Dragon Slave Chronicles: The Discovery Part 1 By Francis Drake Chapter 1: Michael had been driving for about an hour. It was 9:00 AM when he turned off the highway onto the gravel drive and snaked through thick woods toward the house of Alberta Baker. His mind was on the interview he had scheduled, and the possibility that it might bring him recognition in the journalism world. He was totally unprepared for the drive to the house that he was currently negotiating, and he slowed to almost a crawl.
The canopy was so heavy he was forced to use his headlights as he slowly drove on. Tires crunching on the gravel and the hum of the engine were the only sounds for what felt like a mile of driving. To make matters worse, he had an eerie feeling that he was being watched, but the feeling disappeared when he emerged from the trees and into a clearing. The eerie feeling was replaced with one of sheer shock as he faced the house, if you could call it a house, that filled his sight.
The large stone structure that loomed in front of him looked as if it had been there forever. It was gray granite and three stories tall, broken only by windows and a huge double front door. White lace curtains lining the windows on the first two floors provided sharp contrast to the stone and the blankness of the glass, while the third floor windows were shuttered.
He turned the wheel to take the fork in the drive leading to a parking area in front of the house instead of the one that led off to a building that looked like a stable. A lawn sloped toward the back, and more woods were visible just beyond it, dark and thick. There were bushes along the parking area and the side of the house, with white blooms just past their peak.
"Amazing!" he whispered, as he got out of the ten year old, blue roadster convertible and appraised the house once again.
He grabbed his backpack and walked up to the front entrance. The doors were huge and carved out of what looked like mahogany.
When they were opened fully, two horses with riders could easily make it through them. Horses and riders? He wondered why in the world that analogy came to mind. He ran a hand across the smooth planes, and wondered how old the doors were and where such fine work had come from. Just as he was about to ring the bell, a portion of one of the doors opened. He froze, looking at a snowy white shirt front covering a massive chest of the biggest man he had ever seen.
Slowly, he raised his head until he met the man's dark eyes, as he motioned for Michael to come in and follow him. Michael started to say that he was there for an appointment with Mrs. Baker, but a single glance from the man quelled that idea. Michael had heard the phrase "giant of a man," but had never actually understood what it meant until that moment.
With some trepidation, he followed the man into the house. He entered a foyer large enough to hold a small house, in itself. The floors were black and white marble blocks in a checkerboard pattern. There was a stone staircase with a highly polished wooden banister that curved upward along the left wall, and a huge sideboard stationed between two large doors opposite the staircase.
The silent giant led Michael through the second door on the right. Michael's amazement continued as he entered a room that dwarfed him. Before he recovered, he heard, "Mrs. Baker will be with you soon. Make yourself comfortable." He felt about three feet high as he waited alone in the room. He later learned that it was called the Great Room, which was appropriate, due not only to its size but also the very somber, old world ambience. There was plenty of light in the room, produced from the beautiful crystal lamps throughout and also from the windows, although they had heavy, russet colored velvet drapes pulled part of the way across them.
There were several large Oriental carpets covering portions of the hardwood floor and small tapestries (original and very old, he had no doubt) hung on either side of the huge granite fireplace. The many pieces of furniture present were quite heavy and large, but comfortable looking--well padded and used, it seemed. There were flowers arranged on several of the tables and small silver, wood and glass accessories dotted the surfaces of the tables and mantle.
Age and fine taste showed in all of the accessories and furnishings. Michael looked around the room in awe. If there had been a cold feeling, it would have seemed exactly like a museum, but it wasn't cold.
In fact, the room had a warm, lived-in feel to it. Almost welcoming. At this point, in this house, in this room, he seemed to be in another world and it was somewhat exhilarating.
He felt different being there, like something very exciting was going to happen, but maybe something a little scary too. Michael wondered how so many of the items could be in such good shape when they appeared so old. Of course, he figured that Mrs. Baker, pretty old herself, in her seventies or eighties, had collected the pieces in her youth and probably had the butler (or whatever he was) spend a lot of time polishing and dusting.
Frankly, he was curious about Mrs. Baker. He had grown up in the town near the house and had heard stories about the reclusive Bakers for most of his life. But he had never been up that drive to see this house or met the mysterious Allen Baker or his wife, Alberta.
The excitement he felt being here had his heart beating faster. A slight noise made him turn and he saw a woman standing just inside the door. Perhaps a secretary, Michael thought. He couldn't help staring as he took in her tall, slender, but curvy body. She had clear, fair skin with a rosy glow in her cheeks, and eyes a very dark blue. Her hair was a luxuriant dark red, pulled back on the sides then falling half way down her back. She was dressed in a tailored dark green slack suit, with no jewelry except modest gold earrings with a dark green stone set in them, a locket on a long gold chain, and a wedding band.
He noticed all of this in the back of his mind as she stepped toward him and extended her hand. Her height allowed her to look him in the eyes and she returned his stare with a slight smile. Michael was embarrassed and surprised by the tight, full feeling in his groin as he firmly took her hand. "Mr. Nielsen? I'm happy to meet you and I hope that your stay here will reap rewards for both of us. Please call me Alberta while you're here.
May I call you Michael?" "Excuse me?" Michael stammered. "You're Mrs. Baker?" He had expected someone old, someone like his grandmother, but this woman (this couldn't be Mrs.
Baker) did not remind him of his grandmother at all. She was stunning; there was no other word for it. "I'm afraid so," she replied with a brilliant smile.
She removed her hand from Michael's, as he had continued to stare and hadn't released her hand after taking it. "But as I said, please call me Alberta." "Yes, of course." Michael finally regained control of himself.
"And of course you must call me Michael if you want." He stood quietly for a few moments and then cleared his throat. "I would like to say thank you for allowing The Sun to have this interview, Mrs. Baker.Alberta. I am very excited to be working with you." He was not normally this formal, but for some reason it seemed appropriate.
"Let's sit for a few minutes, Michael. First let me make sure we are on the same page for the ground rules, and then I will explain how I see us proceeding." She waved to a settee.
Michael put his backpack on the floor and sat at one end, while Alberta sat at the other end. "First of all, I am glad the paper arranged for you to come and interview me. Of course, I made it rather difficult for them to do otherwise, since there would have been no interview unless you had come.
Now, I want to make sure you understand the other stipulations I discussed with your editor. You have to stay here for the entire interview time. I have a long and, I think, rather remarkable story to tell, and I don't want you to be dashing off mid-way. Last, the story must be handed over to your editor in its entirety, at the end of your stay here.
No drafts or partial articles can leave the house. When you leave here, you will take with you the full article as it will be ready for print. I have my reasons for all of this, but right now you can attribute it all to the eccentricities of an old woman." She smiled.
"Are those stipulations the same as your editor explained them, and are they agreeable to you?" "Yes. If I need background or research checked, may I call on the office for help?" "I believe you came with quite a bit of background information, didn't you?" How had she known that? "Yes, I did." "Well, we can see if the need arises, but I think you will find you have what you need in background already.
Do you have any other questions?" "I'm flattered that you asked for me to interview you, but I'm puzzled too. I'm just starting to write as a journalist. Actually, I'm barely above writing obituaries." Alberta chuckled. "I didn't think anyone but my mother knew I even worked for the paper. Why did you request me?" "Michael, I'm not sure I can fully explain my reasons right now.
Just know that it was no accident. As we work our way through the interview, there will often be times when I can't explain everything right at the time you want to know. Just be patient and I think it will all be clear in the end.
"Henry has already taken your bags to your room. I'll show you where you will be staying as we take a tour of the house. I must ask you not to wander around too much without Henry or me while you're here. I do relish my privacy, you understand, this interview notwithstanding." Henry. So that was the name of the giant with the attitude. Michael murmured something inane like, "Of course," and she continued. "I am an early riser, but I don't expect you to keep extraordinary hours.
