Part 18: Owned
My first full summer of dares was actually coming to a close, the girls brought me back to the abandoned hospital on our way home and we three retrieved my things without incident, although while I was still naked with my arms cuffed behind my back in their well dressed presence, all because I had asked for such. I think my "asking" for this treatment confirmed for my two pretty friends that I was still "into" this, but by this point we were, in all reality, well past the "asking" phase of our new relationship. The place also still had a certain "feel" to it for us girls, magnified for me I think because of my nudity and restraint, but that was a subject better left for another day.
This next chapter of our relationship would be more of the same, but different too, with our kinky contract in full effect. I was property now, owned, and the concept was exciting as hell to me. Without that contract I didn't know if I could maintain the high level of kink going forward necessary to make every moment of every day fun and exciting, but some of that was on the girls now, and the level of mischief they were capable of without any parental influence to rein them in. We three had however inched ever closer towards this version of our unique relationship for several years now, although incrementally. I had even been conditioned to accept this by my friends, although intentionally or otherwise I couldn't at the time say.
Back at home they weren't exactly measuring my childhood bedroom for alterations, nor offering to help me pack, but it almost felt like that, telling me deep down that we girls had made a good collective decision. Moving out of the home I had grown up in was bittersweet, I would obviously miss a great deal of it, but the excitement of what lay ahead drew me forward, and the feeling of "I'm not going to be here much longer" permeated my thoughts. In a job you're about to leave I've since heard it called "short timer's syndrome," but I wouldn't learn that term first hand for quite some time yet.
We three were all the youngest members of our own families, and our folks most likely wanted to get on with their own next chapters of their lives. Who could blame them though? When THEY were out of the house we girls usually found some mischief to do, many times at my expense, like the times I had done chores for them, cleaning like I was their family's unpaid teen maid. I wondered if it worked like that in reverse, would our parents get up to some kind of mischief of their own, or had they already, with the three of us out of their houses for this last week?
This caused me to briefly think about the adults in my life doing some very adult things, but I just couldn't go all the way there mentally. The three families were at least friendly enough with each other though, although at different ends of the economic "middle class" scale to be sure. I could also see them all collectively throwing an "empty nest" themed party between them, but in that case who would be serving whom?
Dana's parents were graciously letting Tracy and I live in their family summer house - perhaps even thinking that we would each keep the other out of trouble while so far away from home - but still taking it over for at least the next four years or so. This was no small gift of generosity, and I wondered playfully how all the adults might work this out between themselves; as in what price might eventually be paid for all this generosity between them? This again brought me back toward some very adult thoughts, and my mind was conflicted on this to be sure…
Well anyway, September and the start of the school year comes quickly, the car's trunk packed out with the girls clothes and other things, so much so that there is only a small spot for my own. The girls have totally moved out of their at-home closets, or so it seems, where I had to pick and choose what there was room for in the trunk, all with the girls' help. I can't exactly tell my folks straight out that I might not have all that much need for clothing, outside of class or the rare uninitiated house guest, but we try to choose wisely what will pair well with what, bearing in mind that winter is eventually coming. I don't exactly care all that much about the latest fashions either, I leave that kind of thing up to my two in style, and much more wealthy friends.
…There was something else between the girls and myself too now, there being a feeling of this "grand secret" between the girls, specifically as related to me. I didn't know at the time if it was directly related to our unique contract, or something else entirely, but the woman's intuitive feeling of being the subject of a huge prank was clearly felt by me. I had other things on my mind at the time, this moving away from home and everything familiar, all to go to school with two familiar friends was a real transition for me, even without our "special" arrangement…
Not three miles from home my collar is locked back on me once again, perhaps even for the next few years continuously. The marks it had made on my neck when I got home were a challenge to explain away, but at least my paw tattoo of ownership had remained a secret. If seen, I had a fabricated story I would tell about us three girls all getting them as a sign of our friendship with each other, this only perhaps half a lie though, or more accurately a one third lie. I had practised telling it in my mind so much that it even felt like the truth, and I was reminded of the phrase "tell a lie often enough, and it 'becomes' the truth.
