Island IV – Meetings · Part 14

Island IV – Meetings · Part 14 (14/21)
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“That’s good, sir. May I try it again?”

Tom couldn’t take his eyes off her when she sat down. Every movement was natural, the way she ran her hands along her skirt, all the while keeping her legs together, ending with hands folded in her lap. It must be choreographed, yet she performed the little ritual as if it were spontaneous, delivered without thinking about it. That’s likely true, Tom realized. She’s done this so many times it’s a habit.

He joined her, casually placing his arm behind her along the top of the loveseat. “Does this work for you, sir?” Out in the Channel the afternoon ferry was leaving South Island. “I could sit here for hours, watching everyday Island life.” She looked up at Tom. “Will you miss South Island, sir?”

Tom laughed, shaking his head. “Less and less, by the minute. I do regret leaving the Fire Department though. I made some inquiries about volunteering for Search and Rescue here on North Island, in case they need help in an emergency.”

Sandy tilted her head up to look at Tom. “You’ll be okay, sir? Nothing risky?” He could hear the apprehension in her voice. It was only natural she worried about him, given what had happened to her last owner.

“Not to worry, we’re well-trained in Search & Rescue not to endanger anyone on the team. I’ll be fine.” What he told her was true, although it glossed over the hazards of the unexpected. “I intend to be around to take advantage of you whenever I please.”

“Sir? May I speak freely? I have something to say, about me, about us.”

Tom was about to give her permission when he caught himself. I haven’t criticized Sandy for speaking up, so why ask for permission now? Could it be some kind of test, a way to gauge what he thought of her? Don’t make the same mistake again, allow it but set boundaries.

“When we’re alone you may speak freely, regardless of the subject. You will maintain the line between us at all times, especially in showing respect for my authority. Certain topics will still be prohibited. You will not bring up financial matters or ask about details of my business deals.” He frowned. “In particular, any talk regarding a change in belonging to me will be treated as disobedience. I’ll never let you go; live with it.”

Sandy’s eyes went wide with surprise at the ferocity of his last words. “I…” she seemed to be at a loss for words. “What I mean to say, sir, is all my life I’ve relied on someone to take care of me. I’m not one of those strong, independent women that you see on TV and in the movies. There’s been a man to tell me what to do, how to behave, for my entire adult life. I want you to know, sir, I have no desire to be treated any other way.”

She reached up to touch her collar. “I know exactly what this means. I chose this life, and I have no regrets. I’m well aware I gave up the freedom to walk away long ago. Even if I could do as I please, I’d still be here, sitting next to my master. I won’t lie to you, sir; it isn’t always easy. There were times I was so angry and frustrated I wanted to jump up, stamp my foot and yell out how some new rule was stupid and idiotic. It never happened.”

She lowered her head. “It never will happen, sir. No matter how irate I might be, it is not within me to be disobedient. Maybe there’s some brain defect, some mental disease that affects my ability to think rationally. Whatever the reason, you have this immense power over me, sir. I’m fixated on you; I can’t say no. All I can do is trust your judgement concerning what’s best for me, even if I can’t understand why.

“The reason I asked to speak freely is about this house. I worried that you might be spending on me rashly, first by quitting your job on South Island and now buying what must be a very expensive home here, all to make me happy. I realize now that was wrong. If I don’t have faith in you, no matter what actions you take, the rules you impose on me, or the way you order me around, then I’m lost, alone in the world.

“Your intentions are clear to me now, sir. You have matters in hand; I’m not supposed to be concerned about money issues. The new start, sir, I got sidetracked. No longer, from this moment on I’ll put it out of my mind.”

Sandy’s revelation gave Tom much to think about. Her concerns made sense, given she was unaware of the details of her previous owner’s financial legacy. From her point of view, it would appear as if he was being reckless.

He laid a hand over hers. “Sandy, look at me. I’m not going to explain why, but I do want to reassure you about buying this house. It’s not going to bankrupt us, so in the future don’t hesitate to ask me for something you might want, regardless of the cost. If you want to make me angry then adopting some sort of noble self-sacrifice attitude is a fast and certain way to piss me off. If your request isn’t practical then I’ll say no and that will be the end of it.”

