Chapter 7
 

I had won the bet. She would be my bride at last. 'When' was another question altogether, but the 'if' part was now gone.
 

More to the immediate point of settling up the bet, my Sally had a bare pussy by noon. With all the frivolity and ribald comments during the procedure, I think we were both surprised there were no nicks or cuts. By 2:00 in the afternoon, I would estimate I had consumed at least a gallon of her cum. There is something about a smooth, hairless cunt that just tastes better. We were both looking forward to the frequent touch-ups. It was to become one of our favorite times together.
 

Originally, I had chosen this wager for the bet because I knew she wouldn't like it. Now, neither of us could understand why we had not done this earlier. She was so much more sensitive, responsive. And accessible. She would be shaved much longer than six months.
 

We were lying on the bed, head to toe. Or rather, heads to groins. I rolled over on my back, keeping her on top of me. I slowly moved my tongue over the length of her swollen slit. The aroma of all of the day's play combined into a heady mix. It was heavenly. My limp cock stirred.
 

She must have had her eyes open, as she immediately sucked in the pink head swelling right under her nose. Her next actions told me she was bent on bringing me off as fast as she could.
 

"Slowly, my love. Go to completion, but make it last." These commands were delivered around languorous licks to her slippery cunt.
 

She immediately slowed her actions, but she intensified the suction. It felt like she was trying to suck my balls up through my penis like chunks of strawberry fruit in a real milkshake that get stuck in the straw. I focused on her pleasure to take my mind off the feelings growing in my balls. I partially succeeded. She came three times before I exploded into her mouth.
 

Only then did I release her arms. She hadn't asked me to even then, but she had been bound for over 5 hours, without one complaint. She was very still as I massaged her shoulders, working out the kinks. When she stirred, I stopped. She rolled over, reached up and pulled me down to her. She held me so tight, I thought she would never let me go, and with the strength of her embrace, I knew I would never be able to break away. Not that I wanted to. She moved her lips to my ear.
 

"Thank you." Just that. Nothing more. Nothing more was needed.
 

And then the old Sally was back. In control, sure of herself, feisty, my lover, my equal.
 

It wasn't rocket science. But this much I had figured out: When she was bound, I was in total control. She didn't even want a safe-word. She had to explain what that was to me later. When she was free, we were equals. We both agreed we could live with that. Even better, I got to decide when she was bound and when she was free.
 

She said she had things to take care of and got up. 'Life goes on,' or something like that. I don't know how she did it, where she got her energy. I was exhausted.
 

The first thing I did was take a short nap. Then I checked on Janey. I wasn't being selfish by sleeping first. I had seen Sally go in to check on her first thing after she left our bed. She hadn't seemed anxious for her the entire time we had been 'playing,' but we both knew our concern for her was just below the surface. One noise from her, and it would had ended. Immediately. Anyway, Sally had looked down the hall at me as she exited Janey's room, gave me a bright smile and the 'OK' sign.
 

When I checked a couple of hours later, she was still sleeping soundly, but seemed a little less troubled. She had tossed the light covers off and one very long leg and one slim arm were exposed. Or would have been exposed, except she was wearing her tracksuit. The rape counselor mentioned she might prefer that. Immediately after a sexual assault, most victims can't come to terms with their bodies and try to hide them completely. The bulkier and more misshapen the clothes the better to remove any hint of gender-oriented form.
 

Janey looked as if she had three or four layers under the normally sleek suit. She looked like an advertisement for that Eddie Murray movie where he wears a body suit to add a hundred or so pounds. She even had the ankle and wrist expansion zippers closed and was wearing her slippers. I noticed the hood was up over her head and the drawstring tied under her chin, as if she were trying to cover herself entirely up. A twisting knot developed in my gut and tried to rip my heart out as I began to understand the depth of her pain, confusion, and hurt. I swore right then and there that, as bizarre a plan as her Mom had proposed, if that would help Janey, my Janey heal, I would do it. Whatever it took. Even if I had to risk losing Sally.
 

I covered her arm and leg, tucked her in and kissed her forehead. I had to wipe away a few tears that had fallen on her from somewhere. They couldn't have been from me - I never cry. I offered up another fervent prayer for her quick and total recovery.
 