Just as when we had travelled home the last time and things had ramped down the further we got from the summerhouse, the reverse was true as we approached. This was to be my new primary home for the next few years; the girls both my unique new family, and strict taskmasters, and this the obvious location of my primary job as well. I would work my way through college serving both of my pretty friends in this house, all while they themselves coasted through, and I would serve their friends and guests as well. I would even serve the house itself as if it was a separate entity, a living and breathing thing, all by keeping it clean and tidy; no small task where the girls were concerned. We would become almost one together, it and I, united in a common cause. It would also become almost impossible for others to think of the summerhouse, without thinking about me, we eventually attached to each other as if one owned the other, although not in the way one would expect, but more on that later…
Passing the porn palace billboard I recall the brief over the top adventure we had under there, the one that almost got away from us, and although I know it sounds odd, it feels like a small piece of me is still there. Dana swung into the same truckstop to get fuel for her big car, it's location at the approximate half way point of the trip making it the ideal place to stop for food and fuel, and a bathroom break. We three girls got our fair share of attention from the truckers, my daydream fantasies taking me equally between riding in one of the big sleeper rigs for a bit, and the porn palace's "live nude shows…"
"HELLOOOOOOO!" Dana calls out to me. "Where have you been, girl?" she asks sarcastically. Apparently my vacant look while I was daydreaming at the truckstop was noticed, and this "forced" me to explain myself in detail to my friends…
"Of the two," Tracy points out logically, "the porn palace is actually the more practical."
"There's just no way I could ever strip on stage for a bunch of horny truckers!" I tell Tracy flatly, almost reflexively.
The two share a long look between themselves in the front seat, and I realize that something profound just happened. Had I just let something slip that I shouldn't have, best friends or not? Or had simply gone too far in telling either of the girls what I wouldn't do? I wondered in my mind.
"I was actually thinking of us three just watching one of the shows together…by ourselves, but since you went there… And when exactly did it become fashionable for the 'owned' to tell their owners what they will and won't do anyway?" Tracy observes with a smile, bringing me back to the real world "here and now" of my new lot in life with them, going forward.
"Without consequences…" Dana adds seamlessly. The two are back to acting as if they have a single mind, the synergy the two share is incredible to see, but then again they are lovers, and likely living in some level of abstinence with being back home again for the last few weeks. I know what that feels like first hand, especially as a hormone charged teen myself; it's utterly maddening, but by the end of this very day the two lovers will once again share a single bed, with passion and a closeness that I can only dream about. They almost can't keep their eyes off of each other, or their hands, Tracy on and off reaching over in her seat and rubbing the driving Dana on her neck affectionately. I notice all this from my back seat perch, I can't help but to notice, it makes me feel a little like I'm invading their space, or perhaps like the proverbial third wheel on a date. Maybe this is even why I've briefly immersed myself in the fantasy of going for a ride in one of those big trucks and leaving the two alone together; willingly, or perhaps even otherwise?
…In visiting and talking with their families over the years, I get the feeling that both Dana's and Tracy's parents, and even their brothers - who I rarely see these days - are relieved that there are no horney boys presently trying to get into their daughters' proverbial pants.
"If they only knew," I thought to myself with a smile. We had all fooled around with boys, it's a rite of passage and just what you did back in the day, but how far that fooling around went was always the question. Heck, Dana and Tracy even tag teamed poor Dennis once, but I get the feeling that he may have represented himself quite well during that. I suspect this because the girls ordinarily had an almost toxic way of discussing boys and men, as if they were for the most part second class citizens and only good for a single purpose, but I heard none of that tone from either of them following their lusty tag-team romp with Dennis.
It was also just a fun time to be alive, but our mutual inexperience made the sex way less than awesome, although still quite taboo. Teen boys as well were ordinarily clumsy and self interested back then, and far more interested in having something to brag about with their peers, and not in the least bit with showing a girl a really good time… so that he might actually get a repeat. And grooming and personal hygiene? Don't even go there, some boys just had a certain smell to them back in the day, an odour that all the soap in the world wouldn't wash away.
Did the girl's brothers discreetly chase away most of the possibly interested and smelly boys because of all this? I wondered. Such could explain why they had instead decided to become intimate with each other, and back in the day this was still a pretty rare thing for girls to do, or at least admit to doing…
"Maybe not today," Dana adds while looking at her expensive graduation gift wrist watch, leaving the door open to have me perhaps perform for the horny truckers another time, or maybe even just watch a show ourselves as they initially suggested. I did strip once for Sean already, or perhaps "let" myself be stripped for him would be a better way to say it, but that was one on one, and Sean was a very nice man, despite all that scary ink. Gregory was a nice man too, and I had, in effect, stripped for him too, more than once, making love to him in a less than complete way that very last time. The more I thought about this though, the more absurd my resistance seemed; I would be a naked full time slave in the summerhouse anyway, if the girls held true to their threats, this just a head start on that, but of course on stage before a bunch of strangers and provocative by design.
