A Rose Called Miracle: Book 3, Pt 5

"A Rose Called Miracle" Book 3, Pt 5

Author's Note: This continues the third book of 'A Rose Called Miracle'. It is fiction and all characters in intimate situations are over 18. Any resemblance to real people, organizations, or businesses is purely coincidence.

If you are uncomfortable with the subjects of control, restraint, discipline, and mild corporal punishment, please go no further. Likewise, this story is peopled with hetero, interracial, and LGBTQ+ characters and couples. If those topics don't appeal to you, leave now--you'll only be offended. Also, I apologize to BDSM aficionados--in this story I pretty much ignore proper BDSM safety measures as the characters develop their relationship. Please do not use these writings as a 'how to' guide. Lastly, if anyone reading 'A Rose Called Miracle' has enjoyed my characters, feel free to take them on new adventures--but please don't mess too much with the canon.

Brett And Kari--A Master/slave story of Love and Loss

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"There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle." Albert Einstein

"For those who are willing to make an effort, great miracles and wonderful treasures are in store." Isaac Bashevis Singer

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CHAPTER 17

KARI TAKES OVER THE NARRATION

I watched Brett walk toward the men's room and then busied myself unwrapping our food and laying everything out neatly. I still couldn't bring myself to begin eating without Brett's permission. I sat still and upright, hands folded in my lap, and waited for my master to return.

A harsh, strident voice suddenly rang out across the dining area. "Kari? You little cunt! That's you isn't it? Where the fuck have you been hiding? What the fuck have you done to yourself?"

I froze. 'Oh God No!' I screamed silently. "Philomena!" I gasped as the giant black woman surged across the room, grabbed me by my hair, and yanked me to the floor. She slapped me across the face and then backhanded me on the other cheek. I reeled as she began punching me.

She started dragging me toward the door, "You just wait 'til I gets you back where you belong you little whore, I'll teach you to run away from me. I'm going to beat you so bad... you just wait 'til I gets you into my new pain room."

I screamed as panic flooded through me. I struggled and fought to escape but Philomena kept dragging me toward the door and I couldn't get to my feet. I screamed again. I saw people with phones. "Call 911," I screamed. Philomena punched me in the face.

"STOP RIGHT THERE!" I saw Brett racing from the back. "Let go of her right now!" He slowed slightly; pointed at me; and stalked toward Philomena.

"No!" I shrieked when I saw the small gun in Philomena's hand. But I wasn't in time. I heard three loud 'POP's' as the gun flashed. Brett stopped, staggered, and looked down at his chest. His hand got about halfway to his chest before it dropped again and he toppled sideways. His head smashed into a table and then bounced lifelessly on the floor.

Screaming incoherently, I viciously kicked Philomena. She grabbed at her crotch, releasing my hair. I rolled away and crawled to Brett's side. His eyes were open, but dancing crazily and seeing nothing. Blood dripped from his ear, his mouth, and a long gash on his scalp. I could see three holes in his shirt. I begged people to help us.

After what seemed like hours, EMT's and police arrived simultaneously. "Get her out of our way!" One of the EMTs ordered the cops. I fought like a wild woman to stay with my man. "Please don't let Brett die!" I sobbed.

"Please Miss, let them work." One of the cops spoke gently, "Can you tell me what happened?" I stared at him. Was he speaking English? One of the EMTs stripped aside Brett's shirt; I could see the three bloody spots around his chest. They slapped bandages on his chest and a collar around his neck. A third EMT rushed in with a gurney and the three of them lifted Brett's limp body onto it.

"Miss, did you hear me?" The cop touched my arm and I cringed away from him.

"Miss, what is your name. Who is the injured man? Who did this?" I stared at the cop. "Miss? Would you like to come outside and talk? Maybe some fresh air would help?" The cop gently touched my arm. I stood up and moved to the door with him but suddenly the world started spinning; I fell against the window and slid to the ground.

"World won't stop spinning!" I gagged. The cop danced out of the way so I didn't foul his shoes.

"Officer?" An elderly, white-haired man approached us, "I didn't see what happened; but my wife says that a very large woman--the same woman who did the shooting--struck this girl in the head at least three times. You should get her to a hospital and have her checked for concussion. Look at her face, she's already bruising; and the dizziness and nausea are classic signs"

"I suppose you're a doctor?" The cop snarked.

"I am. I'm retired, but I've seen enough head trauma in my time to..."

"I understand. My partner and I will transport the lady. Thank you for your assistance, Doctor."

The cops helped me into the back seat of their car; the young one drove while the older one joined me in the back seat. "Miss?"

I looked at him. I had to blink my eyes a couple times to focus. My head was pounding. "Yes?"

"Can you tell me your name?" He asked softly.

"Kari. Kari Jensen."

"And the man who was injured?"

"Brett... Brett... Brett Noonan. My fiancé." I don't know why but I felt compelled to show him my ring.

"Do you know who shot him?"

"Shot? Shot who?" My head throbbed. I couldn't concentrate.

The cop sighed, "Miss Jensen. Who shot your fiancé, Brett Noonan?"

"Brett's been shot! No! I've got to see him! Where is he?"

"He's at the hospital. We're taking you there now to have you examined. Now, Miss Jensen, can you tell me who shot Brett; who beat you?"

"Philomena."

"Last name?"

"Don't know."

"How did you come to know her?" The cop asked.

I shook my head--regretted it immediately--and just stared at the front of the car. I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to remember--but I couldn't stop the memory.

"When I turned 18 I was released from the system--CPS system. My fosters threw me out when the state stopped paying them for my care. They dropped me off outside a bus terminal and wished me luck. The first bus through, brought me here. When I stepped out of the station, I was looking around trying to figure out which way to go. Somebody grabbed me and threw me into a van."

"You were kidnapped?"

I nodded... my head throbbed. "Yes sir. For the next... I don't know how long it was, it was always dark... I was locked naked in a cage, and denied food and water. At last they dragged me out of that cell, put cuffs on my ankles and wrists, and put me up on a box under a spotlight. They offered me for sale--but nobody wanted me. I wasn't young enough. I heard some guy yell out 'just kill her and ditch the body, don't waste any more time.' But Philomena offered $50 to take me off their hands." I shuddered at the memory of her dragging me off the box--still chained and naked.

"She forced you to be a prostitute?" The older cop asked.

"No! Uh Uh! She said I was far too old to be one of... 'her special girls'... was how she put it. I was kept as a servant. Cooking, washing, cleaning... especially cleaning up the mess when one of the girls was injured by a... customer."

"Injured?"

I nodded, "Almost every day girls got hurt... more than a few died."

"How long were you held?"

I had to stop and think about it; I was embarrassed when I caught myself counting the time on my fingers. "Okay, she got me when I was 18; I think I'm 32 now; I ran away... escaped... nearly three years ago... so she had me for..." I closed my eyes and tried counting again; I couldn't seem to do the math.

"11 years?" The cop suggested quietly as we pulled into the hospital's emergency driveway.

I tried to nod, but the world started spinning again. "Is this the hospital where they brought Brett?"

"Yes. It has the best trauma team in the state; we're lucky it's so close." The cop helped me out of the car; I was still fighting the worsening dizziness. An attendant met us with a wheelchair. The cop and attendant helped me inside to the reception desk; I was surprised at how empty the large waiting area was. The cops had grabbed my purse so I had my medical insurance card from WAMA.

We didn't wait long before they took me back to a curtained exam cubicle. I sat on the end of a padded table while a doctor asked me a bunch of questions. I answered those I could; but I felt... foggy? Everything I saw and heard seemed to be filtered by a cloud of gauze.

After the questions, the doctor started the physical tests. I did okay, I think, until he flashed a light in my eyes; I promptly puked and came close to falling off the table.

"Wait a minute!" I demanded, my thinking cleared just a bit, "Where's... my fiancé... my fiancé... his name is... his... Noonan! Brett Noonan. Where is he; he was shot. Oh My God! Brett was shot!" I think I remember screaming... nothing after that.

"Stop that!" I swatted at the hand waving under my nose, "Jesus, that smells awful." I groaned in pain; my head felt like it was about to burst. I blinked really hard and got my eyes to focus. I turned my head a bit; through the pain I saw a nurse--older than me but not by much. Between the nurse's uniform--okay scrubs--and the stark décor I came to the hazy conclusion I was in a hospital.

"Good evening." The nurse was disgustingly cheerful. "How do you feel?"

"Headache. Bad."

"Yes. The doctor says you have a moderate concussion. After you go to the bathroom I'll bring you some Tylenol. Would you like me to remove your collar? Make it easier to breathe, perhaps?" She asked with a smile.

I panicked; she knew about my collar! "It's not a..."

"Hush dear. I know what it is and It's very nice. Mistress Haugen arranged for me to look after you, and several of our sisters are caring for Master Noonan. He was very, very lucky.

"Lucky? He was shot--three times!" I yelled, outraged. My head throbbed and I regretted yelling.

"I'm glad to see you remember. That's a good sign. And Yes! Lucky. Now calm down and I'll explain. First, his attacker used a very small caliber pistol--not very powerful. And second, all three bullets made solid strikes on ribs which prevented serious damage to his internal organs. Of course, two of his ribs are cracked and one is broken which isn't pleasant, but... it could have been so much worse. By the way, you have visitors waiting to see you; you should go clean up a bit."

I nodded; and promptly grabbed my head to keep it from exploding. The nurse helped me to the bathroom. When I finished, I got up off the toilet and went to wash my hands. I looked in the mirror; the entire left side of my face was bruised and my jaw was swollen--'cripes', I thought, 'No wonder I have a headache.'

Excuse me, Nurse," I called out--regretting it instantly as my head and jaw throbbed--Jesus I needed to remember not to yell--add that to not shaking my aching head.

"Yes?" She stuck her head into the room to see what I wanted.

"My purse? I need my comb." She took off and left me to stare at the mess that was my face.

The nurse returned quickly with my bag, "Thank you... ah..."

"Ruth... call me Sister Ruth if you wish; and you're welcome--Sister Kari."

"Thank you Sister Ruth; but I'm not sure I understand..." I found my comb and swiped painfully at my hair--this wasn't going to work; for the first time I regretted the luxuriant, curly mane I'd grown.

"The Gathering takes care of its members. Master Noonan and you will receive the finest care available. Here, let me help you." She led me back to the bedroom and had me sit in a visitor's chair. She took the comb from me and started to untangle the knots.

"I love your butterfly tattoo, it's so lifelike--even with the unusual colors," Ruth commented as she carefully worked the knots out of my hair, "Did Wanda do this?"

"Yes."

"She is a genius. My Master says he'd like Wanda to give me a tattoo also; but he hasn't decided what he wants. I'm excited... and scared... does tattooing hurt terribly?"

"It hurt but my master held my hand through a lot of it. It wasn't as bad as the headache I have right now. Plus, the tattoo was my decision, sort of. I had a safe word I could have used if I changed my mind," I answered as Ruth excused herself and went to get my painkillers. She was back quickly, I swallowed the meds, and she continued combing my hair. "In fact," I proceeded as if the conversation had not been interrupted, "While my master and I drove to work yesterday, we discussed adding another tattoo--a large pink rose this time."

"Does the rose have a special meaning?" Ruth asked.

"It does. Very special." I refused to explain further. Eventually Ruth was satisfied that my hair was good enough for visitors.

Ruth had me get up and go to the bathroom again. I tried to arrange my hair to cover the bruises--without much success. Back in the bedroom I laid back down on my bed and closed my eyes. Ruth roused me and said that the doctor did not want me to sleep. "Kari? Do you remember what happened to you?"

I opened my eyes and looked at her, "Yes. Brett and I..."

"You mean Master Noonan?" She prompted.

"Yes. But Brett doesn't want me to call him master when we're in public. Anyway, Brett and I went to lunch at the Deli where we first met. I was seated, waiting for Brett to return. Philomena grabbed me by my hair; hit me a couple times; and tried to force me to go with her. When Brett tried to stop her, she shot him. His eyes... God his eyes were open... his eyes looked dead. I held him until the medical guys pushed me away."

"Yes." Ruth grinned, "EMT Waters reported that you scratched her and tried to bite her."

"I did? I don't remember that." I felt ashamed. "I do remember a cop taking me outside; I got dizzy and got sick on him. After that I remember the cops bringing me to the hospital--and asking me a bunch of questions." I stopped for a second. "I'd like to see Brett. Please?"

"Maybe in a little while. The doctors have him in a medically induced coma..."

"Coma!" I felt faint and sick again. I started sobbing.

"Shh. Hush now sister." Ruth took my hand and sat next to me on the bed. "The doctors want to let your master's brain rest and heal. The fall and blow to his head were more dangerous than the gunshots." I had the awful feeling she wasn't telling me everything.

A youngish man, 'Doctor?', I guessed, based on the white coat and stethoscope, stepped into the room. "Good morning Nurse Ruth, Miss Jensen, how are you feeling this evening?" I saw the way Nurse Ruth looked at the doctor; I suspected that I's just met her master.

"I'll be better when I can see Brett." I insisted.

"Of course you will." The doctor said agreeably. "Ruth, how is she doing?"

"Headache. I gave her two Extra-Strength Tylenol about 25 minutes ago." She reported, very business-like, "She's lucid. She's aware of the situation and related the events with only minor lapses. The only thing she claims not to remember is trying to bite the EMT as she tried to protect her master."

"Understandable, considering the shock and adrenaline." He turned to me, "Please sit up straight, Miss Jensen." He proceeded to conduct a series of tests--mostly duplicating the ones run when I'd arrived at the hospital. When he did the flashing-light-in-the-eyes thing I flinched and blinked, but at least I didn't pass out.

"Much better." The doctor commented. "Is the Tylenol helping?"

"I think so. Now I just feel throbbing pressure--like there's a metal band around my skull--especially when I nod or shake my head; it doesn't feel like it's getting set to explode."

"Okay. We'll keep you here tonight for observation... possibly tomorrow night as well. When we do release you I want someone there with you for at least several days; and you have to promise to relax and rest."

"I don't have anyone to stay with me like that; it's just Brett and me... oh, and our two cats."

"Don't worry, sister," Nurse Ruth spoke up, "We're making the arrangements now for you to have help at home." She and the doctor smiled and nodded.

"When can I see Brett?" I asked again. I was getting impatient. Ruth glanced at the doctor.

"Go ahead. But make sure she understands his condition." The doctor warned as he left us alone.

Nurse Ruth went to a small closet, pulled out a robe, and handed it to me. The Tylenol was helping, but I still had to be careful to avoid sudden head movements. I had to ask Ruth to help with my slippers; bending over still hurt too much. I returned to the bathroom one more time--I wanted to check myself in the mirror. In my head I knew my Brett was unconscious; but in my heart I still wanted to look my best for him. Unfortunately, at that moment, my best was pretty beat up.

I heard the door to my room creak open; "Mistress Haugen!" Nurse Ruth exclaimed. I stepped out of the bathroom and found Nurse Ruth kneeling in front of Ms. Haugen.

"Get up Ruth. You're on duty." Ms. Haugen ordered as she walked over to me. She stopped me from kneeling also. "Kari... Dearest... I'm so dreadfully sorry. How are you feeling." Before I could respond, she continued, "Honestly, you look much better than I expected--although those bruises are spectacular. Have you been up to see Brett?"

"No Ma'am. Nurse Ruth was just helping me get ready."

"I see. Kari, you should know, the doctors are keeping Brett unconscious. He has bruises on his face and chest that are much worse than yours. He is surrounded by machines and tubes and IV equipment. He..."

I started sobbing.

"Kari! Get ahold of yourself." Mistress Haugen ordered sharply. "Brett needs a strong and confident woman; not some blubbering bag of rags." She put her arms around me, "Come on now. Let's go visit him. Come along Ruth." We left the room and walked to the elevator. "Kari..." Ms. Haugen continued, "I visited Brett just a few minutes ago. His rib cage, although damaged, saved him from serious internal injuries--surgeons removed the bullets and repaired the ribs. His EEG and the CT scans show... some swelling." Like Ruth, Ms. Haugen looked--uncomfortable--as she spoke of Brett's condition; almost like they weren't telling the entire truth. We stepped out of the elevator, "Kari, before we go in, there's one more thing we need to discuss. The doctor asked me to tell you that occasionally, in cases where there is a traumatic brain injury like this, a patient wakes up with significant memory loss and personality changes. It is possible Brett won't recognize you." I stared at her slack-jawed. I could feel my world starting to unravel. All I could do was nod--despite the throbbing. We entered the critical care unit.