Sandy leaned in close to Tom. “It’s difficult for me, sir. I don’t know you well enough to sense if I’m being a burden.”

“First of all, it’s my job to determine if you’re a burden, as you put it. If I disapprove, you can be sure you will be the first to find out. I don’t expect miracles. The only way you can learn about me is to test how far you can go. Once I make it clear what is prohibited, then you have guidelines. You have considerable experience in adapting to your man. I’m not worried about the times you come to me, or whether it’s a need or a want.

Time to lighten the mood. He sat up straight, looked down at her with a determined expression, and delivered his command in the most emphatic terms. “I do want to make it clear you will never be allowed to keep a pony in the backyard. Don’t ask, don’t even think about it. If you even mention the possibility, you can expect an immediate, long and severe reprimand.”

He could see she thought he was joking, at first. When Tom did not smile, she got the message. “Yes, sir.” And that was all she never said about ponies.

Secrets Revealed Sandy did take the hint on changing the subject. “I have more to say about myself. I think it’s important you know. I was not forthcoming when that Mr. Unger questioned me. The brokerage did take care of me, which deserved my cooperation but not devotion. My secrets, sir, are only for my master to hear. I belong to you; it wouldn’t be right to hold back.”

Tom felt some satisfaction in judging her correctly. The reticence he sensed in her demeanor at the brokerage wasn’t from shock at losing her family. Sandy was no weakling, desperate for approval, grasping at proverbial straws for stability. She had an inner strength he was finally seeing emerge.

“From an early age I knew how I would turn out as an adult, sir. I’m not the type who can do it all without any help. There was no question, no doubt that I would be with a man, someone who was self-assured, domineering, someone who could love me but have the strength to keep me on the road he mapped out for me.

“I do have a mirror, sir. In terms of beauty, I was not at the head of the line when good looks were handed out. I had to find another way to attract and hold onto the right man. That’s when I discovered my special talent, sir.” Sandy came to a stop, closely watching Tom.

Tom laid a hand on her knee. “Okay, you have my full attention. I give up, what is this special talent?”

“I’ve noticed how you watch me, sir. Especially when I sit down, in that special way, just for you. You like that one right way, I can tell. That’s my talent, sir. I have an instinct for what pleases men, in all the little ways that add up. Best of all, I enjoy it, at least as much as you if not more. I can seduce you, sir, but in such a way it’s your idea so it doesn’t conflict with your need to have power over me.”

Seduce me? The candor of the remark caught Tom off guard. No way, I’m in charge. She doesn’t tell me what to do. All that was true, except the results pointed to choices that benefited her. She’s right, it’s all my idea, as far as I can tell. He studied her face with newfound respect. She wasn’t exaggerating about her special talent. If he wasn’t careful, she could become a skilled opponent.

“I’m not your adversary, sir.” Tom flinched. She read my mind again!

“If I may elaborate, sir, I’m no threat to your position. What I do is encourage you to look after me. What does that mean? I can’t answer that question. Your duty is to figure it out. How do I seduce you? By giving you everything you desire. Obedience first, then loyalty and finally my love. Absolutes, sir, until the day comes when unavoidable events force us to part.

“All I insist on is the line between us. Demand from me anything you wish, that’s your right as my owner. My side of the line is to deliver the goods. Understand, sir, this is a compulsion within me. You must treat me as your property at all times. Give me the tools to be the woman of your dreams, of my dreams.”

Tom held up a hand to order silence. Sandy came to a halt. I didn’t even have to instruct her on that particular gesture; she picked up on it immediately. “I need a few minutes to digest all you’ve explained. You did well to make me aware of how you felt.”

Angela’s Story

The Alliance Angela Van Rijn tapped on her glass. “If I could have everyone’s attention?” The background conversations died down as the meeting came to order.

“I see we have a few newcomers. Welcome to the Alliance for Humane Treatment. As I’m sure you know we’re holding our quarterly fundraiser to help fight against the inhumane conditions prevalent at the so-called Facility. Contrary to what some people would have you believe, we do not oppose the principles underlying our unique little corner of the world. What we do object to are the abuses that have gained a foothold in our society. I’m referring primarily to the Facility, and that abomination of North Island.”