And there's no real need to stick stringently to schedules, but since I usually keep a pretty full list of activities, let's agree to an approximate workday. Shall we say 9:00-noon each morning? Then we'll break for lunch, and see how much time to spend in the afternoon, based on what else I have to do." "Yes, that sounds fine. That means I will have time some afternoons to transpose the tapes." "Dinner is usually early here, around 5:00 or so and I'm afraid we're fairly early-to-bed people too.
However, we have many of the entertainment amenities. If there's anything special you would like while you're here, just let Henry or me know.
Also, we're rather informal, so just dress comfortably during the day." She waved offhandedly to his tweed jacket and tie, "You look very nice, of course, but feel free to leave your tie and jacket in your room if you want." Alberta rang a bell and not a moment passed before Henry brought in a tray with hot tea and a plate of warm muffins. Michael hadn't eaten before his drive from the city, and the aroma of cinnamon and apples made his mouth water.
Henry didn't spare Michael a glance as he set the tray on a table and asked if there was anything else. Alberta said, "Thank you, Henry, no." Then she turned to Michael. "Please help yourself. You will be spending a lot of time here so we need not stand on ceremony." "Thank you." He poured a cup of tea and placed a muffin on a plate of delicate china. Alberta poured a cup of tea and settled back on the settee, stirring the hot liquid with a small silver spoon.
While they sat there, he found himself wondering what Alberta had looked like when she was younger, and his body responded to the thought of her like he was a teenager.
As if she could read his mind, Alberta said, "Very much like I do now." She laughed at his stunned expression. "I have been blessed with great genes, I guess. And don't worry, you're safe! I can't really read minds. That must have been a lucky guess." Her eyes twinkled as she added, "But you might want to watch yourself around Henry." He didn't feel too safe though, and decided to try to school his thoughts and his body better while he was here.
Michael decided to try a safer subject by commenting, "Your house is truly amazing. It's like nothing I have ever seen." "When you know more you may not want to see another like it, or, you may want this one," she chuckled. "We have some time before lunch. Would you like to start or wait until after we have eaten?" His curiosity was getting the best of him so he said, "We might as well start now. Do you mind if I tape our talks?" "Not at all. You should tape them." He pulled the tape recorder out of his backpack, set it up and drank the last bit of tea in his cup.
Instead of relating her story, Alberta and Michael simply chatted about her background. He asked her what her most defining moment was growing up. "When I grew so much taller than everyone else. That was in the fifth grade. Suddenly, I was head and shoulders above everyone. Children can be very cruel, and I spent many days in the nurse's office in tears.
My poor mother had to make routine trips to school to pick me up. Then I decided to take control and fight back. Suddenly Mother's trips to school were because other children were crying, caused by my giving them a black eye or bruised cheek." Michael looked surprised.
"Oh yes, I was quite good and earned a reputation in a short span of time. "My parents insisted that I learn control of a different sort, and I withdrew from the children at school and set my aim on making myself the best student I could. I felt that I could make my mark that way, and others would respect me, despite my difference in height. Unfortunately, it simply separated me from everyone and I became very lonely.
I spent many nights alone at home reading, or joining my parents and their adult friends. "My height made me obvious for several years, because just as the kids around me started growing, I kept growing too. I was my present height of 6 feet by my sophomore year in high school. Fortunately, some of the boys had finally caught up, but I never felt that I fit in with any particular group.
I didn't find high school to be as difficult as the lower grades because by then I was just 'there.' My height was something everyone accepted.
And I had steeled myself not to get close enough to get hurt. The control I had learned in fifth grade helped me excel in academics, and in keeping myself safe from pain." "That sounds so awful for you." "It was hard to deal with as a child. A child never understands why others are mean to him. But I learned from the experience, and grew." She smiled. "No pun intended." "Who were the most influential people for you?" Alberta leaned forward to pour another cup of tea.
"Certainly my parents were both inspirations for me. My mother taught me that anger and violence weren't the way to solve problems and my father instilled in me that I could be whatever I wanted. It was he who encouraged me to become my dream, a doctor, even when the odds were horribly against women in medical school. My husband, Allen, was a godsend when we met and became friends in our childhood.
He always seemed to understand me and gave me support and unconditional love." Alberta paused and glanced at Michael over the edge of her cup as she sipped her tea. She subtly changed positions so that she faced him more directly before continuing.
"It's not a person, but this house had a great deal of influence on my life." "The house? How so?" Involuntarily, Michael looked around the room where they were sitting, trying to determine how an inanimate object like a house could have any authority over a person. Or how someone of Alberta's intelligence could think such a thing. "My parents taught me that control could change my life through my exerting sheer will. Following that premise, I forced my way through many doors and gained opportunities I wouldn't have had otherwise.
Allen's support neither encouraged nor discouraged that lifestyle, even when it virtually kept me from being totally free with him emotionally. This house taught me that giving up control can lead to even greater heights than I had previously known. And that is the story I have asked you here to document." "You had a promising career as a doctor in the city and Allen's career was advancing in the field of architecture. What made you decide to move out here?" Alberta took a few moments to put her cup on the tray and sit back.
When she spoke, her voice contained no trace of bitterness. In fact, her eyes held a glint as though she had a great secret that she was about to impart. "In a sense you are right, in many ways it was a promising career. I conquered many obstacles in medical school as the only woman there. I was subjected to unbelievable discrimination, but I persevered and gained a place on the staff at one of the finest hospitals in the city.
But after several years, I finally found a situation I couldn't overcome through my will or control. It seemed that every male doctor was promoted over me. No matter how good I was or how my patients loved me, I realized that I would be nothing more than a glorified nurse if I remained at the hospital. I was devastated. If I stayed, I would be unhappy and that would reflect in my work. If I left the field of medicine I would be unhappy because helping people is what I wanted to do.
"Once again, Allen's support came to my rescue. He encouraged me to find a small practice outside the city, where I could practice as I wanted to and make a difference in people's lives. He didn't mind commuting into the city when he needed to.
I wasn't very hopeful that I would find anything. In fact I was certain that stereotypes and prejudices against women would be worse in the country, but we started looking." "What was it about the Berryville area that convinced you this was the place to live?" "We didn't know about Berryville until we started our trips into the countryside on weekends. The town seemed quaint, the distance to the city wasn't too far for Allen to handle, Dr.
Caldwell was looking for someone to help him in his practice, and when we found the house, we knew that this was home. After I started working with David Caldwell, I knew I would be happy as a doctor here.
Surprisingly, I found that I was quite satisfied playing second fiddle to a country doctor. He gave me exactly the kind of opportunity I wanted and became a friend in the bargain. I knew that life was moving in the right direction although I was not sure where it would take me." Chapter 2: Michael returned to the idea of the house making a change in Alberta's life.
"I don't know if you were aware of it, but I grew up in Berryville." Alberta smiled and nodded. "My grandmother mentioned once that she remembered the uproar in town when you bought this house. Evidently, most people had completely forgotten it existed. More than that, Grandmother said that no one even used to come out here, you know, the way local kids sometimes throw stones at windows in vacant houses.
It seems the people in the town stayed away from here." Michael had some inkling of why the locals would have stayed away after his own experience coming up that narrow drive, but he kept those thoughts to himself.
"How did you and Allen find this house?" Michael poured another cup of tea and picked up a muffin. "It wasn't very mysterious," Alberta said with a smile. "We contacted a real estate agent in town, Jim Parker. His office was closed on our first trip, but I called him when we got back to the city and made an appointment for the following weekend.