What logically happened next, after you horned up a man by stripping off for him? I should have asked. They would obviously want some of what you were just offering, or pretending to offer. What would something like this do to my pretty friends' fragile egos, as they presumably watched a whole room full of adult men get all kinds of excited and horned up watching me perform, assuming I could do a good enough job and not fall flat on my face on stage?
My mind then drifted back towards Sean, and the abject control and professionalism that he must have had not to take advantage of me when he could have, while firmly bound to his tattoo bench like I had been. I didn't really intend to tease him at all, and it's not like I had a big choice in things either, but the net result was that I had taunted him with my exposed teen body, and my requested restraint; although not to the obvious manly conclusion that most would expect.
It might not have been my fault at all, but I had wronged Sean, and my friends had taken advantage of him too, either naively, or otherwise. I needed to right that wrong, but I didn't exactly know how yet. It was just a fleeting thought in the back of my mind, but I owed Sean one for that, a very big one. Was he married, did he have a girlfriend, or did he even like girls? These were questions that would have to be answered at some point, I didn't even notice if he wore a wedding ring or not I was so self absorbed that night…
…My mind then went further back to the last visit I had with Gregory, washing his, and the others' cars like I was nothing more than their naked slave, or perhaps re-reminding me of such! Dana was pissed off at me that night like never before, wrathful even, but why exactly I didn't know, except that I thought it had something to do with Gregory. Cooking a big meal for all of them, and generally serving them domestically was fun looking back on it - hard work too though - but my successful service to the guys in this manner seemed to push a button with Dana…
Did this mean I had to concentrate on not being "too good" around the summerhouse? How exactly does one find that balance? I wondered to myself.
…When we were maybe a half hour away from the summerhouse the girls shared a look, and Dana said "it's time," confirming for me that this is something they had discussed at length, in private; the feeling of still another kept secret permeates. Tracy then turned in her usual seat in front and told me to strip out of everything, except my sneakers. It was daylight and there was no sheet to hide under if somebody looked in the back seat windows this time, but Tracy wasn't exactly asking either, although we were at least no longer on the highway where the big trucks could look down into our windows when we drove past them on the hills.
I got down as low as I could in the seat to strip for her, and when I handed my clothes forward I realized that this was "really real" now; show time. She put my clothes in a paper shopping bag between her feet, but if we had an extended stop at a traffic light, or even a stop sign, my clothes might as well have been in the trunk for all the good they would do me.
We hadn't even brought any food with us this time, and I wondered about that. Were the girls going to go grocery shopping near the summerhouse and leave me in the parking lot, just like this while they shopped? That really didn't make sense either, as the big car was packed out with clothes, so there wasn't really any extra room for groceries, other than on the rear seat with me.
The cold vinyl of the seat on my naked skin further reminded me that I was very exposed here, all while the girls were well dressed and respectable just a few feet away in the front seat, but really as if in another world, and in another class entirely. This being undressed in their well dressed presence did something for me too though, and being "forced" to strip for them REALLY did something for me, reminding me of what I had signed on for with them in exchange for an education, and my own inexplicable purposes.
In the front seat as well there was a pretty and well dressed mutual passion for each other, and in the back seat a naked and humbled servant, one not necessarily worthy of a similar mutual passion. Was I nothing more than a tool then; a slave by kinky contractual obligation that would do their bidding, cooking, and cleaning for them, so that they could have more intimate time together? All while not being bothered by the minutiae of daily living so far away from their own childhood homes, as if the happy couple were on one long extended holiday vacation together. They had both grown up with maids, on and off, and apparently would live with one again while away at school while "roughing it," but this one couldn't get angry and quit when mistreated like the others had done…
I had done this to myself, self inflicted injuries, I reminded myself. But, I had also been manipulated in this direction over the great many years of our unequal friendship, so wasn't this just the natural conclusion to an unnatural situation? Had my folks offered me that other community college at home educational option sensing this, but wanting me to make my own adult decision on the subject, since I was technically an adult now? And, if they had really thought my friendship with the girls was potentially toxic, why didn't they intercede in it earlier? I wondered logically.
The logical conclusion was that they didn't, and therefore neither should I, but those kinds of questions and doubts swirled in my brain nonetheless, without something tangible to focus on; like a boyfriend, or endless hours of house chores and homework.
…Fortunately nobody saw the girl's naked and collared back seat slave all the way to the long driveway, and the gate that I was surprised to see open. I expected to once again have to open it myself for the girls, in all my naked glory, setting myself up for some potential extended exposure from the road should somebody drive by at the proper time. Dana wasn't surprised by the gate though, she traded a look and a smirk with Tracy, and we then drove together up the long and winding dirt driveway toward the summerhouse; my new home for the next several years at least.