Angela paused to take in the mood of the audience. There were fewer empty seats compared to a year ago. Best of all, contributions were steadily climbing. There was a newfound air of optimism, refreshing after the dark despair of struggling to keep the Alliance going after the disaster of the previous year, when a kidnapping of two women in broad daylight had been linked to an anti-Facility group.

“I’m pleased to report the Alliance is alive and well, and growing stronger by the day. Our legal team is working tirelessly to target specific instances of the most egregious violations perpetrated by the Facility. I’d like to single out our paralegal volunteers and all the work they’ve done researching public records. I won’t go into specifics here but I want everyone to know we are planning legal action in the very near future. Your contributions today will go a long way to fueling a proactive strike against the barbaric policies we are sworn to end.”

A good speech, upbeat, hinting at action rather than endless meetings. The reality wasn’t quite so bright. They had enough cash to, barely, fund one civil case. The problem was to choose one that would generate enough publicity to bring in more people. Piet had a proposal, and it did look promising, but Angela was aware of how precarious the existence of the Alliance was, and how more bad press could wipe it out.

And on top of all the other problems, there was Donna Harbo. She wanted Angela’s job in the worst way. Angela had to be on constant watch for her takeover schemes, always jockeying for power to emphasize her accusations the organization was too timid to act.

Central Committee Later that night the Central Committee met in executive session to debate further action. This was not open to rank-and-file members because they had to discuss reality, not rhetoric.

“I’m convinced this is the best opportunity we have,” explained Piet Van Rijn, Angela’s husband and chief attorney on the Alliance legal strike team. “There’s no legal precedent to hinder us. The facts of the case are ambiguous in interpretation, which opens the door for an emotional appeal to sway a jury. A judgement in our favor would not only embarrass the Facility but also call into question existing regulations regarding their graduates, and might even extend to crossings over to North Island.”

“And what if we lose?” That came from Donna, the ever-present thorn in Angela’s side. It was no secret she disagreed with Angela on the future direction of the Alliance. “We’re draining our treasury to fund this gamble. Need I remind everyone what happened last year, when that direct action group kidnapped a Facility woman and tried to deprogram her? The backlash nearly destroyed us. You’re betting our future on a flimsy legal case with no guarantee we’ll prevail.”

Angela almost burst out laughing at the dizzying rate Donna could switch positions. She had been the one in favor of secretly funneling money to that same group in support of blatantly funding criminal activities. Only Angela’s intervention had prevented the entire Central Committee from winding up in jail.

“And what would you suggest, Donna?” Angela asked. “More demonstrations where no one shows up and the media ignores? Maybe you’re content to let those Neanderthals at the Facility continue to churn out brainwashed female zombies while we pretend to care? No, we’ve got to make some noise, attract attention, show the membership we’re not just a debating society that never accomplishes anything.”

Donna glared at Angela but managed to keep her anger in check. “Okay, fine, we’ll try it your way. I trust the Central Committee will remember today, and how we’ll need new leadership to clean up the mess when this falls apart.”

Angela looked around the table. “Show of hands, all those in favor of the lawsuit?” She counted the hands, which didn’t include Donna. “Ayes in the majority, we proceed. Piet, you will be the lead attorney. The Alliance will file as the Plaintiff. Make sure our name is prominent when this hits TV and website news. Publicity is money in the bank.”

No Sure Thing “Don’t kid yourself, Angela. When it comes to court cases there is no sure thing, unless you bribe the judge beforehand. This isn’t going to be easy. If this guy finds a sharp attorney we’ll be in for a quite a fight.”

Angela grabbed a sushi roll with her chopsticks and dipped the edge in soy sauce. “Piet, we have to do something. The hard fact is our membership is stalling. Before too much longer it’ll start to decline again, and then we’ll be in real trouble. We’ve got to rally the faithful, up the emotional level, generate some confrontation, or we disappear. I’ve made arrangements to line up some paid protesters, so we’ll get good initial coverage on our side of the Channel. I’m relying on you to enflame the issue, give us a chance to dial up the rhetoric, and come up with some soundbites.”

