Death of a Master Ch. 07

"Ms. Thatcher," officer Phillips added, as they were leaving, "do you suppose that the next time I see you professionally, it could be for something minor, like a speeding ticket?"

"I'll do my best, officer, I'll do my best."

Valerie, who had, by now, woken up feeling nauseous, asked, "What the hell happened?"

"It was that creep, Sydney, from the pony girl show. Apparently, he's had cameras watching us for weeks. He, if you can believe him, super glued the links so the quick releases wouldn't work."

"Oh, Sally, I'm so sorry. I should have checked them. It's my fault..."

Sally smiled as Charles gave Valerie the same lecture he'd given her. "I said the same thing, Mistress. Master won't hear anything of it."

"The two of you are coming home with me. I don't want you in this house until the police have found and removed those damned cameras. Where's Susan, by the way?"

"She's spending the weekend with Fred and Daphne. With all that's happened to her with Calvin's death, I'm glad she wasn't here to be attacked as well."

"I agree. Come on, slaves, get up and dressed. I'm taking you home and putting you to bed."

Valerie had to move slowly due to the lingering effects of, what turned out to be, chloroform poisoning, but they soon found themselves in Charles' car, heading back to his mansion. On the way, Sally called the police and let them know where they would be for the next few days for further interviews, if needed.

Nadine and Herman met them at the door and assisted the two women upstairs to one of the guest bedrooms. Once the two were safely in bed (both realized how exhausted the events had left them), Nadine took Charles aside.

"Master, I was watching the whole thing on the live feed, and the most curious thing happened. The feed stopped as soon as the police showed up, and within minutes, the web site no longer existed. That couldn't have been the attacker. I don't think it was an accomplice either. I mean, someone in on the attack would have cut the feed before the attack. Maybe the attacker was just an opportunistic bastard."

"No, according to Sally, it was someone they'd had an encounter with at the pony girl fair. I'm sure he was the one who set up the cameras."

"But that means...Master, the web host, maybe he's the opportunistic one. You don't suppose he found the signal and decided to take advantage of it?"

"That might be the case. Ordinarily, I'd be upset with whoever he or she is, but if he hadn't, Valerie and Sally would have suffered much more than they did."

"Do you think they'll ever find out who put the site up?"

"I have every intention of finding out myself. I have some pretty good tech people working for me. Come on, slave, I don't want to sleep alone tonight."

"Yes, Master."

*****

Valerie woke up in an unfamiliar bed, in the arms of a very familiar woman. Truthfully, the bed wasn't entirely unfamiliar, merely recently unfamiliar. "Morning, love," she whispered to the still sleeping form of Sally. She slowly disentangled herself from Sally and walked to the bathroom to shower. Under the hot water, the reality of what had happened the previous night crashed in on her and she sank to the floor of the tub in tears.

After several minutes, Sally stepped in and sat with Valerie, holding her as the horror of the attack worked its way through her heart. Sally herself wasn't as hard hit, emotionally, as she had been fighting against Sydney the entire time, albeit ineffectively. Valerie had been rendered helpless from the start, and had the added perception of being responsible for protecting Sally as well. The damage wasn't great, since the attack never culminated, but this grieving had to happen.

The cooling water brought Valerie back to her senses. "Thanks, Sally. I suppose I seem like a wimp."

"Never, Mistress. You have every reason to cry about what happened. I'm just glad it didn't get any worse." She turned the cold water down on the shower. "Come on, lets wash and join Master for breakfast."

Neither was in the mood to play at the moment, and well aware of how little hot water they had left. Soon they were clean, dry and dressed. They traced the familiar path from the upstairs bedrooms to the dining room on the first floor. Nadine was setting the table.

"Good morning you two. Are we feeling better today?"

"Yes, Nadine. A good sleep and a better cry was just what was needed. Is Master up?"

"Yes, he's seeing to Marcia right now. It's her weekend. He said you two should start as soon as you were up."