Even with all the warnings, Brett's appearance horrified me--all I saw were bandages and bruises and tubes and wires. His eyes were closed. Large bandages covered his head and right eye. I watched his chest carefully; I definitely saw it rise and fall; good, at least he was breathing.

I walked over to his bed and kneeled at his side. I was careful not to touch any of the tubes and wires. "Master." I whispered, "I'm here. Please hurry and come back to me. I need you so much." I pleaded with him as I reached out and put my right hand on his. I felt a tear slipping down my cheek, I angrily wiped it away with my left hand. I was determined that when Brett woke up, he would not see me crying.

Ms. Haugen came over and put her hand on my shoulder. "Kari, Dear, you should go to your room and get some more rest."

I shook my head--regretted it instantly, my head throbbed--"No. I'm not leaving Brett."

"Miss..." One of Brett's nurses stepped up opposite Ms. Haugen, "I'm sorry but visiting hours are over. Everyone has to leave now. Please."

I gave up with a sigh. The nurse and Ms. Haugen helped me stand up; Ruth and Ms. Haugen led me back to my room. I sat on my bed. Nurse Ruth asked me if I was ready for some dinner. I said yes, remembering not to nod. She left and it was just Ms. Haugen and me.

Kari?" Ms. Haugen said, pulling me back from staring at the ceiling, "We obviously don't know how well Brett is going to recover--or remember. I want to assure you that no matter what happens, you will be taken care of. You will have a job at WAMA for as long as you want it--even if, God forbid--you and Brett are unable to re-establish your relationship."

I stared at her. I finally comprehended what she and the doctor were trying to tell me, without coming right out and saying it: Brett might still die; or, that Brett might not remember me or want to be with me anymore after he recovered. That realization left me stunned and empty. I felt myself slipping toward... can't think of the word... maybe oblivion?

"Kari!" Mistress Haugen snapped. "Don't you dare give up and start feeling sorry for yourself. You have a master to take care of... and don't you ever forget it!"

I forced myself to sit up, "Yes Mistress. This slave apologizes. Mistress? May this slave ask a question?"

"Yes Kari."

"In Brett's room, the nurse said visiting hours were over... but you're still with me. I just wondered..."

Mistress Haugen smiled, "Kari, are you asking if the nurse was lying; trying to get rid of you?"

I hung my head in shame, "Um... yes, ma'am."

"The intensive care unit has different rules than down here. But that was an excellent observation. I'm glad to see you starting to think for yourself again. I thought I was going to lose you."

"Thank you, Mistress. But I'm sad... and very scared."

Ms. Haugen and I talked for a few more minutes before she had to return to work. She took my house key and promised that she and Francesca would stop by Brett's house and feed the cats. After dinner the doctor was back and reran all his tests. He told Nurse Ruth I could sleep as long as she stayed with me.

Ms. Spencer and Elizabeth arrived to visit early the next day just as Ruth gave me my next dose of Tylenol. They brought me a nice set of pajamas, a robe, and slippers. We chatted. Ms. Spencer teased me, "Kari, Dear, If you and your master didn't want to come to dinner, all you had to do was say so. You didn't have to go and get yourselves shot and beat up." Like Ms. Haugen, Ms. Spencer promised I would not be abandoned or forgotten if Brett's memory or personality wouldn't allow us to continue our relationship. No on mentioned what would happen if he died. While they were with me, nurse Ruth told us we could visit with Brett for a little while.

I practically ran from my room; Ms. Spencer and Elizabeth hurried to catch up to me. Brett's appearance still stopped me in my tracks; I heard Elizabeth hiss in a breath behind me. Like before, I moved to Brett's side and Kneeled; I took his hand. "Brett, Sweetheart, I'm back. Ms. Spencer and Elizabeth are here with me. Why don't you wake up now and talk to us."

I jumped like a startled cat when I felt his fingers twitch. "He moved his hand!" I shouted much louder than I intended.

"Shush!" Nurse Ruth cautioned me.

"I'm sorry; but he moved his hand." I explained excitedly.

"I'm sure he did Kari. Patients like Mr. Noonan often have involuntary muscle movements."

There was no mistaking it when, a couple minutes later, Brett squeezed and held my hand. His other hand raised off the bed, his fingers stretched and clenched. His fist came to rest on his belly.

"Look! Look!" I'm afraid I was shouting again.

"Yes I see. I'll get the doctor." Nurse Ruth answered. "Good luck Sister."

I turned back to the bed, "Brett, squeeze my hand again. Please." He did. My heart might have skipped a beat. "Again!" I demanded. He did; but then pulled his hand away and placed it on his belly with the other hand.

The doctor came into the room with Nurse Ruth. "So, what's going on with the patient?" He asked the room. I explained what I'd seen and felt. "So, he squeezed your hand when you asked him to?"

"Yes."

"Did you call him by name?"

I shook my head, "I don't remember. I was so excited..."

"Yes." Ms. Spencer answered. "She definitely called him Brett before he squeezed her hand."

"Is this good. Is he getting better?" I pleaded with the doctor.

The doctor smiled and took my hands, "It's a good first step. There's still a long way to go." My face must have reflected my dismay. "But it's a good first step. Now I need you to leave us, please."

Ms. Spencer, Elizabeth, and Nurse Ruth escorted me--firmly--from Brett's room and back to mine. I seesawed back and forth between the glee of having him respond and squeeze my hand; and the awful possibility he'd make no further progress.

During the evening I received a few more visitors... Shanique and Janice from Brett's Special Projects Group stopped by to say hello; the hospital wouldn't let them in to see Brett, but I filled them in on all that had happened. After dinner, another doctor did another exam. He gave me permission to lay down and go to sleep if I felt like it. I watched TV for a while... some comedy... I didn't laugh. Nurse Ruth helped me shower before I went to bed. I fell asleep quickly; but woke up frequently during the night. I gave up about 5:30. I got out of bed and went to the bathroom and then sat on the edge of my bed waiting and thinking.

Nurse Ruth rolled in at about eight. She was surprised to see me already awake. I admitted that I hadn't slept very well... worried, not sick; headache still there, throbbing. No nausea. By 9:30 I had eaten a light breakfast and cleaned myself. That was when--much to my surprise--David and Katherine Hellsen strolled into my room, accompanied by Vera and Nicole Hollenstein. I stared at them for a moment before coming to my senses and introducing them to Nurse Ruth. "My, my, my... haven't you... grown... since the last time we saw you?" Vera grinned as she nodded at my chest.

"And your hair!" Nicole enthused, "Very, very nice!"

"Thank you. Both... um... developments came as quite a surprise when I woke up the next morning. But Brett and I are both delighted. Thank you so much."

Kate winked at me and turned to Nurse Ruth, "Miss, may I have a bottle of water. I'm feeling a bit woozy after our long drive." Nurse Ruth hurried out after warning me not to move too much.

As soon as she was out of sight Kate turned back to me, "Kari you look awful. We've brought you a little something." She pulled a small box from her giant handbag and handed it to me. I undid the ribbon securing the box. I could smell the rose even before I got the box open. I lifted the rose out of the box. I noticed for the first time that it's stem had no thorns. 'Odd' I thought. Without hesitating, I brought the rose up to my face and inhaled deeply. I immediately felt an overwhelming surge of energy sweeping through me. I had the most wonderful sense of well-being and warmth flowing to every part of my body--not quite as good as a truly intense and excellent orgasm--but pretty darned close. When the rush ended, I shivered and opened my eyes. My visitors stood around me grinning--Nurse Ruth looked concerned. The rose was nowhere in sight.

"That felt good." I said to David, "Thank you."

"I was getting a little concerned," He said, "You just sat there, with a wide grin on your face, for the last..." He glanced at his big, fancy watch, "... Fifteen minutes."

"No way!" I exclaimed, "It was only a few seconds."

"No Dear," Nurse Ruth butted in, "He's right. I wanted to call the doctor; but your friends asked me to give you a few minutes."

I hopped off the table. My headache was gone, my aching jaw... didn't. I touched my face and it felt just fine. "There's still some bruising, but it's fading fast," Kate answered my unspoken question.

"Did you bring... something... for Brett?" I asked her. She nodded and handed me another small box; identical to the one she'd given me.

"We have to go see him... Right now!" I demanded of Nurse Ruth and headed for the door. "I'll hurt anyone who tries to stop me!" I stormed down the hall to the elevator. I hammered on the up button but it was too slow. I pushed my way through the stairwell door and ran up the stairs. My four visitors kept up with me; Nurse Ruth lagged behind.

I marched into Brett's room where I was confronted by a doctor and two nurses. They thought they were going to stop me. Before I could resort to violence, Nicole took my hand and whispered, "Be patient." Sure enough, Vera immediately stepped over to the doctor, "I'm Vera Hollenstein, CEO of Miracle Pharmaceuticals. And you are...?"

Kate and David took care of distracting/blocking the two nurses, while Nicole led me to Brett's bedside. I looked at her, "Thank you Nicole. May I have a few moments alone." She smiled and nodded and stepped away to assist her wife Vera distract the doctor.

I took Brett's hand in mine. "Master? Slave Kari is back and I've brought you a gift... but you have to help me. I want you to squeeze my hand." He might have twitched; but it wasn't much. "Very good." I lied, "Now, I'm going to remove this ugly oxygen tube. Don't be scared it'll only be a few seconds. Squeeze my hand again, my love." I didn't feel any kind of a response. I was terrified that I was too late. But I tried to remain positive.

"Okay, I'm going to take out that tube now." I pulled it out and stuck the rose right into his face. "Take a deep breath Darling!" I ordered. He gasped. "Take another, now!" His chest rose quickly... it seemed as though he was holding his breath. "Breathe darn it. Take one more, good deep breath." I practically rubbed the rose in his face before he took three short snorting breaths.

"Young lady, What..." The doctor was trying to get around Vera and Nicole... without luck. I replaced Brett's oxygen tube and hid the rose down the front of my pajamas... it slipped between my breasts and tickled something awful.

Brett snorted loudly and his hands started flexing rapidly. His arms and legs spasmed and suddenly his entire body went rigid. I stood like a stone monument, watching; silently praying that these movements were part of his recovery... that my actions hadn't made things worse.

He trembled and twitched for the longest time. I began to despair. At last he gasped several more times and with his right hand he reached up and pulled the oxygen tube away from his face. He took several deeper breaths, at the same time, seemingly with full control this time, flexing and moving his arms and legs.

At last he opened his unbandaged eye and blinked furiously... I guessed he was trying to focus... I knew the feeling. He reached up and pushed the bandage away from his other eye. He continued blinking.

He licked his lips a couple times and turned his head toward me, he blinked again, "Kari?" He croaked hoarsely. Oh My God, it was the sweetest sound I've ever heard. "Kari? What's going on? Where am I? Can I have some water Sweetheart? Please."

Nurse Ruth raced from the room and was back in seconds with a water container and straw. She held it to Brett's lips and he sipped. He choked and coughed the first time he tried to swallow but got the second draught down without a problem.

A wave of relief and joy swept through me; Brett had called me by name and he called me Sweetheart--he remembered.

"I don't understand this," The doctor finally freed himself from Vera and Nicole and joined me at Brett's side. "I am a man of science... a recovery like this... this sudden... this soon... just can't happen."

"Science can't explain everything," David opined as he and Kate moved to join us. "Hello Brett."

Brett started trying to sit up. He was a little clumsy; but he managed. I ignored everyone else and climbed up on his bed to sit beside him. I stared at the doctor and nurses, silently challenging them to try and move me, "Hello David, Kate, to what do we owe the pleasure?" He asked politely. Then he frowned, "Will someone please tell me what the... hell... is going on?" He demanded, "And why am I hooked up to all these tubes and wires?"

I heard the doctor mutter something like, "This just isn't possible." But the doctor finally gathered himself, "Mr. Noonan, you had an... accident... and are in the hospital. Can you tell me the last thing you remember?"

Brett frowned and closed his eyes. I held his arm tightly. He opened his eyes, looked at me and smiled, "Kari and I were at lunch. She ordered the Turkey on wheat... just like always." He grinned. "I went to wash my hands... I think." He frowned, "Someone screamed. It was Kari!" He turned his head and stared at me, "Sweetheart, your face is bruised. What happened?"

"May I explain later, when we're alone? Would you like to rest?"

"No. I want to get up... would someone disconnect me from all this... stuff. And can I, please, get something to eat, I'm starving." He looked at me and grinned, "Kari, Darling, would you be so kind as to ease your grip just a bit: my hand is going numb. I promise I won't run away." I gave him a good, hard squeeze and then eased up--a bit--I wasn't taking any chances.

The doctor spoke again, trying to regain some sort of control, "I need everyone to leave us for a few minutes. The nurses and I need to start unhooking Mr. Noonan from his equipment."

"You're not going to touch anything I haven't already seen. I'm staying." I crossed my arms. It would have been a very brave, very strong person who tried to move me.

The two ICU nurses--I remember one had ash blonde hair; the other one had bottle-assisted platinum blonde hair--began going through their disconnect checklist. They finished with everything above the waist; Brett didn't look so much like Frankenstein's monster anymore. "Okay, now for his catheter." She started to pull down Brett's gown. "Miss, you might not want to watch this. It can be fairly uncomfortable." She said to me.

I averted my gaze, until I heard one of the nurses hiss in a breath. I peeked. I blinked again, making sure my eyes weren't fooling me. Brett's wonderful manhood seemed larger than I remembered. I stared at it, imagining how it was going to feel the next time Brett and I made love. I shivered. I saw the ash blonde lick her lips, "Don't even think about it." I warned her. I felt faintly ashamed of myself for my jealousy... and my arousal so soon after Brett regained consciousness.

The ash blonde began easing the catheter slowly out. Brett grabbed my hand and squeezed his eyes shut; the nurse slowed even more as he jumped and took a sharp breath. "Sorry," She muttered to Brett. "Sorry!" She emphasized when I glared at her for hurting my master. The last bit of the catheter slipped out and Brett whooshed out a breath and sagged in relief.

"Okay Mr. Noonan, the catheter is out..." Began the ash blonde.

"I noticed." Brett smiled at me.

"Now I need you to pee." The nurse continued.

"But I don't need to pee." Brett whined... I mean he said... my master doesn't whine. He rubbed his crotch because he was still uncomfortable. I really couldn't hold a grudge against the staring nurse--I also needed to lick my lips as I watched him.

The ash blonde nurse didn't back down, "Mr. Noonan, you either pee... right now... or Mercy and I will be forced to re-insert the catheter. Do you understand?"

Brett had a sad, defeated smile, "What's your name?" He asked the ash blonde.

"My name is Faith." She answered.

"Faith and Mercy. How appropriate." Brett held up his hands in surrender, " Which way is the bathroom?" Mercy handed him a small tray and told him to use it so she could check for any signs of blockage or infection. She also warned him that it would probably sting. This time I didn't watch.

So, Brett peed under the watchful eyes of Faith and Mercy. I had to 'harumph' a couple times; when I thought they were being a little too watchful. At one point, just as his urine started to flow, Brett took a sharp breath--Mercy had been right, it stung. She put her hand on his shoulder, urging him to continue. I removed her hand--only from his shoulder, not from her arm--and gently replaced it with my own. Okay, so maybe I was being just a little overly possessive. Maybe.

"Keep going Sweetie, you're doing great," I whispered and kissed his ear. He finished and Mercy announced his urine clear except for a miniscule trace of blood--perfectly normal considering the catheter's irritation. Faith and Mercy left us.

Brett stayed sitting on his bed; I stayed next to him. "How do you feel now?"

"Good. Real good." He reached up and finished pulling the bandage off his head. I barely kept myself from laughing when I saw the bare patch where they'd shaved the area of his skull that had smacked the table.

"Kari? What is it? You're trying not to laugh."

Crap, busted. I reached up and touched the bare spot. As I did, I explained that they'd shaved that part of his head so their work area was clean. Brett stood up and looked around the room; he spotted a mirror and walked over to it. He moved so gracefully and confidently I didn't even consider he might need me to help him. He stopped in front of the mirror and checked himself. He looked over his shoulder to me and pointed at his head, "Nice bruise, isn't it."

"Yeah. But it's fading fast. You should have seen yourself yesterday. Yuck!"

He touched the shaved area, "Oh well, I suppose it will grow back. Right?"

"I'm sure it will."

"Maybe, when I get out of here, we'll stop and get a pair of clippers. I'll cut all my hair back so the shaved spot isn't so obvious.

