As She's Told

by Anneke Jacob

  "Speaking of my technology fetish," he said. "Something else I've added." He leaned down with the belt in his hand, pulled back the padding, slid a thin sheet of metal aside and showed her something small and plastic and rectangular, embedded on the inside of the front portion, near the lock.

  "A little modification of my own. I ground out the space for it; it didn't need much.”

  “What is it?"

  "A GPS chip. It's a pet finder, actually." He held up the collar he'd dug it out from. Her stare shifted from the collar to his face. Anders watched the wheels turn behind her eyes, and waited for the flush of humiliation. In twenty seconds she was glowing like a ruby. The belt back went back down on the bench; he returned to his reshaping. "It's a lovely little system. I can use either my cell or my laptop to find you anywhere. And if you get outside your boundaries I'll get an automated call with your location." She knelt there, looking staggered.

  "I thought a while back about putting it in your cell phone. They already have GPS trackers in those for emergencies, you know, for 911 calls. But you could leave that anywhere. This is something you can't lose."

  He unscrewed the clamp holding the belt to the bench, shifted it and screwed it tight again. "I looked into possible health effects, by the way, and I'm pretty satisfied about that, but just in case, I've got you shielded from the signal."

  Anders tried the belt on her again. It was better but still not quite right.

  As he took it off he smiled at her stunned face and kissed her between the eyebrows. She settled back down onto her heels.

  "I admit that when I started to entertain the idea seriously, it seemed a bit deranged. Well," he laughed, "more than a bit. Truly obsessive. I used to worry about what I did, whether I could be mistaken for an abusive boyfriend, a crazy stalker – and this couldn't be worse, really, in that light."

  She shook her head.

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  "But the more I thought of it the more sense it made. I want to keep track of you outside the house as well as in. The technology is there. Why not? I could have added all sorts of things if I was really deranged. A microphone, for instance. But I don't need to listen in on your conversations.

  I just need to know where you are."

  "Master – "

  "What, love?"

  "I know I've – messed up and you don't – I don't deserve for you to trust me. I'm so sorry. If this helps – I didn't know it was possible. I guess they track wild animals, don't they, so I should have known…"

  They exchanged an intense look of mutual understanding. He could see her body settling more firmly on the floor in response to this extra layer of reassurance, relaxed and content. But not for long. When they seemed to have the best fit, Anders released her wrists, sat down with her standing between his knees, and began the all-devouring kissing and sucking and stroking that drove her wild. Then he put her over his lap and used a light, thuddy flogger on her that always ratcheted up her temperature.

  "Try to come," he said, putting her back on her feet. She gave him a pitiful look, but obeyed, panting and soon whining. She couldn't reach under the belt at all in most positions, until she sat on the floor with her legs widely spread. Then she could get a finger up to the first joint under the outer shield. The inner was clasped tightly to her by the rings in her labia, and she had no luck with that. "Can you pull your cunt out from under at all?"

  She tried, and quickly desisted. "No."

  Still, any leeway was too much for Anders; he unlocked her and tightened her up a notch.

  That worked.

  "All right, we're safe from fingers. Try to use the belt."

  She gave him another look both guilty and piteous, and pressed and rocked the belt against her. After a few minutes, increasingly desperate, she said, "It hardly moves at all, master, it's too tight." She had both hands clasped over the deep curve of the outer shield, and was pressing up and back. She tried this in various positions at his direction, with no change in the result. It was late. He had one last thing to try. He removed the belt altogether and inserted the new dildo into the shield, this time fastening her rings to different slots and using different bars to fix them. The rings now 284

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  were fastened to the shield in two curves around the base of the thick plug.

  Then an anal plug. Then he locked her up again, and made her try everything she'd tried before. Initially reluctant, then urgent.