When we arrived, Jim was out showing property, but his father was there and we had a nice, long chat with him. He was particularly interested in the fact that Allen and I had known each other almost all of our lives. I don't know if you would remember Mr. Parker. No, I'm sure you're too young, but your mother might. He was a wonderful man. It was he who suggested to Jim that he show us this house. "Jim was very surprised at his dad's suggestion, but dutifully brought us up here after showing us several other places.
He was visibly nervous coming up the drive. I suppose it startled us a little too, with the trees overhanging the road and the way it got so dark, but the house totally captivated us. It was like coming through a dark tunnel into the bright sunlight when we broke into the clearing, and even the stone of the house glimmered in the late afternoon sunlight.
Jim warned us that the locals didn't like coming out here—even to the point that we would have to bring crews in from the city to do repair work rather than rely on service from town.
But nothing fazed us.
I felt comfortable here from the very beginning, and I think Allen was intrigued enough from an architectural point of view that he didn't want to pass up the opportunity to live here." "What was the state of the house when you found it?" She chuckled. "About what you would expect. It had sat vacant for years." She gestured toward the fireplace.
"The fireplaces were full of birds' nests and mice, the roof needed some repair, all of the lovely hardwood floors had to be sanded and refinished, and of course the kitchen and the electrical system needed modernizing. The good news was that the stone was in perfect shape and the heating system, which was one of the things that intrigued Allen, is a warm springs that runs deep under the house.
That system needed nothing done to it except to ensure that the pipes were in good shape. We estimated what it would cost to make the repairs and subtracted that from our offer. I was certain our offer was too low but the day after we submitted it Jim called and said that the place was ours. It turns out, our offer was less than the land itself was worth.
I should have known then that other powers were at work, but I'm a scientist and my mind didn't work that way. Two months later, we were living here." Alberta leaned over and stopped the recorder saying, "Let's take a break.
I'll show you your room then we'll tour the rest of the house and I'll fill you in on some background. We can meet in the entrance hall in about fifteen or twenty minutes." She stood gracefully and started toward the door. Michael left the recorder on the table and followed her as she went into the hallway and up the stairs. He could not believe how alluring she was. Just watching her walk up the stairs got him excited. She was a far cry from the too-tall child and adolescent she had described.
In her soft clothes that fit her form and flowed across her body, she moved gracefully. As they walked down the hall, Michael had urges that a man of his age shouldn't have for a woman of her age. Alberta opened a door and motioned him into the room saying, "This is your room. The bath is here," she said, opening a door in the near wall, "and you can see the rest. I think you will be comfortable, but again, if there is anything you need don't hesitate to ask Henry.
I will see you downstairs in about fifteen minutes." The room was large. The bed and the rest of the furniture looked like they belonged in a medieval castle. The four poster rice bed had a canopy and was surrounded by curtains to be drawn against the cold and light.
There was a large wardrobe, a desk, a bureau, two large chairs with cushions and the private bath. The view from the windows was of the side lawn, lush green grass running right up to butt the thick forest. He used the bathroom and looked for his suitcase. Evidently, Henry had put it away.
All of his clothes had been unpacked and put in the wardrobe or the dresser. This place could spoil a person! he thought. As he left the room, he noticed the door had an old-fashioned keyhole with a large brass key in it. When Michael reached the foot of the stairs, Alberta was coming from a room behind the stairway. She smiled and asked, "Are you ready? I asked Henry to go through and open the shutters so we will have more light. Let's start with the library." Alberta opened the door off of the entrance hall that Henry had bypassed earlier.
The room faced the front and side of the house. "What a wonderful room!" Michael said, taking in the dark wood paneling, heavy wood furniture and overstuffed chairs.
A sofa was positioned in front of the ornate hearth of the large fireplace. Dust motes danced through the light coming in through the side windows, and the not unpleasant scent of furniture polish hung in the air. "Isn't it? Allen and I didn't have to bring all of our belongings with us from the city, because the house was sold with whatever furnishings were in it.
For instance, the wooden furniture and tables are all part of the house inventory, as are almost all of the books you see. In fact, they can't be sold except as part of the house." She ran her hand lovingly along some of the book spines. "Some of the volumes are very old, so I would just ask that you use caution when you select something to read.
Otherwise, feel free to use the library as you would like. There are some fascinating books here." She glanced at me and smiled ruefully. "I know, because it took me years to get them all catalogued." She led the way across the foyer to a pocket door that opened into the dining room, where the center of the floor was hidden by a large carpet and table, with fifteen or twenty chairs.
There was a sideboard between the large windows, where heavy damask curtains hung that matched the chairs and table runner. Over the table hung a crystal chandelier. Each teardrop of crystal shimmered and cast a rainbow of light onto the wall over the fireplace.
The fireplace itself was blocked with a triptych screen of punched tin. A design of a dragon was stretched across all three panels. "Are the fireplaces used at all?" "No, not really. The hot spring does a great job of keeping the house warm in the winter, so we use them only for atmosphere. Like most of the other fireplaces in the house, and there is one in every room, this one was in a terrible state when we bought the place, and had to have quite a bit of work done." We crossed the dining room and stepped into the butler's pantry, where there was a variety of china, silverware and glassware sitting on the counter.
"Henry put out some pieces for you to look at, mostly as another example of what came with the house. Allen and I brought our own dishes and cookware, but it has been wonderful over the years to be able to make use of these beautiful pieces." "This china is very fine.
Someone had great taste," Michael said, after examining it. He flicked a goblet with his index finger and a delicate tone sounded. "Very nice. I'll bet the table is lovely set with these pieces." "Oh, yes, it is. Although I have to admit I enjoy using the silver pieces more now that I no longer have to polish them. Since Henry came I've been able to give up that particular task.
We use the dining room rarely, although we will take our meals there while you're with us." "Henry is not from around here, is he?" "No, did is accent give him away?" "Yes, that was a hint. Where is he from? How long has he been with you? How did you meet?" "The reporter comes to the forefront!
Didn't we leave the tape recorder in the other room?" She smiled. "Sorry, but I am curious." I smiled back. "Of course. For now, let's just say Henry is from a land far, far away. As my tale continues, all will be revealed." "Okay, that's fair." We moved from the butler's pantry and entered the kitchen.
It was very large and very modern, which surprised me. I had assumed that the renovation had taken place when Alberta and Allen moved in, many years before. "Michael, if you want something while you are here ask Henry and he will get it for you. Or if you want to take the risk, you can get it for yourself. Henry is very possessive about his kitchen, so just be aware that it will probably be easier to ask him for something than to take your life in your hands," she laughed.
"This room was one that required a huge amount of time, work and money to redo. The renovations were extensive, but we still tried to maintain the 'flavor' of the house even while modernizing." Then she pointed to another part of the room that looked like a mini kitchen, and said, "If you really want to get something for yourself, it's safe to use that area." The mini kitchen had a Dutch door that opened out onto the patio and garden.
Fresh vegetables and flowers in riotous colors competed for space, extending from the patio some distance into the yard. "Does Henry do the gardening too?" "Yes, but not alone. He's a wonderful person, and we're very lucky to have him here. He dabbles in everything!" A short hallway led to the den where there was a desk and stuffed furniture. This room had a woman's touch everywhere, from the flowered chintz chair coverings to the bright vases of flowers on the tables and desk.
Another set of large doors opened onto the patio. We went back through the den, to the front stairs. "You've already seen the Great Room," she said, motioning to the doorway on her left. "There's a small lavatory here under the stairs," she pointed out. "There are six bedrooms on the second floor, with full baths." When we got to the top of the stairs Alberta pointed to a door and said, "That is my room." As we walked down the dimly lit hall she gestured to the right and said, "And here is your room.
