Island IV – Meetings · Part 13 (13/21)
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Tom shook his head. “Bureaucracy rears its ugly head no matter where you go. However, your status doesn’t change over here, except you can’t be sent to a brokerage or sold to anyone.” Tom didn’t bring up the subject of driving a car. He could certainly afford one for her, plus the lessons, but at the moment he wasn’t prepared to grant her that particular privilege.
“I do like all the places to shop here, sir. On North Island there’s only the one mall, and it isn’t very big. We could always order online, but it’s not the same thing.” She turned back to look out the window, mostly to hide that one tear that came with remembering the times master gave his permission for the four of them to spend an entire afternoon wandering around the mall. Window shopping for the most part, but often master would indulge them by buying something that caught their attention. Those were happy times, sharing the outing like one big family.
They left the commercial zone when Tom turned off into a residential area. “We have an apartment. You can see the building up ahead. It’s not large but very comfortable for two.” And it was, until Greta left. He would have to explain Greta to Sandy sooner or later.
Sandy was back to looking out the side window. Suddenly she jumped up in her seat, as much as the seat belt allowed, and turned to Tom. “Sir!” She was clearly agitated. “Did you see that woman, standing at the curb? She didn’t have a collar, sir! I got the address, if you want to report her to the police…” And then Sandy came to a halt. “Sorry, sir, I forgot where I am. I do know the law here. You must think I’m an idiot.”
“Not at all,” Tom reassured her. “Cultural shock can bring it on.”
“That’s true, sir. I’d be horrified if anyone ever saw me without a collar. How would anyone know who my owner is? Being stripped naked and wrapped up in chains, in public, wouldn’t be half as bad. At least I’d have an excuse, master’s orders and all that. But no collar? I’d be some kind of freak.”
Tom was taken aback by the intensity of her distaste of uncollared females. She’s spent her entire adult life immersed in North Island society; I can’t ignore that. The differences between them were profound, yet Tom saw them as her most attractive qualities.
Homecoming Ed Gleason, the estate attorney, handed Tom the keys to the house, along with a slip of paper with some numbers written on it. “Here’s the keys to the house. That combination is for the safe in Sam’s office. I’ve already removed the legal papers, so you’re welcome to whatever is left. Probate is moving along; the house will legally be yours in a few more days. Take anything you want. After all, it all belongs to you now.”
“Thanks for meeting me here. By the way, I’ve thought about it. You’re right, I need some estate planning. Set up a time and we’ll discuss the details.” Tom stuffed the combination in his shirt pocket.
“I’m available any time for you, Tom. As customers go, you’re first priority. Are you on the Island tomorrow? I get in around nine in the morning.”
“Done, nine at your office. I’ll see you then. Um, without Sandy, of course.”
Ed nodded in agreement. “You can always leave her at this house. I can arrange for someone to be here if you want someone to watch her.”
Tom shook his head. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” She would be the least likely candidate to ever run away. He could trust her.
Ed got in his car and drove away. Tom headed back to the rental car to fetch Sandy, who was patiently waiting in the front seat. When he opened her door she remained staring straight ahead, as he’d ordered. She didn’t need to see or hear his conversation with the lawyer.
He leaned over her to release the seat belt first. After than he crouched down to unlock the chain between her ankles from the latch under her seat. Finally, he helped her to get out of the car and stand up. He carefully checked her wrists for any issues with the handcuffs, which held her hands close to her body thanks to the chain wrapped around her waist. Her ankles were linked by leg irons, with the regulation fourteen-inch chain. She could walk without too much difficulty, as long as she didn’t try to run.
Why is it she gets so upset if I don’t “properly” restrain her? More of that culture shock, on my part this time. If Sandy didn’t object, he certainly wasn’t about to make any changes. Like all her other quirks it was growing on him, day by day.
She wore a skirt today, with a sleeveless halter top. The skirt ended above the knee, but not by too much. For a change, Tom discovered he was more interested in her bare arms and shoulders. She had picked it out when he took her shopping the day after the arrived home. For his part, Tom learned to leave the fashion sense to her, reserving a veto if he didn’t approve of a particular choice.