  He brought her upstairs, turned on music, picked up a whip and made her dance. She was immediately aroused to the point of madness: nipples swollen, face flushed, eyes wild. She even yanked at the belt in what seemed to be a frantic attempt to remove it, amusing Anders no end. His whip kept her dancing, right to the limit of her endurance, and he watched, entranced, as she gasped for breath and wept with frustration. When he brought her to her knees in front of him she wriggled in a helpless frenzy, scrabbled at the belt with her fingernails and begged, her voice rising to wails, fading to helpless murmurs, and then rising again; he delayed his own satisfaction for a few minutes to enjoy this. "Please take it off, master, please take it off! Let me come once, just once… I can't take any more….”

  “Sure you can, my sweet. What must be borne can be borne."

  "No, I really can't, I swear… please, master, oh, please… Unlock me, please! …."

  "How about if I take it off and make you hold back your orgasms just because I say so?"

  She stopped dead and stared at him through appalled, tear-flooded eyes, and choked out, "Oh, god, no! Please, not that!"

  "Well then. Be grateful for what you've got." He stroked her cheek, smiling. "Master, how long? How long?”

  “With this equipment, more or less indefinitely, don't you think?"

  She howled, face down in his lap. He silenced her by stuffing his cock down her throat. In bed he muzzled her, ran his fingers all around the boundaries of the belt for a while, especially between her legs, and then fell into a very satisfied sleep.

  ***

  I tried not to struggle any more, forced myself to lie still. Of course Anders was asleep. As soon as his fingers had stopped their torments, his breathing had become regular and his arm had gone heavy on my shoulder. I could feel his muscular thigh against mine, and I longed to crawl between his legs, lick his nipples and beg one more time. Jaws struggled momentarily against the muzzle, and then gave up. The new and unaccustomed appliance pressed itself between my legs and around my hips, in firm contact in some 285

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  areas, intruding lewdly in others, discreetly distant just where I needed it to cuddle close. Fucking diabolical. My centre was liquid, molten, contracting around the immovable objects he'd left inside me, wondering if someday, pushed so often to the brink, I'd find myself able to come that way. Wouldn't Anders be annoyed? That would be a spanner in his works, I thought with some satisfaction. The sadist. My shame at this childish petulance brought on an urgent desire to be punished. And my image of that brought on another surge of lust. More resentment, more shame, more lust. I squeezed, and a tiny groan escaped from me. My master stirred. I went still.

  His face that evening. So delighted at the sight of me. Of me struggling and crying. How utterly sadistic of him. And how I loved and worshipped that face and its pleasure.

  ***

  >At last! Does it work?

  >So far, yes. It needed some adjustment but now fits very well. I'm glad I insisted on the modifications, because with them I think it can truly be relied on. Even when teased to the point

  >of madness the other night and with permission to try, she could not get past it. (This was absolutely gorgeous, by the way.) So thank you for all your help.

  >Flights are no bargain at that time but expense be damned. In any case I have saved money on clubs, as the scene is tepid and these afternoons with Ria and her victims are more amusing. Though I miss the scent of Ria and all t
he rest; the nose is so vital to sex. For two weeks I will use mine to the full. With brief times out for family appearances. Trying not to fall asleep in my soup.

  ***

  That Saturday we went for a walk to test the GPS pet finder. It was overcast and a little windy, but not too cold. My internal temperature was moderate; I'd been locked up that morning without any extras.

  Sure enough, when we got a few steps south of Gerrard, Anders' phone rang. He examined the display and looked pleased. "Here," he said, turning to me, "I'll give you a long head start. See if you can escape me. No back yards, though, hunhund; we don't want to be taken for burglars."

  He turned his back and after a moment of hesitation – was I allowed to run away from him today? Guess so – I hightailed it down one block, across 286

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  the street and around a corner, looking for places I could hide without looking like a nut job. I didn't know the area well; our walks had been mostly in other directions.