I wandered around the quiet house and ended in the family room. I heard Sally bustling around in the cellar. It sounded as if she was dragging several large boxes or crates around and vacuuming. I vaguely wondered why she would be cleaning the basement, but dismissed it.
 

The family room was a comfortable room, like the rest of the house. It was hard to imagine any room decorated by Sally not reflect her personality. Of course, I was just a tad biased.
 

I turned on the TV and flipped through the channels. Nothing. I scanned the bookshelf for titles I had read. I could only find a couple I had even heard of, much less read. No trashy novels here. It was quiet in the basement again. I looked around the room and saw a telephone on the desk. That reminded me that there was something I had to do.
 

I called the opera house. No, I didn't cancel. I renewed my season tickets, upgraded to a full season, and added one seat to the account for Janey. Sally had joined me in the living room and listened to the phone call in silence. As I place the telephone back in the cradle on the desk, I turned to face her to see what she wanted.
 

She attacked me.
 

Not in a mean spirited way, but with sharp fingernails jabbing for ticklish, tender areas, throw pillows actually used for throwing, knees, elbows, head-butts. My gentle little wife-to-be was intent on some serious roughhousing.
 

The robes we had thrown on upon leaving her bedroom were the first casualties. Mine came untied in the first assault and she tried to use the belt to trip me up. I managed to snag hers on the second lap around the sofa. The black silk rope belt we had put to such good use earlier in the day got tangled in the belt loops and she shimmied out of the robe so I wouldn't use it to pull her in. Seeing her boobs bouncing around her chest was extremely distracting, and I tended to spend more time watching them move than to where I was going.
 

I was at a bit of a disadvantage. I didn't know what the rules of this particular game were, or if there even were any. I still don't know, and don't care, as we were having a tremendously good time, laughing and screaming. I bellowed as she drenched me with the water from a vase of flowers, and I discarded my dripping robe, more to limit the water damage than anything. I discovered a cache of rubber bands in a desk drawer. She shrieked as if mortally wounded as I shot them at her across the desk. I had her on the run for a while, her ass and tits my favorite targets. Then my ammo ran low.
 

I retreated in earnest after the first swat of the fly swatter she discovered discarded behind an easy chair caught my pecker broadside. She had been aiming for my butt, but I turned suddenly. I hollered "Shit," grabbed my jewels and started backing away from her in a panic. A look of horror crossed her face as she realize where she had struck me, but she quickly recovered from her shock, shrugged an "I'm sorry" at me, and immediately tried to hit it again, albeit with much less force.
 

Fuck this shit! I was going to do the honorable thing and run like hell in retreat. I had both hands in the basic 'save the family jewels' position, and was backing away from her as fast as I could. I intended to get to a small room with a locking door, but she was always one step ahead of me and herded me around the room like a cowboy cutting cattle. Damn, she was fast!
 

By the time I backed into and tripped over the arm of the sofa, landing in the dead cockroach position, I was a mass of red blotches. Nothing vital was injured, but Sally took every opening to torment me. She gleefully pounced on this new opportunity to attack my unprotected feet and calves as they waved in the air above me.
 

After several bellows and cries for mercy she said, "Say 'Uncle!' If you give, say 'Uncle.'"
 

Call me macho, call me a male chauvinist pig, call me stupid, call me what you want, but there is just something that gets stuck in my throat when I think about crying 'Uncle' to a giirrrlll. It has been like that ever since my Dad told me that I was a boy and had to be tough, but then I realized he had a different set of rules for my sister. I made the mistake of hesitating to surrender and tried to grab my feet to try to protect them. The tip of the incessant swatter instantly found my uncovered privates. That was all it took.
 

"uuuuNCLE!! SHIT, DAMN IT, OUCH!
 

She shouted, "I WIN!" and tossed her superior weaponry over her shoulder. I made a mental note to get rid of that fucking thing the first chance I had.
 

Whooping and cheering, she dove on my prone body, covering the myriad red blotches with smoochy kisses and "Mommy will make it feel better"-type comments. She was really rubbing it in that she had 'whupped' a 6'3" man that had about 100 solid, not flabby, pounds on her. She was all over me, touching, caressing, rubbing. I didn't realize she had maneuvered me to the middle of the sofa until she suddenly settled her freshly shorn cunt over my face and announced,
 

"I want my reward!"
 