Brett and I had about 20 minutes of privacy before Faith and Mercy returned with the news that Brett was being kicked out of ICU and assigned to a regular room. Together, we insisted he be my roommate.

The two nurses pretended to be upset; but when Brett and I got back to our room, I noticed that a second bed had been prepared and his medical chart was already in place.

I urged him to get in bed and rest. He refused but did agree to sit down in one of the visitor's chairs. I crossed the room and went to kneel beside him, but he pulled me up and insisted I sit in his lap. I fit myself to him and snuggled up. I could feel the life energy surging as his body continued to repair itself. I relaxed for the first time since I heard Philomena's harsh voice screaming at me. I fell asleep in his arms--actually one arm. As I drifted off I felt Brett's right hand softly sliding through my hair and caressing my face.

CHAPTER 18

I don't know how long I slept; but when I woke up I was still wrapped in Brett's muscular arms. Brett also was asleep; his chin rested on my left shoulder. 'That can't be comfortable,' I thought. I smiled as I thought about how safe and secure I felt at that moment. I glanced over to my right, carefully, I didn't want to wake up Brett--or fall off his lap. I noticed Faith and Mercy sitting on my bed, watching Brett and I sleep. "Good afternoon," Mercy said with a smile. "You should get ready; the doctors will be here in just a little while to do another exam."

I bent up and kissed the tip of Brett's nose--it was the only thing I could reach without hurting myself--"Brett, Honey, it's time to wake up; the doctors are coming."

"Of course they are." Brett grumbled as he lifted me off his lap--as easily as he lifted one of our cats--and set me back on my feet.

It turned out not to be one doctor, but instead a group of five; led by an older, slim, grey-haired man. "Good afternoon," He greeted us, "I'm Dr. Simonson, Chief of Neurotrauma." I noticed Mercy and Faith standing at rigid attention off to the side. "How are you feeling?"

I stayed silent. This man intimidated me just by his presence. "Good afternoon," Brett answered for us, "We both feel excellent. Much better, in fact, than we have any right to expect." I nodded in agreement but stayed silent.

"Yes. Much better than expected. Mr. Noonan I'll be honest... after your original brain scan... I didn't have a lot of hope for your recovery. I fully expected--even if you regained consciousness--that you would be severely disabled. With injuries this severe, to recover in less than 24 hours... remarkable... simply remarkable... unprecedented."

The doctor and his team surrounded Brett. I reluctantly stepped aside and stood with Faith and Mercy; but watched closely as the doctors poked, prodded, flashed lights, tested his balance, etc. Brett tolerated it all with good humor; he even consented to another CT scan. I tried to convince him otherwise, but I guess he was as curious as the doctors to see what his brain looked like. But he absolutely insisted on walking to the CT machine on his own. The doctors did not invite me to join them; my first self-pitying thought was that my simple concussion didn't interest them.

"Nurses!" Snapped the boss doctor, "See that this young lady is comfortable while we're gone."

Faith and Mercy each came to attention, "Yes Sir!" They answered.

Just the three of us were in the room. I saw their eyes widen as I pulled down the top of my pajamas and exposed my collar. "Is Dr. Simonson your master?" I asked. Faith nodded. Mercy shook her head no, but added, "My mistress is Dr. Sven, Chief of Thoracic Surgery."

Faith reached for my hand, "And Mr. Noonan...?" She left the question hanging.

"Yes. He presented me with my collar." We sat around and talked about our lives. After a while I lay down to take a nap.

"Hey Beautiful." I felt warm lips on mine, "Time to wake up. Are you hungry?"

"Mmm." I blinked a couple times to focus, "Yes. Hungry. Never mind that, though, how are you? Did the tests go okay?"

"I'm fine. But the docs are going nuts." Brett laughed. "They just can't figure out how the damage that showed in the first scan is nowhere to be found in the second scan. They even suggested the CT operators goofed and got the results mixed up. A couple doctors suggested Dr. Simonson prepare a paper for some medical journal describing my recovery."

"Hey! You'll be a celebrity. How about that?" I mocked him.

"Sister!" Mercy hissed, "One should not tease her master." She seemed scandalized.

"Thank you nurse." Brett smiled at Mercy, "Your master must be very proud of you." He frowned at me, "I will address your lack of decorum when we get home. I haven't had to use the belt for a while..."

My bottom began tingling even at the thought. I couldn't decide if I was scared or excited. No. Scared is the wrong word. Brett, I mean my master, might give me pain... but he would never, ever, injure me. It was definitely excitement. I crossed to Brett, kneeled, and bowed my head, "I apologize Master. This slave forgot its place. Please don't punish this slave too harshly."

"We'll see. Get up." Master gave me a light smack on the bottom.

Just then Ms. Spencer and Elizabeth arrived. Elizabeth carried a large basket. "We come bearing non-hospital food!" Ms. Spencer announced with a smile. She looked over at the nurses, "Mercy. It's nice to see you again." She glanced at the ash blonde, "I'm sorry," Ms. Spencer said, "I haven't met you before."

"Thank you Mistress," Mercy answered.

"Mistress, my name is Faith." Answered the ash blonde nurse.

"Faith! Of Course. You've changed your hair; I didn't recognize you; but you look very nice. Well, come on everyone let's eat. Elizabeth has prepared enough for everyone... and then some. Just a warning; Brett and Kari, some of this is left over from the dinner that you didn't show up for. And when the news arrived you'd been injured, we rather lost our appetites."

How does one describe a dinner party held in a hospital room? Brett and I, in pajamas and bathrobes, sat on the edge of his bed; Ms. Spencer sat in one visitor's chair; Faith and Mercy were not comfortable around a mistress other than their own so they excused themselves. Elizabeth served us and then pulled a chair next to Ms. Spencer. We had a nice green salad; some chicken stewed in a spicy sauce made from tomatoes, onions, peppers, and chilis and served over steamed rice; crispy broccoli; and some soft, fresh-baked dinner rolls. When we were all full, Elizabeth surprised us with a chocolate cake beautifully decorated with 'Get Well Soon.'

When Ms. Spencer was absolutely convinced that Brett and I were indeed healing well, she and Elizabeth started packing. Faith and Mercy returned to check on us; then departed again with the leftover cake to share with the other nurses. Nurse Ruth wasn't far behind. She let us know that Faith and Mercy had been relieved of caring for us and would be returning to their regular duties; Ruth would continue to care for us until we were discharged.

When we at last were alone, and the hospital was quiet, Brett and I took turns in the small shower. I insisted Brett shower first while I stood guard. When he was safely back in his bed I took my turn. I finished washing and returned to the bedroom. I found Brett sitting up, and once again surrounded by doctors. They still didn't quite believe the extent of Brett's recovery and wanted to re-examine him again... before they ran out of reasons not to let him go home. I crawled into my bed and got under the covers while they ran him through their tests; I thought he was a remarkably patient... patient.

The doctors left... at last; one of them muttering something like, "I've never seen a miracle before." Nurse Ruth returned one final time to make sure we were comfortable for the evening. We wished her a good night.

As soon as the door snicked shut I threw back my bed covers, grabbed my robe, and moved over to Brett's bed. I climbed up and snuggled back against him. I sighed with the pleasure of feeling his body against mine--even if we were both wearing pajamas--It didn't matter. I briefly wished I had my ankle cuff and chain for security, but I was asleep before it could become an issue.

A combination of three things woke me the next morning: first, a bright beam of sunlight sneaked through a gap in the curtains and caught me square in the face; second, Brett's left arm was draped across me and his hand rested on my breast. With every breath his hand slid across my nipple. Third, Brett's prodigious morning wood was poking me in my backside. I wasn't complaining, mind you, all in all it wasn't such a terrible way to wake up.

I slipped my left hand behind me; I tried to adjust Brett's erection so that it wasn't prodding me quite so fervently. I should have left it alone. Brett groaned; his hand tightened on my breast. A wave of tingly pleasure swept through me, and I felt myself getting warm and moist. I knew I had to have him... right now. I reached down again to free Brett from his pajama bottoms. I licked my lips in anticipation of what I was about to do.

"Ahem!" My eyes flew open. Nurse Ruth was already in our room, sitting in the visitor's chair. "Good Morning." She said with disgusting cheerfulness. I suspect she knew that she'd ruined the erotic interlude I was so looking forward to. "I hope you slept well." She added. I felt like a teenager caught by her parents while fooling around with her boyfriend on the living room sofa.

"Good morning Ruth," Brett answered for us both, "We slept very well. Thank you. Would you turn your back, please, so that we can get up and go to the bathroom?" As soon as she turned, Brett slid off the bed and walked to the bathroom--he tucked himself away as he went. He seemed so casual; so unperturbed by Ruth's interruption. I, on the other hand, had to take several deep breaths, bite my lower lip, and squeeze my thighs together to try and ease the pressure building inside me. I seriously considered throwing something at Ruth.

"Are you ready for breakfast?" Ruth asked with a smirk. "What would you like?"

"Yes, please." I answered. 'You know damned well what I wanted for my breakfast.' I Thought. "Oatmeal." I continued as politely as I could.

When Brett came out of the bathroom, I told him I'd ordered breakfast. He didn't seem particularly enthused about my choosing oatmeal. I took my turn in the bathroom; showering to clean up the evidence and odors left by my intense arousal.

When we finished eating our breakfast we waited--impatiently--for the doctors to come and sign our discharges so we could go home. They came. They cleared me with hardly a glance. With Brett however, they insisted on another full exam... and then a series of exercises to satisfy a Physical Therapist that his body was under control, balanced, and coordinated. I wandered over to the closet, gathered my clothing, and went into the bathroom to get dressed. Nurse Ruth offered to assist me, but I declined. My stuff had been cleaned; but the blood stains had stayed on my blouse. You could see where I'd rested Brett's head waiting for help. My suit jacket covered the worst of it; my long skirt seemed okay. My stockings had been shredded, so I dropped them into the trash can.

I finished dressing except for my shoes; I peeked out and the doctors still surrounded Brett. I closed the door again, grabbed my comb, and began the process of combing my long, thick hair. When I finished combing, I checked the room again. Brett was still sitting on the bed; but only Dr. Simonson and Nurse Faith were still with him. Brett did not look happy. I started to worry.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Absolutely nothing!" Brett snarled, "But Dr. Simonson is loath to admit it."

"And Mr. Noonan is loath to admit how close to... that he'd suffered a devastating traumatic brain injury from which there was no reasonable expectation of any meaningful recovery... yet here he is."

"But I was told he was recovering nicely." I asked the doctor.

"I know. I ordered that no one tell you how seriously Mr. Noonan was injured until I had a chance to speak with you privately and broach the subject of organ donation and removing Mr. Noonan's life support."

I didn't know what to say; but I suddenly felt as though reality was slipping from me. Brett jumped off his bed, shaking his head. He came over to me and wrapped me in a hug. He softly kissed my forehead, each eye, the tip of my nose, and lastly my lips. "I'm fine." He announced. "Kari and I are going home now." He stated with finality.

"Mr. Noonan... Brett... please... granted, you're feeling better... but long term, I can't promise that your healing is permanent. We need more time to..."

"Doctor, we're leaving." Brett got off the bed and walked to the closet. He turned back to Dr. Simonson, "If you'd like to do periodic follow-up exams... that would be agreeable. Just call my executive assistant where I work. She will coordinate our schedules." My master looked in the closet, "What the heck happened to my clothes?"

I ran over to be beside him; his clothes--or what remained of them--were in tatters. "You were unconscious; we had to cut them off you." Nurse Faith replied.

"I was going to suggest that you have Ms. Jensen go to your house and get fresh clothing. In the meantime, you and I would have time for one more exam."

Brett frowned... then smiled, "Well played doctor. Very well played. A nicely-executed battle plan. I can appreciate that. Kari, Sweetheart, why don't you call for a rideshare and have them take you to WAMA so you can get our truck. Then go get me some clothes from the house. Meanwhile, I'll submit to one more round of tests for Dr. Simonson's peace of mind." He paused and turned to the doctor, "Be quick doc... when my Kari gets back... I'm outta here."

I grabbed my phone--the battery still had some juice in it--and logged into the rideshare app. A car was nearby and could be at the hospital in 10 minutes. I agreed. I finished the call and returned to Brett's side. "I'm leaving now. Please don't give the doctors a rough time. They're only trying to help you." I gave him my best possible kiss that--considering I had an audience--promised untold erotic delights in his near future. I left the room; then had to return to get my purse and the house and truck keys.

Out in front of the hospital my rideshare was waiting; they must have been closer than the app reported. I gave the driver the address for the house--I'd decided I wanted unstained clothes when I showed up at WAMA.

The driver got to the house quickly; I asked them to wait while I changed and gathered Brett's things. I'd almost forgotten about the cats. Nick and Nora attacked me when I stepped inside. Well, maybe attacked isn't the right word; but they stuck very, very close to me as I walked to the kitchen. There, I refilled their food and water bowls and then went to the mud room and cleaned their boxes. Yuck--they'd been busy.

I went into Brett's closet and pulled down a nice, charcoal grey suit, light blue shirt, and a patterned navy-blue tie. I also grabbed underthings, socks, and a pair of shoes--just in case.

I dressed myself in a light grey suit, pink blouse, and a maroon scarf. Then I said goodbye to Nick and Nora; rubbed their ears a little; and ran back to the ride share. We got to WAMA--luckily, someone at the hospital had tucked my ID into my wallet--so I could enter the executive parking area and get the truck.

As I pulled out of the lot I realized I had no idea of how to get to the hospital. When I'd arrived, I'd been in no condition to notice; when I left I simply hadn't paid attention. I pulled to the side and dug out my phone which luckily had an excellent GPS app Brett had insisted on getting for me. It took me a few seconds to remember the proper name of the hospital; however, the app got me there with no problems.

I hurried into the hospital reception area; anxious to get back to Brett. I stopped, then ran back to the truck and got Brett's clothes and ran back to the hospital one more time. An empty elevator stood waiting for me; I was relieved I wouldn't have to shove anyone out of my way.

I arrived at Brett's room and found the doctor still poking and prodding my fiancé. He took a little hammer and smacked Brett's knee. Brett jumped and almost kicked the doctor.

"Reflexes excellent." The doctor noted wryly.

"May I get dressed now?" Brett asked as I handed him his stuff.

"Would it stop you if I said no?" The doctor asked with a smile.

"No." Brett smiled also as he stood up and took his clothes to the bathroom. It took him longer to get dressed than I expected and I was about to go check on him--when he finally emerged. He'd taken a little extra time to shave. I had to take a deep breath--my lord he was handsome.

"I didn't expect that you'd bring a suit. Thank you."

I walked over and took his hand, "I wanted you to look nice. I want all the women that see you to wish they were me." I saw Dr. Simonson and Nurse Ruth glance at each other and smile.

"Are we finished?" Brett addressed Dr. Simonson. Without hesitation we headed for the door; we didn't give the doctor time to interfere. I might have heard the doctor call out something about a mandatory wheelchair, but we just kept walking to the elevator. I held tightly to his arm. The elevator door opened and we stepped in. Brett pressed the button for the lobby.

The door opened, we stepped out and found ourselves face-to-face with Ms. Haugen and Francesca. Francesca pulled me into a hug, "I'm so glad you're okay!" She gushed. "Mistress and I were so worried about you both," She whispered in my ear after looking around to insure our privacy.

"'Cheska, for heaven's sake let the poor woman breathe." Ms. Haugen admonished her. Francesca stepped back; however, I noticed Ms. Haugen still held both of Brett's hands

Brett took control at last and led our small group outside. It was a bright, warm, beautiful day. I held my face up to the sun, silently thanking whatever higher power had interceded and allowed Brett and me to be alive to experience it.

"You will not hurry back to work!" I turned my attention to Ms. Haugen as she poked Brett in the chest right in the area where he'd been shot. He didn't even flinch. "I simply will not allow it!" She finished.

"But..."

"No buts Brett Noonan." Ms. Haugen stopped him, "You and Ms. Jensen are on convalescent leaves of absence effective today. Neither of you will be allowed in WAMA for at least two weeks. Do you understand?" Her arms were crossed--daring one of us to argue. It wasn't going to be me.

"I was very worried about you, Sister Kari. Such a terrible thing, seeing your master injured like that. I don't know what I would..."

"'Cheska! Stop that. You're making me jealous!" Ms. Haugen smiled and laughed at Francesca.

"Yes Ma'am. There's no need for you to feel jealous. My concern is strictly business... I don't want to have to train another admin so soon." Francesca hid a smile behind her hand.