  It was all residential, just streets of narrow detached and semi-detached houses. One corner store sat at an intersection with a stack of milk crates out the front. Too obvious. I nipped down an alley, stumbled over a pop can and giggled. A woman getting into her car looked at me oddly, so I collected myself and walked as if I knew where I was going. The alley smelled of cat, and car oil, and as if the raccoons had gotten into the green bins. There were some open garages, but those were private property and better avoided. I stepped into a bit of waste ground between two garages and waited. How accurate was his GPS tracker? What if someone saw me? The hell with it, I'd tell them I was playing hide and seek.

  As a kid I'd always loved the tiny hiding places that no one else could squeeze into. Behind the luggage in the upstairs closet; in the narrow gap under the porch. I'd hug myself in my tight little refuge and listen for the approaching voices, muffled by surrounding blankets or concrete. They rarely found me. The drawback was that when I did get caught I was in too tight to run for it. My sister always went for the lookout spots where she could see but not be seen, and could make a dash when anyone got too warm.

  Were those footsteps? I suppressed the urge to peek, pressed myself to the wall and held my breath. Footsteps, sure enough. But the sound receded again, and I heard a back door slam. Suppressing a triumphant chortle, I let out my breath and gasped as I was snatched off my feet. Then I was laughing down into Anders' triumphant face. I wrapped my arms around his head and kissed him, the crinkles at the corner of his eyes, his cheekbones, chilly in the cool wind. He squeezed my ass under my coat and set me down.

  "Wow. Pinpoint accuracy.”

  “Within two metres.”

  “I didn't even hear you!"

  He grinned. "You can run but you can't hide. Let's try again. Off you go."

  I ran off. This was fun. The illusion of freedom with none of the risks.

  Nothing but houses. I zigzagged, turning at every corner to prevent him finding me by sight alone. No capture yet. Wow, a good sized park! This 287

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  looked promising. A few dog walkers being tugged across the dormant grass, three boys in the distance riding bikes. Any bushes big enough to hide in? I checked a clump, but the nest of beer bottles and used condoms put me off. Anyway, there weren't enough leaves left for cover. I trotted toward a couple of small buildings in the distance, panting. All my accoutrements were making it a little difficult to get up to speed. There was a storage shed, a concrete dish of a wading pool half full of dead leaves, and a public toilet.

  If I hid in the Ladies would he come in after me? I circled the building looking for the entrance. The door had a whacking great padlock on it. Hell.

  Cautiously I peeked around the corner, back the way I'd come. There he was! He was back at the street, looking at his phone. I retreated, keeping the building between us, and ran for the playground, aiming for a hideous little orange castle that had ropes up its sides and footholds up to the drawbridge.

  Skirting a stroller, a bored mother and a determined toddler with a shovel, I folded myself up and ducked through the plastic archway.

  Two little girls in puffy purple jackets were already in possession. They stared at me wide eyed. The mom peered in, winked at me and disappeared again. I wondered how old she thought

  I was.

  "Shh!" I whispered. "I'm hiding!"

  "From who?" said the bigger one, peeking through the footholds. Arrow slits, actually, from this vantage point.

  "From my boyfriend. Wait a minute. He's going to find me."

  "Is he the bad guy? Should we kill him?"

  I put my fist up to my mouth, suppressing laughter. "No, you don't need to kill him. Maybe you could rough him up a little." The concrete floor was very cold, and was jamming the metal belt hard up into my butt.

  "Do you looove him?" said the littler one, drawing out the word in charming schoolyard mockery, trying it on for size. The other one was continuing her reconnaissance with an air of fierce efficiency.

  "Passionately. Hey, I have an idea. When he shows up – he's a big blond guy – you run out and capture him, okay?"

  The older girl tipped her head to one side and gave this some thought.

  "Only if he's cute. Is he cute?"

  Oh, how soon they start. "I think so. You have a look."

  "Ooh! There he is!" she whispered excitedly. "Yup, he's cute. What's he 288

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  phoning for?" Silently I put my fingers to my lips and pointed them to either side of the entrance, and they flattened themselves into the corners, suppressing giggles. There was a breathless pause, straight out of an action movie.