Three of the others are very like it, but I want to show you the fourth. Allen and I never did much to change these rooms except to modernize the plumbing." Alberta turned toward Michael and said, "Remember, the house is very old." She opened the door and at first glance, it looked very much like the room Michael was using. Then he noticed chains hanging from the ceiling and rings on the bedposts. A table had what looked like shackles lined with fur, and another piece of furniture was a padded bench about two and a half feet high.
The legs had holes through them, near the floor. It was too high to be comfortable for seating especially since it had no back.
Alberta told Michael that he would hear more about this room as the interview progressed. He didn't know what to say. He remembered stories he had heard growing up about what had gone on in this house. Stories about strange parties and mysterious people. He looked at Alberta and thought that the stories could not be true. Alberta said, "Yes, I have heard the stories too.
You will just have to wait to hear more." "That's not fair!" She agreed. They laughed and went to the third floor where there were more rooms, but smaller. Michael couldn't get his mind off of the room that Alberta had just shown him. The quick look stirred his imagination and his groin tightened painfully. Even that fleeting glimpse had brought to mind images of naked woman chained to the bed where they would be helpless but to do his will.
And they did so happily, even as they were confined. He snapped his mind back to Alberta and what she was saying about the third floor. "Most of the rooms here are used for storage, but Henry also stays up here. We have things here that date back hundreds of years.
Allen and I spent many a rainy day trying to guess what some of the items are and what they were used for." Michael stepped to a window and looked out over the back lawn. Just below him, the gardens were spread out like small, colorful islands in a sea of green grass that spread to the forest, just as the sea extends to the foot of a cliff face.
"The view is fantastic from here. How much of this land is yours?" "Everything you can see," Alberta said with pride. "It is beautiful, isn't it? It never fails to take my breath away from this height. There is farm land just beyond the trees there. And the woods hold several streams. You'll have to explore it all when Me" Alberta abruptly stopped. "It's almost time for lunch, shall we go down?
Henry is most particular about having his food appreciated at its peak." She smiled and after a final glance out the window Michael followed her from the room and down the stairs. "If you think the upper floors have been interesting, I'm sure you'll really like the basement," Alberta said, just as they entered the dining room. As they sat down to lunch, he had to wonder about the basement and what she meant.
Chapter 3: After lunch Alberta and Michael got comfortable in the Great Room and Alberta turned her gaze on Michael. "Do you have any further questions about my background, Michael?" "Not right now." "Well, let's get started then." She looked deeply into Michael's eyes for several seconds as if she was trying to see into his soul. In that short interval, Michael could hear the soft sound of mourning doves calling outside the window, the ticking of the clock on the mantle and a door closing somewhere in the house.
Finally, Alberta gave an almost imperceptible nod. "We talked this morning of how Allen and I came to be here in Berryville, and specifically in this house. I want to begin the explanation of how I came to know the importance of the house and the effects it has on some people.
"This is a little difficult for me because only a very few people, whom I've known a long time, know anything about this story. It's strange to be telling it now to someone I barely know, even though I am sure that I can trust you." She took a deep breath and, with some hesitancy, started speaking. *** Because he had taken some time off due to the move, the solitude meant Allen and I had a lot of time just for the two of us. We got accustomed to being able to spend hours with each other doing whatever we felt like.
Of course, there was a great deal to do around the house. Even after the repairs, just getting the rooms in order that we wanted to start using immediately was quite a chore. It was like a giant dollhouse.
We worked from room to room moving the existing furniture and placing the few items we had brought with us, taking out things that just didn't suit us and rearranging the rest.
By the time evening arrived, we were usually too tired for much more than eating dinner and cuddling or reading before going to bed. Our lovemaking was enhanced by the new surroundings and our being unrestrained in when or where we could be together, and it was very satisfactory—at least to me. I naively thought we were free with our sex play and that our experimentation was wild beyond belief!
Except for our friends Elizabeth and Edward from the city, we saw less and less of other people and we were getting lost in each other.
This life style made me very happy because I felt very safe in the house. In fact, I got more and more preoccupied with the house. I actually got so that I hated to go to the clinic! The only time I wanted to leave the house was to go with Allen on one of his business trips. I was becoming a bit of a recluse and did not realize it. After we had been living in the house for about six months, we found the time to explore the rooms on the third floor.
Because there were so many of them, I had left them until Allen was home and we could look through them together. When I was alone I had been working in the basement. One Saturday, after breakfast, we made our way up the stairs and chose a room at random to start.
The room was full of wooden boxes. The first thing we did was clean them and move them into the hall. Our strategy was to empty the room, clean it, and then sort through the boxes as we put them back into the room. After several hours, the room was cleaned and we began opening boxes, carefully taking out the contents and deciding what we should keep. The first few boxes had linens in various states of disrepair.
Most of the boxes had clothing or toys, all kinds of things left from previous inhabitants. The last few boxes we had to go through we had found hidden deep in a closet. We carried them down here where we could spread out the contents and where there was plenty of light. I remember that day so well. Allen had gone to get a cup of coffee and I had started taking items out of one of the boxes and putting them on the floor.
I couldn't identify what they were, but when Allen came back in he picked up several of the pieces and examined them with a great deal of interest. Finally, I saw something I did recognize. It was a whip. Allen cleared his throat, and cast a glance at me. "What in the world is all of this stuff?" "It looks like someone had an interesting hobby," Allen replied. "And whoever it was was very thorough in collecting the remarkable accoutrements." He reached into the box and pulled out what looked like metal rings lined in fur Each had a smaller ring attached to it.
I hadn't a clue what they were used for. Instead of just a glance, Allen turned his full attention to me. After our day spent cleaning and emptying boxes, both of us were pretty dirty. I had on a short sleeved shirt and slacks, both covered with dust. My hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, and my face was smudged with the normal grime one encounters when cleaning rooms that have long been neglected.
But when Allen looked at me, nothing short of lust burned in his eyes. I gasped at the demand I saw in his eyes and my body responded immediately to him. I felt my nipples harden and a tell-tale wetness moisten my panties. Allen looked at the metal ring he held and inspected it until he found a hidden latch, which he opened. He looked up to check where I was and to determine the best path across the floor toward me, rather like a big cat looking for the best way to stalk the gazelle.
Allen approached sinuously, and before I knew it he was beside me. "Allen, what is that?" "It's very interesting," he said in a deep voice. Allen, who is a couple of inches taller than I, bent to brush his tongue across my lips.
He didn't touch me otherwise, but he breathed deeply and I knew he could detect the scent of musk generated by the moisture between my legs. I felt a softness on my wrist and when I looked, Allen had slipped the metal ring around my wrist and latched it closed. He looked down at my wrist, then looking into my eyes, held out the second metal ring.
"Wrist cuffs," he said by way of explanation. Without saying a word, I held out my other arm so that he could attach the cuff. I don't know what made me acquiesce. It was certainly foreign to my thinking, to be cuffed or restrained in any way. I loved Allen and trusted him, but physically I was unused to the thought of relinquishing control. I heard a growl, and I shot Allen a startled look. It was he, pulling me into his arms and thrusting his tongue deep into my mouth. He rubbed his hands around the cuffs, and then pulled my arms behind my back where he held them with one of his large hands.
His other hand pressed my shoulder to force me to my knees, breaking the kiss as he did so. As I knelt before him, breathing hard and wondering what would happen next, I saw Allen remove a third ring from his pocket. This one had smaller rings on opposing sides. I hadn't seen him hide it, but it worried me now, because I didn't know where it would go. I glanced at Allen. His eyes, normally a deep blue, were as dark as midnight.