Dennis' pickup truck was already there though; I hadn't exactly done a bang up job of washing it that last time in the dark. That particular night was when everything seemed to go off the rails for Dana and I, and I still didn't know exactly why. Seeing the summerhouse, and that truck in the driveway brought back some memories though, not all together good ones either, and the result was that I found myself being extra timid around Dana so we didn't have a repeat.
…I felt my mood going lower, even though all this was my doing, not the specific details, but the overall gifting of myself to the girls so that they could have an easier time while away from home. It was a kinky selfless act, or so I told myself, and I realized that perhaps I was just being melancholy at being away from home, and therefore not really thinking clearly on things…
"We have a little surprise for you, but to get the full effect we're going to blindfold you first" Dana tells me. I ordinarily like surprises, and I certainly could use some cheering up, but this as well tells me that the girls have had some things happening in the background, things that they felt the need NOT to share with their best friend.
This particular surprise obviously involves others too, and one of those others could even be Gregory; the two men are friends and could have easily come together in Dennis' truck. Gregory seeing me stripped and subservient like this again, for the first time in several weeks, and after the disaster of that last get together gives me pause though. It's demeaning, and it also seems like way too much over the course of just a few hours of back seat travel, as if I'm only really a small fraction of what I was when I left my own childhood home this morning. Still I had asked for this, literally signed on for it; so to say that I'm conflicted would be an understatement.
What of the girls' thoughts about leaving home? Are they feeling something unique and special too, and are they having just as much trouble figuring all this out as I am? I ask myself, my empathy on full display.
Bearing all this in mind I find myself feeling especially passive towards the girls; not wanting to add to their own confusing feelings likely going on in their own heads. Dana and Tracy are definitely in charge, I remind myself, I've in fact chosen this, and even if we all make a few wrong turns along the way, I HAVE to respect that. Being in charge doesn't mean that you can't make mistakes, it just means that you're responsible for them, and of course the outcome.
Tracy has me get out the far side car door, her side, and face away from the house so that I can't see anything; she bound my crossed wrists behind my back with my own belt in a very effective improvised bondage. Next I'm blindfolded with my own shirt, Tracy trying her best to not pull out too many hairs doing so, and mostly succeeding. By then Dana has made her way around to my side of the car, and I hear her rummaging inside the paper bag that Tracy had placed my clothes in. I wonder what she's up to, but I don't have long to wait as she tells me to open up, gently, almost delicately stuffing my own wadded up cotton panties into my mouth. These aren't either new, or specifically even sexy, just what one wears under her clothes, very utilitarian. The simple feel of her perfectly manicured fingers going into my open mouth to do the deed has me wishing for more though, but I know that such is now unlikely, I'm simply not in that exclusive club, my melancholy apparently once again bleeding through…
"This is why you always want to wear clean underwear when you travel," she tells me snarkily. I don't exactly taste myself on them, but I've worn them most of the day already so they aren't exactly fresh from the laundry, or even fresh from my back home top drawer either. I think I must make quite the sight all trussed up like this, but at least I don't have to look at it myself like this with the blindfold on…
I'm walked inside almost as if I was just arrested by a cop, Dana's firm grip on my bicep there to not only keep me from escaping, but likely tripping as well. Her further touch and physical direction excite me though, but this only teases what I now suspect to never happen a single time.
"HELLOOOO…" I hear Dana call out.
"In the back," I heard Dennis reply in his distinctive voice, such making sense as it matched the truck in the driveway. I don't hear Gregory though, but I hear Dennis come near, and then a few seconds of awkward silence before the girls and he start talking together, Dennis coming from wherever he was in the back part of the house to greet us.
"You didn't have 'her' like this the whole way, did you?" Dennis asks, as if I couldn't hear, or perhaps understand him. His tone sounds as if he's talking about a pet, maybe even the pet dog that I've played at being, for him and Gregory before. In this context "her" could just as easily mean "it" and the effect on me is dehumanizing, as is being reintroduced to him once again while naked, although this time I'm naked, bound, blindfolded, and gagged. I'm even gagged with my own panties, but I don't know that he realizes this yet, or really even cares. I can't exactly reply to him in kind with the gag in place, so casually asking my friends of my condition while travelling is reasonable under the circumstances; maybe even a caring gesture on his part, but the feeling of being much less than the others in the house permeates all my thoughts.
