Tara nodded and set her coffee down. “Do you have any fantasies?”
“Like, sexual fantasies?”
“Yes. Anything that turns you on, gets your heart going, your endorphins flowing. It doesn’t have to be real. It doesn’t even have to be possible. An actor you’re attracted to, or a scenario you find exciting.”
I shook my head, the heat rising in my face. “I sometimes think… it’s not really a fantasy.” I cleared my throat. “But the last time I had sex, the guy just kind of… did it, you know? I mean, I let him. He didn’t force me. But he took control. Pushed me down, pulled my pants down, and just…” The memory filled me with uncertainty. Had that been consensual? Had I liked it?
She smiled. “That’s a start. Did you enjoy it?”
I reddened. “Yes. I think so.”
“So why do you freeze, then? Are you afraid you won’t know what to do?”
“Maybe.”
“Are you self-conscious about your appearance?”
“Sometimes.”
“Are you just telling me what you think I want to hear?”
I nodded. “If I knew what the problem was, I wouldn't be here,” I said. I couldn't say aloud the words that were bouncing around in my head: Maybe I’m just broken.
* * *
Saturday, November 7, 2015, 9:05 p.m.
Day 1
“Kneel with your buttocks on your heels, back straight, knees slightly parted, hands resting on your thighs, palms up,” Deep Voice instructed.
My buttocks were still a little sore from my “punishment,” but I folded myself into a semblance of the position he’d described. One of the men sitting on a sofa to my right approached me. Dark hair and eyes, olive skin, average height, and clearly fit, he looked at me with a mix of curiosity, sympathy, and frank lust. He used his foot to coax my knees farther apart. “Bow your head, focus on a point on the floor just in front of your knees,” this man said. It was an incredibly subservient position.
Again, precisely the point. These guys knew exactly what they were doing.
“This is called Kneeling at Rest,” Deep Voice said. “You will assume this position while waiting for your master or when not given other instructions.”
Lustful Guy walked a full circle around me. “Keep your head down. Maintain this position no matter what happens around you. You are to be invisible until you are needed.”
I didn’t know what to make of that. I sure didn’t feel invisible right now!
The man who’d been sharing the sofa with Lustful Guy also walked a full circle around me. I couldn't see more than his shoes when he crossed my line of sight. He squatted in front of me, put a finger under my chin, and tipped my face up so I could see his. “Hello, Pet,” he said. Behind wire-rimmed glasses were inquisitive hazel eyes. His face put me immediately at ease, cute in a nerdy way, exactly my type. I may have been drawn to Blue Eyes, but I was actually attracted to Glasses more than any of the other men here.
He moved away then, and I lowered my head back to where Lustful Guy had shown me.
“Good, Pet!” Deep Voice said. I’d pleased him, apparently. I could follow directions. It wasn’t that hard, especially knowing the alternative. “One of the six of us will become your master seven days from now. We will each be working with you, individually and together, to further your training, during which time we will get to know your particular idiosyncrasies, strengths, and weaknesses, and you will be matched with a master who wants you and is suited to your needs. You have placed your complete trust in us, and we take that very seriously. You will be very well cared for. Your basic human needs will be provided. You will not be harmed more than is necessary for your training. Nothing we do will leave permanent marks or scarring on any part of your body. We do not pierce, tattoo, or brand. We do not draw blood. We do not cause injury that may require medical attention. You have been certified as healthy, and we intend to return you home as healthy as, or healthier than, when you arrived. Do you understand this promise, Pet?”
That was all very reassuring. “Yes, Sir,” I said.
“You will not wear clothing of any kind during the seven-day vetting period. You will be available to any of the six of us at any time for any purpose. I will reiterate, you do nothing you are not told to do, and you do everything you are told to do. You do not get out of bed until we tell you to. You do not so much as use the bathroom, shower, brush your teeth, or drink water unless or until one of us gives you permission or instructs you to do so. You do not sit, stand, or lie down until told to do so. You make no decisions. You have no autonomy. Do you understand all of that, Pet?”