His mouth was set in a small smile, the ends barely turned up, and he looked at me hungrily. My hands had stayed behind my back of their own volition, leaving Allen free now to lift my ponytail and latch the ring around my neck.
It was like a leash. If I hadn't wanted Allen so much, I would have felt humiliated. Instead, I only wanted him; I wanted him to hold me until I became part of him, to kiss me until I could only feel, and to fill me with all that he had. Nothing else mattered at that moment. Allen stroked my cheeks with his thumbs, and then ran one across my lips. I took it in my mouth. With his other hand, he unzipped his pants and unbuckled his belt. His pants fell around his ankles.
He released his shaft, fully engorged and stiff, so that it dangled before my lips. Allen pulled me forward by my ponytail with one hand and used the other to guide his shaft into my mouth. Immediately, I gagged. He pushed my head against him and thrust into me. I resisted, but had nowhere to go.
With no recourse, my tongue rasped over his member and my lips caressed him. "Oh, baby. You feel it, don't you?" Allen gasped. My hands came from behind my back and I pushed against his legs until I was free. Allen seemed not to mind, as he dropped to his knees before me and once again took my mouth in a fierce kiss, biting my lower lip, which only fired my responses. I whimpered, and he groaned. He turned me on my back and roughly pulling my pants and panties from me, and pushing his own shorts below his hips.
I couldn't wait much longer to have him inside me. To my consternation, he looked on the table beside the box for something before he joined me. "Allen, come here. I need you!" "I know. You feel it too." He pulled my left arm so that the wrist cuff met the neck cuff and attached a tiny lock, effectively keeping my arms restrained and my breasts fully exposed.
"No!" I said sharply before he latched my right arm to the neck cuff. "No, I don't want that. I can't move…" "Okay, for now," he said gruffly.
He began to unbutton my shirt, but impatiently tore the buttons before he could finish it. Immediately, he latched his mouth to a breast and sucked it through my bra until it was wet from his ministrations. The feeling of his hot mouth and tongue through the fabric was almost more than I could stand, and by the time he finally sank deep into me, I was ready to come.
I felt him convulse and send streams of juices into me just after my contractions came.
With a loud groan, Allen rolled off of me, dragging me with him, keeping us connected. I straddled him and began a slow circling movement with my hips. One hand was still fastened to the neck cuff and I put my other arm around my neck. Allen reached up to massage my breasts and pinch my nipples. The slight pain I felt with the pinching, just added to the excitement building inside me.
Soon, Allen was pumping me full again. I fell on his chest, unable to move, unable to breathe. I could tell from his breathing that Allen was just as overcome. We had never been as free with our sex before--not just the physical actions, but with the mental and emotional wantonness we had exhibited. Allen removed the lock, and my left arm dropped to my side.
The smell of sex was overpowering as I pushed myself off of Allen to lie on the floor beside him. When I was able to speak I asked, "What just happened here?" "It was incredible," Allen said. "I didn't think you would ever let go of yourself and give yourself to me." "Give myself to you?
What are you talking about? I give myself to you every time we make love." Allen turned his head to look at me, and I saw the truth reflected in his eyes.
I really had been naïve. "No, Alberta, you haven't. I've never said anything because I know how hard it is for you, but tonight is as close as you've ever come. For me, this was the best we've ever been." As I watched, I saw a flash of midnight in his eyes, a reminder of what he had been while he was restraining me and preparing to thrust himself into my mouth. Tears came to my eyes. "Sweetheart, don't cry." Allen sat up and removed each of the cuffs.
"Why don't you go up and take a shower? I'll take care of these things." I went upstairs and climbed into the shower. My body was already a little stiff from being on the floor, but the water made me feel better. When I came out, Allen had removed the boxes and all of the items. I assumed he put them back upstairs, but I didn't ask. I was actually totally confused. I had given up more control that night than I had ever, even with Allen whom I loved and trusted.
Part of me—a large part, I had to admit—wanted to give up even more. I felt sated and content, but still I wanted more. I wanted to feel what it would be like to be absolutely dominated, with no control or responsibility for action other than what I was commanded.
And that feeling was so alien to my nature that it frightened me half to death. *** Alberta leaned forward and stopped the recorder. "I think that's about enough for today, Michael. What do you say?" Michael was stunned, and as hard as a rock after listening to her story. "Yes, it gives me plenty to think about." She laughed and said, "I thought it might.
If you would like to go up and freshen up for dinner, please do so. I have a few things to do, and then I will meet you in the dining room in thirty minutes. Does that suit?" "Yes, thanks. I would like to take a little time to get my thoughts organized." He knew that he would not be able to get up for a few minutes. The tightness in his groin had started as soon as Alberta spoke of surrendering to Allen, and he was now rock hard.
He would certainly have to get this under control, and soon. As if Alberta knew exactly what Michael was thinking and experiencing, Alberta smiled as she got up to leave.
"Take your time," she said, and left him alone in the Great Room. When he could move comfortably, he picked up the recorder and made his way to his room where he numbered the tapes, then sat in a chair and reflected on what he'd seen and heard during the day. It was not exactly what he'd been expecting! He glanced out the window into the vegetable garden. It was very large, and he wondered who supported it.
"There must be staff I don't know about," he murmured. He found himself hoping that among the staff there would be a little French maid who would help relieve him of the physical urges embracing him every time he was around Alberta.
If only he'd known! Chapter 4: The moon was high and full. The wind blew softly through the curtains--just slightly moving them--bringing the scent of gardenias into the room, sweet and overpowering. Overpowered. That was how Michael felt. He opened his eyes and saw a room in shadows.
The covers were off him, lying in a pile at the bottom of the bed, and he was naked. When he glanced down the length of his body he realized that he was hard and throbbing with need. From the left side of the bed came a whisper of a sound, but when he looked nothing was there. He closed his eyes and tried to relax but there was no relief.
He could have sworn he felt lips teasing the tip of his member and gentle hands stroking him, but he knew no one else could be in the room because he had left the key partially turned in the lock. As his rock hard rod was sucked and massaged, his hips began thrusting to that timeless beat. He was a captive, unable to move his hands or legs, but that didn't matter.
A mouth had him in its grip. Teeth gently raked his shaft on the way up and a tongue soothed on the way down.
Faster and faster the head moved, sucking hard as it reached the pinnacle of his rod on every ascent. He finally opened his eyes and saw to his astonishment, the figure of a woman, small, with long black hair screening what appeared to be a naked body, kneeling over his mid-section. Her head moved up and down, her hair beat a tattoo against his thighs and her hands held firmly to the base of his rod while her mouth worked its magic. Faster and faster she pumped as he closed his eyes again and gave in to the rhythm and sensation of the greatest blowjob he'd ever experienced.
Just as he was about to explode he tried to pull out, but she held him tightly and only stepped up the pace of her tongue and mouth. If anything, she took him deeper into her mouth and throat. He couldn't stand it and he exploded, shooting his juices into her mouth. She continued sucking and running her tongue over him until he had expended all he had, then she licked his member clean and caressed it with her hair. He could barely move a muscle, but he forced his eyes open. He wanted to see this beauty, kiss her, hold her.
Thank her. But there was no one there. Michael still could not move his limbs, but from the bed he peered into the room, trying to invade the dark shadows in the corners. No one. Suddenly, he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer and he fell back into a deep sleep. When Michael next opened his eyes, daylight was coming through the window. The curtains were still and the covers were pulled up over him, although he was still naked.
It took him a moment to recognize where he was--Alberta Baker's old house, second floor guest room. The alarm clock on the bedside table registered 7:15. Time to get up and get going if they were to keep to the schedule Alberta had set.
He stretched and then lay there a moment longer, going over the dream he had had the night before. Of course, it was a dream, but he hadn't had many dreams like that since he'd been a teenager, and none of them had been so realistic or powerful.