I had been planning on being a sore loser, pouting for a while, but when presented with her own pouting lips staring me in the face, I felt I could be gracious in defeat. I grabbed her hips, pulled her down, rolled and stiffened my tongue and shoved it as far up her ass as I could.
 

Her shriek of surprise shattered into giggles. I hadn't been sure of her reaction to rimming, but she sure seemed to enjoy it. I wasn't aware of how much she enjoyed it until she attacked my soft, sore, tired dick with a ferocity I had not experience that often from her heretofore.
 

The way she was going at it, I was more than a little fearful she would suck it off and swallow it, as that seemed what she was determined to do. I had hoped to distract her by fingering her cunt and clit in addition to tongue-fucking her asshole, but to my amazement and immense pleasure, she swallowed more and more of my increasing length as I stiffened.
 

She gagged slightly as the bulging head slipped down her throat, but she didn't withdraw. She forced down a couple of more inches as I became fully hard. I switched holes, using my tongue in her cunt and my finger in her ass. She became frantic in her suction, as if her life depended on it.
 

Until now, I had never experienced this. Blowjobs, sure, lots of them, some pretty good, but no one had ever been able to completely swallow my erect cock. If I may say so myself, my equipment is a noticeable upgrade from the standard, average issue, in length, width, and head size. Ever since Junior High School and the first fumbling attempts at sex, the girls so privileged to observe it have been at once fascinated and frightened when they encountered my cock in an excited state. So, now, with my cock completely consumed for the first time ever, I was in absolute 'pig-in-shit' heaven. Bliss. Nirvana. I saw bright lights, heard angels, played a harp, talked with Elvis.
 

When I stopped paying attention to her needs, Sally began gnawing at the base of my cock with her sharp white teeth. It wasn't exactly gentle either, and I began to recount all the things I had said and done up to this point, wondering if I had made a grand miscalculation somewhere along the way. Then I opened my eyes, saw a different set of pearly gates, and remembered I was supposed to be doing something for her, too. The gnawing didn't stop as I resumed my duties, but it did lessen. A bit. I think.
 

I don't know how she timed it. Intuition, perception, maybe she had a link with me, too. But just as I was becoming truly concerned for the survival of that most important of my organs, she slipped a moistened finger up my tightly clenched asshole. I experienced only a slight discomfort from the intrusion. Like most guys, I hadn't had much experience with things up my ass other than my doctor's finger, but I thought I was doing OK with it and was even planning to escalate the situation by increasing the number of fingers up her ass to two. At least, that was my plan until she twisted her tiny little finger around and massaged my prostate.
 

I shot my load unexpectedly into her sucking throat. It was extremely painful. It hurt so bad I passed out. She told me later that I made a really weird sound, too, when I shot my wad into her greedy mouth. Like someone strangling a saxophone. I didn't appreciate finding her leaning over me, laughing lightly as I regained consciousness.
 

"Thank you." That's all she said.
 

My mind raced. For what? Her reward? Losing to her? Passing out? Help me, please!
 

"You're welcome. And thank you, back."
 

Good. Real good. Meat-head.
 

"What for?" Apparently it was OK for her to ask.
 

"For letting me in. Really in."
 

Score one for the side with penises! We could think fast with both heads! Yep, you betcha!
 

"Oh." The way she snuggled into my chest seemed to indicate that I had given the right answer. Then the other shoe dropped.
 

"What's the matter? Didn't you like the sex?"
 

She held me in suspense, and finally collapsed in a wonderfully ticklish mass of giggles. We were gentler with each other this time, and she allowed me to win, crying 'Uncle' only after I had both her hands pinned to the sofa above her head and still had one hand free to torment her breasts, ribs, stomach, etc. I spent a lot of time at her 'etc.' Even then she held out. I went very slowly to be positive I didn't miss a single nerve. Sometimes I went back to check on a particular area again and again. It was a long slow torture for her until she finally gasped her surrendering 'Uncle." But only after she climaxed. Several times.
 

