Author's Note: A young woman's journey from being a wallflower.


Prologue

A bookstore.

The clock on the wall behind the counter tinged five times. Quitting time for the day, and the beginning of a long weekend. As the remaining customers queued up at the register, Susan checked them out, confidently stacking and sacking whatever the customer had selected. Totally at home with literate people, she kept up a friendly stream of conversation...

"Good evening, Mrs. Harrison. Find what you wanted?" "They say that is a very good read, Ms. Johnson. I need to sit down with it soon." "Thank you Mr. Jones. Please come back."

Finally, the last customer left with her purchases and Susan locked the door, closed the blinds and flipped the hanging sign from Open to Closed. It had been a busy week - periods of rain were the time when business was best. Any person of education loved sitting down with a good book as the rain poured down outside. And as far as Susan was concerned, people who didn't love good books weren't even considered to be civilized. Her new employee, a young girl, a bookworm like herself - like I used to be, Susan thought - busied herself resetting chairs, dumping the coffee pot and other things usually done at end of day. "Don't bother with that, Marci. Just empty it, and wash it out." She dumped the receipts in a bag and continued. "Forget the rest. Tuesday morning will be slow - it always is after a holiday. We'll finish up then. Go home and enjoy the long weekend."

She was a sweet girl, intelligent and very nice looking. Susan hoped that her road to finding herself was a whole lot less rocky than hers had been. She unlocked the door and said, "Good night, Marci."

"Good night, Ms. Phillips. See you Tuesday."

She flopped down in the overstuffed lounge chair - one of many in her store - took her glasses off and rubbed her eyes. A three day weekend. She had stocked up on food and snacks during the week and had no intention of going out for the next three days. Three whole days of relaxing, reading, and... sex. She walked through the door to the back storage room, then through another to her three room apartment.

The building was in the downtown section of the city, within walking distance of most anything she needed - a good thing since she didn't own a car. Just as important, it was also within walking distance to the upscale apartments and houses of most of her customers. The upper floors were empty and abandoned but her bookstore took up the entire street level area of the building. HER building - lock stock and barrel. Courtesy of a settlement from the insurance company of the DUI driver that had killed both parents and her younger sister.

Books were her first love, and had been since she wore pigtails. The store didn't do much more than break even, but that was little matter. She had more money than she would ever think about spending. And besides, once the store was paid off, she had invested all of the rest in the market. As a result, her future was secure - very secure - and the profitability - or not - of her business was of no matter. And there was the matter of what she found IN the bookstore when she took possession. She could spend her days surrounded by books, selling when she had customers and reading when the store was empty.

Who would it be tonight? Did she want a man, or just a romp with another cunt. Maybe both - it had been almost a week since her last sex. Well, anyway, if you didn't count the relationship with her finger. Ok. First dinner, then she would decide.

Back in the storeroom, she reached behind a book and pulled a lever. Then, grasped the edge of a bookcase on the same wall and it swung out on heavy duty and well oiled hinges, revealing a door, behind which a set of stairs led down. Inside, she pulled the bookshelf back into its original position, then, stepping down the stairs, she came to the bottom, she opened an ordinary door and stepped into the well lit and large basement.

The area that she could see was only a portion of the actual damp and cruddy underground room, as it was when she bought the bookstore, but she had a fair portion enclosed and made into a regular... Woman Cave? No. Lousy name. A Female Grotto. Why not? Men had their Man Caves. This was only right. As size went, it was about 30 by 50 feet, one area setup as her lounging area, with a bed, sofa, lounger, and media center, stove and 'fridge. And of course, lots of book cases. Her area was separated from the other by a drawable set of drapes across the width of the room.

The other end, was... well, not quite as nice and rather than carpet and hanging curtains, it was bare concrete and paint. But the occupants didn't seem to mind - they didn't complain - at least not any more.

One corner alcove had a bed and a toilet. And that was about it. Well, except for the two girls chained by the neck to the walls. Susan walked over to stand at the edge of the area that they occupied. As they saw her approach, they got down on their hands and knees with their heads lowered.

"Good evening, cunts," she greeted.

"Good evening, Mistress," they replied in chorus. Both were pretty, about twenty five years old, one dishwater blond and the other a standard brunette. Of course, both were stark naked.