They had also left stains on the bedcovers, which had embarrassed him to the point that he had started doing his own laundry.
He looked at the sheets and found there were no stains at all. Peculiar. He stretched again and got up to shower. When Michael got downstairs he found Alberta at the breakfast table sipping coffee and reading a large book. She was already dressed in a beautiful creamy colored silk blouse that emphasized her shapely torso. She wore the same locket she had worn the previous morning, and small gold earrings. Her hair was worn down again, but held off of her face with two gold hair combs.
"Good morning! I hope you slept well. I know sometimes it's hard to adjust to a new bed and surroundings. What would you like for breakfast?" "Just some coffee and toast will be fine.
I slept very well, thanks. The bed is very comfortable and there was a nice breeze through the window. I did wake once last night and the fragrance of gardenias was wonderful." "Really? I'm surprised you could smell the gardenias. They're on the far side of the house, and almost past their bloom. But they are a magnificent flower, aren't they? So old fashioned, yet so timeless.
Will you be ready to start the interview again around 9:00, or is there anything else you need to take care of first?" "No, I will be ready as soon as I finish breakfast." "Okay, good. If you don't mind my leaving you here, I will take care of a couple of things before we get started. I'll ask Henry to bring a tray with some coffee into the great room, so when you finish eating just go on in.
After these few tasks I will be yours for the rest of the day." Michael couldn't think of anything that would make him happier than having Alberta be his for the day, and once again he experienced that tightness in his groin that he had felt almost the whole time while being with her. It was irritating as hell, but not something he could control.
"I'll see you in a few minutes." She picked up her book and stood, revealing a soft rust colored skirt that extended just below her knees, and matching suede flat shoes. He had never known a woman to exude such sensuality, in such an unaffected way. She smiled at Michael and left the room. He finished his toast and coffee, picked up the tape recorder and headed for the great room. Presently, Alberta came into the room, poured herself a cup of coffee from the silver pot on the table and sat down in the large overstuffed chair she had used the afternoon before.
She tossed off her shoes and pulled her feet up under her. "Well, shall we begin? Do you have any questions from yesterday's work that you'd like to address first?" "I was wondering how you are keeping all of this straight," Michael said.
"You've been relating a story that, based on the way you're telling it, could have happened just last week instead of almost 40 years ago. You have a remarkable memory." "It's not as remarkable as you think. I kept a journal of these unusual occurrences as they started to become obvious. So it isn't simply memory that I'm relying on. I tried to note things in a factual manner, and being a doctor and having to keep patient charts up to date, I've had some practice.
I have also gone back and reviewed my notes periodically. Some of the events I am telling you about made quite an impression as they were happening. I have been trying to be as detailed as possible, so I'll take your question as an affirmation that I've done a good job on that score," she smiled and casually flipped a hand in the air. "And frankly, in the earlier parts I simply made up some of the details." They laughed. "Anything else?" Michael was a little embarrassed to ask her any questions regarding the remarkable story about her and Allen's sex life, so he shook his head.
Again, seeming to read his mind, she smiled and asked, "No questions at all? Even about our sexual play that I told you about yesterday? I thought you were a reporter." She chuckled and at a shake of the head from him she said, "Don't be nervous Michael. You will understand more and more as we go along, I promise." With still no questions from him, Alberta gave a little sigh and then continued, "Michael, you might wonder at some of the things I tell you.
You might question why I am telling you things that seem so personal, or you might think that one story has no bearing on another. I tell you now that if you have patience, all will make sense. She leaned forward to pick up her cup and saucer. "Okay, I believe yesterday I had finished describing how Allen and I came to be in this room lying on the floor in each other's arms.
Now I would like to tell you about something slightly different. If there is any single event that set the direction for our life in this house this may have been it. It happened the week just after we discovered the restraints, while Allen was at work." *** When we moved into the house, the basement walls were covered with plaster. I liked the look of the stone so I had been removing the plaster to get down to the stone below it.
I was almost finished with the last wall when a thunderous crack made me jump back from the wall. I thought the foundation had given way, and was horrified at the thought! When I examined the wall, the stone I had been working on was recessed and there was a gap around some of the stones to my right. The stones themselves weren't cracked but the joints had given way. I guess it was just an automatic reaction, but I reached to push on the recessed stone, then quickly brought my arms back to my sides and backed up.
I stared at the opening, wondering what to do. Should I go upstairs and wait for Allen? I took a step forward, then stopped again. I walked around the basement for a few moments, trying to think about what I had found. I felt the calmness that always came over me when I reached a decision, and I knew I didn't want to sit by and wait for Allen.
I had to see what was on the other side of that wall. I strode forward and pushed the stone. It receded further and the stones on one side of the crack protruded. The further in I pushed the stone, the more the others moved. Then I noticed that the protruding stones had notches on the ends, like handholds.
I took hold and pulled. By expending some effort, I was able to open a section about five feet by five feet. My heart just about stopped! Hidden passages are not something I had expected to find in my own house.
They belonged in Gothic tales or science fiction. However, right here, in my own basement, I had apparently found exactly that. A concealed passage or room of some sort!
I looked into the blackness behind the stone door, but saw nothing. It was if light stopped at the stone opening and could not pierce beyond it. I felt a wave of fear wash over me again, but something was forcing me on. I blocked the door open with a small piece of wood and searched through Allen's tool chest to find the brightest light I could. I shone it into the opening and saw a vague outline of what looked like a room.
My curiosity was definitely aroused, but so was a healthy dose of caution. I put a larger block of wood in the doorway before ducking through to get a better look. I found myself in a large stone room. A heavy wooden desk and chair and some other things, which I did not recognize, were just off to my right.
There was a slight musty odor, but it wasn't as bad as I had thought it might be in a room that had obviously been closed for many years. There were cobwebs everywhere. The silence of the room was deafening, if you know what I mean.
It was so silent, I felt I could easily hear my heart pounding. In one of the corners was a small firebox, and the ceiling sloped up to an opening. I passed the beam of light further around the room and let it sit on the desk where several dust covered books were stacked.
Suddenly, the hair on the back of my neck stood up and I gave a little shiver. I half expected a wizard to pop up from behind the desk. I noticed that the wall to my left had a door and so did the one directly across from me.
Strangely enough I wasn't really scared, just curious, so I went to the door on the left and pulled it open. In the flashlight gleam, I could see a hall with several doors on each side; each door had a latch so that it could only be opened from the hallway. Each also had a small hole so that someone could see in the rooms without opening the doors. The rooms were all the same, about ten feet square with only the minimal amount of furniture--a bed, a small chair and a chamber pot.
I retreated to the central, larger room and then went to the other door. I opened it bravely and shone the light in, then I just froze and stared. The room was so large the light didn't touch the far wall. What I could see made me stunned and a little frightened! It was full of things I had only seen in horror films, like chains on the walls and what looked like torture devices. I realized with a start that I had found a real dungeon, with a torture chamber, right in the basement of my wonderful, old house.
I didn't stay there any longer! I closed the door on the torture chamber, and walked as quickly as I could through the other room to return to what I had thought earlier was the entire basement. I was still shaking as I pushed the heavy stone door closed, and I sat in a chair trying to gain control of myself.
After a few minutes I looked at the wall and realized I could not identify the door or the special stone, and for some reason it seemed vitally important that I find it. I got up and walked to where I thought the stone was. I pushed several, finally finding the one that opened the door.
I counted the stones from the corner and from the floor, then pushed the door closed again and sat back down in the chair. It's hard to relate to someone now, but my emotions were out of control and I was completely disconcerted.