  Then the older one yelled, "Here he comes! Get him!"

  Anders found himself grabbed by the legs and weighed down by two little girls sitting on his feet. He waddled back and forth to shrieks of laughter, then bent down with some difficulty and peered into my hideout.

  "You can't have her!" the little one said, bouncing hard on his instep.

  "She's ours! She's a maiden in distress and you're a bad guy!"

  "An evil giant!" said the bigger one.

  "An evil giant!"

  He roared and walked them around some more. "Gimme my princess!”

  “No!" they shrieked. "Never!"

  Anders was stomping away in the other direction when I slipped out and ran. Might as well try my sister's strategy for once. "Thanks, kids!" I called over my shoulder.

  "Great job!" He told me later he only got away by showing them the phone and explaining the game, though naturally a sanitized version in which I had the chip in my pocket.

  In the meantime I hit a main street and ducked into an antique store, which was the first shop I saw where I could browse and not buy anything.

  The sign said antiques, but junk shop was more like it; I would have bet on there being nothing there older than 1970. Anders found me behind a pile of used stacking chairs, took a firm grip on the hair at the nape of my neck and kissed me until I could hardly breathe. Then we went for coffee.

  "You evil wench!" he said, stirring his cappuccino.

  I snickered. "Serendipity. Hey, they asked if they should kill you, and I said no. Be grateful for what you've got."

  He stared at me, and I thought I'd gone too far. Then he threw his head back and laughed, so big and deep that the windows rattled. The whole place stopped talking, turned around and smiled despite themselves.

  "God, you're evil! All right, you get that one."

  "Thank you. Only because you get everything else."

  "Naturally. But we'll have to do that again some time. I like tracking my little animal through the urban jungle. Taking you captive." His hand under 289

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  the table had me hard by the wrist. The pressure made my other hand tremble a little as I sipped my tea. Something told me I was going to pay for my little triumph, in some coin or other.<
br />
  He released me and leaned back. "Speaking of animals, we had a cat problem the other day, did I tell you? This huge cat wandered in and kept getting in the middle of whatever we were doing. Stupid thing must have been deaf; it was actually about to jump up on the table saw while Rizal was using it. We kept throwing it out and it kept turning up again."

  "Was it white?"

  "Mostly. Might have been white under the dirt. Why?"

  "Some pure white cats are deaf; I read that somewhere."

  "Dead, too, at that rate."

  "Is Rizal working out okay?" This was a Filipino of few words whom Anders was considering grooming for more responsibility.

  "Not bad. I got him to supervise the finishing details on that Etobicoke apartment, and he did okay. He doesn't say much but what he does say is to the point.”

  “Val hasn't left yet, has she? How's she doing?"

  "Giving off sparks. She might set off the gas tank any day now." He told me about the conversation in the truck.

  I shifted my chair forward to accommodate someone behind me, large and with packages.

  "Val may be tense about setting up her business and so on, but I'll bet she's more bothered by splitting from you."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Well, you're buddies. Obviously she's going to miss you."

  "She's tearing strips off me at the moment." He thought. "But that's how Val would deal with separation. Yeah, you might have something there." He finished his coffee. "How's it going with your colleague of the afternoon shift? She still hiding the stapler?"

  "Yes," I groaned. "And the keys to the desk drawer. And she keeps changing the network defaults for some reason. On purpose just to aggravate me. What is it with that woman?" Dearest Vera, the sticky letter in the keyboard of my life.

  When we emerged it seemed colder, or maybe it was just that I was no longer on the run. The clouds had assembled closely overhead, and were 290

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  considering their precipitation options. We wandered east. As we waited for the traffic to pass so we could jaywalk, Anders directed my attention upward to the hydro wire across the street. I was puzzled; all I saw was a squirrel travelling along it. But as I watched I realized that the creature was on quite a journey, with no trees available as off-ramps for a whole long city block, only concrete poles right next to the street. It seemed very exposed.