Jim's Story Ch. 03

Chapter 3 - Shopping

Jim slid into the driver's seat and jabbed the garage remote. Outside, the storm had been howling all night. He started the engine, turned up the climate control, and winced as the warm air hit him. He hated being too warm, but he couldn't let the 'baggage' in the boot get cold.

The gates at the end of the drive swung open as he approached and pulled out onto the paved road. He drove toward the town centre, then pulled onto the bypass and drove around to the retail park. A handful of clothes shops, a do-it-yourself store, a catalogue store. All closed. The only things open were an all-night fast-food restaurant and the hypermarket. He parked the car and got out. The rain had turned to sleet and was now becoming proper snow.

He grabbed a trolley and headed for the clothing aisles. Natalie couldn't stay outside in the cold for long. He didn't know what she would have chosen from the ranges on offer, or even whether she could have chosen. Basics first. On impulse, he added a set of fleecy pyjamas.

He added a few basic groceries, then headed for the checkouts. A few minutes later, r he was back outside, hurrying towards the car. The snow was getting heavier. Should he check on her? No, best not to let the warm air out. Plus, if anyone sees her...

The bags went onto the back seat. He climbed in and headed home. There was enough traffic on the bypass to keep the road clear of snow for the time being, but he still drove extra carefully. He passed a salt-spreading truck fitted with a plough blade--at least the local authority was doing its bit, but it showed they expected conditions to worsen. He should have checked the forecast before leaving the house.

The quieter back roads were worse. At one bend the car ignored the steering altogether and carried straight on. Jim caught it before they reached the hedge. After that, he took the bends very slowly.

Somehow they made it home. The garage door closed behind them, shutting out most of the storm. Natalie was still in the back, looking surprisingly comfortable apart from a few goosebumps.

"Are you okay?" he asked. She nodded and stretched, easing the kinks out of her limbs. He went to remove the cling film holding the dishcloth in her mouth and saw disappointment on her face. "I have to," he said. "We need to talk to each other." She gave an almost imperceptible nod. After unwinding the cling film and easing the cloth from her mouth, he took the shopping and moved through to the kitchen, motioning for her to follow. He dumped the bags on the kitchen table.

Taking her hand, he led her back into the lounge and then had her sit in the same easy chair she had occupied the night before. He went to the bay window and lifted the lid on a box seat below it, retrieving a blanket. Walking back to her, he shook it out and laid it over her. "Until you warm up," he said.

Once in his own chair, he reached for the music centre remote. He selected the radio and tuned it to a local radio station. The breakfast show was ending; a ballad sung by a woman who seemed to rely more on volume than ability. The DJ made some fatuous goodbyes and then played a track by an '80s supergroup. It wasn't Jim's kind of music. Natalie seemed to like it, though. Her foot stuck out from beneath the blanket, twitching almost in time with the beat.

The news came next--national headlines, local news, and then the weather. The storm was expected to last another twenty-four hours, but the snow should be intermittent. That would do.

Jim tuned the radio back to his favourite classical music station and lowered the volume so he could collect his thoughts. He watched Natalie, who was intently listening to the radio, her head tilted to one side again. Her lips moved. "I Dreamt I Dwelt in Marble Halls". Hardly a song he'd have expected to hear today. The coincidence made him smile.

Jim stood up. "I'll be back in a moment," he told Natalie. She looked up at him, then turned her attention back to the music. He fetched the laptop from the kitchen and settled back into his chair. For the next few minutes, he concentrated on typing.

Later, he glanced up at the clock on the wall. 9.30. Time they got going. He moved across to her, asked for the blanket, which she gave him, then helped her to her feet. He emptied the bags of clothes onto the chair she'd just vacated. "Get dressed," he told her. He got a blank stare in return.

Jim pulled a pair of knickers from the pack and held them out. "Step into them."

She did, and he pulled them up. Then she looked down, turning one leg slightly as though seeing them from every angle.

