at me. Dork. But as I mentioned earlier, I happened like dorks.

And with that, I turned away headed back to the castle. All in all, it had been quite the interesting first morning. But I was more than ready to be anti-social again. Anti-socialism happened to be my natural habitat.

Minutes later, I was back in my suite. The cool air from the air-conditioning felt glorious. It wasn’t necessarily hot outside, but I had always preferred cooler climates.

Walking over to the entry hall table, I picked up the gift box that I’d forgotten to open earlier. It was heavier than I expected it to be. I ripped off the wrapping paper and opened the lid to reveal a handwritten letter, several pamphlets and brochures, three books, a ring-gag, ball-gag, multiple coils of white rope, and half a dozen small padlocks with keys. The letter read:

“Welcome to The Kingdom! Please except this starters’ gift package. Inside is everything you’ll need in order to begin your stay. Please note that before a slave can be admitted into your custody, you are required to pass the ‘Slave Owner Proficiency Exam’. Please see the included literature to learn what steps are necessary. You will be tested on material from the book entitled “A Comprehensive Guide to Slave Ownership”. If you have any questions, please dial 0 or use our app to reach an operator. Thank you and welcome to The Kingdom!”

Ignoring everything else in the box, I grabbed the book that was mentioned in the letter and flipped through the pages. Damn, the book was long. 461 pages long, to be exact! Given that I wasn’t the fastest reader, I realized that I didn’t have much time to waste if I wanted to be prepared for this stupid exam by tomorrow.

I hated the prospect of even taking this test. I really had no interest in owning Brandy. But the thought of Brandy being left to the whims of that sadistic vampire for the next three months sounded unbearable. Saving Brandy from that fate was really the least I could do. What came after that, well… I’d figure that out later.

I carried the book into the suite’s living quarters and plopped myself onto the couch. I opened the book to chapter one, page one. I let out a long sigh. It was going to be a loooong afternoon for me. But I had to bite the bullet. One test and then I could burn the damn book. ‘You can do this, Alison’ I thought. And with steadfast determination, I began to read…

[Erotes-72]

Southrook, I’m totally hooked on your story and long to hear more. Will we get another chapter soon?

[Deleted Member]

Agree with Steve78, looking for another chapter, like to know how a story ends 

[southrook]

Just posted two more chapters. Should be approved soon