Her shrieks and peals must have woken Janey. Or it may have been the racket we made earlier destroying the family room. Or it could have been all the activity on their 'link.' Regardless, the traumatized teen was awake and wandering the house. She was still groggy from the sedatives the doctor had prescribed for her to help her sleep.
 

The first we knew she was awake was when Sally sensed her in the doorway of the family room. In retrospect, seeing your Mom and her boyfriend stark naked, their faces buried in each other's crotches probably wasn't the best thing to see right after being brutally raped. Sally tried to think of something to say, but it's hard to say something socially acceptable and gracious when your mouth has a death grip on 10 inches of thick pulsing cock. And a very determined man is gnawing your hypersensitive clit at the same time. A classic '69' on the sofa in the middle of the afternoon.
 

Sally slowly pulled her head up off my groin, exposing my fully hardened length to her daughter for the first time. She focused on her special link with daughter and her own extreme happiness and contentedness penetrated the shell that had begun to harden around Janey, bringing a spark of life back to the battered girl.
 

"Hi, honey. How are you feeling?"
 

"OK, I guess, but not as good as you! Geez, Mom." She surveyed the shambles of the room. "No more parties for you, young lady!" She paused as she looked back at us, and then half whispered, "God, is that real?" There was more than a hint of awe in her voice.
 

I twitched my freestanding shaft on purpose to show her I knew to what she was referring. Reluctantly Sally rolled off my face and sat up. I propped myself up with my elbows, still stretched out on the sofa. Janey couldn't take her eyes off my erection. I couldn't take my eyes off Sally. This was a mother bear with a wounded cub. No way in Hell was I going to make a misstep here.
 

Sally looked at me, saw where we were both looking, and shrugged. We weren't going to be able to ease into this. All plans for a gradual phase in were off.
 

"Janey, honey, we need to talk." She patted the cushion next to her.
 

Janey looked first at me, then at her mother, tearing her eyes away from my cock for a moment. I could see the indecision in the teenager's eyes, the fear and the pain as she remembered what happened the last time that she saw a man in my condition. I could also see that the sexual instincts she shared with Sally were being activated. Her tearing, blinking eyes reflected the battle within. I wondered what she was going to do. Was she going to bolt and maybe never be reachable again or was she going to stay?
 

Then, almost imperceptibly, she straightened and I saw that a decision had been reached. She got that funny little grin on her face. Her eyes began to shine a little brighter as her trust in her mother made the decision for her. She padded toward us, slowly at first, then with more confidence, more like the old Janey, and I knew she had made the decision to heal, to become Janey again and not hide from who she was.
 

At that moment I was almost convinced that Sally's plan was the way to go. With this first sign from Janey that what her mother had said about her was really true, I was beginning to be at ease with what I had been asked to do. There was a long way to go, but Janey was willing to take that journey and now so was I.
 

The teenager came over and sat between us. She never took her eyes from my crotch.
 

"Larry proposed to me today."
 

"Ah, Mom. He does that all the time."
 

"I know. But this time, I, uh, accepted." I noticed there was no mention that I had had to win a tough bet. I figured discretion was the wiser course and kept quiet. I could brag about it later, if it ever came up.
 

Mother and daughter, looking enough alike to be twins, went through the obligatory female ritual of squeals and hugs that seems required after such an announcement. I rolled my eyes at Sally, who was looking at me over Janey's shoulder. She made a face and stuck her tongue out at me.
 

Janey turned to me and hugged me, too, catching me off guard by her sudden move. I was, after all, stark naked and very noticeably aroused. She froze after a momentary hug, her arms still around my neck. I figured she had just figured out what that pointy thing was that was jabbing into her side, just below her tits. I waited for her to wail, cry out, slap me, run from the room, something. I did not expect her to cling tighter to my neck, almost strangling me in the process.
 

"Ssshhh. It will be OK." I softly cooed to the silky golden hair peeking out of the hooded sweatshirt she was wearing. Her strands of hair tickled my nose. How do they always get it to smell so goddam sexy? "Everything will be all right. I promise."
 

I looked up at Sally for help. Fat lot of good that did. She was doubled over, holding her sides, her fist stuffed in her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Very funny, ha, ha.
 