"Yes. I'm sure that's true. We'll discuss it further... at length... later." I'm sure I saw Francesca shiver. "Now Brett, I am serious. I want you and Kari to take it easy.

"We will." Brett surrendered. "I promise." Ms. Haugen and Francesca wished us well and left us as we approached Brett's truck.

I held out the keys, "Do you want to drive, or would you like me to?"

"You drive." Brett surprised me. I was sure he'd insist on taking the wheel. "I want just to enjoy the scenery."

*****

Once we were in the truck, I started it and pulled out of the hospital's parking lot. "I'm glad to be away from there." I said... not really to anyone in particular.

"Yeah. But don't forget I promised Dr. Simonson I'd go back for several weekly follow-ups. He's skeptical about my recovery. Turn right... here."

"But home is..."

"Turn... please, Pet."

I hit the turn signal, slowed, and made the turn. "Okay, now where, Master?"

"Go straight for a couple miles." I followed his instructions and went straight. It was way more than a couple miles--felt more like a couple hours; but eventually the road we were on ended at a 'T'. "Go left." Brett instructed. I complied--obedient sub that I am; but, I gave him a questioning glance. "Just a little bit farther, Pet." He smiled and patted my shoulder. 'A little bit' turned into almost 15 minutes before Brett spoke again, "Ready?" He asked with a wide smile.

"I guess. Ready for what?"

"That!" He pointed off to his right where the forest we'd been driving through opened up and a beautiful lake appeared.

"Oh my. Its lovely." I sighed as I stopped the truck beside the water. My distance judging skills aren't that great; but I estimated the lake was at least a mile wide and, maybe, twice as long.

"It is, isn't it? I found this place completely by accident. Back when I first retired from the Air Force and started work at WAMA, I was in a lousy apartment--before I got the house--and my personal belongings hadn't been delivered yet. So, I got in my old car and just started driving. I ended up here." Brett got out of the truck and walked around to my side. He opened the door for me and held out his hand. He led me over to the very edge of the lake and we just stood there, looking out over the water. "I've never seen another person out here." He said in a whisper.

I couldn't help myself; I dropped into my 'Hands" position facing him. I risked punishment by extending my arms and taking his hands in mine without permission. "Master," I whispered, afraid of disturbing the peace and quiet of this wondrous place, "Thank you for showing this slave this beautiful spot."

"You may stand slave," He answered and helped me stand up. "You're welcome, Kari. I wanted you to see this place. I hoped you'd like it."

I squeezed his hand; but didn't say anything.

"What are you thinking... right now?" Brett asked me. I was embarrassed and just shook my head. "Come on Kari. I promise I won't laugh or get mad. Honest. You can tell me, Pet."

"I was just wondering..." I whispered.

"What? Tell me."

"I was fantasizing what it would be like to wake up in a bedroom with a giant picture window overlooking this spot. Can you imagine waking up to this scene every morning?" I turned my head back to stare out over the lake again.

"I can. I do."

"Really?"

"Yup. I have the same fantasy. Wouldn't it be wonderful to build our house here; living here?"

I stared, wide eyed I'm sure, "But what about your house?"

"Exactly!" Brett exclaimed.

"Huh?"

"The place where we live now, you called it my house. I want us to live somewhere that is our house; where we will each have an equal say in its design, location, construction, amenities, and decoration."

"You really want me to help with all that? What if something I want is too expensive?"

"Yes. I would expect you to be a full participant when we start planning our new home. I don't think we'll have too many problems about cost--unless you decide you want a solid gold toilet. I might object to that."

"You're really serious about this. This isn't some sort of fantasy?" I realized how insulting that sounded, "I apologize, Master. That was rude of me."

Brett laughed, "No need to apologize, Pet. I guess it is a fantasy--until we buy land, engage an architect, and hire a contractor. Then it's real." He squeezed my shoulder.

"Especially when the bills start coming in." I mentioned.

"That too. Ready to head home?" Brett turned and headed for the truck.

"No. I don't want to leave this spot... ever."

"Come on; I'll buy you lunch."

I sighed with all the drama I could muster, "Oookay. Am I still driving?"

"Of course; I'm still recovering from being shot." He immediately saw my alarm, "Just joking! But you still drive."

"Master, please don't joke about things like that. That really scared me." I let him lead me back to the truck and assist me into the driver's seat. I reluctantly started the engine--it seemed a sin to disturb the quiet--and I sincerely did not want to leave that place.

Once we got back onto main roads, Brett twisted in his seat "So Kari, what do you require from our new house?"

"You're serious about that... Master?" I couldn't hide my surprise.

"Slave, if I wasn't, I wouldn't ask." He sounded a tiny bit frustrated with me.

"Well, like I said back at the lake, I'd like our bedroom to have giant windows with a view of the lake. And they'd open out onto a balcony, where we could sit and enjoy the views. I'd like a canoe I can paddle out and explore the lake."

"I'd like a workshop... where I can learn woodworking." Brett said as he stared at the ceiling. "The house must have a living room with perfect acoustics for our music." He smiled as I glanced quickly in his direction.

"Oh! Oh! I know! I want a hot tub on the balcony overlooking the lake!" I almost shouted.

"A state-of-the-art kitchen. A nice dining room." Brett suggested. "Are you taking notes, Ms. Jensen?"

"I'm driving, Mr. Noonan!"

"Multi-task Ms. Jensen, multi-task." Brett laughed and turned back to the front. I tried to think of a witty response but I failed. I drove in silence. Brett gave directions until I began to recognize landmarks and could navigate for myself. I came to our street and made the turn. I became uneasy; I didn't know why at first.

"Oh no, look!" I pointed out the windshield.

"What?" Brett seemed confused.

"That bright gold car--it's Philomena's." I started to slow down.

"Are you sure?"

"Almost. She always made me wash it." I got closer. "Look at the plate." It read 'MENA 1'.

"Don't Stop!" Brett snapped. "Go. Get out of here!" I slammed my foot down on the gas pedal. My tires squealed and then grabbed and we took off. "I've never squealed tires before," I related with some satisfaction as I accelerated down the street.

Brett turned in his seat and looked back as I turned left onto McKenzie Street. "Keep going." He ordered. "That car is coming after us. Do Not let them get up alongside. Do everything you can to keep them behind you." I was fast approaching the intersection of McKenzie and Warren Avenue with the gold car gaining quickly. I slammed on my brakes when I saw the stop sign. The tires screamed again. The gold car's brakes weren't as good as mine and it slammed into my rear end. I accelerated away. "Hey! Be careful with the truck!" Brett shouted.

"Trying to hurt them!" I shouted right back. I could see the gold car moving again; the front end was pretty mangled. I thought I saw a whisp of steam. I grinned because for the first time in my life I felt in control. I listened as Brett spoke with a 9-1-1 operator and explained our situation.

"Kari! Turn left at the next intersection. The cops will be setting up for us down on Jackson Street. In just a second we should see a cruiser coming from behind us."

"Where the hell is Jackson Street?" I demanded. My speedometer read '80'. My heartbeat must have been about double that as I took the turn a little too fast and the truck rolled up onto two wheels.

"Go right, then left." I jammed on the brake and barely made the turn. The mirror on the passenger side shattered.

"I didn't hit anything!" I yelled.

"Darling." Brett said quietly, "They're shooting at us. Try to go faster."

"Shooting? Again?" I'm pretty sure my voice squeaked. I tried to scrunch down, but I couldn't see over the dashboard. I raced down a long, straight stretch of road, weaving back-and-forth to avoid other traffic and to keep the gold car behind me.

"Jackson Street is the next traffic light. Turn right and drive through the gap between the cop cars." Brett directed. I tried to move to the left to make the turn easier; but the damn gold car--now pouring steam--tried to sneak up on my right side. I jerked the truck back to the right and gave the gold car a little nudge to discourage it. Okay, maybe 'nudge' might not be accurate; I pretty much crushed the left side of the gold car. At least they dropped back as I began my right turn. The truck wiggled wildly as I tried to control the turn. I got it straightened just in time to race between the two police cruisers parked across Jackson Street. I checked my mirror... the undamaged one... again and saw the two cruisers move and close that gap. I glanced in my mirror in time to see the two police vehicles lurch and shudder. A giant plume of steam erupted from behind them.

I slowed, pulled to the side, and stopped. I assumed that the gold car had not been able to stop in time avoid colliding with the cop cars.

I reached for my door handle, "The 9-1-1 operator says stay in the truck. They'll come get us when they want us." Brett warned me. I leaned forward and rested my head on the steering wheel. I still held onto the wheel; I didn't want Brett to see my hands shaking.

He reached over and caressed my shoulder, "You were brilliant Slave. Maybe you should have been a race car driver."

I lifted my head and looked at him. We leaned toward each other and he kissed me. We'd kissed before, but this kiss... this one was different: fierce, yet soft; we were relieved to be safe... alive; emotionally drained from the chase, but wildly energized. If it wasn't for the police officer I saw walking up to our truck, I would have been naked and in Brett's arms.

I sat back, gasping for breath. The officer tapped on the window. I reached down and lowered it.

"Sir, Ma'am, are you both alright?"

I nodded; wasn't sure I could speak. Brett answered for us, "We're fine."

"Your truck looks pretty beat up." The officer mentioned.

"It did what needed to be done to keep us safe." Brett said. "It's just a truck. It can be repaired or replaced."

The officer's radio squawked, "Roger." He replied, "We have the gold car's occupants in custody. Would you like to come see if you recognize anyone?" The officer opened my door for me and offered me his hand. I let him help me down; the long skirt I wore rather hindered my climbing ability.

Brett came around the front of the truck and took my hand. The officer escorted us back to the two wrecked cop cars. The gold car wasn't going anywhere either--steam still rose into the air, and various fluids were pooling on the pavement.

The police had three suspects laying on the ground with their hands cuffed behind them; two males and a female. The officer pointed to the bigger suspect on the left, "Get him up." He ordered.

I'm sure I turned pale, "Philomena calls him Shack. I don't know his real name. He does Philomena's dirty work. While I was Philomena's captive he was the one who'd beat me if I made Philomena unhappy. I know for a fact he's killed at least five people."

"Get him out of here." The cop ordered.

"You're gonna regret this Cupcake!" Shack yelled. The cop smacked him on the knee with his baton.

"Shut up! Get him out of here."

My cop pointed to the next suspect on the ground, "Him next. Get him up."

My gut clenched, "That's 'Lil' Dickie--at least that's what Philomena's girls called him behind his back. His job was to... break... the new girls. He also helped Shack with certain jobs."

"You're dead Cupcake!" Dickie shouted. "I'll get bail. When I do you're..." He grunted from the baton in his gut. I smiled at the innocent looking cop. I had to use both hands to keep Brett from going after Dickie. A very large officer dragged Dickie away.

My cop pointed again; a tough-looking female officer jerked the female suspect off the ground--none too gently either. "This is the one that was shooting at us," The officer reported to the Sergeant.

"Candy?" I knew this woman

"McKay!" Brett gasped. "How did you..."

"You both know her?" The sergeant seemed surprised.

"Candy was Philomena's #1 girl and second in command of the house. Most of the girls were abductees like me; kidnapped, drugged, and tortured into submission by Shack and Dickie. But Candy was a whore by choice. Philomena wanted her to stop turning tricks and concentrate on the business; but Candy always said she enjoyed it too much." I reported.

"McKay... Stacey McKay." Brett seemed stunned. "I worked with her until recently at WAMA. She was arrested for fraud and several other things. The Attorney General said she was being held without bail?"

"Money talks! You clueless, fucking boy scout." Candy/Stacey shouted. "Philomena and I were days away from taking over the whole fucking company. You're dead! Both of you." She sneered and spit as the lady cop yanked her away.

The sergeant standing by my side, turned to the remaining officers, "Were the suspects Mirandized?"

"Yes sir. Twice."

"Excellent. So, everything they just said will be admissible? Nice. Head back and start writing it up. I'll be there in just a couple minutes."

The sergeant turned to us, "If you'll give me one moment, I'll escort you to our station. You can make your statements while the incident is still fresh in your mind."

Brett and I agreed. As we walked back to the truck, Brett's phone buzzed. He glanced at it and began to laugh.

"What?" I asked.

"I just got a text from Ms. Haugen. She wanted to warn me that Stacey McKay had been granted an emergency hearing in front of a Judge Quarrel. He ordered her released on $1000 bail."

"What? Are you kidding! Is that judge crazy?"

Brett shrugged helplessly. "No. But I'd be willing to bet he just got a significant donation to his retirement fund. Or maybe blackmail?"

"Anyone got a picture of that judge?" I asked. I was reluctant to suggest I might recognize him... but.

Brett began texting, laughing as he tapped the screen, "I'm just telling Freda that I already knew--unfortunately--about McKay's release. I told her we're on our way to police headquarters to make statements."

I pulled into the cop shop right behind the sergeant's car. He pointed to a parking spot marked for visitors. We got out of the truck, "Make sure you lock it up," The sergeant shouted, "Lots of criminals around here." He laughed and slapped his thigh as he held an entry door for Brett and me. As soon as we got into the building, the cops separated us: the sergeant directed me to a waiting female officer in civilian clothing; Brett stayed with the sergeant.

"I'm Detective Sergeant Brenda Swanson. How are you doing?"

"Okay. Still a little shaky after that car chase. First time my life really did depend on my driving."

"Want to tell me about it from the beginning?" She asked.

So I did. She took me all the way from the night I was kidnapped from the bus station to racing between the police cars blocking Jackson Street. She was surprised when I mentioned our mirror being shot; she reviewed her notes, "Damn it, no one told me about the mirror." She pulled out a phone and dialed, "This is Detective Swanson. I need an evidence team to check the pickup truck in our lot..." She looked at me, "What color Ms. Jensen?"

"Red. Passenger side." I gave her the license plate number.

"Okay. I have one last question: When and how did you realize you were in danger?"

"When I turned onto our street I saw the gold car. I was approaching it from the rear when I recognized it. That's when I hit the gas and took off."

"You recognized it?"

"Yeah. While I was being held by Philomena, one of my jobs was washing her gold car--she bought a new one every year--but she kept the same vanity plate. I can't tell you how many beatings I got because I missed a spot of dust or didn't get the wax job buffed out shiny enough. I hate those damn gold cars."

"You were a captive..." The detective suggested.

"Yes."

"Didn't you ever try to escape?"

"Of course. The first time I tried running Shack caught me, then beat me unconscious. The second time, someone hit me with a taser as I ran down the outside steps. When I woke up they took me to the 'playroom' and I was beaten unconscious again. After that I was kept in a locked windowless cell. From that day on, when I was taken out of the room to work, my ankles were hobbled and the hobble was attached by a long chain to a concrete block."

"But you escaped..."

I smiled, "Yes I did. One of Philomena's customers beat a girl to death; I was supposed to be next. They told me to clean up the mess first. I guess they were in a hurry and they only shackled one of my ankles... and did a lousy job. It was bloody, but I got my foot out of the chain and I took off. I still have the scar on my ankle. That was almost four years ago."

"What did you do after you escaped?"

"I hooked up with a cleaning crew made up of undocumented immigrants. If I got paid at all it was in cash under the table; but it was enough for food, clothes, and the room I shared with six other people--so I survived. Then I met Brett, and for the first time in my life I felt safe."

The detective shook her head.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Sorry. I just was thinking about your description of being kidnapped, beaten, and then auctioned. That must have been horrifying."

"Yeah. Shoot! Before I forget, you might want your people to take a good close look at that gold car. Philomena always kept several guns hidden in it, as well as compartments to transport drugs and kidnapped girls--or dead bodies--as required."

Detective Swanson got on her phone again, "Have we impounded the suspects' gold car?" She asked someone. "Good. Get the lab people on it. Look for hidden compartments and evidence of weapons, narcotics, and... human trafficking."

"When we apprehend this Philomena, I'll need you to testify"

"If she's arrested... I doubt I'll be alive long enough to testify." I felt oddly detached and unconcerned.

"We can give you police protection." The detective insisted.

I almost laughed, "Do you have any idea how many cops are on Philomena's payroll? Hell, within a week of being 'protected' I'll be found hanging in our basement. Of course, I'll have left a sincere note apologizing for having first killed Brett and our cats; and especially apologizing for all the lies I'd told about Philomena..." I shook my head sadly. "Hell, I'll bet you $100 dollars that of the three suspects you brought in tonight from the gold car... by the morning, at least Shack and Dickie will be dead."