…This isn't really specifically "sexy" to me either, I'm just a naked girl here to do the chores that the properly dressed girls don't want to do for themselves. I'm maybe even naked because I don't deserve clothes like free humans do, and way less sexy than my well dressed friends, at least in my mind. There is almost something juvenile and quasi-innocent to my nudity, and the term "house slave" pops into my head. I should maybe even get used to thinking about myself like this, in these simple terms; it will make the transition from a free teen girl with choices to naked slave without them just a bit easier on me in the long run. But I'm to be a student too, how on earth am I going to juggle both roles at the same time? I wonder practically…
"No, but we talked about this being a surprise, and I thought this was the best way" Dana tells him practically.
"This looks incredible," Tracy opines with genuine wonder in her voice, but her words aren't directed at me. "I didn't necessarily have this exact picture in my mind, but I'm impressed" she further tells him. I for my own part know I'm missing out on something big, but I haven't exactly been encouraged to participate in this little exchange either, not to mention HOW I might participate in my present condition. I'm just so much less than the properly dressed other's in this room, and pretty much any room I should find myself in here for the next few years at least, so I best get used to this feeling fast, I re-remind myself.
"Thank you," Dennis responds, and I hear the pride in his voice, and I imagine him puffing out his chest too, in my mind's eye.
Shut up and do whatever you're told, and keep your damn thoughts to yourself, I silently think, and here being gagged might actually be a blessing. Don't forget "sir" or "ma'am" when addressing my betters either, I remind myself as well. I haven't really given it all that much thought, but my brand-like tattoo on my ass is there to remind everybody that sees me here in my skin that I'm owned, and that I've also signed on for this; it's a physical indicator of the seriousness of this agreement between us three, as is my tagged and locked on collar. Both are also there to remind me WHO specifically owns me, in case I were ever to forget that little fact. They also remind others as to how it's expected that I be treated, at my lowly status…
"I would like to leave her here for a few minutes while you show both of us how this thing actually works first," Dana tells Dennis. It's an odd choice in words to my ear; is Dana asking Dennis' permission, or simply telling him her intentions? This is especially odd as it's Dana's family summerhouse, and I expect that she sees herself as the top dog here because of that. This has nothing at all to do with her own achievements in life though, but those of her folks; her proverbial "birthright" as it were.
Now who's being bitchy and petty? I ask myself.
I don't necessarily fear my friends in my present mood, nor even happy go lucky Dennis, but "thing" implies a device of some kind, and my mind goes all over the place as I can't see this thing, whatever it is, and I just know it's intended for me somehow. Otherwise, why blindfold and gag me? So, while I'm not afraid of Dennis, I find myself fighting off a fear of this unknown inanimate thing Dennis is about to show my friends, the one I'm not allowed to see first. BECAUSE WHY? I ask myself logically.
"A chair to sit on?" Dennis asks, although he sounds perplexed, as in "why don't you grab that chair yourself?" Or perhaps, "didn't you girls just spend a whole bunch of hours sitting in that big car on the long way here?"
"I think you can obviously do one better than that," Dana says out loud… "and this way she won't wander off like she has before. We'll just consider it a kind of 'road test' for the new maid before you hand over the keys."
"I guess I see your point, and this IS in keeping with the original design" Dennis reluctantly agrees, although I get the feeling that this is moving just a bit fast for him too. Did Dennis think this "thing" would only be used as an idle threat, that the girls were merely "playing" at having a naked house servant, or as presently defined, a maid? If so, I thought, he hasn't been paying attention, and he certainly doesn't know their lazy privileged asses nearly as well as I do.
“Okay, show us how this thing works" Dana then commands, taking verbal command once again, and I am almost grateful for the gag so that I don't suddenly blurt out what's really on my sour mind.
I then hear Dennis' heavy steps as he walks away from the girls - I believe in the direction of the kitchen - only to return with a slight jingle and sliding noise from overhead, reminiscent of a shower curtain being closed, or some other similar mechanical-type noise. I'm amazed at how acute my hearing has suddenly become, especially since Tracy has lent me her expensive walkman a few times recently and I've listened to Janis Joplin's raspy vocals on it at some very high volume levels, despite the warnings on the unit that it will potentially hurt my hearing.