I understood, but I didn’t get how it could possibly work! “Yes, Sir,” I said.
“Most of your conversation will be limited to ‘yes, Sir’ and ‘no, Sir.’ On the occasion that you have permission to say more, you will refer to yourself in the third person, as ‘this Slave’ or ‘this Pet.’ Do you understand that, Pet?”
“Yes, Sir.” So many rules!
“Finally, in thirty days, you will be given the option to remain your master’s pet or to be released. If you choose to be released, you will return to the life you came from and our relationship will end. If you choose to remain, you will enter phase two for the following sixty days. You will receive more information about phase two if you choose to stay.”
Phase two. In thirty days, would I even remember what it was like not to be a slave?
“Now rise, Pet. Stand with feet shoulder-width apart and arms loose at your sides. Eyes to the floor,” Deep Voice ordered.
I got to my feet somewhat clumsily. No one corrected anything this time.
“This pose is called Standing at Rest. If you are instructed to stand but given no other information, this is the position you will assume. You will strive to shift positions smoothly. Kneeling at Rest Pose again, Pet.”
It took me a moment to remember what that meant. He was bombarding me with information, and it hadn’t all yet settled. I knelt again in that strange, submissive posture.
“Good, Pet. Now Stand at Rest.”
Putting me through my paces? I got to my feet with marginally more grace this time.
“Excellent, Pet. You learn quickly,” Deep Voice said. “And now a third pose. There are more, but we won’t make you memorize them all tonight. By the end of the week, you will know them all.”
How many positions could there possibly be? I wondered. And why was it so important?
Glasses gave me the next set of instructions. “Open your legs wider and clasp your hands behind your neck with your elbows out,” he said.
I immediately detested this one. The pose thrust my chest out and forced me to arch my back enough to be uncomfortable. Plus, I felt incredibly exposed and vulnerable.
“This is Presentation Pose,” Glasses said.
An apt name, I thought.
“Kneel at Rest,” Glasses said.
Huh? Oh, I was supposed to do that. I dropped to my knees and assumed the position I’d been taught. How easily it came to me already, after so few repetitions!
“Stand at Rest,” Glasses commanded.
I rose more confidently and stood with my hands at my sides.
He had me kneel, then stand, then kneel, then stand several more times. Then, “Presentation Pose,” Glasses instructed again.
I interlaced my fingers behind my neck. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I wasn’t sure why. Glasses noticed.
“Stand at Rest,” he said, then touched my cheek. “You are doing very well, Pet,” he murmured. “The first night is difficult, letting go of your pride. We understand. But once you do, you will feel very free. Let it go, Pet. You may cry.”
Given permission, the tears spilled over. A few shuddering breaths, and I was able to calm myself.
Lustful Guy took Glasses’ place in front of me. “I will take you to your room now.”
I suddenly realized they’d made me cry on purpose, forcing me to repeat the poses until the humilia
tion got to me. I did feel better having let go a little. I didn’t understand what Glasses had meant by “feeling free,” though. How could I feel free when I couldn't do anything but what I was told?
“When you walk with your master, you will heel a half-step behind and to his right. Walk with your back straight, even steps, neither shuffling nor rushing. Follow, Pet,” Lustful Guy said.
According to the clock, I’d been here only about 45 minutes. It felt like a lifetime already!
I followed as I’d been told, out of the room and into a hallway. Lustful Guy led me farther into the building and up a flight of stairs, where doors dotted the walls along a corridor that appeared to run the length of the second floor.
“You are in room 4,” Lustful Guy said. “The rooms are all identical.” Room 4 was the second one on the right, the doors numbered with odds on the left and evens on the right, like in an apartment building. I couldn't see exactly how many rooms there were, but it didn’t seem like there could be many more on either side. Maybe eight?