He held up a bra. She probably didn't need it, but he decided it was better to have one. "Arms through." He settled it around her and fastened it, then adjusted the straps. "Too tight anywhere?" "No, Jim."

Dressed in socks, a T-shirt and jeans, Natalie kept looking down at herself, tugging experimentally at the T-shirt's hem. Perhaps she'd genuinely never worn anything like it.

He handed her a sweater and helped her pull it over her head. Her collar and wrist cuffs were now hidden, as were her ankle cuffs under her jeans. He gave her the slip-on shoes. She stepped into them, and Jim gave her one last look. "Good."

Something about the ordinary clothes suited her. Cheap jeans, a T-shirt and a supermarket sweater, and somehow she made the lot look good. Even her short, tousled hair seemed to work.

They went back to the garage. Jim got the SUV ready and helped Natalie into the passenger seat. His golf clubs were still in the back. Jim spotted the bag and paused. Then he reached in and rummaged around. He turned towards her. 'Open wide.' She did, and he popped a brand-new golf ball into her mouth. Another small smile.

They drove through the snow--lighter again now and easier to drive in--and eventually arrived at a nondescript single-story building. Jim parked and then turned to Natalie. "We're going to see a doctor," he told her. "Don't worry. She's a friend of mine. She'll examine you and ask you some questions. Answer everything honestly, as best you can. And while you're in there, do what she tells you. Understand?" She nodded. Jim got out and came around to Natalie's side. He unbuckled her and helped her out, then locked the car before leading her inside. A receptionist sat behind a louvred glass screen. She looked up when she saw him and smiled. "Go right in, Mr Burney."

Jim led Natalie through the door marked Dr Powell. A middle-aged woman looked up from her desk.

"Kate."

"Hello, Jim."

He nodded towards Natalie. "This is Natalie."

"Good morning, Natalie," Kate offered. No reply.

"I'm going to step outside now," he said to Natalie. "I'll be just outside the door. Are you okay?" Natalie nodded. "Shout when you're done," he said to Kate, then walked out of the office and closed the door behind him. He took a seat in the waiting room, picked up a magazine from the pile on an adjacent table and settled down to wait.

An hour later, he'd drunk two awful coffees from the vending machine and read pretty much everything in the waiting room: magazines, patient leaflets, posters about support for carers. Everything.

He'd drawn the line at the celebrity gossip magazine. He had standards.

The doctor's door opened, and Kate looked out. "Jim?" He stood up and headed into the office, closing the door behind him. Kate was back at her desk, and Natalie sat on the edge of an examination table, swinging her legs gently with a faintly pleased look on her face. Jim sat in the chair beside the doctor's desk. The door opened again, and the receptionist came in.

Kate looked at Natalie. "Before we carry on, I need you to confirm something for me. You're still happy for me to discuss our session with Jim?" "Yes," said Natalie. "Thanks, Liz," said Kate, and the receptionist left.

"Natalie said I could talk to you, but she wouldn't sign the consent form, so Liz just witnessed her agreeing to it. That's enough for me." Kate paused. "I've examined her. We've talked. There's nothing seriously wrong with her physically, but there are a few things you're going to need to deal with."

"I'll put everything in her medical notes, of course. I'll send you a separate summary in a few days, but there are a couple of things I don't want you waiting for."

"Physically? She's fine. Better than fine, actually." Kate glanced at Jim. "A few marks, but nothing I'd worry about. You'll want to keep her active, though. And don't give me that look--you barely move."

"I play golf."

"Occasionally. That doesn't count."

She picked up a sheet of paper and passed it across the desk. "I've put some basic stuff together. Start with that."

"As for her mental state..." Kate leaned back slightly. "Someone has conditioned her to think this way. To behave in this way. I'm fairly sure she chose it initially, but that's not really the important part now."