Piet scooped up some Lo Mein noodles. “We need to get a change of venue before anything else. If the case is stuck in a North Island courtroom there won’t be a supportive audience in the courthouse or a shouting mob outside. There’s no way to slip in our people to get the sound effects needed to discredit the Defendant. We won’t be able to shop for a sympathetic judge either. Worst of all, most of our volunteer legal team will be stuck on South Island. I’ll have to coordinate remotely.”

She reached out and touched his arm. “We have a mission, Piet. Those women at the Facility, they don’t realize what’s being done to them. We know what’s best for them; we have to act to save them from their folly. I have no doubt you’ll prevail.”

Barbara’s Story: Podcast

Part Of The Job Ray was at his desk when Barbara came in through the open door. One of the guards held onto her with a hand wrapped around her upper arm, the standard grip when escorting "guests” inside the brokerage. Barbara wore the standard uniform required of all women in custody, even though she was the owner’s private property. Her status bestowed on her no special privileges. On the contrary, she was treated exactly like all the other inventory awaiting purchase, except she wasn’t available for sale.

He pointed to a spot in front of his desk. Barbara was led over to it. “Thanks, Harry. Mark her down as transferred to me for the rest of the day. Can you get the door on the way out?”

Whenever she had on the company uniform Ray tended to be very formal with her. Don’t move, don’t talk without permission, she knew the rules by heart. He was busy reading a sheet of paper, one of many judging from the stack on his desk.

Finally, he looked up at her. “Certified audit, for the tax man,” he explained, holding up the document. “I have to read and sign off on the entire audit for the year. See what you’re missing? In the outside world you’d be co-owner and have to sign it too, on penalty of perjury and other dire consequences. Here, not only are you barred from reading it, you don’t even have a legal signature.”

Barbara wasn’t the least concerned about what she definitely wasn’t missing. The only time she would ever encounter the taxman would be the, hopefully never, event of her being sold. Not for the first time she was reminded of her technically impoverished state. Legally forbidden to handle money, except for her debit card, she didn’t have a penny to her name, nor did she own any assets. Just the opposite, according to Island law she was the asset, and Ray was the owner. The irony was, although she had nothing, in some odd way she had all she needed.

“Go sit on the couch,” he ordered. “You have permission to speak.” She could hear an undertone of irritation, though Barbara could tell it was directed toward the audit rather than any disapproval towards her. In a well-practiced yet natural appearing routine she ran her hands under her dress when she sat down, while at the same time lining up her feet and legs in the precise manner he demanded. The ending flourish consisted of placing her open palms on her knees, with her elbows tucked in.

To characterize her little performance as trivial would be a gross understatement. Ray had made it quite clear, in the most unambiguous of terms, there was only one right way, his way, and there was to be no deviation. The simple act of sitting down was far from simple for Barbara. It had to be perfect, every single time.

When she finished it was Ray’s turn. She saw his eyes narrow, sweeping up and down, seeking out the slightest imperfection. The accounting, as she liked to call it. If he wasn’t satisfied the heavens would fall while the earth opened up to swallow her. At least that’s the level of catastrophe she expected. At first, she had been near a panic attack when subjected to his inspection. Since then, some of his self-confidence must have rubbed off on her. She could meet him, eye to eye, secure in the knowledge there was no flaw to discover.

“Was there something you…” Barbara stopped in mid-sentence when he raised his hand.

“It’s been a bad morning and not going to improve this afternoon. You can help by providing me with a distraction. I want you to sit there, quietly, while I unwind.”

This was nothing new to Barbara. She held still, acutely aware of his stare. Ray was surrounded by numerous beautiful and talented women who were being held at the brokerage awaiting sale. They were eager to win any kind of small favor from him. She faced daunting competition for Ray’s attention on a daily basis. Despite the temptations he faced, this was the moment when she ceased to worry. Out of all his alternatives, she was the one sitting on the couch, relishing the hunger in his eyes. Sexual? Yes, but that was only the beginning.

Ray’s secret, known only to Barbara, was his insatiable need for domination. Not just the physical control of her body, but the power he exerted over her soul, her mind. How he managed it she could not explain, but she certainly felt the effects of the ways he had developed to reach into her head, reshaping her thoughts into alignment with his wishes.