The door wasn’t locked. It didn’t have a lock on the doorknob, nor did it have a deadbolt, but I did note a sturdy hook-and-eye lock at the top of the door on the outside. They could lock me in, but I could not lock them out. Lustful Guy opened the door. “Go inside.” A small room, maybe 10 feet square, contained a full-sized bed and a chest of three drawers with a mirror. On the dresser were a hairbrush, makeup kit, nail clippers, razor and shaving cream, deodorant, perfume, toothbrush, toothpaste, dental floss, and mouthwash. I waited in the Standing at Rest Pose for him to tell me what to do next.
He laughed. “Good, Pet. You are a quick study.” I suspected many new arrivals would start looking around, sit on the bed, explore. I was quite intent on not earning myself another lashing, though. It wasn’t hard, letting go, once I decided to do it. Well, it wasn’t hard yet. But they hadn’t asked much of me so far. “That door over there leads to a bathroom,” he said, pointing. “Take the razor, shaving cream, and dental products into the bathroom and put them on the shelf in there.”
I collected everything and pushed open the door he’d indicated. This door didn’t even have a latch or a knob. No privacy. Or, not much anyway. Well, I was already walking around naked!
In the small bathroom were a shower stall, toilet, sink, and small shelf over the sink. In the shower I could see body wash, shampoo, and conditioner. It wasn’t luxurious, but it wasn’t worse than many of the motels I’d stayed in. And it was clean. Very clean. I noted a cabinet under the sink and itched to investigate, but I simply put the products on the shelf and waited again.
“Do you need to use the toilet?” he asked.
“No, Sir,” I said.
“You will rest now. Know that there are security cameras in here and in the bathroom. If we witness disobedience, you will be punished. You must remain in this room until one of us comes to retrieve you in the morning. While in here, you may use the toilet whenever necessary. You must take exactly one shower no longer than eight minutes before you go to sleep. Do not wash your hair. There is a clock in the bathroom so you can time yourself. You may drink water when thirsty. There are bottles of water in the bedside table drawer. You may eat one snack if you are hungry. You will find those in the drawer as well. You must be asleep no later than 11:30, and one of us will come for you between 8:00 and 8:30 tomorrow morning. You must be awake and ready when he arrives. You will brush and floss your teeth before you go to sleep and again when you wake up. You will brush your hair and shave your armpits and legs in the morning. You may shave in the shower if necessary. You will apply deodorant. I suggest you wake up no later than 7:30 to ensure you have time to complete all tasks. Do you understand your orders, Pet?”
My head was spinning. He’d gone so fast. “No, Sir.”
“What do you not understand?”
“Sir, I—this Pet can’t remember everything you said.”
“All instructions are written down for you as well.” He handed me a piece of paper from his pocket. I took it from him gratefully. “You may practice your three positions as well, if you are bored.”
That didn’t exactly sound like an exciting way to relieve boredom.
“Goodnight, Pet.” He paused, then took my face in his hands and kissed my forehead, much as the Punisher had done. It seemed a gesture of approval or affection, and I accepted it as such. “Welcome to the House.” And with that, he left. I heard him set the lock on the outside of the door.
* * *
Wednesday, September 9, 2015, 6:30 p.m.
8 weeks ago
“It’s extreme,” Tara said, “but I think it’s what you want. Here’s the application. They won’t so much as meet with you until they’ve reviewed your application and have their form filled out by your GYN.” Tara handed me a thick manila envelope.
“My GYN? Why?” When I’d asked for sex therapy, I thought we’d sit and talk about anatomy and fantasies and maybe some medications that could help. I didn’t even know what I was applying for. I started to open the envelope, but Tara stopped me.
“Don’t read it now. Take it home and spend some time with it. All I can tell you right now is that you will not be harmed, you will likely be helped, and they are very selective, for various reasons, about who they take in. After you get all the paperwork completed, bring it back to me, and I’ll tell you a bit more. If you decide based on the paperwork that you don’t want to go through with this, it’s a good way of eliminating the option before you get too involved. See?”
“They want to weed out people who aren’t serious,” I said.