The detective shook her head, "Are you serious? What about the woman?"

"Hard to say. Candy always was Philomena's favorite; you know of course Philomena must have called in a favor earlier to get her out of prison on bail. Then again, Philomena's only real concern... is Philomena. Candy... alive and in a cell... is a hell of a liability. So, I wouldn't be shocked if Candy also had a fatal accident... soon."

"You keep saying Candy. Who is this Candy?"

"The woman in the gold car... worked as a whore for Philomena. Wait! Brett called her by another name... I don't remember."

"Stacey McKay?"

"If you say so... I knew her as Candy Cain."

"You're kidding, right?" The cop seemed amused.

"Not right now. No."

"Ms. Jensen, may I have your phone number to keep in touch?" I handed her my phone so she could copy it. She asked if I wanted her number. I told her to go ahead and put it in my contacts... you never know. Then Detective Swanson stood up and stuck out her hand, "Thanks for your cooperation. I will keep you informed."

"Thanks." I stepped into the hallway and found Brett leaning on a counter, waiting for me. I jogged over and embraced him. "I'm so sorry for causing you all this trouble. I had no idea she still remembered me or wanted to find me." Brett didn't say anything; he just leaned down, looked into my eyes, and kissed me. I didn't see any signs of anger in his expression. He kissed me again; I teased him with my tongue--just a little. He urgently drew me into his mouth; I feared I might not get my tongue back. I surrendered and held on tight.

"Hey! Get a room you two!" Detective Swanson laughed as she walked past us.

I pulled away from Brett just a bit and turned, "Brett, this is Detective Swanson; Detective this is my fiancée Brett Noonan. Brett, I gave her my phone number to keep us in the loop."

"Nice to meet you, Detective." He turned to me, "Are you ready to go home Sweetheart?" Brett suggested.

"I am... um... we may have a tiny problem with the truck." Sure enough, we got out to the parking lot and found the big, red truck wrapped in yellow 'crime scene' tape. The police had removed the passenger side doors and the tailgate. For the first time I noticed the bullet holes in the rear window.

"Do you think we can find a ride share willing to come to the police station?" Brett smiled, "Otherwise, we're in for a long walk."

It only took us a couple tries to find a driver willing to approach the police station. It was nice to be able to snuggle up in the back seat with Brett and not need to worry about keeping my eyes on the road. My Master draped his right arm across my shoulders. I tucked in even closer to him as his hand rested just above my right breast. I silently willed him to let his fingers slide down just a bit farther--I could feel my nipples stiffening--but he didn't. He reached over and took my hands in his left hand. He whispered, "We'll be home and safe in a few minutes, my love."

Brett's cell phone pinged. He looked at it, "Huh? What now?"

"What is it?" I asked.

"Message from Ms. Haugen. She just heard about the attack. She says I'm to call Annabeth immediately. Now what?"

CHAPTER 19

He dialed and waited a few seconds, "Yes. My name is Brett Noonan; I was asked to call Annabeth Spencer. Yes, I'll hold." He didn't hold much more that 10 seconds. "Hello Annabeth. Yes Kari and I are both safe. How about you, are you still feeling well? That's fantastic." Brett looked at me and smiled and gave a thumbs up. "So... Annabeth, Freda Haugen asked me to call you...?"

He listened for a while, nodding, occasionally murmuring "Uh huh." Finally, as we approached our street he thanked her for her kindness and ended the call.

"What was that all about?" I blurted.

"Annabeth just advised me that when we get home we'll be met by several people in a couple black SUVs..."

"Oh No!"

"Relax Sweetheart. They work for Annabeth. You remember that she is Chairman and CEO of Spencer Industries, right?"

No, I didn't; but I nodded anyway. Brett had to shake his hand; I'd been squeezing too hard... again.

"Well, one of her subsidiaries is 'Spencer International Security', and Annabeth vows that your Philomena and her henchmen are not going to get near us again. The people we'll meet at our house will help ensure our security."

I sighed, my plans for immediate erotic satisfaction when we got home seemed to have been put on hold again. And sure enough, when we arrived at Brett's house, three large, black SUVs sat in the driveway. We got out of the rideshare, thanked them, and approached the SUVs. All four doors opened and people dressed all in black and armed to the teeth climbed out and surrounded us. The rideshare driver burned rubber getting out of there.

Brett and I approached the guy that had been in the lead vehicle's driver's seat. The guy in black spoke first, "Brett Noonan?"

"That's me." Brett reached out and the two of them shook hands. "And this is my fiancée Kari Jensen."

"I'm Solomon Street. Ms. Spencer sent me. May we go inside--get out of sight?" We entered the house. Nick and Nora raced toward us, then spotted the black-clad stranger. They stopped, turned, and raced away and hunkered down under the kitchen table. Brett led the way to the living room. We sat on the sofa; Mr. Street parked himself in the recliner while the rest of his team waited outside.

"So, Mr. Noonan, I understand that you and Ms. Jensen have managed to piss off Philomena Jones."

"I guess you could say that. A couple days ago she put three rounds in my chest and this morning three of her people were waiting for us when we came home from the hospital. We were lucky that Kari recognized the car and we got out of Dodge. They shot up my truck before the police took them into custody."

"You were shot three times? And you're already out and about?" Mr. Street looked... skeptical.

Brett nodded. He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it open--exposing the three scars, "Lousy bullets; good ribs; Great luck." He smiled at Mr. Street. "So, tell me what measures you have in mind." Brett was all business.

"Our preferred solution would be to move you to a secure location... a 'safe house' if you will. Ms. Spencer has a marvelous guest cottage on her estate that she has offered until we... neutralize... Ms. Jones and her minions."

"This is Brett's home! I don't intend to be chased out of it!" I spat out. I hoped I sounded braver than I felt.

"She's right." Brett spoke up.

"I see," mused Mr. Street. At that point Brett and Mr. Street began an intense half-hour of back-and-forth negotiations. In the end, Brett and I agreed to a two-week 'vacation' on a remote private island... somewhere tropical. While we were gone, Mr. Street's technical team would install a state-of-the-art security system at the house. They also promised to 'harden' the house against external attack by bullet, bomb, or fire--all compliments of Ms. Spencer. Oh yeah, Mr. Street also advised us that Spencer Industries would take possession of Brett's truck when the police released it and have it fully armored.

Brett and I must have looked shaken, because Mr. Street added, "Ms. Spencer also asked me to convey to both of you, and I quote, 'I owe you both a debt I can never fully repay; this is just a small token of my gratitude' End quote."

At last Brett asked the main question, "When do we leave?"

"Ten minutes ago." Mr. Street answered with a laugh.

"Can't do it." I folded my arms across my chest. "We need time to pack. We need time to shower. We have to gather things for the cats..." Mr. Street started to speak, but I kept going, "... Mr. Street, I will not abandon Nick and Nora. If they don't go... I don't go."

Mr. Street smiled again, "Miss Jensen, I was just going to say I'm sure your cats will love the island. By the way, please call me Sol... some of my people call me Solo; and, yes, I've heard all the 'Star Wars' jokes, so please don't go there."

Brett looked at me, "I guess we'd better start packing. Why don't you shower first, your hair takes longer to dry."

I started toward the bath, but Solo stopped me. He spoke into his hand, "Esmée, step inside please." A woman came in. She was large, very large; and solid, not a hint of fat. She had very short, dark hair, shot through with silver. Her eyes were a distracting shade of purple. She had a huge pistol strapped to her hip.

"Esmée, take Miss Jensen..."

"Kari." I prompted.

"Thank you. Take Miss Kari to her bathroom. Check the room and make sure it's secure. Stay close, but don't violate her privacy."

"Yes sir." Despite the rough, tough exterior she had a surprisingly gentle voice. "Miss, where is your bath?" I told her. "Wait here, please."

While she was gone, Solo spoke into his hand again. "Exterior team, establish the perimeter as planned. No one... I repeat... No one approaches the house without my approval."

She came back, reported the room secure, and led me down the hall. I entered and went to close the door but she stopped me. "Please don't. I need at least to hear that you're secure. I promise I won't peek."

I didn't waste time on my shower. I spent a little extra time washing and conditioning my hair--didn't know when I'd get the chance again. I squeezed my hair and wrapped it in the microfiber wrap; then wrapped a towel around my body.

"Are you doing okay in there?" Esmée called out.

"Fine. All done." I stepped out of the bathroom and headed for the bedroom to get dressed--my guard made to follow; Brett and Solo strolled past me. I guessed they were on the way to Brett's shower. I opened my closet and pulled out a sensible pair of black panties and a matching bra. "Hey Esmée, any idea where we're going?"

"Not specifically. All I know is private island and tropical. You'll need bathing suits and light covers. The details are being kept very secret." I put on a pair of my yoga pants and stepped out of my closet. I sat on the edge of my bed and put on socks and sneakers. I watched Esmée watching out the windows. I got up and went to pick a blouse.

"That's a beautiful butterfly. Had it a long time?"

"A little over nine months. Brett helped me choose it. I'm also thinking about getting a nice big pink rose. I'd like to see if there's a way to meld the two into one scene. We'll have to see once we get back here."

I finished donning a loose white blouse and returned to the living room. Fifteen minutes later Brett and Solo joined us. Brett wore a pair of loose jeans, a tight green t-shirt, and sneakers. His biceps stretched the shirt's sleeves tight. I wanted to fan myself to relieve the heat building inside me. "What do we need to bring with us?" Brett asked.

"Honestly... nothing. Your host, the island's owner, keeps the island exquisitely stocked with anything their guests may want... or think they might want.

"You say it's a tropical island?" I asked.

Solo nodded.

I'll need a bathing suit!"

"The island has over 100. Along with matching coverups, hats, sandals, and sunglasses. Oh, and sunscreen by the gallon."

"Do we have to catch our own food?" I hoped I was joking.

"The owner assures us that the island's storage areas have enough food to provide gourmet meals for a party of twelve for three months. There's also a gourmet kitchen and an excellent menu list. You'll be alone on the island; you'll have to cook for yourselves."

I feigned outrage, "You mean I have to cook on vacation? That sucks." I winked at Brett.

"Are you guys ready?" Solo asked.

"We need the cats... and their stuff." I started hustling around the room gathering the toys Nick and Nora had scattered around. Brett went and got their litter boxes, litter, and their bowls. I opened their carrying crate and called them. Nora hurried over, sniffed, and climbed right in. Nick tried to escape, but he made a tactical error and found himself backed into a tight corner he couldn't sneak out of. He fussed a bit when I picked him up, but in the end he was happy to join Nora.

Brett and I toured the entire house, hand-in-hand, trying to make sure everything was unplugged and shut off--trying to delay our departure. I had the strangest, unsettling feeling that we'd not be returning to this house. As we finished our walk-through we asked Solo to tell the renovators to help themselves to anything in the fridge or cabinets... but Brett's booze was off-limits--except the beer in the fridge.

"I'll pass it on." Solo assured us, "Are you ready to go?"

Brett nodded. I shook my head 'no'. "Yes." I answered.

Solo spoke into his hand again, "Is the outside secure?" He listened, then nodded. He turned to Brett, "Alright, let's go. I want you two to get in the back seat of the SUV closest to the house. Outside the house, move quickly." He shoved open the door and we were hustled to the SUV behind a moving screen of Solo's team.

We jumped into our assigned SUV. Solo and Esmée took the front seats; Solo rode shotgun while Esmée drove. The three SUVs started moving in unison and before I knew it we were racing down our street away from the house.

"Why so fast!" I shouted at Solo.

"We want to get out of the immediate area as quickly as possible. That's where the threat is highest." He replied calmly. "Start a standard pattern to look for tails." He ordered Esmée. She spoke into her mic, nodded. The black SUV in the lead began a series of turns. After 10-15 minutes, I heard Esmée say, "Roger." She turned to Solo, "All clear."

"Good. Let's get to the airport, we have an airplane to catch."

In my head I knew the nearest major airport was over an hour away on the opposite side of the city. I didn't relish the ride but I kept quiet. Just a few minutes later I spotted a roadside sign reading 'Airport->'; a hundred yards on we came to a gated fence. The first SUV already had the gate open and we drove right through. The lead SUV closed and locked the gate and chased after us. We drove onto a fairly large parking area, about half-full of small, single-engine propeller planes. The lot, though, was dominated by a twin-engine private jet in gray, white, and royal blue livery. As we approached the front of the plane, I saw small printing over the front door. It read 'Spencer Industries.'

The door on the aircraft opened and a set of stairs descended. Solo told us to wait while two men from the lead vehicle disappeared inside the aircraft. After a very short wait, one of the men appeared at the door and waved to Solo. "Okay, the plane's clear, let's go."

Solo and Esmée led us to the stairs and directed us up. At the top of the stairs, I stopped and looked back. All of Solo's team were facing outward, using binoculars to look for trouble. "Get into the plane!" Solo yelled at me. Brett gave me a gentle nudge to get me moving.

Inside the plane we passed through, what appeared to be a small well-equipped kitchen and then entered the main cabin. I stopped again and stared. "Wow!" The interior was luxurious beyond anything I could imagine. I quickly counted six lounge chairs and a sofa.

Solo came up behind us, "Pretty nice, isn't it. Grab some seats, we need to get out of here." Brett and I selected a pair of side-by-side lounge chairs on the right side of the plane. I mentioned I'd never been on an airplane before so Brett allowed me to sit by the window. By the time I figured out the seat belt we were rolling out of the parking ramp.

Solo and Esmée kept checking out the windows while we moved slowly across the airport. When we stopped, they sat and buckled in just as the engines roared and I was shoved back into my seat as the jet began racing down the runway. "Kari, Darling," Brett spoke softly despite the roaring engines, "Please relax and take your fingernails out of my arm." I looked down; sure enough I was dug in deeply. I let go, "Sorry."

After a while, a chime sounded in the cabin. Solo immediately stood and moved to the front and joined the pilots for a while. When he came back to us, "Okay, we're at our cruising altitude; if you want to get up to move around and explore, feel free." He pointed to the rear of the aircraft, "The pilot says our flight time will be about eight hours; if you guys want to sleep, there's a nice bedroom and bath back there. Also, we decided to leave the flight attendant off this trip for security purposes. So, if you're hungry, there are some really nice microwaveable meals up in the galley. Help yourselves." He left us to alone and went back to his seat.

As soon as Solo left us I started fiddling with the buttons on the side of my seat. I ended up fully reclined; a hidden panel had extended and I had a bed. Not too long after that I felt Brett's hand on my hip. I glanced over and he'd reclined his seat also. The two seats fit nicely together and I was able to slide back and mold myself into his arms. I fell asleep like that. We didn't need the bedroom.

I woke up in darkness. I sat up and found Brett was already awake. As soon as I got out of the way, we brought our seats back to the up position. "Are you hungry?" He asked.

"Not particularly. Where's the ladies room?" I asked. Brett shrugged and pointed vaguely toward the rear of the plane. I got up and walked that way. I finally found it--pretty luxurious for an airplane' I thought.

I got back to our seats and Brett was gone. I knew he wasn't in the back so I moved forward past Solo. I found Esmée and Brett in the galley messing around with the microwave. Esmée explained that untrained passengers were not allowed to use the business jet microwave. Brett prepared coffee, salad, and quiche. We brought the trays of food back to our seats. I'd never had anything like that--simple, but delicious.

"This is a lot nicer than airline food," Brett commented, just before he stuffed another bite of the quiche into his mouth. I only nodded; my mouth was too full to talk.

After I swallowed, I looked over at Brett, "I'm going to have to learn how to make this." Brett's mouth was full again; he just gave me a smile and a thumbs up.

Not too long after we finished eating my ears started to feel immense pressure. "My ears hurt." I complained to Brett.

"We must be descending. Try swallowing very hard. That should clear them."

"Swallow? Okay." I was in pain, I'd try anything. Thank heaven it worked. My ears popped and kept popping all the way down until we landed. Solo walked down the aisle closing all the window shades.

"I don't want anyone looking in," He explained. The pilot taxied for a while before stopping. He did not shut down the engines. Solo operated the door and swung it down to activate the stairs. After telling Brett and me to sit still while, he and Esmée stepped out. I assumed they were checking our security again.

Finally Solo re-entered, "Okay, come on." We stepped outside. Wherever we were it was hot! And humid. I was sweating before I got to the bottom of the stairs. Solo pointed to a spot just off the jet's left wingtip, "Over there."