Anyone else would turn away in disgust at her supposed brainwashing. Barbara knew better. This is who I am, she thought, unshakeable in her belief the two of them were a perfect fit that no person and no incident would ever split asunder. I’m not a robot, she told herself. I know exactly what I’m doing. It might be his influence more than my choice, but there’s really no difference.

Ray leaned back in his chair, folded his arms and cocked his head to one side. The frustrated irritation brought on by the paperwork drained away, to be replaced by a relaxed smile. “How did I ever keep it together before you arrived?” Suddenly he leaned forward, arms resting on his desk. “Raise your chin. I want to see that collar.”

Swelling with pride she raised her head and pulled back her shoulders. His collar, his mark of ownership, was an integral part of her life. Every time she passed a mirror there was that thrill of seeing it encircle her neck. I’ll do everything in my power to ensure it never comes off. Maybe there was a hint of vanity in the delight it brought her, knowing she was Ray’s property by his choice. The weight wasn’t uncomfortable; she regarded it as a constant reminder he wanted her.

His eyes were fixated on the band around her throat. “Mine, all mine,” he whispered. He sighed and settled back in his chair again.

For all the subtle clues she had learned to read from his body language, his expression, the tone of his voice, there were facets of Ray she would never fully comprehend. What drove his compulsion to dictate the smallest details of her life, to impose arbitrary rules, to impose strict discipline, and yet at the same time display loving tenderness?

He rose from his chair and came over to her. “Stand up,” he ordered in that calm yet firm tone she loved to hear. “Turn around, hands behind your back.” Again, that voice of authority that seemed to blank out any hint of defiance on her part. She knew what was coming next.

The familiar sound of the ratchet on the handcuffs was followed by the weight of the steel bracelets around her wrists. They must be leaving the office. Securing women in the brokerage was at the discretion of their escort. Some guards were on the lenient side, often foregoing the formality of bound hands. Other men at the brokerage were rigorous adherents to the policy of enhanced security at all times. When it came to Barbara, Ray nearly always opted for ensuring she was properly subdued.

“This way,” he told her, heading toward the office door. Where was he taking her? Barbara had no clue, although she knew better than to ask. Either she would discover their journey's end when they arrived, or he would tell her if he thought she needed to know. This was one of Ray’s minor pleasures he derived from controlling her. She wasn’t going to spoil it.

Public Image When they stopped at the entrance to the dining hall Barbara finally learned of their destination. It was lunchtime, and she was hungry. Passing through the entrance Ray steered her toward the regular serving counter instead of the area reserved for employees. That was far from normal. Ray nearly always held to a policy of strict separation between brokerage staff and guests.

There were two women in front of Barbara, both guests waiting for their turn to order lunch. One noticed Ray waiting behind them. She nudged the other woman, who turned and saw the brokerage owner, the man who literally held their lives in his hands, calmly waiting for his turn. Both women immediately offered to let Ray and Barbara go first. Ray politely declined and insisted they precede him. Barbara, aware she still wasn’t allowed to speak, remained silent.

He let go of her arm in order to lift two trays off the stack. He laid both of them on the counter and slid them forward. How am I going to pick up that tray, let alone eat, without my hands? She was trying to come up with some plan when Ray told her, “You have permission to talk. The sign says this is retro fast-food day. The special is a cheeseburger, fries and milk shake. How does that sound?”

Barbara had tried this particular special before, when she was on her own at lunchtime. Although it sounded like a gastronomical disaster the cook did an amazing job with some mysterious spices. “I’d love a burger, sir, no pickles. Strawberry shake, if that’s okay with you.”

When their turn came to order Ray did the talking. “Two specials, the works for me, no pickles for her. Two strawberry shakes, with straws.”

“Yes Mr. Madsen, right away.” The cook was a long-time employee of the brokerage. She had arrived as a guest, slated for auction, when one of the guards bought her instead. Her owner happened to be today’s floor supervisor for the cafeteria. He was currently directing the two women who had been ahead of them in line.

Ray took hold of her arms and positioned her to face the end of the counter. “Eyes front, don’t look around, don’t turn your head.” His voice was low, almost a whisper.

Island IV – Meetings · Part 14 (14/21)
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