"I know that. Just make my Mom happy for now. I need her to be happy."
 

"I know. She needs to be happy to help you get well. I promise I will do my very best."
 

I kicked at Sally with my foot, trying to get her to jump in, to say something to help me get out of this before I did something stupid and scared her daughter away before we even got started. My efforts resulted in her rolling on the floor, holding her sides. Tears were streaming down her face and she was making no attempt to keep quiet now. She thought this was hilarious. I plowed on.
 

"But what about you? Can I do anything for you?" Pushing it, I know, but hey, you would, too, with a traumatized teenage girl lying on top of your very hard and very erect erection. "If you ever need 'anything'.."
 

She giggled, and then gasped. Apparently that link thing had kicked in with me this time and she understood what 'anything' meant. I felt her hesitate, then "Not right now, Larry. I'm too sore. Even just walking in here hurts. And I'm definitely not ready for that thing. Yet." That last word was added with extra meaning. I understood. She was one tough young lady. I wasn't going to scare her off. And it would take a Hell of a lot more than an adolescent rapist to knock her out of life, too. She was going to be OK.
 

"I know, baby. But when you are ready, let me know, OK?"
 

I felt her nod. I changed my tone of voice to what I imagined a scolding father's would be.
 

"And one more thing, young lady. You are one absolutely beautiful girl. If you keep on running around with nothing on but things like that sexy thick old sweat suit that you have on now, throwing your gorgeous, cloth-covered tits in my face like you are now, I may just have to take you over my lap and spank you. On your beautiful cotton terrycloth padded ass. I mean hard, until it's as red as a tomato and you are as hot as a fire cracker." I reached down and gave her a playful, very gentle, swat on her padded behind. God, even through what felt like three or four layers of clothing, those rubbery cheeks felt delicious.
 

She raised up to check if I was joking, her eyes wide in shock. When she saw my shit-eating grin looking up at her, she knew she had been had. She made a face, reached down and wrapped her slender fingers in a fist and hit me as hard as she could in the solar plexus. It took me by surprise and she winded me. First time since Junior High. Damn! I half expected her to stick out her tongue, too.
 

"Same goes for you, too, stud. All this hot, hard cock meat waving out in the open just might make me do something rash, too." With that, she kissed me lightly on the cheek, bounced up and landed with a knee right where she had just hit me. Damn! She got me twice!
 

As I lay there gasping for breath, the two women currently in my life, one naked, the other wearing every sweat suit she owned, ran out of the family room hand in hand, laughing hysterically at my perplexed expression as I watched my exhausted, tired, and abandoned shaft wilt in the sudden stillness of the empty room.
 

I was in way over my head.
 

Chapter 8
 

On the following Monday I drove Janey to school. Normal attendance at the school had been suspended for almost a week after the attack because of the hoopla and the police and FBI investigation, so she hadn't missed that many classes. Janey had wanted to ride the bus as usual, but Sally was insistent and won this one. It was on my way to my office, and I had several other errands to do that couldn't wait much longer. Everyone knew Sally and Janey from the news, but no one knew me, as I had stayed in the background and out of the cameras. A habit from my old job, I guess. As a result, I could pretty much go into town unnoticed.
 

It was a pretty quiet ride for the most part, which was unusual. Not that Janey was a chatterbox, but we had always been able to talk. It was obvious she was worried about her reception at school, among other things weighing heavily on her mind. Janey had her cheerleading outfit and pom-poms stuffed in a bag on the floor by her feet. She had decided, on her own, to resign from the squad. Sally and I both thought it was a mistake to make this decision so soon, but Sally had been unable to talk her out of it. I thought I would give it a shot.
 

"Gee. I'm sure going to miss that cheerleading outfit."
 

She looked at me with a puzzled look, her curiosity piqued, but already suspecting that that extraneous comment was an attempt to get her to change her mind about resigning from the squad. Her guard was up.
 

"Huh?"
 

I repeated myself. "I'm going to miss that cheerleading outfit."
 

No response from the far side of the car. I thought I had better elaborate. Hell, I had started out by saying the first thing that came to mind. I went with it. I can't lie to save a penny, but I can prevaricate with the best of them.
 