"Thanks, Nadine. I am hungry."

Several minutes later, Charles came in holding the cordless phone. "Just a minute, she's right here. Valerie, it's the police."

Valerie took the phone. "Yes, this is Valerie Burbon...I see...Today?...Yes, I can be there in an hour, is that okay?...You're welcome, detective." Valerie killed the connection and handed the phone back to Charles. "A detective Wilson wants to go over the house and look for the monitoring devices. I'm meeting him at the house in an hour. With a little luck, the invasion of our privacy will be over today."

Nadine swallowed hurriedly. "Valerie, from the videos that I saw on the site, you'll find cameras in the kitchen, bedroom, living room, bathroom, two different spots in the basement, and the front entryway."

"Nadine, print some stills that show the angle of the cameras for Valerie to take with her. That should make the process quicker for the detectives," Charles added.

Soon, both Sally and Valerie were at the house, waiting for the detectives. Because the cameras were, as far as they knew, still broadcasting, Valerie insisted they both wear conservative outfits. When the police arrived, Valerie l;et them in with, "Come in, please. I hope you can give us our privacy back. This may help. A friend, the one who discovered the site originally, printed these pictures."

One of the technicians took the prints. "Yes, the POVs are very specific." He took the photos and some equipment Valerie didn't recognize and went into their bedroom.

"Ms. Burbon, I need to ask some questions about the attack, if I may?" the detective asked.

"Of course. Anything we can do to help put this creep where he belongs."

"Do you know why he would try something like this?"

"Really, I can't say. Maybe he's nuts. Several weeks ago, at a...fetish convention, he tried to feel Sally up and I verbally forced him to back off. He wasn't very happy and seemed to think he had the right to, 'try out the merchandise,' as he put it.' I'm not sure where he got the idea."

"That squares with what he said. He claimed the two of you were, as women, natural slaves and he had the right to take you for his own. He said you had tacitly acknowledged that by wearing your slave accoutrements."

With disgust, Valerie spat, "Oh my God, he's a fucking Gorean."

"A Gorean? What's that?"

"They believe that all women are slaves and they make a nuisance of themselves in the lifestyle."

"No, not exactly, Mistress," Sally said, somewhat contritely. "That's not what everyone who identifies as Gorean believes."

"Wait, will someone explain just what your talking about?" the detective asked in exasperation.

"If I may," Sally asked of Valerie. At Val's nod, she turned back to the detective. "Many years ago, an author named, John Norman, wrote a series of books called the Gor series. Many people think of them as poorly written adolescent fantasies, but the people who enjoy the books do so for a variety of reasons. There's a strong domination and submission element to the books, especially after the third one. But the point of the stories, at least for those who are serious about their Goreanism, isn't about women being slaves; it's about people being true to who they really are; be it Master or slave. I know of two female Gorean Masters and one male Gorean slave. The problem comes from the internet. There are numerous, so called, Gorean roleplaying chat rooms out there, and the people who frequent those tend to be single minded on the sex slave thing; that all women are natural slaves and all men are natural Masters. People who actually live a Gorean lifestyle wish those wannabes would just go away."

"So what you're saying is that this guy, he's taken some badly written books and is trying to copy the tantalizing bits?"

"That's what it sounds like, detective."

One of the technicians came out of the bedroom holding something very small in a gloved (latex) hand. Detective, we found one of them. The photos made it pretty easy to find."

The device looked like an actual video camera that she might hook to her computer for video conferencing; but much smaller. It was about the size of a dime in its largest dimension, and would be easy to miss if you weren't looking for it. The thin wire coming off the back was actually larger than the device itself.

"Where..." Val started to ask.

"It was in the air return vent, ma'am. It was wired into the light switch below the vent for power." He pointed to the wire that had adhesive residue on it. "There was a seam in the wallpaper that he slipped the wire under when he was through. This a pretty expensive piece of equipment. Someone was really serious about keeping an eye on you, especially if the other cameras end up being as advanced."