He hadn’t provided her with an explanation of why they had returned to North Island, or why they were standing in front of her old home. She did look up at him with a sideways glance, silently asking an unspoken question: Why are we here?
It’s eerie the way she can almost read my mind, Tom thought. She figured out I want to keep her guessing until the last minute, and for no other reason than I can. Even so, she seemed to sense what was going on anyway. It was selfish of him, but Tom didn’t care. He was truly beginning to understand the scope, and the thrill it brought, of having so much power over Sandy.
“We’re here to pick up a few things for you. I brought two suitcases. You will pack the clothes in your room, the ones you want to keep, while I check the rest of the house.” He led her to the front door, unlocked it, and held it open, gesturing for her to go first.
Inside she showed him the way to her bedroom. After a quick inspection he told her, “Wait here while I get the suitcases out of the trunk.” Tom stopped to mull over an idea. “Sandy? From now on, when we’re together, you will not leave a room without asking for my permission first. This applies in public, or private. You can ignore this instruction if there’s some kind of emergency, like a fire. Any questions?”
She blinked but only replied with a “yes, sir.” He retrieved the luggage from the car trunk and came back in. She hadn’t moved, which pleased Tom. He slung the suitcases on to the bed and opened them. Returning to Sandy he freed her hands so she could begin.
“Leave the clothes you don’t want to take in the closet. The rest, lay them out on the bed. After I walk through the other rooms I’ll come back and we’ll go over what you’ve selected. The items I approve will go in the suitcases.” Tom looked around her old room. “Is that your laptop and phone?” he asked, pointing to a small desk.
“Yes, sir. Master had to enable them every morning. They’re locked out by now; I can’t sign in to either one.”
“Do you have a case for the laptop?”
Sandy opened the closet door. “It’s in here, sir.” She reached down and took out a typical computer bag, this one a pink color, with a shoulder strap.
“Okay, pack up the laptop, charger, and your mouse. Will the phone and its charger fit too?”
“Yes, sir, plenty of room.” She unzipped the top to show him.
“When we get home, I’ll see about restoring access for you.” A daily reset for security; Sam Willis must have been very strict on his women when it came to their electronics. That brought up another unanticipated question. Did he leave the controls in place, or give her more freedom on the Internet? The answer should have been obvious, yet he did have to consider she was used to close control over her sources of information. The laptop he’d have to mull over, but the phone would be unlocked…at least on a weekly basis.
“Okay, you can start,” he told her. “Leave the door open. If you need me, call out.”
There was a long hallway, with several closed doors. Across from Sandy’s room was a full-sized bathroom, with none of the common amenities you’d expect if it was in daily use. Given the luxury fittings it had to be for guests. Next to it was a bedroom, with a queen size bed. Again, the closet and dresser drawers were empty. This must be the guest bedroom for overnight visitors. I wonder if Sam Willis did much entertaining.
Tom decided to work his way down one side of the hallway and back up the other. The next room showed every sign of recent occupancy. It was the same size as Sandy’s room, though the furniture was slightly different. A laptop and phone sat on the desk. It appeared as if Sam didn’t allow his women to bring along any distractions like mobile phones when they went out on the boat.
At the end of the corridor was the master bedroom. Aptly named, for it was much larger, had a walk-in closet, and a bathroom with a bathtub large enough to accommodate two. The king-size bed had silk sheets, and more interesting retaining rings set into the bed frame on one side. Sam did like his fun and games.
The other side of the bed, without the rings, had a bedside table with a drawer. Inside Tom found an assortment of leather cuffs, no doubt intended for use with those rings. He closed the drawer without disturbing the contents. It was uncomfortable when unbidden the image of a naked Sandy came to mind, tied down on the bed. This was none of his business.
On the way out he stopped to examine a picture on the wall. It was a framed photograph, showing Sam and his women on the boat. Sam stood over the four women, lined up sitting at dockside, legs dangling down. He recognized Sandy. On impulse he took down the frame, opened the back and extracted the photo. Sandy should have it, he thought. Those were happy times; she deserves a reminder.
The next room was Sam’s office. This door was locked, but a key, on the ring Ed gave him, opened it. There was a desk, and to one side a safe. Sitting down in the office chair he leaned over, took the scrap of paper with the combination out of his pocket, and quickly dialed it in. The door gave a reassuring click and easily opened when Tom turned the door handle.