“Right. If they do accept you, then I have more information I can give you. You can back out at any time until the final decision when you actually meet with them.”
“What kind of place is it?”
“They call it the House. That’s all I can say now,” she said.
“This doesn’t cost me anything?” I’d expected this kind of therapy to be expensive, and I was prepared to pay, but Tara insisted that I would not be out a single penny for the entire process.
“Nothing. They will cover any copays for the doctor’s visit as well.”
“And I don’t pay you? Are you sure?”
“Don’t worry about me,” she said with a smile. “This is for you.”
And with that, she ushered me out of her office.
At home, I sat at my dining room table and pulled the stack of papers out of the envelope. The top form was labeled Medical Clearance. “To be completed, signed, and dated by your women’s health practitioner.” It asked about my general gynecological health, STD test results, birth control, and menstrual periods. Very intimate stuff. I wondered why they needed all of this information.
Next was a several-page questionnaire for me to fill out. Just a few questions in, and my cheeks were already burning. Why did they want to know all of this? And what answers would get me rejected? I had no idea. “Answer truthfully to the best of your knowledge,” the directions read. “There are no wrong answers.”
The basics were easy. Lucy Williams, 8/2/1984, human resources manager. 5’5”, 127 pounds, brown hair, brown eyes. “Please affix two color photos, one of your face and one full-body dressed in casual clothing.”
They wanted to know if I was on birth control, how long I’d been on it, was it effective, and if I experienced any significant side effects. Pills hadn’t agreed with me at all, and I’d convinced my doctor to give me an IUD, which had been working well for me. “Are your menstrual periods regular?” “What feminine hygiene products do you use?” “Do you consider your periods to be heavy, moderate, or light?” “How many days does your bleeding typically last?” “Do you suffer from any menstrual-related conditions, such as severe PMS or cramping?”
Holy shit, this was specific.
“When was your last menstrual period?” “When do you expect your next period to start?”
The form finally moved on from menstruation. “How many sexual partners have you had?
” “Have you performed fellatio?” “Have you received cunnilingus?” “Have you had vaginal intercourse?” “When was the last time you had vaginal intercourse?” “Have you had anal intercourse?” “When was the last time you had anal intercourse?”
Anal? Did people actually do that? I shuddered. My answers were quite lame, I thought. I’d had two sexual partners, and it was true what I’d told Tara: the last time I’d had vaginal sex was six years ago. Never anal. I’d given a blow job or two, and my last boyfriend had gone down on me. I felt slightly better about those answers. Then again, maybe they wanted women with little to no experience. I couldn’t figure out what they were looking for.
“Do you masturbate?” “Do you use any masturbatory aids? If so, what?” It went on for a bit longer about my sexual experience, then moved on to fetishes. I had none, as far as I knew.
Then they asked about my physical fitness. Did I have an exercise routine? Did I have a gym membership? How often did I work out? Did I consider myself generally fit? Kind of. I ran a few miles a week, and I ate pretty healthy most of the time. I wasn’t exactly an athlete, though.
I didn’t once consider tossing the whole thing. Tara had said she would help me, and this was the next step.
* * *
Sunday, November 8, 2015, 8:27 a.m.
Day 2
I’d done all the tasks they’d given me, and I waited in the Kneeling at Rest Pose, a little impatiently, for someone to come get me. Also, I was hungry. I’d eaten my “snack,” which turned out to be a small bag of peanuts, almost immediately after Lustful Guy had left me alone. I’d slept well, even though I had expected to toss and turn all night. I was very anxious, confused, and overwhelmed, but I had also been exhausted!
The door opened, and Glasses strode in. He nodded in approval. “Good, Pet. Come eat breakfast,” he said.
I followed him the way Lustful Guy had shown me the night before back to the staircase and down to the first floor, but this time we turned right into a different room. This room had a dining table with six chairs, around which my five other potential masters already sat. Six chairs. But there were seven of us.
The House Book One: Pet Lucy Page 2