"That's just creepy. These could be anywhere, and you'd never know."

"That's right, ma'am. Household James Bond. Excuse me, we need to get the rest of them."

The technicians found all the devices, everyone similar to the first. Every one had been installed in or near an electrical device, such as the bathroom exhaust fan, and wired directly into the power supply for the device. When they were all, bagged and tagged, as they say, the technician took the detective to the side.

"Sir, there has to be more. These things just don't have much range, broadcast wise. Either the perp was always nearby or there's a repeater nearby."

"How much range are we talking about, Jim?"

"Not more than 200 yards. Also, these things don't broadcast encrypted. Anyone with a wireless receiver that happened to be on the right channel could pick this up."

"So, that web site operator could have been someone else, just taking advantaged of the signal."

"It would make sense, sir. I know criminals aren't rocket scientists, but even the dumbest wouldn't broadcast his crime on the web, would he?"

"He broadcast it unscrambled over the airwaves, so I wouldn't' be too sure. Where would you hide the repeater, if you were going to do this?"

"Somewhere I could easily reach, that had power available, and that the women wouldn't be likely to go near..." he thought out loud while looking around. His eyes fixed on Valerie and Sally's cable TV hookup. "Give me a minute, boss." The technician went outside and returned several minutes later with a small black box. "It was stuck to their phone box and was drawing power directly from the system, just like a land line does. Not only that, but this thing," holding up the box, "streams its signal through the internet via any convenient wireless router. I'll have to hack it to find out just where it was sending the signal."

"Do you have everything," he asked.

"I think so. We certainly have all the cameras responsible for all the angles of shots we saw."

"Good, let's get out of these ladies' way. I'm sure they'd like their privacy back." He turned to Valerie and Sally who were still a bit numb from realizing just how thoroughly their lives had been invaded. "Ms. Burbon, Ms. Thatcher. I'm sorry for what happened, but your house should be free of unwanted surveillance now. I'm sure the prosecutor's office will be in touch with you, eventually. Good day."

Sally looked at Val. "God, I feel slimy; like I've been dragged through the muck."

"I know. To think that jerk was watching us; all our play, our sex, our lives."

Sally held up the photos. "And not just him. I mean, how many others got their jollies from watching us."

Both looked at the bathroom, feeling the need for a shower, but shuddered at the thought. Valerie spoke what was on both their minds. "No, I can't do it. I want to cleanse, somehow, but not here, not so soon after..."

"Mistress, let's go back to Master's place. I need to feel safe, and I'm not feeling that here."

The two left the house, wondering if they would ever feel they could live there and feel secure again. Tears came to both their eyes as they realized that something intangible had been taken from them; something they couldn't identify. At the mansion, Herman told them that Charles, Nadine and Marcia had gone to Mephisto's and were expected to be gone most of the night. The couple stayed in the mansion, not doing much and staying close to one another; not as Mistress and slave, but as friends and loves who needed the comfort of each other. They were asleep by the time Charles and his submissives returned from a night of fun.

At breakfast the next morning, they told Charles what had been found in the house. "Master," Valerie added at the end of the report, "I feel like something's been taken from me, but I don't know what. It's more," she continued after a few seconds thought, "than just our privacy. It's something even more basic, something even more important to who I...we...are. Does that make any sense?"

"I think it. Valerie, Sally, I've taken your privacy from you on many occasions. I've exposed you in public. I've been made you perform sexually for both friends and anonymous strangers. Valerie, you've put yourself on display every month for years, now at the auction. What made this different?"

Sally spoke, tears starting to fill her eyes. "It wasn't you, Master. We didn't choose to be exposed, and you didn't choose it either. It was taken from us."

Valerie's eyes widened. "No! Master, we were taken from you. He stole us from you. That's what I've been feeling, Master. I feel like I'm not yours because of this."