After finding the torture chamber, strange feelings and thoughts were passing through my mind. It was almost as though I could hear voices (or at least noises) and they were trying to communicate with me in some fashion. I wasn't sure what was happening, but something fundamental in me was changing. I needed to regain my composure, so I stumbled upstairs to make some tea.
I sat for quite a long time holding my steaming cup of tea and thinking back over events as they had been happening. It was apparent to me that the house had an ambience unlike anyplace I'd ever been.
At times, it felt controlling and overpowering, but it had never felt frightening. In fact, in all the time I had spent here alone, the first time I had experienced fright was when I saw the torture chamber. Thinking back, I realized that there was really nothing to be frightened of. There were no skeletons or bones lying around; I didn't see blood spots or any evidence of violence.
It was just the thought of what might have gone on in there that made me uneasy. I appreciated that when we found the restraints on the third floor our sex life had started to change. I was raised to be an independent woman. I had forged my way through many years of college and work and didn't like giving up control of anything, so in the best of times our sex life was never a totally freeing experience, even here.
But since finding the restraints, I had discovered my attitudes changing slightly. I also noticed changes in my body. I found myself thinking sexy thoughts more frequently and my body responded to them quickly and in a demanding way.
I hadn't talked to Allen about this but I found myself hungry for him more and more often. In the torture chamber, I had felt an overpowering draw of sexual tension and surrender, such as I had never experienced, and that had frightened me more than the thoughts of torture itself. I could almost smell the musk of sex in the room.
Or maybe that was my imagination. After fixing my tea that afternoon, I came into the great room and settled on the sofa--right where you are now, in fact. Quickly, I fell asleep. As I slept, I had a dream about Allen and me. In my dream, I took him to the secret rooms and the dungeon. He looked carefully around the main room and less carefully down the hallway of cells, just checking them to see if there was anything of interest.
In the torture chamber, he stood and gazed in awe at the items still there, and the size and scope of the room. He moved through it and touched some of the chains on the walls, feeling and pulling on them as if to test their strength. I sensed something was wrong but didn't retreat from the room. When Allen finished making the tour he came back to me, just where I stood barely inside the door, holding a flashlight. Allen took the flashlight and put it on the floor where it gave off an eerie light across the walls.
His face was thrown into shadow as he took my arms and forced them behind me, holding them with one of his strong hands. I was overcome with dread but still made no attempt to escape. Truth to tell, I didn't think it would make any difference had I tried to escape.
I felt I had no option but to stand and face my fate. With his other hand, Allen roughly squeezed my breast. It hurt and I whimpered at that, but it only made him squeeze harder. He kissed me hard too, forcing his tongue between my lips and taking rough control of my mouth.
I could hardly breathe, but Allen's breath was coming fast. His knee forced my legs apart and his hand went from my breast, where he'd been pinching my nipple, to the waistband of my pants, which he ripped open. He slid his hand between my legs and cupped me.
He rubbed hard, pulling my hair, and then shoved his finger inside of me. He chuckled a little when he had done that, but by then I had tears running down my cheeks as I realized that my husband was raping me. Allen now had three fingers inside me and was moving them in and out quickly, but forcefully.
To my shame I felt myself responding and even rubbing against his hand. He released my wrists but he moved his mouth to my ear and said, "Leave your hands behind you or I'll tie them there. Do you hear?" I nodded. "Say, `Yes, Master.'" "Yes, Master," I managed, between sobs.
With his hand still raking my mound, he backed me up to a wall. All the time he was backing me up he was whispering in my ear, "I know you like this, Slave, feeling my fingers inside you, rubbing you as I am now." His voice was low and husky, and it almost didn't sound like Allen.
I was frightened I don't mind telling you, even though intellectually I knew that I was having a dream. "I know you want me to keep touching you like this, Slave, but I have other plans for you." He pushed me against the wall, pulled his hand from my pants and backed up slightly. I looked up into his face and saw something that frightened me even more than I had been before. He was breathing hard. His eyes were glazed and alight with lust as they looked into mine. Then he smiled languidly and moved his eyes down my body.
He reminded me of a cat appraising a mouse. My tears didn't move him at all. In fact, he seemed to enjoy my reactions to his control. "Slave, take off your clothes. Look at me as you do so." I stood there in shock, without doing anything.
Allen smiled, then turned and walked a short distance, reached down to the floor, straightened up and strolled back toward me. In his hand he held a leather strap. My mouth fell open and I looked from it to Allen and back to it. Allen flicked the strap against my legs and said, "Slave, take off your clothes. Look at me as you do so." I took a deep breath and brought my hands to the buttons on my blouse. I looked down to see what I was doing and felt the leather strap across my legs again, a little harder.
I looked up at Allen and continued unbuttoning my blouse. I dropped it to the floor. Lifting each leg, I untied and removed my shoes and socks. I pushed the torn waistband of my pants down, stepped out of them and kicked them aside. It was difficult keeping my eyes on Allen while doing all of this, but if I moved my eyes off of his face, I felt the leather strap, each time a little harder than before.
As I hesitated, I felt the strap again. I reached behind me and unhooked my bra, then let it drop off of my shoulders. I tried to remember that this was Allen, my husband, the man I loved, and that he wouldn't really harm me. There was no reason to feel shame or humiliation, but I did just the same. I pushed my underpants to the floor and stepped out of them. Allen again looked me over, smiling, then he met my eyes. "Slave, take off my clothes now.
Caress me as you do so." I reached up and undid the buttons on his shirt, then pushed it off of his shoulders and down his arms. When I moved on to his pants I felt the strap across my legs once again. I looked up questioningly and the tears started falling. "I said to caress me as you do so, Slave. Can't you do this correctly?" he demanded. "Yes, Master. I will try to do better." "See that you do or these small strikes will seem like kisses compared to what I will do to you!" I rubbed his shoulders and the strong muscles in his arms.
I lifted the hand that didn't have the leather strap and kissed the palm. Then I slipped each of his fingers into my mouth and sucked them, running my tongue across them.
I took his hand and rubbed it across my breasts, then tongued the palm once more. I dropped his hand and took one of his nipples into my mouth, sucking it and tonguing it, making it stiff. Then I sucked the other nipple until it too was stiff. I could feel the leather strap softly flick across the backs of my legs.
It didn't hurt, just served to remind me that the threat was still there. My tongue and lips slowly moved down Allen's torso. As my breasts moved across his midriff, I could feel how hard he was, and I heard him sigh. I settled onto my knees, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans, pulling them to his ankles. He slipped out of his loafers and I pulled his jeans the rest of the way off.
I kissed his thighs, put one of my hands between his legs and pulled him to me, rubbing my face against his crotch. After a few seconds, I heard Allen say, "Enough of this, Slave.
Get on with it." I pulled his briefs down. His member was huge, full, and hard. He kicked his briefs away, grabbed my hair and pushed my face into his crotch.
"Open your mouth and do your job, Slave." He added a hard strike with the leather strap and I cried out. Although I was crying, I took his sex into my mouth and sucked it. Allen still had hold of my hair and pulled me so that his member went swiftly in and out of my mouth. It wasn't very long before I felt him convulse and shoot his juices down my throat. I gagged and most of his juices spilled out of my mouth.
I'd taken Allen in my mouth before, but he always pulled out before he came because he knew I really didn't like the taste of his juice. But this time he kept his rod in my mouth until he was finished and then said, "Suck it clean, Slave." It was a struggle for me, but I did so. He pulled my head back and looked at me. "Good slave. Because you've been so good I am going to ravage you until you feel it all over." "Allen, please don't" He slapped me.