Inside was a metal box, on the bottom, and a shelf with neatly organized folder of papers. It was readily apparent someone else had been through the contents already, most likely Ed the attorney, for estate purposes. Taking out the metal box, he opened the lid to find it contained cash, a number of small denomination bills. Petty cash, Tom assumed. He set it aside. There was no point in leaving it.
Going through the folders one by one he found what he was looking for, the service contracts for the mobile phones and laptop Internet connections. There was a slip of paper with an administrative website and password attached by paper clip. It was all he needed to turn Sandy’s electronics back on, and to contact the service company to switch to his name.
The next room was much the same as Sandy’s bedroom, similar layout but customized with a personal selection of furnishings. Did her companions have any family he should contact? Or maybe they were here because they didn’t want to be found. He had resources; there must be someone he could hire to trace them down and find out their story. Sandy might know something, though he was reluctant to bring up any of her past history. He could check with the attorney too.
The last room on Sandy’s side of the hallway was another bedroom. Like the others it was small but neat and clean. Tom looked in the doorway but didn’t enter. He was beginning to feel like a burglar, intruding on the private lives of strangers, looting their possessions for his own gain.
Deliberate When Tom stopped at her door, Sandy was standing next to the bed. The suitcases were open, but empty. Next to it was a pile of clothes she’d picked out. She stood facing him, an almost eager expression on her face, begging for his approval.
I could say a few words to praise her, Tom calculated, but that really isn’t the right way. Instead, he placed the cash box and folder on the dresser, turned back to her, and slowly walked around the bed. The photo was still in his hand.
He took his time, carefully inspecting Sandy’s work. Finally, he nodded his head and spoke. “Yes, that’s what I wanted to see. You did well.” It wasn’t much, but he could tell those were the words she longed to hear. She noticed the photo, studied it for a moment, and then looked up at him, a quizzical expression on her face.
“You recognize this?” Tom asked, handing it to her.
“Of course, sir. It’s from, oh, about four years ago. Master framed it and hung it up on the wall. It was a magic moment. We had just come back from a trip sailing all through the Island archipelago, three or four days. Everything had gone according to plan. The weather cooperated; the seas were calm. I’ll never forget it.”
“Put it in your suitcase,” Tom told her. “It’s something just for you, no one else. I don’t want to deprive you of the memories of your past, good or bad. We’re not going to erase ten years of your life.”
To Tom’s surprise Sandy just stood there, looking at the picture. Then she carefully put it away, in the top compartment of the suitcase. “Sir, I’m about to deliberately disobey you. I understand what this means, and fully accept the consequences. Please, let me speak before you do what you must.”
Deliberate? That didn’t make sense to Tom. He waved his hand, indicating she could continue.
She stood up very straight, arms at her side, facing him, glancing up to meet him eye to eye. “When the police came for me, sir, told me the news, I thought my life was over. Being taken to a brokerage confirmed my worst fears. My next owner would be from the worst of men, the kind who hated women, taking out their own failures on someone like me. Despite Mr. Madsen’s assurances I’d heard all about the perils of being auctioned off to the highest bidder. The best I could hope for was basic survival, though I was doubtful about any benefit that might come with the life I must endure.”
Tom began to worry he’d made some kind of terrible mistake with Sandy, although he’d had no indication she was unhappy, let alone miserable.
“I was wrong, sir. You, Thomas Cooper, are among the best, not the worst of men. You are kind, considerate, understanding, but strict and even harsh when it is necessary. You are consistent in setting my structure, my limits, and you do not hesitate to act with discipline, without being swayed by emotion, when circumstances demand a strong hand.”
Now he figured out the part about being disobedient. She had used his name, without permission and in clear violation of his instructions. The intent was not disrespectful; quite the contrary, she had used the moment for emphasis, even though there must be consequences.
She took a deep breath. “Sir, I have violated your trust in me by using your name. I cannot apologize for it, because I was well aware of what I have done. I am prepared for my correction, in whatever manner you see fit to use.”