She looked at Jim. "You're not going to undo years of this in a few weeks. Things may change eventually. They may not. Either way, if you're going to look after her, you'll need to understand that this isn't going to disappear just because you'd like it to."

"I think I understand," Jim frowned. "So basically... I'm the one who's got to adjust first."

"Yes, that's a fair summary," Kate nodded. "You probably need to do some learning really quickly. Unfortunately, I don't have any leaflets that would help you." She smiled. "The medical literature doesn't really reach into that sort of area. In the meantime, I'd suggest a visit to a home improvement store on the way home and a dose of imagination."

"You also need to find out who she is and get some ID for her. She needs to register with a doctor's practice and probably lots of other services. I'd be delighted to have her here so I can monitor her, but that's up to her. But find out who she is. Alongside working out how to live with her in your--well, let's say 'unusual'--circumstances, that has to be your top priority."

Turning to Natalie, Kate asked her, "Anything else?" "No," she replied.

Jim thanked Kate and held out his hand. Natalie took it without hesitation.

"One more thing," said Kate. "I understand this is yours." She took Jim's other hand and dropped the golf ball into it. "Nice start," she said, smiling.

Jim took Kate's advice and called in at the home improvement store on the way home. It was a vast warehouse of a thing. Jim had never been a fan of these places, but now he was pushing a large trolley around one of them with a pretty young woman sitting cross-legged in the front of it. Natalie could easily walk around, yet the trolley's wire-mesh design caught her interest, and she seemed happy to stay seated in it. It did, though, make steering the trolley much harder.

Jim idly wondered whether the store's promotional signs were supposed to look like they did. Professionally printed, of course, and deliberately made to look as though a five-year-old had produced them.

By the time they reached the checkout, the trolley was full of chains, padlocks, rope, duct tape, and assorted hardware. Jim had chosen most of it, but he'd made Natalie point out anything else she thought might be useful. She'd chosen a few things he couldn't make sense of: drainpipe clips, lengths of foam pipe lagging, wooden brush handles, and a handful of brass screw-eyes.

At the checkout, Jim loaded their purchases onto the conveyor belt and put them back in the trolley as the checkout operator--a young man in his late teens--scanned them. He stopped when he reached a shrink-wrapped pack of padlocks. "There's one missing. Want to get another pack?"

Jim glanced at Natalie. She was looking pointedly at the bottom of the trolley. When their eyes met, she raised her eyebrows and smiled.

"No," Jim said. "I'll take them as they are."

"Suit yourself," the checkout operator said, and continued to scan.

Jim paid, wheeled the trolley back to the SUV and loaded the bags into the back. When he turned to lift Natalie out, he noticed her almost sheepish smile. Then he noticed the trouser leg she'd pulled up. She had padlocked her ankle to the trolley mesh.

Jim shook his head, amused, and dug the opened padlock packet out of the bags. A moment later, he freed her and helped her out of the trolley.

She padded around to the passenger seat and hopped in whilst Jim wheeled the trolley back to the trolley park.

The drive back home was uneventful. Natalie could barely contain her excitement. She reminded Jim of a child who knew a surprise was waiting. That thought set Jim's mind racing; Christmas was only a few days away, and Jim needed to organise something for two now. He normally went through the motions at Christmas--presents for the housekeeper and gardener, decorations around the house--but that was about it. Not since...

He pushed the thought aside. This year would be different. He'd have someone to buy for.

Back home, Jim and Natalie unloaded their shopping from the SUV and hauled it into the lounge. He collected a set of old keys as they passed through the utility room and pocketed them. Once they had everything in the lounge, Jim told Natalie to undress. While she did, he removed the keys from the old keyring, leaving only the ring itself. Jim showed Natalie how to fold her clothes up, and she left them on the sofa. Once that was done, Jim searched through the bags and pulled out a reel of fine chain, some tiny suitcase padlocks and some tin snips.