Not very hard, but enough to let me know who was in control. "You don't talk to me, Slave, unless I ask you to. Your job is to serve." When he slapped me I could see his member start to enlarge again. Now it was almost the same size it had been when I had begun sucking him. He pulled me to my feet and forced me against the wall again. Just above me was a chain with handcuffs attached to it. Allen dropped the leather strap and pulled my hands over my head, forcing me onto my toes before locking the cuffs around my wrists.
He looked at the tears running down my face and chuckled. He wiped them with his thumb and said, "Don't cry, Slave, I'm going to make you feel real good." His voice was once again low and husky and I could feel his sex hard and firm pressing against my belly. Against my will, I was aroused and I could feel the wetness between my legs. Allen kissed me roughly, pushing his tongue into my mouth and taking thorough control with the movement.
At the same time, he lifted one of my legs, hooked his arm under my knee and brought it level to his waist. With one swift push, his member invaded my slit. My cry was cut short because his mouth covered mine.
He didn't rest, but immediately started pumping me, pushing me against the rough stone walls. He took his mouth off of mine, his breath hot and ragged. He reached down with his free arm and hooked it under the knee of my other leg. I was hanging by my wrists with both legs held at his waist, and with my back banging against the hard stone as he pumped me. He leaned forward and took my earlobe into his mouth and nipped at it.
He lowered his mouth to do the same to my neck. I started crying in earnest as his teeth grazed and bit my neck and his sex impaled me. I thought it would never end. I opened my eyes and looked out into the dungeon.
There was mostly darkness with the flashlight just barely providing enough to see to the other wall of the room. Suddenly, from out of the shadows a figure emerged.
It was obviously a man, in a long, dark brown cowl. As he moved further into the room, he lifted the hood back from his face. It was Allen's face! I gasped and looked down at the head currently biting my neck. The hair color was totally different from Allen's. The man who was pumping me furiously was not my husband.
As if he realized what I was thinking, he looked up at me and smiled. He had hard, gray eyes and a wide mouth, which he once again used to take possession of mine. He changed position slightly and extended the pumping motion of his penis. I lost all control and felt myself totally immersed in sensation. There was no thought, no restraint in me, and all I knew was the feel of this stranger's body in mine.
I suddenly responded to him and trembled with a tremendous climax, unlike anything I had known before. My moans went into his mouth as his tongue pushed against mine, and I knew he could feel the involuntary convulsions of my body as it grasped his rod in a tightening hold. He actually chuckled, and I could feel his semen fill my belly. In one long push, he held me tightly against the wall as he emptied himself into me.
I opened my eyes and saw Allen, still standing in the middle of the dungeon. He was smiling at me. When the stranger finally withdrew from me and let my legs go, I found that I could barely stand. He leaned against me and whispered in my ear, "Slave, go and get me refreshment.
I need my strength because I'm not finished with you yet. I think you've got a nice little bum-hole that I want to explore. Get food and come directly back, do you understand?" With that he released my wrists, and I crumpled to the ground. When I looked up, it was Allen I was looking at.
The apparition in the brown robe was nowhere to be seen, disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared. "Yes, Master," I mumbled. I gathered my strength and slowly came to a standing position. I made my way to the door with his mocking laughter ringing in my ears.
As I got through the doorway into the basement, I closed the secret door and blocked it shut. I could hear Allen from the other side, muffled, but still clearly calling my name.
Suddenly I came awake. I was on the couch here. The French doors to the patio revealed that it was already dark. How long had I slept? I think it was early afternoon when I laid down.
Someone really was calling my name. It sounded like Allen, from the direction of the kitchen. I felt my face and found that I had indeed been crying. The dream felt very real to me, and even more so when I attempted to get up. I was very sore in my private area. My wrists had faint markings on them, as if I had been handcuffed, and my legs ached as though they had been struck.
I sat there in a daze as Allen came through the door. "Oh, there you are. Didn't you hear me calling?" He stopped abruptly and took in my condition.
"Alberta, sweetheart, what's wrong. You look awful! Are you alright?" He strode across the room and took me in his arms, cradling me as I started to cry once again. He held me like that, kissing me tenderly until I finally stopped crying. "What is it? What's happened?" "Nothing. I guess I fell asleep and had a horrible nightmare. I'm glad you're home. I'll be all right now." "Well, just lie here a little while longer.
I'll go and change then fix us something for dinner. Will you be okay for a few minutes?" Clearly, he was worried about me--I must have looked dreadful. I felt safe now that he was here and the nightmare started to fade from my memory. "Of course. I think I will just sit here for a few minutes though, and clear the cobwebs from my head.
I'll see you when you get back down." When Allen had gone upstairs, I reflected on the dream again. My condition indicated that what had happened to me was more than a simple nightmare. But for some reason I wasn't ready to discuss it with Allen yet.
Nor was I ready to show him the secret rooms. I had not felt any dread until I had gone into the dungeon, so I resolved to stay out of there until I could figure out more of what had happened to me.
I had been sure in my dream that the Master was Allen, then just as sure that it wasn't, until the end, when it again seemed to be Allen. What did that mean? I was aware of how some of my desires had changed since we had found the restraints. Did this indicate how much Allen had changed too? By the time Allen came back down, I was once more in control of myself. *** Alberta stopped speaking and sat quietly, looking at Michael as if to gauge his reaction to her recitation. Even though he deplored the notion of rape, he was very excited from listening to her.
It made him a little ashamed, but in fact, there was no controlling his body. The idea of having a woman totally at his command was exciting, and even though he had never thought he could hurt a defenseless woman or force her to satisfy him, the thought was titillating, nonetheless.
He hoped none of this was displayed in his expression as Alberta watched him. "It's all right, Michael. It is rather stimulating to hear it told. I understand. No need to feel ashamed." Once again, Alberta demonstrated that amazing ability to read his thoughts, and it was disconcerting. "I'm sorry, Alberta. I know that the nightmare must have been horrible for you. An observer doesn't begin to understand what you felt, even knowing that it was a dream." "Later, from the advantage of time, I was able to look back on the episode and understand it more fully.
Even though it was a dream, I had a choice. I could have left the dungeon at the very beginning. I could have been more assertive, even as I felt Allen taking control. But I chose not to. While it was frightening at the time, the message was for me to submit, which I did. I had a great reward, in an earth-shattering climax. My first, but not my last. Through my dream, I was beginning to learn what submission to Allen could bring me. And it also taught me that Allen was changing from living here, even as I was." Alberta considered Michael for a moment.
"You really must be finding this very strange. I've never considered how this story must sound to someone not actually experiencing it, but believe me, it was pretty strange to those of us experiencing it too." She sat back against the cushion and tapped her lips with her index finger, regarding Michael.
"But I think you already understand some of the strange feelings and desires generated in the house, don't you? Have you had any unusual happenings since you've been here?" Michael didn't answer, but his astonishment must have shown clearly on his face because Alberta laughed and said, "I thought so.
Good! Now you know you can feel free to talk to me about it or ask questions." "Well, I don't think I totally understand what you mean, but thanks. If anything really unusual starts happening I will come to you." Just the thought of his experiences during the night made him hard as a rock, but that was certainly nothing he wanted to talk to Alberta about! Alberta looked at her watch. "Believe it or not, it's time for a lunch break.
Would you like to go to your room and freshen up? I'll meet you in the dining room in a few minutes." With that, she got up and left. Michael turned off the recorder, and went to his room to find the bed made and fresh towels in the bathroom.
He used the bathroom and stood for a few minutes looking out the window. As he turned back into the room, he remembered his dream of the night before. The house and the interview were taking on a whole new light, what with sexy women coming out of the darkness and a torture chamber ready made in the basement!
He remembered just yesterday thinking that he hoped the story would unfold quickly so that he could get back to the city. Now he found himself hoping that the interview would stretch on longer than previously anticipated!