Oh great, now I’m painted into the proverbial corner. She won’t rest until I deliver some kind of reprimand, but how do I accomplish that without feeling like a complete jerk? Tom thought furiously, trying to come up with some idea. He stared over her shoulder, at the wall behind her.
Putting on his sternest frown he pointed to the wall. “Turn around, stand next the wall, facing it. You will not speak, you will not move, your eyes will not waver from the spot directly in front of you.” She didn’t hesitate.
“I am disappointed in your behavior.” He tried to add a hint of anger in the tone of his voice. To his ears it came out like lines from a bad movie. “You will use this time out to best determine how you will ensure this does not happen again.” Tom added some emphasis to the “time out” phrase, in order to single it out as a type of punishment.
Standing close behind her he took out his phone to check the time. Even though his sentence was harsh, as she put it, Tom was convinced this was exactly what she expected. Anything less would be weakness on his part. She looked to him for strength, for determination, for confidence, all the qualities of leadership.
The time on his phone ticked over, a full minute had elapsed. He placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. “Time out is over. This will not happen again. The incident is forgotten. We will not speak of it again.” The proper procedures had been followed; all societal norms had been addressed. Maybe the length of her punishment was questionable, but he didn’t care. He was Sandy’s owner; no one else in the entire world had the authority to overrule him.
“Now, let’s see what you’ve picked out for the suitcase. I’ll want a look at what you left behind, too.”
Ghosts From The Past Before closing her car door Tom checked the cuffs on her wrists one more time. They were close-fitting but not too tight. Since the cuffs were attached to the chain around her waist her freedom of movement was sharply restricted. When he finished, she crossed her hands in her lap in a very precise fashion.
She glanced up at him, a smile on her face. For some reason I may never understand, being bound in chains while out in public was something she accepted as normal. He headed around the car to the driver’s side and got in.
She sat up with head held high, eyes fixed looking out the front windshield. Her feet and legs were exactly aligned, with only a slight gap between them. She was as still and silent as a statue. This routine was her own doing, not something Tom had insisted on.
Picture perfect, and just for me. He had to admit it stirred something in him. Lust, maybe, but there was more to it. She does this for me, without any demands on my part. I should do something to acknowledge her efforts.
He reached out and laid his hand on her knee. She didn’t flinch, though for one quick moment she closed her eyes. Tom might have missed that momentary reaction if he hadn’t been paying close attention. So that’s it, he concluded, her little show is an invitation to touch her, to invade her “space” in what could only be called a sexual overture.
“Look at me. It has not escaped my attention, the way you present yourself after getting into the car. I didn’t ask you to start, but now I’m telling you not to stop.” This time there was the slightest hint of a smile from her. Why do I feel like I’ve just been talked into giving Sandy what she wants, while at the same time thinking it was all my idea?
I’m in charge, sort of, mostly. Tom’s delicate male ego wasn’t so fragile that he couldn’t withstand some gentle persuasion. It’s the results that matter, he reminded himself. After all, her smooth skin felt soft and very enticing.
“Before we leave, you need to know I’ve come to a decision regarding us.” That sounded ominous, even to Tom. “We’re not going to keep that house. It’s too big for just the two of us. We’re not going to stay in the apartment either. Starting tomorrow we’re in the house-hunting business, here on North Island.”
Her eyes lit up with joy. It was obvious she didn’t like the idea of living on South Island. She’d never complain, since it was up to him to choose where they made their home, but he could tell she missed the more conservative lifestyle of North Island society.
“Both of those places have too many ghosts from our past. We need a fresh start. I’m convinced it’s best for both of us to start over here, on North Island. I realize you’ll be disappointed, losing some newfound freedom, and the chance to have your own car.” Tom was well aware nothing could be further from the truth. “Truth is, I intend to keep a tight grip on you. South Island isn’t the place for it.” What he was after were excuses to move that didn’t make her feel guilty. He had to convince her it was all his idea, and for the most selfish of reasons.
“Yes, sir. You know best.” The way her eyes lit up in excitement belied her feigned disappointment. Moving had been a good idea after all. One more mistake I caught and fixed in time, Tom thought. I’m getting better at this role of master and owner.