He measured the chain against her from ankle to collar, allowing a little extra, and cut it from the reel. A second piece followed. The keyring was fiddly. He worked it open with a fingernail, slipped it through the ring on her collar and twisted it closed again.

Natalie sat on the sofa while he worked on the cuffs. One chain ran from her left wrist to the keyring at her collar; the other ran from her right. He secured the loose ends to the opposite ankle cuffs.

The arrangement crossed the chains over her body. Sitting down, she could still use her hands. Standing was another matter; the chains drew her wrists upward until they met the collar.

"Right," Jim told her. "I have things to organise, so you're going to entertain yourself by making some bondage devices from the things we bought today. You're more familiar with them than I am, and I'm sure you already have some designs in mind. If there's anything you can't do, please tell me, and I'll help. But I expect you to try first, at least. Do you understand?" "Yes, Jim," Natalie answered.

Jim retrieved his laptop and sat down in his favourite easy chair. He had to review plans for his business, plus some ideas for looking after Natalie. He also had to email Charlie after what Kate had said. Whilst he logged onto his laptop, he watched Natalie. She was crouched by the shopping bags, checking the contents. She picked up two brush handles, tucked them under her arm, and grabbed two of the shopping bags. When she stood up, the chains pulled her hands up to her throat, and she walked back to the sofa carrying her load. She bent down to set the bags on the sofa, then sat cross-legged and gathered the brush handles into her lap.

Jim turned his attention back to his laptop. It was a good fifteen minutes before he heard her call, "Jim?" He looked up; she was close to tears. She had a brass eye and had been trying to screw it into the end of the brush handle, with a clear lack of success. Jim stood up and went across to the pile of shopping. He picked up the cordless drill they had bought and went over to Natalie. Sitting next to her, he held his finger under her chin. "Shh," he said, "I'll show you." He unpacked the drill, fitted the narrow spur-point bit, and gave the trigger a quick squeeze. There was enough charge.

"Watch," he said, and drilled a pilot hole in the end of the brush handle. "Now try to screw it in," he said, handing her the brush handle. She screwed the eye into place with ease. "Now you try the drill," he said, handing it to her. She weighed it in her hand and gave the trigger an experimental squeeze, jumping slightly as it kicked into life.

She put the drill against the other end of the handle and squeezed the trigger. The bit barely touched the wood.

'A little more pressure,' Jim said. 'Let the drill do the work.'

Natalie tried again, easing the bit into the wood until a small hole appeared.

"Keep the drill running slowly as you take it out, or you'll snap the bit," Jim offered. Soon Natalie had a brass eye in each end of the brush handle. She turned it over in her hands, looking from one end to the other. Then she smiled.

"How do I cut one down to a shorter size?" she asked. Jim went across to the shopping bags and retrieved a junior hacksaw. "It's not really a wood saw," he said. "But it'll do." Picking up another brush handle, he showed her how to work the saw. Then he found some sandpaper and handed that over too. The ends were rough, so he showed her how to smooth them down.

"Okay, now?" he asked; she nodded and smiled.

Jim returned to his laptop and got back to work. For a while he heard nothing but the rasp of the saw and the occasional whine of the drill, then it went quiet. He looked up. Natalie had wrapped a length of sandpaper around the brush handle and had folded her hand around it. She moved it up and down slowly, sanding the brush handle, but her eyes held an odd, far-away look. Jim crossed his legs as he started to develop an erection. He coughed politely, and Natalie jumped as she came back to reality. She shot Jim a sly look, an impish grin on her face, and raised her eyebrows suggestively. Jim shook his head, smiling, and turned his attention back to his laptop.

The afternoon settled into a rhythm. Jim showed Natalie how to use the tools, and before long the things she'd made were accumulating around her. Odd things, mostly. About halfway through, Jim had made a light lunch of egg-salad sandwiches and black Assam tea. Natalie had been cautious about the tea, but had eaten the sandwich hungrily and eventually finished the tea as well.