With Dennis' warm self tight up against me from behind, I unintentionally feel his even warmer crotch with my bound hands as he reaches around me. His right hand is busy doing something, but his left is holding me tight up against him flat handed, his thumb in my navel, and his pinky just above my mound, reminding me of how large his hands actually are. He's not being rough with me, just firm, it's a nuanced thing that I notice though. This is also my first skin on skin "man" contact since Gregory and I had our car date fun, as a reward for all his help… basically enslaving me though. It's odd when you think about it like that, and I had obviously asked for such, but still…
Anyway, Dennis could literally do anything he might like to me like this, even with my friends watching, and the feeling this gives me is complex and hard to explain, but it's not a bad feeling for me at all. It's kind of complementary with my "owned" mindset, but not the bitter and bitchy one that keeps rearing her ugly head. Something Dennis does surprises me though, something very cold and inanimate touches me in front, all the way from my knee to my chest, it raking right past my now erect right nipple. I squeal into my gag and recoil backwards on reflex, accidentally grinding my bound hands deeper into Dennis' crotch. I feel like I've just bumped up against a brick wall, my slight weight no match for his very manly "working man's" muscles.
I also feel his man bits reflexively respond; he's instantly getting erect, and it's pointing directly upwards under his thick blue jeans, towards his belt buckle, and I unintentionally get the "measure" of his girthy endowment. It feels like he's about to actually pop out over the top of his jeans near his belt, and despite myself I can't help but to measure him in my mind while my hands are on him there. Dennis' confidence with the girls, even two at a time, and his overall happy go lucky attitude, are now very clear to me; Dennis is a very well endowed young man!
How could a young man so endowed, together with his other obvious physical skills, be anything but very confident? I ask myself. This is no acne marked teen boy my own age, clumsily looking to score on a date, but a man, a good looking real man.
Something else is also clear to my teen self; while I might not see myself as "sexy" in my present condition, that doesn't necessarily mean that Dennis agrees with this assessment. Or, at the very least his man bits and his brain might be in conflict over this very issue.
Anyway, I soon feel the snick of a tiny cold padlock being closed, one-handed, on my collar, and I come to realize that I've just had a cold chain attached to it, but from where exactly will take a few more minutes to discover.
I am left to stand there on my own as I hear the girls and Dennis walk off, straining to hear what is said, the odd words "car," "slide," and "welded tube," making it to my ears. It causes more questions than answers for me, and more out of boredom than any real desire to escape, I cautiously shuffle my feet to the left, sideways, in my blindfolded condition to test my bounds, mindful of the fact that I don't have my arms free to break my fall if I should trip over something. In short order I discover that the chain on my collar feels like it's going up, and not down as I almost was certain of seconds before, and this confuses me. My chain collar then pulls on my neck, but Dennis has apparently fastened it so it doesn't act like a choker collar, so this is at least something.
I cautiously move back towards where I was initially; I'm only really there on my own for just a few minutes as Dennis and the girls talk quietly in the kitchen. It felt like quite a bit longer bearing in mind my helpless condition, reminiscent of when I was left chained up on the porch for the night like a naughty dog.
The blindfold and gag are eventually removed by Tracy though, and when she pulls the latter from my mouth with only her two fingers - with a "yuck" expression on her pretty scrunched up face, due to their saliva soaked condition - I shrug my shoulders in silent response. Dennis forces a smile at Tracy's humorous expression, and my own reaction to it, but this still had the desired effect; lightening the mood in the room. Dana is the hard charger here, and Tracy seems more the softer voice of reason these days, but that can always change. I didn't really need that gag either, and I wondered why Dana did this to me, other than to remind me of my place, and to further humble and dehumanize me in front of Dennis. It did prevent me from sticking my proverbial foot in my mouth for a few tense seconds there, so there is that.
I now see Dennis' expression with my own eyes, and I don't necessarily "see" the pride that I heard in his voice a few minutes earlier, and this and his forced smile makes me wonder… Something is happening in my mind here too, it's like it's turning fully on for the very first time in my life. I have had fleeting bouts of this on and off lately, this "introspection" for lack of a better term, but even this now feels different. I find myself "seeing" how others see me, and perhaps even themselves, as if from their eyes…
I also realize that this agreement between us girls is most certainly not what most people would consider "normal," but now Dennis is himself a material contributor to this insanity, with his odd creation, so perhaps he owns a piece of this too now. In the very back of my mind I wonder if that means he owns a piece of me as well, as in am I to be the compensation for his work here, assuming he hasn't had help? Gregory apparently had a similar deal with the girls, although I didn't mind paying that one off in the least. Is this the reason for his forced smile? I wonder. Is he having second thoughts about doing this for the girls, once seeing his creation in actual use, even knowing he might get a manly "payday" of some kind out of it? Could he instead not be all that interested in this kind of thing, with me specifically, even though his body seemed on-board mere moments before?