"Well, you see, your Mom and I play this game sometimes when you're not home. We didn't think you'd mind. It was her idea actually. See, she pretends to be a cheerleader, I'm this hot-shit jock. We go to the High School and sneak under the bleachers. Yada yada yada." This was almost too close to the truth of what happened to her, but it was too late to stop by the time I realized where I was going with it.
 

"She is so hot and God, sooooo sexy in that tight sweater, that short white skirt and those tiny red panties. Yup, we sure had some really hot times under there. And in the locker rooms, both the boys and the girls. And the showers - you get the picture. Oh, yeah, once we did it at center court and almost got caught by the principal. It was great! I tell you, I'm really going to really miss that uniform. Oh, shit, then there was the time in the mud on the 50-yard line. We thought we'd never get that sweater clean again. Bet you couldn't tell, could you?"
 

"You did it center court? In my outfit? Ewww! Gross!" She pulled her hands off the bag like it was full of dirty underwear.
 

We rode in silence for a while.
 

"You really think Mom looks sexy in my outfit?" I figured she was thinking about how much alike they looked. If Mom was sexy, she was sexy, too, right?
 

I didn't say anything in response. I just made an obscene gesture with my mouth, beating the tip of my tongue rapidly up and down between my slightly parted lips like I did on Sally's clit whenever I could. She got the picture, vividly.
 

"Ooooo, Larry. That's gross. You two are sick."
 

I laughed, and she stared out the window on her side, ignoring me the rest of the way to the High School. She made me drop her off a block before the school. I dropped her off and watched her safely into the school. Only then did I go to change my clothes before going in to work. It had been an unexpectedly long time since I had had a chance to get a change of clothes. About halfway to my apartment I noticed the bag on the floor, her cheerleading stuff still inside. I did a 'happy, happy, joy, joy' dance in the car seat the rest of the way to my apartment.
 

I was still grinning like an idiot when I got to my office. There, I gave my boss the option of an extended leave or my resignation, his choice. He surprised me and countered with a home-office package. I hesitated, thinking it would be more work, less pay and that I would still be coming into the office five times a week. When he doubled my salary and my vacation, effective immediately, and made all contact through FAX, phone or e-mail, I agreed. Geez, twist my arm, why don't ya'. It was nice to be appreciated, though. I cleared out my desk, set up contact schedules with my secretary, who was now promoted to my personal assistant, and left.
 

Sally had convinced me I should move in with the two of them full time and had made room in her closets for my stuff. So my next stop was the manager at my complex. He made noises about 90-day notice, forfeiture of all deposits, and broken leases.
 

I simply turned his telephone around, punched on the speakerphone and dialed the local cable company. When he heard the receptionist announce, "Hello. This is Cable Com. How may I help you?" he paled and disconnected the call faster that I had thought his fat fingers could move.
 

I walked out of his office a homeless person, free of all legal obligations. I had had to promise him I wouldn't call the cable company again. For that, he would tear up my contract. I fully intended to keep my promise to him, as I didn't need to call them again. I had already placed a call to them from my apartment before I went into his office. I figured they would be arriving in less than 3 minutes, probably with the police. I hoped they would get there before he had time to rip out all the illegal wiring and the illegal descrambler boxes he had installed. That motherfucker had set up his own little cable company, using a pirated signal, and had charged every single tenant the normal hook-up fees and monthly service, including pay-per-view and premium channels. Being caught red-handed like I hoped he was going to be would mean fines and maybe even some jail time for the fat bastard.
 

The cavalry arrived just as I was pulling out of the parking lot. Payback is a bitch, isn't it?
 

Sally survived Janey's first day back at school. It had helped a lot when I handed her the bag with her cheerleading stuff still inside. She looked up at me with a question in her eyes. I simply kissed her smooth forehead.
 

"Uh, you probably don't want to know exactly what I said to her, but we should probably make sure to get it cleaned real good if you were to ever put it on and sneak into the High School gym with me some night. Have you ever thought about role-playing as a cheerleader and me as big hot stud? You might want to give it some thought, just in case. Or try to remember the time we rolled around in the mud in the middle of the football field."
 