Jim finished his work and looked up to find Natalie sitting on the sofa, watching him. She sat cross-legged, surrounded by the fruits of her labour.

"Time for a little exercise," he said. He pulled the notes that Kate had given him from his trouser pocket and looked at them. "Kate says you're in good shape." Jim glanced at the notes again. "She wasn't quite so complimentary about me. Probably fair. I could do with getting some exercise myself." Standing up, he held out his hand to Natalie. She stood up, showering the sofa and the carpet with sawdust. "Ah," Jim said. "We'll deal with that later."

Jim took a couple of things from the shopping bags and led her into the hallway. At the far end, a short glazed corridor connected the house to another building. They went down the corridor, Natalie unfazed at the potential of being seen nude, and through the door at the end.

Another set of lights came on, revealing the large log cabin. It was more than a gym: exercise machines filled one side, with a spa tub, a small pool, and a huge TV taking up the rest. Jim hadn't used the place properly in years, but everything still worked. The housekeeper saw to that.

Jim led Natalie over to the treadmill and unclipped her chains. "Step on," he said. She did. "We're going to take this slowly for now," he said. "We need to check the equipment's working, and we need to see your limits. OK?" Natalie nodded.

Jim had Natalie move until she was standing halfway up the treadmill's belt. He took a piece of twine and tied it to the treadmill's safety key, running it between Natalie's legs and up between her butt cheeks. He tied it off to the back of her collar ring. "Normally I'd clip the safety key to your clothes," Jim told her, "but in this case..." He smiled. "I'm going to turn the machine on - don't let the key get pulled out. OK?" Natalie nodded.

Jim set the treadmill to its slowest pace. Natalie began walking, keeping near the front so the thread stayed loose. Once Jim was satisfied she had the hang of it, he uncovered the Jacuzzi and started the pool heating. The pool came next. He pulled its cover away and set the heater to 12°C. Cool was what he wanted.

Back at the treadmill, Jim punched the speed button, and the belt sped up slightly. Natalie kept pace. He increased the speed a little at a time, giving Natalie a chance to adjust. Before long, she was jogging, arms pumping at her sides. Jim watched her for a moment and decided she was going to need a sports bra.

The extra effort she was putting in showed; the string between her legs had started to tighten as her jogging motion jerked on it, and it was working its way up between her cunt lips. Jim kept dialling up the speed slowly. Natalie's body now had a sheen of perspiration, and she breathed hard, though she was still running fairly easily, even after she shifted from a jog to an outright run, but then the treadmill slowed until it stopped. She didn't realise and stumbled forward, nearly hitting the control panel before stopping herself.

The safety key was swinging between her legs on the end of its string. She stood on the still belt, a panic-stricken look on her face.

Jim moved to the back of the treadmill and told Natalie to turn around to face him.

"Raise your hand," Jim said.

Natalie lifted her right arm. Jim caught it with his left, ducked beneath it and, in one practised movement, hauled her up and over his shoulder. He caught her legs with his free arm and steadied her.

He remembered learning the carry years ago in some uniformed youth organisation. They'd called it a "fireman's lift", although he'd never actually seen a firefighter use one. From what he'd seen, they preferred dragging people.

Walking over to the pool, he stood at the edge and suddenly bent down, letting go of her hand. Natalie fell backwards into the pool with a tremendous splash, letting out a brief squeak as the chill of the water hit her. Jim waited for her to surface. She looked shocked, but didn't seem distressed. "My old fitness instructor always recommended a cold bath after a run," he told her. "Stay in there until I get back."

He headed into the games room. The snooker table was still there, along with the dartboard and the folded-up table-tennis table. He crossed to the window seat, lifted the lid and rummaged underneath until his hand found a table-tennis bat. He wasn't looking forward to this. His first instinct was still to make things easy for her. This time, though, he resisted it.