Anyway, I now see the tiny but strong chain that I remember from my last visit to the summerhouse hanging from my neck, but going up as I had deduced, and not down and outside to the post on the front porch that would have been more logical, not to mention exponentially easier. I follow the chain with my eyes to an overhead pipe that reminds me of an endless shower curtain rod, it's surface from the bottom slick and smooth, but it anchored to the ceiling rafters from above at regular intervals all along it's snaking path.
There are sprinkler heads at regular intervals too, pointing up, they have little metal umbrella-like things above each one, so this is obviously a kind of fire suppression device, but one like I haven't really seen before in a house. I can't say that I ordinarily pay all that much attention to such things in any building, but I know for a fact that it wasn't here before.
This unique looking sprinkler system has a secondary function too, apparently, because my chain goes up towards a sliding car device that fits about three quarters of the way around the pipe. With this my attached chain can slide past the up-turned sprinklers and hanging brackets without getting stuck, allowing me a track to somewhat freely move about the house; at least within the arc of the attached chain. I follow it around the ceiling with my eyes, it has a continuous snaking run with gentle sweeping turns, even up the stairs towards the bedrooms. I catch myself agreeing with Tracy, this thing does look incredible, like a work of mechanical art itself, and I wonder again if Dennis did this all on his own, and then to where a young man gets these kinds of craftsman-like physical trade skills at such a relatively young age.
Cocksure. The word pops into my mind from the title of a racy novel that I had recently read. Dennis is cocksure, and not only because of his rather handsome physical self, but because of his apparent skill set too. He could be five foot five with thick glasses and butt ugly, but with skills like these he still could walk in town with a manly confident swagger that others would notice…
Anyway, Dennis at first sounded justifiably proud of his device, but as he explained all about it a second time, for my benefit this time, he now sounds dispassionate, emphasizing the fire prevention aspect; perhaps while wishing to divorce himself from it's other purpose. Was this what they were plotting and discussing - in concept - while I was busy washing their cars for them, when they had "needed" to get rid of me for a while with a mindless outdoor chore. And, was this the thing that Gregory "seemed" to not like himself that night? Gregory apparently wasn't here for it's unveiling, at least not yet, what did that actually tell me?
Perhaps the "theory" of constructing something like this, the creative dual purpose aspect to it, perhaps that was the mechanical challenge for Dennis. But, now that it's done and apparently works as planned, or will work as planned, maybe now he's having second thoughts, seeing me tethered to the summerhouse itself by a chain attached to my collar locked around my neck; like nothing more than a disobedient dog? I thought further. These three properly dressed humans could up and leave me right now, and with that key in their pocket I would be here an hour, or even a year later, without some kind of outside intervention.
"It's a real sprinkler system that actually works, all of your folks chipped in for the job too, shared the bill equally between them" Dennis tells me, as if this makes everything else okay; that my own folks had paid a portion of the bill on the thing that would help enslave me here so far from my other home, all while thinking it was necessary to keep me safe while living at the summerhouse with the girls. He's interrupting my deep thoughts though, and likely misinterpreting my curious expression as I crunched over Gregory's absence, and its significance.
"Don't smash anything into any of the little sprinklers, or the whole house will be flooded" he cautions. "Heat melts the seal on the sprinklers too, also releasing the water, it's how these things work in an actual fire" he further adds.
"I told them that off campus housing up here had to have a sprinkler system," Dana explains proudly, obviously feeling clever at out manipulating her folks… and mine too apparently.
"But, only after they told me first that we could use the house," she adds, as if explaining how she had just easily outwitted and checkmated the grand champion chess master herself.
I knew she could be sneaky and manipulative, but this was on an entirely different plane to me, very brazen. That also meant that she could lie and keep secrets with a skill that I hadn't perhaps appreciated before, and I wondered how this might affect me; or already had affected me. Dana could apparently lie convincingly to get what she wanted; this was an epiphany to me, and I then wondered if Tracy had this particular skill set as well, or had she even learned about it out of necessity? Could Tracy be just as manipulative, when needed… when the goal justified the means?
…I then looked towards Dennis, and I recalled how both girls had tag teamed him in their bed, not because they wanted him, but because they wanted to use him, and I realized that I already had my answer. I still loved both girls like sisters, but perhaps this was a more mature form of that love, a more wary form that acknowledged the human element we all had, the imperfect human element replete with the seven deadly sins. Of those, I had yet to see greed from either girl, however between them the other six were well represented, on and off…
"So anyway, ordinarily something like this would be designed into a building when it's being built, but this is obviously a retrofit, so we had to hang the pipes under the ceiling like you see them, but it's still very strong, and it even looks nice too, like maybe it's always been here and nobody ever noticed. That was the overall look I was going for at any rate."