"But we never did that!"
 

"I know that, and you know that, but Janey doesn't know that. But, well, she might have gotten the impression that we had done something like that. So I figured we might as well, no?" I gave her my best evil grin. "How about right now?"
 

Her laughter was musical, the first I had heard from her in a long, long time. It felt good to hold her in my arms and see her smiling face looking up into mine. It made me feel like I could conquer the world. I told her about the rest of my day as we unloaded boxes from my car. It all fit in a tiny corner of the garage. Not much to show for 34 years.
 

Sally was pleased it had worked out for me to work out of the house. She suddenly found she needed me to be there for her at odd times, kind of like a stabilizer. She took me through the house, offering me my pick of rooms to use for my office.
 

Remembering back to last week and still curious, I suggested the cellar. She hesitated. Instantly sensing something secret about to be dug up, I played innocent and persisted, saying how ideal it would be, how I would be there whenever she needed, but out of sight at the same time. I wouldn't bother her with the phone calls, or the faxes or my music. I suggested maybe just a part of the cellar could be converted into an office. Babbling enthusiastically at this great idea of mine, I grabbed her hand and started towards the cellar door.
 

She didn't stop me, but she did lag behind. I sort of had to drag her along, actually. I got to the door and with a flourish and a bow said, "Ladies first, madam."
 

She went down the stairs like a condemned woman. This just got curiouser and curiouser.
 

The harsh light from the single overhead bare bulb revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Laundry area, heating and cooling systems, hot water heater, storage area. There was nothing down here that should have taken up so much of her time the last five days. She would disappear down here for hours at a time, coming back up without a word of explanation and noticeably subdued.
 

I looked around the barren space again for something I had missed. Ah-ha! A door! A locked door discretely hidden behind a storage shelf.
 

So, almost nothing out of the ordinary. I charged on.
 

"Not much room down here. Kind of dingy, too. Hey, what's in here?" I went over and tried the door. As I suspected, it was locked. "Hey! It seems to be stuck. Could you give me a little help here, Dearest?" I gave her my most innocent, endearing look.
 

She dug her hand in the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out an impressive electronic key card. Hell, we didn't have security like this at my office, and they handled bundles of cash! I accepted it with a raised eyebrow. Sally just blushed and looked at her feet.
 

I slid the key through the reader and pulled on the door handle. The surprisingly heavy door opened silently to reveal - nothing. Total blackness. I reached in to find the light switch on the wall and found - nothing. I looked at the walls next the entrance. Nothing. I turned to look at Sally.
 

Silently she moved to my right and slid the card through a second reader slot in the doorframe. The lights in the mysterious room came on.
 

I pulled her into my arms before I went in to see what was in this special room. She was turned so that her back was to my chest. I could feel the tension in her. I put my arms around her, under her arms and held my hands together in front of her belt buckle. I stepped back, away from the doorway, pulling her with me.
 

"I can wait for whatever this is until you're ready."
 

She let the offer echo against the concrete walls of the utility area for a while, then brought her hands up from her sides and held onto mine. Her grip was tight, like she was afraid of my reaction to what I would see. I'll give her credit, though. In spite of her fears, she stepped forward, pulling me along with her. Together we stepped into the room, into her secret place.
 

I gazed around the room, turning us in a complete circle before speaking. "I don't think I need this much security for my office, Sally. The guest room at the end of the hallway will be just fine."
 

I walked out of the room, taking her with me. We almost made it up to the top of the stairs before she jammed on the brakes.
 

"No." She took a deep breath. "Damn you! You bastard!" She was so mad she hissed when she said that. "Did you know what was in there?"
 

"Nope. Not a clue. Honestly, not a clue. If I had known, I wouldn't have pushed you just now."
 

She sighed. "I know. It's just that this is so personal. It's my Achilles' Heel, and feel like I'm handing it to you gift-wrapped. I've never felt so naked, so vulnerable in my entire life. Do you know what that's like?"
 

"I can imagine. I can wait until you're ready to let me in there with you. I'm probably more scared of that stuff than you are. You, at least, know what those things are and how to use them. I only recognized a couple of things."
 