"Exactly, Valerie. Sydney, and whoever put you on the net, they stole you from me. I think," he said, throwing his napkin to his plate, "that I need to take you both back; the sooner the better."

He stood quickly, knocking his chair over, and marched to behind the two women. He grabbed their hair and pulled them to their feet with a sudden burst of motion. Both cried out at the shock and pain, their hands going instinctively to his. Without pausing, he started walking, dragging them with him. Val and Sally were forced to walk or have their hair pulled out, it seemed.

He took them downstairs, to the main dungeon. He casually tossed Val to the side, causing her to tumble in a heap. With deft hands, he took a hanging chain and clipped it to Sally's collar. It was just long enough that she had to stand on her toes to keep the chain from pulling her collar painfully against her neck. Her hands grasped the chain to steady herself.

Charles turned back to Valerie and grabbed her collar, slipping fingers between metal and neck, pulling it uncomfortably against the back of her neck. His other hand grabbed her dress and ripped it off with a savage jerk. Seams gave and the entire dress came off, leaving her nearly naked; the only things still covering her body were the stockings on her legs and shoes on her feet. The shoes were left behind when he dragged her to the stocks and lifted her head into the waiting groove.

"Hands!" he barked When Valerie didn't move, he slapped her face and repeated the order. "Hands, bitch. Put them in place or your suffering will magnify greatly."

Trembling, her mind not catching up to what was actually going on, Valerie slipped her hands into the intended grooves and felt the upper half close on her, locking her in the bent over position. Less than a minute later, her stockings were gone, shredded, and her feet locked in the lower part of the stocks.

Charles returned to Sally and slipped a d-ring through a loop in the chain and through the rings in Sally's cuffs, effectively locking her hands above her head. That done, he walked to the counter and picked out a thin, stiff, lexan cane. As he slowly walked back, he started addressing them. "You slaves had better learn this lesson quickly," he sneered. "You belong to me."

He swung the cane, catching Valerie's ass with a wicked blow that left an instant welt. Valerie screamed in pain, her body trying to move anywhere to avoid the burning sensation that lingered and the promise of more to come. Charles took a second swing, catching Sally's ass this time, leaving her dancing and breathless from the pain. With each stroke, back and forth between the two women, he droned on in a voice powerful enough to make itself understood over their own cries. "You're mine, sluts. You're not the property of some two bit Gorean wannabe. You're privacy is mine to give and to take. Your bodies are mine to use as I wish. You will submit to me, follow my commands, fuck whomever I order you to, suffer pain that I choose to inflict; and you'll thank me every time for whatever I give or inflict upon you." He stopped, looking at the well marked bodies of his two slaves. Both had been still that last few strokes, not trying to avoid the cane and the pain it brought with it. Softly, under their tears and sobs, both were whispering, "Thank you, Master. Yes, Master."

Charles' voice softened, his façade of anger dropped. "Valerie, how do you feel?"

"Owned, Master; owned by you."

"Sally, how about you?"

"Master, I...Thank you for dragging me back, Master."

As he released them, he continued to exert the ownership they so desperately needed. "I meant what I said, slaves. You're mine, and you'll suffer whatever I demand of you. Am I clear."

"Yes, Master," they answered. "I wouldn't have it any other way," Valerie added.

"Good. Now, follow me."

He led them to the shower room, motioning them to be still. He pulled a couple of small buckets, brushes, sponges and cleanser from a cabinet. "You're to clean the entire shower area, top to bottom. If there's even the slightest imperfection when I inspect it in four hours, you'll both be punished, severely. No play, no sex, no orgasms. Just clean."

As he left, both smiled grimly, knowing that, no matter how thorough they were, if their Master wanted to punish them, there would be something to find that wasn't perfect. As they worked, both felt the strangeness that had plagued them the last couple of days fade. Charles had taken them back, of that they had no doubt. If punishment was to come, they would embrace it as yet another evidence that they were, in fact, the slaves of Charles Vanquil.