He was pointing at a strange looking... aircraft? It had two engines and two propellers; but it looked like one of the engine/propeller combinations was pointed in the wrong direction. The wing was seated high, and at the bottom of the plane's body looked like another wing; except that is was thick and stubby.

Solo didn't give us time to gawk. He hustled us from the jet straight over to the strange looking machine. "Get in. I'll manage the luggage transfer." He handed me the crate with Nick and Nora. The little darlings were sleeping. We climbed a short stairway into the plane. A woman in a white shirt with gold-striped, black epaulets met us.

"Welcome aboard. I'm Captain Wilkins, we'll get going as soon as your baggage is stored. Sit anywhere you like." She turned to go back to her cockpit.

"Excuse me," I stopped her, "I don't want to be rude; but what is this thing."

Captain Wilkins arched her eyebrow. I immediately shrank back; Philomena always arched her eyebrow the exact same way--just before beating me. "I'm sorry!" I gasped.

But the captain just laughed, "No need to apologize. This 'thing' as you called it is a Dornier Seastar. It is an amphib; we can take off and land on either land or water. It's very useful in this area with all the small islands. Why don't you go ahead and get seated, while I get the plane ready for engine start-up.

I looked around, seat selection wasn't going to be hard, as there were only six--three on each side. I chose the last seat on the left and buckled myself in. I set the cat crate at my feet. Brett sat across the aisle. Esmée stood in the open door, looking out and scanning the area. She stepped back as Solo entered the cabin. A second pilot followed Solo in and closed and secured the door before entering the cockpit. Solo and Esmée seated themselves in the first row.

As soon as the plane's door closed the engines began winding up and it wasn't long before we were in the air again. Ten minutes later, Captain Wilkins looked back from the left side of the cockpit and signaled to Solo. He immediately stood and walked back to our seats and squatted between us.

"Okay, we'll be arriving at your island in about two hours. When we land, Esmée and I will go ashore first and do a security check. After that we'll unload you two, show you around, and then take off and leave you to enjoy your vacation."

"Vacation?" I asked with as much irony as I could muster. "Sorry, didn't mean to be bitchy." I finished.

Solo left us and went back to his seat. I looked over and Brett was staring out his window. I looked out my window and saw only water... not very interesting. I glanced down at the cat crate and saw a black and white paw poking through the grate. Nick was awake. I picked up the crate and set it on my tray table. Nora was there too; her nose was pressed against the crate door. "Good morning you two. Be good for just a little longer and you'll have a whole island as your playground." I stuck a finger through the grate and spent a couple minutes scratching their ears.

I was at the back of the airplane, using the small lavatory, when I felt the pressure building in my ears again, "We must be descending?" I thought to myself as I swallowed to relieve the pressure. I washed my hands and returned to my seat.

Looking out the window I could see that the water was getting closer by the second. I still didn't see any land and I was getting concerned. I asked Brett about it; he reminded me that the aircraft was amphibious--it could land on the ground or on water.

"Land on water? Isn't that an oxymoron?" I asked him. I hoped I was smiling--I didn't want to look scared. When Solo signaled that we'd be landing in five minutes, I set the cat crate on the floor and stowed away my table. I looked over, Brett was staring out his window again.

I had a brief second of panic as we 'landed' and water splashed up over the windows. Everyone else looked as calm as could be; I, on the other hand, wanted to scream "Abandon Ship!" We bobbed about on the ocean for several minutes. At last, the pilot got us lined up with the dock; the second pilot opened the cabin door and jumped out. Solo went to the open door and caught a rope. He stepped out for a few seconds and then returned. "Okay. Let's go." He signaled Esmée to join him. "Give us 15 minutes." He called out to Brett and me.

I had been fine while we were in the air; but sitting and waiting in an aircraft rocking in time with the ocean made me uncomfortable. Getting seasick in an airplane; wouldn't that be ironic. Solo came back, "Okay. The island is secure. Let me show you to your bungalow. I stepped out of the plane, onto the stubby bottom wing that seemed to be keeping us afloat, then onto the pier. The view was idyllic. A wide, golden sand beach stretch in both direction. Off to our right, a smaller pier had a good-sized sailboat and a couple jet skis tied down to it. "Beautiful!" I muttered as Solo led us off the pier and down a path that led to a large grove of palm trees.

Solo began briefing us on the island, "We have 100 acres and the beaches completely encircle the island. Everyone has their favorite spot. For recreation you have tennis courts, golf putting and chipping greens as well as a state-of-the-art golf simulator. The island has sailboats, kayaks, a fishing boat, and jet skis you can operate. You can swim and snorkel; we have two world-class coral reefs about 100 yards out."

"As far as quality of life goes, the island has its own desalination facility so you have plenty of fresh water for drinking and washing. You also have a large solar array that powers all electrics--excesses are stored in batteries for when it's cloudy. The system is automatic. You also have a satellite dish and access to every TV broadcast in the world. If you don't like TV, there is also an extensive music library."

He paused dramatically, and we broke out of the palm grove into a clearing, "Holy God!" Brett exclaimed.

"This is your bungalow." Solo grinned.

My first thought was something about glass houses and stones. Try to imagine: A one-story house--no more like a mansion--raised up at least eight feet above ground-level on what appeared to be bamboo pilings. Perhaps a tree house without a tree? Anyway, the structural elements all appeared to be giant pieces of bamboo; a roof of thatched palm leaves covered the entire structure; and all the exterior walls and interior room dividers were glass. Brett had it right, "Holy God!" I repeated.

Solo led us through the amazing structure. He explained that all was not as it seemed. For example, all the thick pilings below and the structural pieces above were, in fact, reinforced concrete molded and painted to look like bamboo. Inside, I could see that every glass wall had white curtains available for privacy. I tapped on the glass forming one of the outer walls. It felt far different from any window I'd ever encountered before.

"All the exterior facing glass is two-inches thick and is bulletproof and hurricane proof." Solo explained. "But all the exterior panes will slide open to allow breezes to circulate. Hurricanes are also why the house is on the stilts... to keep it above any storm surge that might occur; in fact, all the island's critical systems are at least eight feet off the ground." He continued giving us the tour. The interior was simple, minimalistic even. All the furniture was of bamboo (real) and upholstered in cream colored fabric that matched the curtains.

Solo ended the house tour in the 'business center'. He showed us the encrypted sat phone, wi-fi router, secure computer, and most importantly the extensive manual explaining where everything was and how to operate it.

"So, if that's all, we'll leave you now. I promised my wife and daughter I'd try to be home for my little girl's dance recital tomorrow. Read the manual... it will answer any questions. Have fun." And with that, he and Esmée disappeared back down the path.

I immediately started housekeeping. I found Nick and Nora's boxes; put them outside on a covered porch overlooking the palm forest; and then dug out their dishes and box of food. I let them out of their crate and took them to their boxes and then showed them their bowls. After that, they took off together for their own tour of the place.

Brett and I gathered what little we'd had time to grab and moved it to the bedroom and then to the large walk-in closet. The left side had an engraved wooden sign reading 'Ladies'.

I opened up one of the closets, "Whoa! Brett, look at this." The space was filled with a variety of what you'd call 'resort wear', including sundresses, big floppy hats, sandals of all types and sizes, and light cover-ups for the beach. I opened my suitcase and sorted through it; I pulled out my panties, bras and stockings, and my bath and personal items, but put everything else back in the bag. I stuck the bag in the back of the closet. I started opening drawers to put away my undies, "Oh my word!"

"What?" Brett turned from his own unpacking.

"Have I got a surprise for you. Close your eyes for a minute."

"Kari! I haven't got time..."

"Okay, Okay. Just turn around for a while and promise not to peek until I tell you."

He sighed, "This better be good." He grumped.

He turned away. I ripped off my clothes and ditched everything in the laundry hamper. I opened the compartment marked '34D + DD' and gaped at the selection of bathing apparel. I licked my lips and picked out the absolute skimpiest thing I could find. What little there was of it was white; it consisted of three small triangle of cloth that might keep me from getting arrested on a public beach--then again, they might not.

I slipped on and tied the bottom strings. I hate to admit the thrill I felt as the string slid between my butt cheeks. It took me about a minute to tie, retie, and adjust the top so that my nipples were covered. I slipped on a pair of matching white beach sandals. I posed for Brett, trying to be modest and alluring at the same time. "Okay, you can look."

Brett turned; his jaw dropped. I twirled around for him and then cupped my hands under my scantily covered breasts. "Well?" I challenged him.

He stared and didn't say anything; but I could see a distinct bulge forming in his trousers. I stayed silent but gave him my best smile.

He stepped across the closet; he was close enough that I could feel his body heat. But he didn't touch me. Had my message not gotten through to him, I wondered. He leaned over and gave me a firm kiss. I tried to respond, but Brett suddenly grabbed me and swept me into his arms. He kicked his suitcase out of the way and carried me to the bed. He unceremoniously dumped me on the mattress. In the time it took me to bounce once, he stripped and was on top of me.

Brett grabbed my hands and pushed them above my head. He had a wild look in his eyes as he slammed his lips against mine. My lips parted and Brett's tongue thrust forward demanding entry. I closed my mouth just a bit, trying to capture his tongue. He growled... I stopped. He continued his rough kissing.

He let go of my hands, I started lifting them to embrace him, "Don't move!" He ordered, as he moved away. I froze. "Close your eyes." He whispered. As soon as I complied he pushed himself off me. I whimpered at the loss of body contact, but he immediately grabbed me again and flipped me face-down on the mattress. He grabbed the string on my bikini top; I thought for a second he was going to destroy the lovely garment, but I heard him hiss in a deep breath, and then carefully undo the bows that secured the top and bottoms. I felt him slip the garments out from under me... I assumed he tossed them aside.

He paused for a split second; I had time for a fleeting 'what's next' moment. Then he grabbed my hips and lifted them off bed, at the same time he kicked my knees apart and slipped a rough finger between my soaking wet labia. He removed his finger, pulled me back to him, and I felt him sliding into me. What a wondrous moment!

I'm sure I shrieked with pleasure as he drove himself deeper and deeper. He plumbed depths of me he'd never been before... and kept going! Damn, how big was his cock now? And not only deep, but wide! I was stretched so far... another millimeter and and I was sure I'd split apart. But God it was good. I groaned with pleasure as I felt him finally bump against my backside. He retreated slowly, then jammed himself in again... much less gently. I buried my face in the mattress and screamed with pleasure as Brett thrust himself into me again and again.

With me fully impaled, Brett leaned over and whispered, "Are you enjoying this Slave?" I grinned like a lunatic; my Master was in control!

"Oh yes! Master. Please don't stop." Encouraged, he plunged deeper and faster. He began grunting; he slammed into me so hard that he pushed me into the bed's headboard. He roared and pushed into me one last time and I felt his seed jetting into me again and again. He slumped over and wrapped his arms around me caressing my breasts.

"Damn!" I thought, "He's still hard." My master's cock hadn't softened a bit--but his demeanor changed. He slipped out of my drenched pussy, but kept his erection pressed between my lips so that he rubbed slowly against my clit; at the same time gently running his fingers around my nipples.

I couldn't wait any longer; I began squirming backwards as hard as I could to increase the friction on my clit. I was close... so close... just a little more. Brett pinched my nipples and I climaxed with a gasp. Every sensory nerve in my body fired at once and I lost control. Brett lay on top of me, holding my hands and kissing my back, until I became coherent again.

"Master! Enough! I surrender!" I groaned. He rose off of me, but I was too overwhelmed to look. But he was back shortly.

"Slave Kari, lift up a bit so I can clean you." I complied and felt a warm washcloth gently wiping me clean. It felt so comforting to be cared for. When he finished, my master lifted me and set me on a dry towel before adjusting a pillow under my head and covering me with the softest sheet I'd ever felt.

He left me for a moment before I felt him slide into the bed and press up against me. Physically, I was sated; but now I wanted a comforting touch. I rolled over and once again pushed myself against my master. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me gently until I fell asleep using his right arm as my pillow and his left arm as my blanket.

I woke--groggy--to Brett's voice, "Kari, Sweetheart, you'll want to see this. Come on Honey, time to get moving."

"What?" I was totally comfy and absolutely did not want to move.

Brett lifted me to a sitting position. "No!" I moaned.

My master sighed, "Slave, open your eyes. Right now!" I angrily snapped my eyes open; however, I immediately forgave Master for disturbing me. At the foot of our bed, through the glass wall, I could see the sun just peeking over the horizon.

"Wow. Just like I fantasized. I'm sorry for being bitchy." I slid to the end of the bed and sat watching the sunrise. Brett slid behind me and wrapped his arms around me. When the sun cleared the horizon, I turned and climbed into Brett's lap. After a couple kisses (despite the mutual morning breath) I thanked him for waking me up.

"Was the sunrise everything you fantasized, Slave?" He asked me.

"Better. I had your arms around me. Now, what can I do for you Master?"

Brett smiled; I shivered in anticipation of whatever carnal delights he had in mind. He pointed to the kitchen, "Coffee. Breakfast. Now." My master ordered.

"Huh?"

He lightly slapped my bottom, "Food! Feed me slave!"

I jumped off him and hurried to the kitchen area. I didn't waste time putting on any clothes. I'd never been in, or seen for that matter, a nicer kitchen. This was the real-life realization of a gourmet chef's wet dream. I found seven, count 'em seven, different varieties of coffee. I selected a simple medium roast breakfast blend. Then, after digging around, I found a high-end drip coffee maker. I figured out its operation and got a pot started. I almost served oatmeal; but after Brett's efforts last night and his consideration this morning I decided to treat him. So, while the coffee brewed, I prepared simple cheese omelets, home fries, sausage, and toast. When everything was ready, I plated the food and poured coffee. I was setting up a tray when Brett entered the kitchen and sat at the table.

I set his plate and coffee in front of him along with milk and a sugar bowl. I set out my food and then kneeled beside my master and waited.

He ate and sipped for a couple minutes, "Excellent breakfast," He said as he put down a piece of toast. After that, he diced up my omelet and fed me. It did taste good. I was proud of myself. He handed me my coffee, "Drink for yourself. We don't want to make a mess."

"Thank you, Master." He finished feeding me and then helped me stand.

"If you'll wash, I'll dry," Brett said. "Then I think I'd like to explore the island. Are you up for that?"

"Absolutely Master. Will we be exploring by land or by water?"

"Land... I suspect."

We finished the clean-up in no time at all. I went to the bathroom and showered, washed my hair, and cleaned myself. Then I dressed again in the skimpy, barely there, white bikini, sandals, and a big hat--oh, and half a bottle of sunscreen. I met Brett on the front porch. We climbed down the stairs and decided on the path to the left. After about 100 yards following the beach, we came upon a small jetty; not the big one where the plane had parked the day before. We spotted another bamboo structure right next to the jetty. Inside, we found racks holding all sorts of fishing gear, four sea kayaks, assorted paddles, and flotation devices. A shelf near the top held diving masks, snorkels, and flippers.

"This might be fun to try." I hinted, "Maybe not right now; but before we leave."

"Do you know how to swim?" Brett asked.

"I do. My fosters had a small pond on their land. Sometimes they let me join them swimming--if my chores were done. I also learned to handle a canoe."

"Excellent. Let's keep exploring." We moved on and it wasn't long before we came to the large solar array that powered the island; and beyond that we found the water desalination set-up. Brett seemed interested in understanding the process and spent some time reading manuals in the desal building. I was bored to death--as long as I had water to drink, shower, and make coffee I was willing to take it in good faith. We reached the north end of the island and then turned south following the beach on the west side. From the beach we explored an unmarked path that led us to the golf putting and chipping greens. Like at the kayak jetty, there was a small, elevated, bamboo shack that held golf equipment. We grabbed a couple putters and a box of golf balls. Brett challenged me to a putting contest. To make the contest interesting we made a small wager--the winner to receive a minimum of 30 minutes of 'intimate personal attention.' I made sure my Master won.

By the time we finished our golf match, the sun was almost directly overhead... and it was hot. We located a marked path and we followed it through a forest of palms back to the house. I made a pitcher of lemonade, and we relaxed in bamboo rocking chairs out on the shaded veranda.

For our lunch I prepared a nice, healthy green salad with olive oil and balsamic vinegar and brought it out onto the veranda. Brett complained--a little--that he'd rather have a meatball sub. I promised that if he ate his salad like a good master, I'd make something nice for dinner.

After finishing our salads, Brett dozed off in his rocking chair. I took the dishes into the kitchen and washed everything. The kitchen had a dishwasher, but I'd never used one before so I left it alone. I checked on Brett, he was still napping, so I went back to the kitchen and searched through every drawer and cabinet. I found the chef's recipe book; as well as a chart that showed where every food item was stored.