"Are you hungry?" Both chimed in together in the affirmative.

Susan turned and walked toward the other corner - not too close. "How about you? Hungry."

None of that Mistress shit here, just a "Yes." This came from a man, average size, and of about the same age. But a man nonetheless. Susan well knew that the average male was much stronger than the average female and this case was no exception. She had no illusions about how a test of strength would come out if it developed. Thus, he had bracelets on both ankles and wrists and connected to chains that led to pulley on the wall. From a safe distance, she could turn the boat winches and pull him to a spread eagled and helpless position against the wall. At the moment, he had maximum slack and could move about eight feet away from the wall. Far enough to reach his toilet and bed.

The girl's neck chains were much longer than the eight feet that they usually had to move around in. Each chain was usually folded back on itself and a lock was inserted into the links to take out most of the slack. But on occasion, a girl would have it removed so she could move out into the room. Like now.

Susan bent down and removed the slack lock on Ashley's chain. Now she could reach the little kitchen just outside of their area. The chain length would now also let her get close enough to the man to deliver a tray, but not close enough for them to touch, even if his bonds were at maximum extension.

"Make dinner," Susan ordered, then went back to her exclusive area. Ashley would know what to make - the menus for the days were posted over the little sink. While the girl prepared the evening meal for everybody, Susan picked up the two books she had brought down, made a decision and began to read...


Chapter the Only

Long ago.

She was born a cute little girl, quiet and polite. Despite her fairly attractive looks, boys just never seemed to see her. All through elementary and junior high school, she had friends, but none were close. In high school, her phone never rang for dates, she was seldom invited to parties, and those she went to, she throughly hated, since she was always consigned to sit in a chair and watch everybody else dance.

She was a pure wall flower. Sociologists have never explained the phenomenon whereby a particular individual just cannot be accepted by the group, despite any attractive looks or traits. It is just human nature that certain individuals are born without the social... glue, for want of a better word, that brings friends and acquaintances together. Not that she didn't have some girl friends, it was just that she could never have girlfriends - compatriots that she could giggle with and confide in.

So, the literary world became her friend and confidant. Books and knowledge were her life and her grades showed it - 4.0 average.

There was a single thread that ran through her life that conflicted with her lack of social acceptability - the fact that the world wasn't interested in her, didn't mean that her body wasn't interested in them. At an early age, about the third grade or thereabouts, she discovered the little button just above her peehole, and the wonderful feeling that she would get from rubbing it. As her reading skills progressed, she discovered the genre of amour fiction and, combined with the new knowledge about her body, she would lay in bed - with the door safely locked - book in one hand and clit under the finger of the other. Had her life connected at any point with boys, she would have come close to being the fabled nymphomaniac.

Then came that terrible day, a month after graduating from High School, when a social worker and a policeman came to her house and gave her the news that her entire family was dead, wiped out by a scumbag with at least a dozen other convictions for drunk driving. The ensuing summer was horrible, until the initial shock wore off, and she enrolled in college, taking a load of classes that would normally have been denied, but were allowed given her scholastic record. She threw herself into studies as a prescription for not thinking about the past.

A close friend of her father, an attorney, shepherded her lawsuit against the individual with the drinking problem. When it was all said and done, between her not inconsiderable inheritance, a large insurance policy on her father, and a sympathetic jury, her money problems were over for life. She wasn't a multimillionaire, but still, properly invested, the sum would give her an upper class income in addition to any monies that she would earn.

She was well on the way to graduating in three years with a degree in library science.

Most people have a point early in life that can be considered the turning point, where they decide what to do with their lives, or where they are pushed in another direction from the way they were going. Susan's cusp was her first real date. It was the first month of her senior year in college. She was sitting in the almost deserted student center with her laptop - by herself, naturally, although she had waved a to pair of females at the next table that she knew just from association in the last two years. They weren't exactly friends, but close enough to use first names. They had started the college together, but with Susan's massive course load, she was now over a year ahead of them.