She tilted her head back and gave me a funny look. My admission of ignorance was almost bewildering to her. Seeing that I wasn't going to push her to go back in, or maybe it was my sincere ignorance that helped her make up her mind. Regardless, she took me back down the stairs and into the room, this time with a sure step.
 

When she had told me earlier of her previous boyfriend, Sally had said she had been addicted to bondage. She had been really addicted. For a rich person, addictions are dangerous things. For the next two hours she led me around the cavernous room, showing me her various collections of gear. Some of it I could figure out. Others had helpful illustrations of how to operate, use or wear the whatchamacallits. Many, no, most of the things down there I had never seen or even dreamed of. And they were almost all custom made. Expensive.
 

She stayed in my arms throughout the tour, guiding me around from one collection to another. She was quiet, just letting me absorb as much as I could take.
 

I had done fine, reaction-wise, until the third set of items she took me to. The illustrations for this collection used photos of actual models. The model in the vivid color photo was unmistakably Sally. My gasp was very audible in the quiet dungeon.
 

I couldn't help it. I went both ways. My hands protectively moved up and gently cupped around her breasts and my cock, with it's own mind, tried to punch a hole in my slacks. I couldn't take my eyes off the photo of her, bound and gagged, the red leather of taut straps encircling her body, highlighting her blonde hair. The position she was forced into was awkward. It looked painful, the straps obviously tight. I could see the beads of sweat on her chin, the high stiff collar forcing it awkwardly upwards.
 

There was more. Much more. When we were done, I had seen at least five recognizable photos of Sally, each with her in the strictest bondage imaginable. As we left, we locked the door. When it was secured, she handed me the keys, pressing them into my hand. This time, we made it all the way back to the kitchen. She poured us some coffee and we sat down at the table, each lost in our own thoughts.
 

It was quiet for a long time around the table, the coffee beginning to cool.
 

"I'm going to need some time to work up to your level. I don't know if I."
 

Her sob stopped me in mid sentence. The tension flowed out of her as her relief at not being rejected flooded over her. She flew across the table into my arms, spilling the forgotten coffee over the table and onto the floor.
 

I only said one more thing to her about it.
 

"Get rid of the stuff that makes you uncomfortable or brings back any bad memories. Keep the things you want, of course, but you and I will build our own collections. Together. Also, take down the pictures. You are truly beautiful in them, and in some of them I can begin to see what you like about this. I don't want to share you or this with anyone right now. I want this to grow between us, at its own speed. This will be our joy, our passion. OK?"
 

Sometimes you get lucky and say the right thing.
 

She never explained why she had set the room back up after all those years. I never asked. I handed her back the keys and motioned for her to take them. She spent several days sorting through the items, and later several large trucks came and went, picking up and delivering huge crates.
 

I went back down to the cellar after she returned the keys. The room was nearly empty, or seemed so, as there was still a considerable amount of stuff in it, some of it new. That surprised me. I studied it all carefully, making mental notes of consistent themes. The photos were still down there, the entire collection this time. They were not displayed, but locked in a new safe. The key was on the top. Inside the safe were literally hundreds of photos. She had sorted them chronologically, and they showed her in all sorts of progressively lurid situations, first singly, then with one, later with multiple partners. She was always bound in some manner, but towards the end only minimally. It was too restrictive for the others. Her bondage was just a teaser, to whet her appetite, to keep her hungry.
 

It was not hard to pick out Gary in the pictures. Especially in the last series. He was the bastard with his hands on an 11 year old girl's chest, pinning her back against his groin, forcing her to watch her mother being sexually humiliated by four men and two women. He was the fifth man she had mentioned earlier.
 

I memorized his face. I would never forget it.
 

Over the next week, I carefully went though the photos, automatically cataloging the people in them in my mind as I had been trained to do so many years before. I forced myself to look at each one. Those people had touched my love in intimate ways. It was somehow personal, even though we hadn't met at the time. When I was finished reviewing them, I locked them away along with the negatives. I kept the early ones of Sally by herself in a separate file. The ones when she was happiest.
 

I also kept out one other single photo. I took it back with me to my office. It was a simple blowup of just the face of a very brave little blonde girl. Crying. Scared.