Finished in the kitchen, I wandered around the house. What a place! Instead of 'place' maybe I should say palace. It was a remarkable combination of high-tech architecture and engineering and simple and functional interior design. I found the business center again. I saw a large notebook labeled 'Handbook for Guests'. I opened the large binder and was surprised to find a letter.

Dear Brett and slave:

Welcome to my island. We haven't met in person, but I too am a master of The Gathering. When Annabeth Spencer advised me of your problem and need for safety and security, I volunteered my little piece of paradise for as long as you need it. You will find everything you need for your comfort, safety, and entertainment; and If you look hard enough--your pleasure.

Every few days you will receive a delivery, by boat, of perishable foodstuffs, i. e. fresh vegetables, dairy, bakery, etc. The boatmen will not step on the island; they'll leave it on the jetty for you. So, keep an eye out. If you need to special order, use the tablet in the kitchen; it links directly to our supplier and you'll have it within 24 hours.

So, I hope you enjoy your stay. Please Stay Safe and Have Fun.

Your Host

CHAPTER 20

I took the letter and went to rouse Brett. He was awake and staring out at the ocean. "Hi!" I greeted him, "I found this letter from our host. I thought you'd like to read it."

"Hmm?" He murmured as he read, "I wonder what that line about searching and pleasure means?"

"I'm not sure, but I suspect it somehow refers to the Master/Slave relationship. Honestly, it makes me excited and just a little nervous." I replied.

"I suspect you're right."

"Master, I want to go to the beach and lay in the sun. Would you help me re-apply sunscreen?"

"I will; but Slave, I don't want any tan lines."

I smiled, "I understand Master." I went into the house and found the large bottle of sunscreen and grabbed a large beach towel. I returned to my master. I handed him the lotion and dropped the towel before carefully stripping off the tiny bikini. I turned my back and kneeled. Brett carefully spread the lotion all over my back and butt. His hands felt so good.

"Stand up and turn around." Brett ordered.

"I can do the front..."

"Slave, are you arguing with me? I said stand up and turn around."

"Yes sir." I did as he said. He applied more lotion to my face and body. While he massaged lotion onto my breasts I had a sudden thought; was it just me, or did Brett seem to be embracing his status as my master? Was this because of his accident... or perhaps the rose? I shivered with delight at the thought.

"Are you alright Slave? Are you cold?" He asked.

"No Master. This slave just felt ticklish." I shivered again as my master rubbed sunscreen between my legs and onto my hairless sex. Gosh, it felt so good.

"Okay, all done. You can do your legs and arms for yourself. Do not get sunburned!"

"No Master. I'll be careful." I kneeled and picked up my towel, then stood. Remembering my training, I marched away to the beach, squaring my turns as best I could. I allowed myself one hour of sun; turning over every 15 minutes or so. When I was done I ran down the beach and jumped into the ocean. The water was slightly cooler than the air; but not by much. I ducked under the water and opened my eyes. I got a quick glimpse of a couple small fish--before my eyes started burning--I forgot I was in salt water.

I jumped up and cleared my eyes; and then gathered up my hair and draped it behind me. I splashed around jumping and dunking. I swam out a little ways then turned and went back to shore. I stood up in water about knee-deep and gathered my hair again. I'd have to use some hair ties next time I jumped in the ocean.

I couldn't help but laugh. I was having so much fun just playing and splashing in the water. I spread out my arms and flopped backwards into the water. The water wasn't as deep as I thought and I banged my bottom on the... bottom. "Ouch!" I tried to yell; but only succeeded in sucking in a mouthful of salt water. I rolled to my hands and knees, coughing and spluttering, eyes watering again from the salt water, laughing at my own foolishness.

I was suddenly lifted up. Brett had me in his arms, "Kari, are you alright."

I coughed again, "I'm fine Master. This slave was just playing and being foolish and got a mouthful of salt water." I grinned and tossed my hair out of my eyes. "Master, I just realized something. I'm now 32 years old. This is the first time in my life I've done something simply for the fun of it... and laughed at myself while I did it."

"I know. I was watching you. I was tempted to join you, but you were having so much fun, I didn't want to interrupt. If you enjoy the water, would you like to try snorkeling?"

"I would. I tried opening my eyes underwater; that didn't work so well."

*****

It had been over two weeks since we'd arrived on our island... make that our idyllic island... make that our perfect paradise... make that... never mind, you get the picture. We had tried every kind of recreation the island offered. I absolutely loved using the sailboat. It turned out that as a boy Brett had been a Boy Scout and had earned the sailing merit badge. Anyway we used the sailboat to take us out to coral reefs so we could go snorkeling. I didn't really care for the motorboat--I thought it was too loud for this paradise. Brett and I played golf every day--he kept winning our bets. For the past 11 days I'd referred to him only as Master or Sir--except during sex. I can't explain it, but while making love, I always thought of him as Brett. Other than that, I never used his name; and he seemed to be getting more and more comfortable addressing me as Slave. Most days, I found some way to earn a spanking. I hoped that we'd be able to maintain at least some of the Dominant/submissive relationship when we left the island.

I hadn't bothered with clothes since our second day on the island. I had tanned nicely--no tan lines. Anyway, that day I was lying nude at my favorite spot on the beach, slathered in sunscreen. Master was lying beside me, his right hand gently circling and teasing my rapidly hardening nipples. Nick and Nora were down by the edge of the water, playing with a crab. Nora found out the hard way that crabs don't play. She raced back to us and sat next to me licking her sore paw.

I tried to think about not having had any word yet about our return... but I couldn't. For me, this island paradise was so perfect that I could easily imagine spending the rest of my life here. Of course, just then the super-encrypted sat phone we'd been instructed to keep with us at all times buzzed.

"Answer the phone slave." Master mumbled, still playing with my nipples.

I felt around and found the phone; pushed the correct buttons, "Hello?" I answered.

"May I speak to Brett?" It was Annabeth Spencer on the other end of the call.

I came alert, sort of, "Good morning Mistress Spencer." I looked at Master, raised my eyebrows and silently asked if he wanted to take the call. He waved away the phone. "I'm sorry ma'am, but my master is very busy and ordered this unworthy slave to take any calls." I smiled at Master as I waited for a response. I hissed as he pinched my nipple.

"Are you quite well Slave?" Mistress Annabeth queried.

"I'm fine Mistress. My master and I are having quite a lovely time here--wherever it is that we are." Brett slipped his hand down my abdomen. His rough finger tapped on my clit and then slid down between my moistening labia. I nearly forgot the phone.

"Kari... are you still there."

"Sorry Mistress, I became distracted... by the beautiful scenery." I had to take a deep breath as Brett's finger kept probing.

Mistress Annabeth started laughing, "Slave Kari, tell your master I have good news and bad news. He should stop distracting you." I could hear Elizabeth giggling behind Mistress Annabeth.

I gasped in a couple more deep breaths, "Master... Mistress Anna..." gasp, "Spencer says you should..." I couldn't stop a soft moan of pleasure, "Mistress says stop distracting me... she has good and bad news." I sighed as he removed his fingers.

"What's the bad news?" Brett asked as he circled his finger around my navel.

"Mistress, my master would like the bad news first." I tried to concentrate.

"You're going to have to stay there for a couple extra weeks. Your house was attacked and suffered some damage. We'll need time to repair it. It could have been much worse; our people found the device and had time to move it away from the house before it detonated."

"We don't care about the stupid house. Are your people okay? Was anyone hurt?" I demanded. Forgetting I was a slave for just a second, I pushed Master's hand away from my navel and sat up straight.

"Kari, Darling, thank you for asking. Everyone is fine."

"Oh, thank God. A house isn't worth getting hurt for." I murmured, "Give me one second please, Mistress." I covered the phone and explained things to my master.

"What's the good news?" He asked me as he propped himself up on one elbow.

"Mistress, if having to remain longer in this paradise is the bad news, what is the good news?"

"Your friend Philomena planned another bomb attack..."

"Oh no!"

"But her bomb maker screwed up and the bomb exploded in her house. Philomena, the men Shack and Dickie, and the woman Stacey... as well as several unidentified women all died in the explosion."

"I see." I silently reveled in the knowledge that Philomena and her crew were gone. I grieved for the unnamed women... most likely kidnap victims just like me. Brett reached for the phone. "Thank you Mistress, I think my master has finished and is able to speak to you now." I handed him the sat phone.

"Hello Annabeth," My master began, and I lost interest in the conversation. I rolled over onto my knees and crawled down between Brett's legs. I pushed his knees apart; I smiled as I remembered how Brett had done the same thing the night I surrendered my virginity. I moved forward and gently took hold of Brett's manhood with both hands. I started stroking him slowly; he quickly rose to the occasion and it wasn't long before I had him in my mouth, caressing him with my hands, my tongue, and lips--and eventually my throat. I challenged myself to make him climax before he finished the phone call.

I succeeded. I felt a certain amount of glee when I heard Brett gasp, "Annabeth, hold on second..." His hand flopped to the side and his cock erupted in my mouth. I smiled with satisfaction as I licked him clean. He resumed his conversation with Mistress Spencer.

I rose from the sand and strolled back to our bungalow. I went to the bathroom and rinsed my mouth and brushed my teeth. I prepared lemonade for both of us, returned to the beach, and served my master his drink.

He finished the call with, "Thank you, Annabeth. We look forward to hearing from you." He shut down the phone.

"Well." He muttered. "It looks like our issues with Philomena's organization are over."

"It seems so. But just getting blown up like that... doesn't seem like justice... it was too easy. She deserved to suffer so much more." I sipped my lemonade.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. We should have taken her to Africa and tied her down where a pride of hungry lions or a pack of hyenas could find her. Wait! I could take her down to Texas, cover her with honey and stake her out on top of a fire ant nest. I've got it!" I was in full rant mode now. "We could take her to the Amazon and suspend her by her wrists over a pool full of starving piranha--lower her feet-first; give them a couple inches a day. The evil bitch deserved to suffer!" I flopped back onto the sand... physically drained by my hatred of Philomena... what she'd done to me. I was glad she was dead; I only wished I could have sent a final, fatal bullet into her skull... after a couple days using one of 'Willy's Leathers' bullwhips on her... and then taking a baseball bat to her for a couple more days. Then the bullet.

I was still shaking with fury when Master leaned over and kissed me: forehead, eyes, nose, and finally lips. Each touch was as soft as a whisp of air. He rolled over on top of me but stayed still. Just applying many more soft kisses. "Sweetheart, Philomena's dead; you're alive; you have to let it go."

"I know." I whispered. I felt ashamed of myself after my furious outburst... but conflicted. On one hand I wanted to personally kill Philomena for what she'd done to me--the captivity, the beatings, the threats, the humiliation; not to mention her attempt to murder my beloved Master. On the other hand, here I was, willingly submitting to Master and taking delight in serving and obeying him. His spankings gave me unimagined sexual release. 'How sick is that?' I wondered as I slipped out from underneath him and tucked myself under his protective arm.

We laid quietly on the warm beach. It must have been an hour; neither of us said anything. Nick and Nora were nowhere in sight. The sun was getting closer to the horizon when I wiggled out of Brett's arms. "I need to go inside and start dinner, Master. I'll call you when it's ready." I stood up and brushed the sand off my body. "Would Master like this slave to put on more sunscreen before it starts dinner?"

"Thank you, no. I think I'll go inside and take a shower."

I went to the kitchen and washed my face and hands. Still naked except for my sandals, I pulled out an apron and put it on; I didn't want to accidently burn myself on the stove. I opened up the tablet to check our food inventory. I selected a couple small beef filets, potatoes to bake, and some nice fresh asparagus delivered that morning, which I planned to roast and top with lemon juice and parmesan cheese. For desert I chose pumpkin-spice ice cream that had arrived packed in dry ice. "Trust me, you'll love it!" The delivery man had promised.

I started the potatoes and got the filets and asparagus out of the fridge. Satisfied with my prep work I went and set the table in the formal dining room. Neither my master, nor I, particularly cared for wine--even though the kitchen tablet claimed the island had one of the world's great wine cellars. During meals my master preferred either sparkling water or lemonade. I had both on the table.

My timing couldn't have been better. My filets came off the broiler and I set them aside to rest; three minutes later the potatoes and Asparagus both came out of the oven. I put the topping for the potatoes and asparagus on the table, and I went to the master suite and found my master, dressed in tropical weight trousers and shirt, standing at the window, and looking out at the ocean. I walked over, assumed 'Present' position, and raised my hand.

"You may speak... Slave."

"Master, dinner is ready. It will be served in the formal dining room."

"Thank you. I'll be right in."

I rose and returned to the kitchen. I plated our food, removed my apron, and took the food to the dining room. Master walked in as I placed his dinner on the table. My dish was immediately next to it. As soon as my master sat, I kneeled at his left side and waited.

Master diced up his potato and added a bit of butter and soured cream. Then he cut and took a bite of his filet and asparagus. He reached out and patted my head, "Delicious. Well done Slave." He cut a bit of meat from my plate and fed me--it was delicious.

After that, master alternated; a bite for him, a bite for me. When we finished I served the ice cream. Master was skeptical, but after tasting it agreed it really was quite good. So good in fact, that he forgot to give me any.

As soon as he finished he stood, "Excellent. Best meal I've had in some time. Thank you Slave. I'll be in the living area." He left the dining room. When he was gone I stood up. My dish of ice cream still sat there melting. I wanted to taste it; however, Master had not given me permission. I took the dish to the kitchen; covered it in plastic wrap; and placed it back in the freezer.

I marched out of the dining room and went to Master's side. Given permission to speak, I asked Master if he would like me to prepare a cocktail. He smiled and asked for a small Knob Creek Bourbon on the rocks.

After I delivered Master's drink, I returned to the kitchen and cleaned up and washed, dried, and put away the dishes. I returned to the living area; Master had started an old black and white movie. "Slave, go get your comb and come back. I'll do your hair for you." He didn't give me permission to speak so I turned and went to get my comb as ordered; however, not knowing precisely what he had in mind I grabbed a couple scrunchies and wrapped them around my wrists.

I returned to the living room and handed Master my comb. He gave me a small pad, "Kneel and relax with your back to me so that I can work." He ordered.

I complied and relaxed against Master's knees. He began by gently running his fingers through my long mane. He tugged out a few more tangles than usual; I must have been careless. He tsked; I suspected I had a spanking in my future for not taking care of my hair properly.

Master was silent for quite a while--except when he laughed at the comedy on the TV. At last, he spoke to me, "Slave, I think I'd like to braid your hair. Do you have scrunchies?"

"Yes Master." I pulled the bands off my wrists and passed them back to him. I could feel him gathering my hair and wrapping a tie on it very close to my head and then start braiding. After that, he took the long braid and wrapped it around itself to form a tight bun at the nape of my neck. He secured it with the second scrunchie.

"Stand up Slave." Master ordered. He handed me the comb, "Go put this away and then return." I hurried away, making sure to square my turns and march properly. I was back quickly; without orders, to be safe I assumed my 'inspection' position. Master rose from his chair and began circling me. "You are tanning very nicely Slave. No tan lines--very good." He ran a finger between the lips of my sex. "Very nice Slave. Still absolutely smooth." He ran his finger along my lips again. It took every bit of my self-control to stay still and silent.

Master withdrew his finger, smiled, "Taste yourself." He ordered and held his hand up to my mouth. I took a deep breath and pursed my lips. Master didn't wait; he immediately slipped his finger into my mouth and repeated his order to taste myself. So, I did. Noisily and with enthusiasm. I made sure his digit was absolutely clean before I pulled back.

"Well?" Master asked. I hesitated; not sure if that was a question. "You may speak Slave."

"Thank you Master. This slave thought it tasted... delicious, Sir." I'm sure I blushed bright red.

Master smiled, "Yes she does. But Slave your hair was not well cared for--you've been slacking off. Wall!" He demanded. I gulped and looked around. We hadn't established a punishment spot as part of our routine--most of the time Master had just put me over his knees. Master wasn't giving me any hints; I had to decide. Off to our right was a bare glass wall. I figured it was as good a spot as any to get my ass walloped. I marched over to the wall and spread my legs. I started to lean forward but realized I was too close. I stopped and moved my feet back a couple more inches. Satisfied, I let myself fall forward. As soon as my right hand touched the glass wall, I heard a loud click.

"What was that Slave?" Master said from right behind me. "You'd better pray you didn't break something."