Everyone looks like they expect me to say something, but I don't know what to say. I could obviously babble and say something stupid, but I'm trying not to. I'm simply overwhelmed by the sheer effort put into this on my behalf, the manipulation; the cost in materials and time to anchor me to the house like this alone suggests that this won't be a once in a while kind of thing when the girls are out and wish me to stay put. This device suggests a form of permanence, I will literally be attached to the house itself, as if I was it's possession, as well as a possession of the girls. I'm reminded of a pet dog's owner, holding her leash and the dog only allowed to go where the leash let her. I'm also reminded of the feeling when I had been attached to the front porch post with this same chain, very "restricted movement" contained.
This was almost like being locked in my pet cage, but I was obviously much more useful to the girls this way, and I wondered at the mind that could dream something like this up; as in it's very sanity? There were no "authority figures" here to question this though, no one to appeal to if I thought this was too "over the top." I guess I could always call home when the girls weren't around, assuming my chain actually reached the wall phone, or even the cops, but what would that conversation actually sound like? And then of course my own duplicity would be brought out in the open, my diary, and even the contract that I had signed for the girls, and even my tattoo. No, this was no option either, for a whole host of very good reasons…
"For all she has to say we should have left her gagged," Dana quips, but then Tracy redirects and asks Dennis to help them to unload the car's trunk, since my new chain doesn't go quite that far. All three get to that, although the girls aren't doing much of the actual work as they are still wearing serious heels that aren't conducive to carrying heavy things. I take this time to explore my new and much smaller world, but my wrists are still bound behind my back, and nobody has offered to correct this yet for me either. I still find it practical to grab my hanging chain in my hands, dragging it along with me towards the kitchen so I can see where the pipes end.
If I walk directly under the pipes the tugging is quite gentle, but as I get further away from them the travelling car must align itself as it passes by either a hanging bracket, or a sprinkler head, so this is something to watch out for. I see a second car at the very end of the track-like pipe, there for a future second house slave, or if the first should break I don't know, but the forethought put into this contraption is mind boggling.
Once the belt is removed from my wrists I get to work without being told specifically what to do, once the boxes and clothes start coming through the front door. I haven't seen any of my own clothes yet, but putting anything on that goes over my head with a closed collar would be impossible, chained up like I am now. Do I even have anything of my own with me that doesn't go over my head? I ask myself, thinking back to the girls "help" in helping me select what I was "allowed" and encouraged to bring with me, although they didn't phrase it just like that at the time. This was about control, at several different levels simultaneously, the enormity of this commitment getting deeper all the time.
I know the girls will once again choose the master bedroom for themselves, they in all reality haven't moved out of it from our summer visit several weeks earlier, so I'm only adding to what's already there, to what they left behind. I can travel up the stairs with my arms full as the pipes run directly up the center of the staircase, and once on the second floor I can reach everything I need to in order to put things away, Dennis really doing his homework on this sprinkler system. The bedrooms themselves don't have pipes, but I don't know if this is normal or not, and in any event I can reach everything I have to with the slack in my chain.
I curriousily wish to explore further down the hall, towards the other bedrooms, but I'm jerked to a stop by my collar. I then look up and see a large padlock closes about the track-like pipe on one of the hangers just past the master bedroom, preventing me from going further down the hall. They had apparently thought of everything, except maybe if the house for-real caught on fire, and the sprinkler system didn't actually work; in that case if I was home alone I would be incinerated, not at all a pleasant thought!
When I'm almost done putting everything away - and it was a whole bunch of trips - I notice that my own things still haven't come into the house. This and that padlock at least makes where to put them a problem best left for another day, but I can't even find my saliva soaked panties, nor my shirt now either. Short of stealing one of the girls button down shirts, which I dare not do, and which wouldn't really do me any justice with their great big boobs cut, I don't have a stitch to wear here within my reach.
While putting away the very last load of clothes, and hanging them neatly spaced next to the others - as I know the girls had demanded of their previous household staff - I heard a familiar sound, but it gave me no joy. Dana's car, and the distinctive sound of the big V-8 engine starting, and then driving away, with Dana and Tracy inside.
Dennis was still in the house though, and when he saw the direction of my gaze he just laughed and told me that they went to get groceries.
"What are we to do here in the meantime sir?" I ask respectfully.
"Yes, about that…"