New Start Sandy was standing in the living room, looking out the front window at the view. She heard Tom come up behind her but didn’t say anything.
“Do you like it?” Tom asked. He put his arms around her from the back. She took hold of his arms and leaned back against him.
“It’s a beautiful house, sir. This is like a large painting.” She swept one hand across the expanse of the window. “We can see all the way across the Channel to the ferry terminal on South Island. I bet if we had a telescope, we could make out individual people standing in line to board.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Tom promised. The place had been expensive, mostly due to the unobstructed view and the relative isolation high against the cliffs. Sandy had fallen in love with the house the minute she saw it. At my old salary it would have taken, oh, about two hundred years to pay off the mortgage. Although he was determined not to let his newfound wealth change his life, the cost this one time didn’t bother him; Sandy’s happiness was priceless.
A new home, decorating with all-new furniture, a fresh start had worked to bring Sandy out of her shell, as Tom had hoped. Gone were the silent moments when she brooded over what she’d lost. I’m better off too; I can feel the change.
How quickly the woman in his arms had come to fill his every waking moment. She twisted around to face him, her arms outstretched around his neck. “Sir? Did you buy this house for me?”
Tom was about to answer when he suddenly stopped. On the surface it was a simple question, but he felt the nuances behind whichever way he replied. He pulled her arms down to her side.
“This is an ideal location and a sound investment. I decided to buy it before you looked it over. I’m glad you like it but this is where we are going to live from now on, even if you had been disappointed after seeing it.”
Tom did his best to make it seem like he had acted selfishly, without regard to Sandy’s opinion. I have to show I’m in charge; I’m not easily influenced. From the blank look on her face, he realized she’d seen through his little act. I’m in real trouble now, he told himself. That ability to read his mind made it virtually impossible to bluff.
“You know best, sir,” she said. There was no hint of sarcasm but Tom knew his clumsy attempt at misdirection had failed. “I’m glad it was a wise financial decision, and that you took such decisive action. I like it when you do that.”
This is what I have to look forward to, he concluded. It’ll be all my idea; sure, she mustn’t influence me. All a polite fiction to maintain that line between them. I’ll never really be sure if some subtle persuasion on her part is behind what I’d like to think of as ruling with a firm hand.
He slipped an arm around her waist again and held her close while they both looked out over the Channel below. “Our home will be your responsibility,” I told her. “My office, the garage and basement will be off limits to you. The rest of the house is your domain. You choose how to decorate. Whatever you don’t like, we’ll bring in replacements. If you can’t stand the color of the towels, they’ll replenish my supply of garage rags. I will approve all purchases, but don’t let that limit you.”
To emphasize it was an order, he switched to a sterner tone. “You will also be the hostess for parties. I count on you to manage the socializing. Any questions?”
“No, sir. I would ask if you could give me a warning beforehand, as far as entertaining?”
Tom pretended to debate her request, furrowing his brow as if in deep thought. “It is information you need to know. That’s reasonable.”
They continued to stand in front of the window. Suddenly Tom shook his head. “This isn’t working. Stay where you are.” Sandy gave him a puzzled look.
He dragged a loveseat from the living room over to the front window. “Okay, now it’s your turn to go to work. If we’re going to enjoy this magnificent view, we’re going to be comfortable. Show me where the best place is for this.” He took a few steps back.
She glanced at the loveseat, then at Tom, and back out the window. “If I may, sir?”
I told her to stay there, dummy. I’ve got to remember those things in the future. “Go ahead,” he told her.
Sandy walked around the small sofa, stopping behind it and backing up. “It isn’t centered, sir. Can you move it to the left, about this much?” She held up her hands to indicate the distance.
He pulled it to one side, “Just a bit more, sir.” One more tug and she nodded. “That’s much better.” Again, she circled around the loveseat, finally halting between it and the window. “May I sit down, sir?”
He gestured with a hand to give his approval. Congratulations Tom, he thought, now you’re micro-managing her every move. Sandy was shaking her head. “Too far away, sir. It needs to be closer to the window.”
“Stand behind me while I push it forward.” This time I did remember. She didn’t have to ask to stand up. Tom slowly pushed the loveseat forward while Sandy checked the perspective.