"No Master. When this slave touched the wall, there was a click."

"Stand up Slave." Master ordered.

I pushed away from the wall, and immediately the panel I'd touched slid back to reveal an ancient-looking black, wooden door. "Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Master asked rhetorically.

I stepped aside. Leaving the door to Master. He stepped forward and opened the door; a light inside the room came on automatically. "After you, Slave." Master made me go in first. I took one look around and froze in fear. I knew this room... it was a room for torture and pain.

"No!" I shrieked and pushed my way past Master to get out of that room. I knew I was in trouble. I had disobeyed and I didn't know what to do. I ran to the middle of the living room and dropped into my 'apology' position and waited for Master to decide what to do with me. I was terrified.

I heard Master walking briskly in my direction. I expected his belt, or one of the whips from the dungeon, across my back at any second. I waited. "Slave. Present."

I lifted my head; saw Master sitting on the edge of his chair. I crawled up to him and moved to 'present' as ordered.

"Slave, you disobeyed me. Before I punish you, explain yourself. You may speak freely."

"Master... this slave begs you. Please do not make it go into that room. Cane me, whip me, hang me from a ceiling if you wish... but please not in that room. This slave cannot go in there. Please Master."

"Slave... explain." He demanded. "You're on very thin ice right now."

I shivered; and then told my story. As my master already knew, I'd been held in captivity by Philomena for roughly 11 years. During that time, I'd made at least three unsuccessful attempts to escape; each resulted in ever-harsher punishments and tighter confinement. Finally, Philomena had me chained hand and foot and brought to her. Sitting in front of her, she forced me to read an excerpt from some book that described the torture chamber in a sadist's dungeon. When I finished she delighted in telling me that she'd had an identical dungeon built in her basement, and she planned to auction off the 'privilege' of being the first to use the chamber. She smiled as she told me I and another girl were going to be auctioned as the first victims of the room--and that I shouldn't expect to leave the room alive. After that she had me returned to my cell and rechained to a concrete block.

I was sobbing as I finished relating my story. "Please Master." I begged again, "Don't make me... this slave... go into that room."

Master looked into my eyes; I immediately fell into my 'submit' position. I sensed Master rising; I tensed again... ready for a belt across my back. But he walked away and shut that menacing door. He pushed the glass panel closed. Amazingly as the panel closed, the illusion of see-through walls resumed. Master returned, "What room are you talking about, Kari?"

I hoped my smile conveyed my gratitude, "It must have been my imagination, Master. This slave apologizes for its outburst."

"Stand up Kari."

I did. My master wrapped me in his arms and pulled me into his lap. "I'm sorry Kari. Philomena really was a cruel and evil woman wasn't she."

I couldn't speak; but I wiped my eyes, "Yes Master." I snuggled down so I was tight against Master's body. I couldn't imagine life being any better than this. I felt Master shift his body; I opened one eye to see what he was doing. He only had picked up the TV remote and was changing the channel. I closed my eye again.

"Slave Kari, are you awake?"

"Hmm? Yes Master?"

"I was just thinking..."

"Yes Sir?"

"While we've been on this island, I've come to enjoy your submission--maybe I've even come to expect it and to believe that I am entitled to it. When you ran away from... that room. I was furious with you for disobeying. Then I realized how terrified you were. I was ashamed of myself."

"No Master. Don't be. This Slave depends on your strength and guidance. It loves serving your needs... satisfying you." I offered him my hand and a shy smile.

"There's something else bothering me..." Master began.

I shifted around to look at him.

"Since the day I asked you to marry me..." He grabbed my left hand and pointed to my ring, "You haven't said one single thing about it. Don't you think we should be discussing it... perhaps set a date?"

It was true. I hadn't thought it was my prerogative to push the issue. When Master was ready, he'd say so. "Well... this slave has no plans for tomorrow." I joked... sort of.

"Tomorrow might not work... I don't think Nick and Nora would count as witnesses, do you?"

I faked a sigh of dismay, "Probably not, Sir. So?"

"When we get home, we'll set a date and make our plans. But while we're here we can discuss preferences."

"Preferences, Master?" I wasn't sure what he meant.

"Right. For example: do you want our ceremony to be a big, lavish, church deal with lots of guests and a fancy banquet; or do you want something small, with a JP, in our backyard with a few friends.

"Oh. Definitely small, backyard, few friends. No churches or religion. What's a JP?"

"Justice of the Peace."

"Ah. I see. Master, will my status as your slave be addressed during the ceremony?"

"I'd rather save that. I'd like to invite some people who aren't aware of our rather unique relationship. Perhaps The Gathering has a separate ceremony we can celebrate. "

"I understand. That's sensible. But I will not remove my collar... this stays." I quickly touched my beautiful Turian collar to reassure myself it was still in place. "Master? May It ask a question?"

"Of Course."

"After we marry, will you permit this slave to take your last name as her own--Mrs. Kari Mathilde Noonan?"

"I'd be very proud. Now I have a question for you--and be honest--how do you feel about children?"

"Scared." I shuddered as I remembered one of Philomena's girls--from somewhere in Asia--who'd accidentally gotten pregnant. The girl disappeared the day after Philomena found out. "But, then again, after all my time with the fosters, I know how not to raise a child, so... Yes. I want children. Lots of them. I want to teach them to read, and laugh, and sing..."

Master lifted his hand and gently brushed my face, "You know, you're beautiful... more beautiful, I mean, when you smile like that."

"Thank you, Master." I wasn't quite sure I believed him... but I wanted to.

"And Kari, for the rest of tonight, no more Master/Slave. Tonight, it's just you and me."

"Okay... Brett. This... I mean... I would like that. Do you mind if I don't wear anything? I really like being... unclothed." Weird... at that particular moment, I couldn't bring myself to say 'nude' or 'naked'.

"That's fine. Getting to watch you stroll around nude is always the highlight of my day." Obviously my master had no problem with those words.

"Really?" I crawled off Brett's lap and assumed my 'display' position; but I didn't stay like that. It just served as a place from which I could start dancing for Brett. I let my body start swaying and moving to a rhythm only I could feel, a song only I could hear. Remembering Brett's preference for my nudity, I slowly approached him, bent forward, and cupped my hands under my breasts. I jiggled them just a little; offering myself to him; then moving away when Brett reached for me. I released by breasts and turned my back; swaying my backside and tracing patterns with my hands. I didn't dance alone for long. Brett joined me; placing his hands on my swaying hips and pulling me to him. We moved like that for a while; separated by a few inches; our only point of contact was Brett's hands on my hips. Gradually, though, Brett pulled my body against his. I felt him pressing against my butt cheeks. I feared that I may have unintentionally stirred Brett's interest in exploring a part of my body I wasn't sure I wanted his new, larger member exploring. I leaned back against his muscular chest; but Brett began to dictate the tempo of our movements. When he grabbed and spread my cheeks, his intentions became obvious.

I sighed as I relaxed back against Brett, encouraging him. I tried to reassure myself. I'd enjoyed anal penetration the first time--really enjoyed it. I'll admit that his larger size made me nervous; but I was committed to satisfying my master. All I could do now was hope Brett would be gentle and patient--and well lubricated.

When I woke up the next morning, I carefully flexed my butt muscles. I found I was only a little bit sore; and I didn't regret it one bit. Up to a point, Brett had been incredibly gentle and caring. He had spent nearly a half-hour lubing and stretching me. I was so aroused I actually begged him to stop teasing and enter me.

Then, when Brett touched his member to my butt, the strangest thing happened; it was as if my body opened itself, allowed Brett easy entry, and then once he was deeply embedded in me, my body tightened up and molded to fit Brett perfectly. After that, with my loud and vocal encouragement, he pounded me. Wow. Smiling at the memories I rolled over.

"Good morning Sweetheart, how are you?" Brett greeted me.

"Good morning. I'm wonderful... Master."

He reached over and patted my butt, "How are you feeling?" He looked a little concerned. "After you fell asleep, I worried I'd been too... enthusiastic."

"No need to worry, Master, you were wonderful. You were very caring and gentle--until this slave didn't want you to be." I leaned in and kissed him. "I'll go start coffee and breakfast. I don't really feel like cooking; would Master be satisfied with simple toast and peanut butter?"

"Fine."

I went to the bathroom and cleaned myself, brushed my teeth, carefully combed my hair and tied it up. I felt a little grumble and cramp in my belly; I knew my period was going to start any minute. I checked and made sure I had tampons handy, then went back to the bedroom and put on panties, loose dark shorts, and a light blouse.

"You're wearing clothes today?" Brett seemed surprised.

"That time of month. Look on the bright side, we know I'm not pregnant." I grinned as I headed for the kitchen.

"Too bad!" Brett called after me. Okay, I didn't expect that.

I found Nick and Nora in the kitchen, sitting by their food and water bowls. I started coffee and then took care of the cats. I pulled out a loaf of honey-wheat bread I'd baked the day before, butter, peanut butter, and strawberry jam.

A few minutes later Brett strolled into the kitchen wearing just a skimpy bathing suit. "It smells good." He wrapped his arms around me from behind and kissed just under my left ear. I purred just like the cats. Jeez, that felt nice.

I turned in his arms; I figured I had a minute or two before the toast would be ready. "So, you really wouldn't mind?"

"Huh? Mind what?"

"If I was pregnant!"

"Oh. No, I wouldn't 'mind'--as you put it. In fact, I'd be thrilled."

"So, you'd be okay if I stop taking my birth-control pills?"

"When did you start taking the pill?"

I reminded him of the check-up he'd insisted on six months before with an ob-gyn who was a member of The Gathering. The doctor had started me on the pill.

"Why didn't you tell me? I've heard the pill can have nasty side effects."

"Honestly, Brett, I thought that you knew. The way you and the doctor talked after my exam--all that backslapping and laughing--I thought you two were laughing at me--and talking about all the sex you could have without worrying about fathering a little slave bastard. I was really pissed off after that." Just thinking about that humiliation had me starting to get angry even now.

Brett wrapped me in a tight hug. "Cripes! Kari, I wondered why you were so... cold and distant... the next couple days. I wish you'd told me. The doctor and I absolutely were not laughing at you. We were recounting my 'rescue' of Elizabeth that night of The Gathering. All he would say was that you were fine; anything else was doctor-patient privilege... even though I'm your master, he wouldn't tell me."

I felt better; and just then the toast popped up. "Have a seat Master, I'll bring breakfast." Brett stepped away from me and went over to the small breakfast nook off the kitchen. I filled two coffee cups and made a plate full of toast. I took all that to the table along with the butter, jam, and peanut butter. I went back to get milk and then kneeled at Brett's side.

"What would you like on your toast?" He asked.

"One with butter and jam; one with peanut butter, Master... please."

He handed me my cup of coffee, "Just hold that." He said as I sipped; then he fed me a bite of my toast. When we'd finished, Brett touched my shoulder, "You know," he said, "This would be simpler if you'd just join me at the table..."

"I know. But this isn't about simple. It's about intimacy... when you feed me, I feel almost as close to you as when we're making love... not quite, but almost." It was hard for me to explain the closeness I felt when Brett offered me a bite of food. I finished my coffee and rose to start cleaning the kitchen. "Thank you for breakfast Master. I think I'll spend today cleaning the house--maybe just take it easy."

"I think I'll take the small boat and go fishing. Who knows maybe I'll even catch something we can eat. I'll take the sat phone." He laughed happily as he left.

When he returned a couple hours later, he wasn't laughing; neither did he have any fish. I was busy cleaning the master bath when he found me, "Kari, can you stop for a bit. We need to talk."

I got up and followed him to the living area and joined him on the sofa. "What's wrong Master?"

"There's no easy way to say this... I just got a call from Annabeth... our house was destroyed two days ago." Brett looked defeated... I'd never seen that before.

"What happened?"

"Annabeth said that according to the Fire Marshall, the first attack that we thought did no irreparable damage, must have weakened the heating oil line in the basement. At some point, the line ruptured and a fire started when the furnace came on. The house burned down--a total loss."

"What are we going to do?"

"I'm not sure, Sweetheart. Annabeth says we can stay here for another week; then our host needs the island back. Plus, we need to make plans to go back to work..."

"And plan a wedding..." I reminded him with a grin.

At first, I thought he was going to get angry, but he laughed, "Yes, we do need to keep our priorities in order, don't we."

After that, we talked for another couple hours. We went for a walk around the island; Nick and Nora followed us. Occasionally they would stop to play: a loose palm frond, a bug, an interesting tree all proved irresistibly distracting to them. When they got bored, they raced to catch up to us--then something else would catch their attention and they took off on another adventure.

We returned to the bungalow just as the sun touched the water line. I hurried inside to the kitchen and poured two glasses of lemonade. Back on the front deck, Brett and I sat side-by-side and watched the sunset.

When it got dark, we went inside. I realized, for the first time in a long time, that I'd forgotten to plan anything for our dinner. We went into the kitchen together to determine what was available. We found a bunch of frozen dinners in the large, stand-alone freezer. I laughed as I pulled out two chicken pot pies.

"What's so funny?" Brett asked.

I showed him the package, "It's the same thing you served me the first day you brought me into your house, remember?"

"Honestly? No. I had a lot of other things on my mind that day."

"I know." I set the boxes on the counter, smiled, and wrapped my arms around him. I looked him in the eyes. "You tried so hard to be a tough and scary hard-ass; trying to shock me into saying..." I still couldn't bring myself to say it out loud, "... you know. That phrase! But I knew you wouldn't do anything to injure me. I knew I was safe at last... for the first time. Brett, Darling, Thank You so much for saving me."

Brett arms tightened and pulled me closer and brushed the tip of my nose with his lips, "If you're so smart... What about the rule that said I could 'dispose' of you as I wished; that didn't worry you?"

"Oh Please! I knew you were just trying to scare me... and that bit about not letting me breathe... honestly!" I paused, "I will admit, though, when you and Dirty Dave came into the tattoo booth and you told me Dave had offered $100,000 to buy me... I had a moment of panic; but I saw in your eyes that everything was okay."

Being so close to Brett, I was getting more than a little aroused, so I stepped back and unboxed the pot pies--which I'd almost forgotten about--and put them in the oven.

We sat in the breakfast nook off the kitchen while we waited for dinner. I asked Brett whether Annabeth had mentioned if any of his music collection had been saved. He shook his head sadly. He said he'd asked about that; but since the oil tank was directly under it, his music center was probably the first thing to go up in flames.

"I'm so sorry." I wanted to cry. I wasn't sure if it was because Brett was sad; or because we'd lost all that beautiful music. I wiped my eyes, "Perhaps we could take a trip to Germany? See if we can find another copy of Beethoven?" I hinted.

"Maybe I'll just try Amazon... or eBay."

I grimaced. "Damn, I was hoping for a vacation in Europe." I pouted.

"I guess there's always our wedding... and then a honeymoon. We could do some kind of 'Grand Tour'."

"Seriously? That would be freaking awesome!" There I was, a 32-year-old submissive woman bouncing around the kitchen and breakfast nook like a teenager and dancing in front of my bemused Dominant. "Sorry, Sir." I apologized when I realized what I was doing. I dropped to the floor in apology and waited.

"You're fine. I love watching you... just being happy."

The oven timer sounded; I raised my head and looked at Brett. "It's okay Pet. Get up and prepare our dinner."

I rose as quickly and gracefully as I could, grabbed oven mitts, and pulled out the steaming pot pies. I placed them on pads on the table to cool a bit while I prepared a nice green salad with oil and vinegar. I served the salads and went to kneel by Brett's side, but he stopped me. "Join me Kari. We need to keep talking."

While we ate, we discussed our search for a new place to live; Brett and I decided (Okay, mostly Brett) that we would immediately sell the land with the burned-out house and begin looking for our fantasy place on the water. Next, we agreed that we would marry (conventionally) as soon as possible after we got home; although I insisted that my vows would include the words, love, honor, obey, and serve. We also agreed that we both would continue to work--I promised, because of Brett's new position as President of WAMA, to be extraordinarily careful not to make any more careless mistakes regarding the nature of our relationship.

We finished eating and cleaning up and repaired to the living area. As had become our routine, I got my comb for Brett and he groomed my hair while we continued discussing the future. When Brett finished combing and braiding my hair, he led me to our bathroom, and together we threw away my birth control pills. Maybe I was being overly dramatic, but after I finished emptying the packet, I took Brett's hands and dropped to my knees. I solemnly promised Brett that I would be the best mother possible to our children.

End of Part 5