He went back into the main room. Natalie was still in the pool, now lying on her back and using her feet to paddle around. Jim walked back to the edge and called her. She flipped over and swam over to him with an almost perfect front crawl. Interesting. Jim stooped and held his hand out to her. She took it, and he hauled her out of the pool. Her skin had gone paler, mottled with pink patches, and Jim noticed her nipples had hardened.

"Time to get you warm," he told her and pulled a pool chair across to him; he sat on the edge of its seat. "Over my lap," he said. She came across to him, the key still swinging behind her. She draped herself over his lap, ass over his knees, and he moved the string out of the way. "Punishment time," he said. "I told you not to pull the key out."

He swung the table tennis and smacked her buttocks with it. Although he hadn't held back as much as he could have, he wanted to observe her reaction. Rather than crying out, she gave an "Oomph" and then said, "One. Thank you, Jim." That was unexpected. Another pale pink mark appeared on her skin. He'd used the dimpled side of the bat, and he noticed the pattern was now on her skin too, mixing with the goosebumps from the cold pool. He hit her other buttock with a tiny amount more force. "Two. Thank you, Jim."

Jim continued until he'd counted ten. He'd intended to stop there, but when he reached ten, he found himself reluctant to. That disturbed him, as he'd never thought of himself as someone who wanted to inflict pain on someone else. And, even more disturbing, he was sporting an erection. But he did stop and told Natalie to stand up.

"Thank you for spanking me," she told him, a tear in the corner of her eye. Jim had expected her to feel her buttocks - a normal person would have. But she just stood there, having taken her punishment, waiting for the next order.

Standing in front of him, her belly at face level, a now-recognisable scent wafted through his nostrils. It wasn't there when he'd picked her up earlier, and she'd been in the pool since.

"To the hot tub," he told her. He stood, led her across, and waved her in. She sat on the seat in the now-warm water. Jim hit the switch for the bubbles and smiled at her surprised look. A minute later she shuffled farther along the seat until one jet was almost beneath her. She looked up at Jim.

"Yes?"

She looked back at the water.

"Maybe later," he said.

He let her soak for a few minutes before he got her out, tossing her a towel that he'd got from a wicker box next to the pool. She towelled herself down, and they headed back into the main house and through into the lounge.

Jim directed Natalie over to the old leather sofa and sat her down in the middle of it. He crossed to the pile of things Natalie had made earlier and picked out a length of planed wood with a large pipe clip screwed to it and a brass eye at either end. He thought he knew what it was for.

He picked up the electric screwdriver and crossed to the table behind the door. He moved the vase aside and took the little cloth beneath it. He folded the tablecloth twice and wrapped it around Natalie's neck. It just fitted.

"Hold that there."

While she held it in place, he removed the pipe clip, slipped it over the cloth and screwed it back onto the wood. The wood now stuck out horizontally behind Natalie's neck with the cloth trapped fairly loosely between her neck and the plastic pipe clip. He took two small screw carabiners from his pocket and clipped her wrist cuffs to the brass eyes. She was now in a rudimentary yoke with her arms held up and out to the sides of her neck. He checked her neck. Nothing was digging into her skin.

Satisfied, he picked up a spreader bar. She'd made several, but he chose a shorter one, about the length of his forearm. Bending down, he clipped the eyelets on the end of the wooden "bar" to her ankle cuffs, holding her feet apart. He looped a length of cotton rope through the ring in her collar, making a mental note to get some proper leashes, and tied it in a bowline to anchor it. Holding the other end, he gently tugged her to her feet.

Jim stayed close, ready to catch her if she stumbled. But she didn't. Somehow, she managed the awkward contraption without losing her balance. Her posture immediately struck him. She stood proudly in front of him, drawing herself up to her full, if still diminutive, height, thrusting her breasts towards him. Her eyes seemed focused on a spot behind Jim; she looked toward him but deliberately not at him. He tugged on the rope again.