Suddenly, a movement over her screen caught her eye, and a man dropped into the chair across from her. Wide eyed and gulping, Susan just stared, unable to articulate either a greeting or a question. It was Rodger Dunfield - a jock and an indifferent student - a junior, like the two girls at the next table. Right now he was in an unusual position, that is, no giggling girls were hanging on his every word.

"Good morning, Susan," he boomed. After a couple of tries, she manage to stammer out some kind of reply. After some inconsequential, almost one way talk, he got up with a friendly goodbye and left, leaving Susan in a daze at what had happened. One definite result that night, was that she almost rubbed her pussy raw with fantasies of her and him, in every possibly situation - usually him on top and mouthing sweet nothings in her ear.

Over the next few weeks, he would stop by when he saw her in the student center. For her part, the amount of time that she spent in the student center tripled and quadrupled. Eventually, came that wonderful Friday when he asked her out on a date - her first real one. Unfortunately, in her eyes, he was the stud and she was just the Cinderella who would do anything for him. It was inevitable that, following a dinner and a walk around the downtown square, they would eventually end up at his apartment...

Susan was a technical virgin, although she had long since learned of the pleasures of a dildo, so there was no worry about entry pain of the first time. Both were on his bed, naked and he was working over her body with the technique of experience. For herself, she was in a daze of enjoyment that had nothing to do with orgasm. Just the idea that she was desired by a man was intoxicating.

Eventually after lots of fingering, kissing and sucking, he moved over her and inserted his dong in her willing and ready slot. She didn't know exactly what it was ready for, but she was willing to try anything. Typical for a young man, he worked to get his rocks off without any worry about how she was doing and eventually exploded into her. She wasn't even close to orgasm, but she didn't care - it was enough to be wanted.

Afterwords, he lay beside her, and for some reason, spread her legs wide with a hand, then did more manipulating. When she tried to close them, he would push them apart again. Now he was laughing... Confused, she looked up at him and...

Suddenly, she heard giggles - loud and close. Stunned, she raised up to a sitting position as the closet door burst open and two girls emerged, doubled over with laughter.

Horrified, she recognized the two as girls who had started college the same time as her, but were now a year behind because of Susan's massive schedule load. Ashley and... Re... something. Not friends, just mildly familiar classmates. Susan realized that they had been in the closet all along and had watched everything that had happened. She looked at Rodger for help and hope that he, enraged, would throw them out or do something. Suddenly, from the look on his face, she knew that he had been in on the gag, and was a full participant.

Panicky and sobbing in the last extremes of mortification, she grabbed for her clothes, managed to get them on in some sibilance of order, and ran out of the apartment, down the stairs and into the street.

She sat on her bed, totally cried out, and dully looking at a full bottle of aspirins. After a taste of life's cruelty tonight, the idea of continuing on for maybe sixty or seventy years in a world in which she didn't fit, was not attractive. A handful of these little pills, a glass of water and she could leave this world into which she apparently would never fit.

The concept of revenge she knew about, and payback, and getting even. All those were human traits. But to be totally and sexually humiliated by people whom she had never harmed in the slightest - and in fact, had helped Ashley a few times with schoolwork - just for laughs and the fun of causing embarrassment was an indication of a world in which she did not want to live.

She was a square peg in a world of round holes and nothing would change that fact. Slowly, she turned the top of the bottle to the child proof notches, then popped it off. She poured half the bottle of the little white pills into her hand, then just sat there looking at both the handful of pills and the half empty bottle. Her racing thoughts had stalled and she was just waiting for her brain to give an impulse to her muscles to lift the hand to her mouth.

She set carefully set the half empty bottle on the bedside stand, beside her current book. She would miss books - her life long love of reading would be over. She wouldn't even know how the current story turned out...

On impulse, she poured the aspirins into a little pile on the bed sheet, then reached over and picked up the book. It was by one of her favorite authors - a woman - who wrote almost fifty years ago. Her books were usually about women. Women who fought their way into being equals in a man's world. Women who didn't give up. Stupid fictional women. She suddenly threw the book across the room to impact on the far wall.

Suddenly, she was horrified at what she had done. Books were cherished by her - more than that, they were sacred. To her, dog earring a page for a bookmark was close to apostasy - to bend a spine back to make it lay flat should be an actionable felony - with hard time. She jumped off the bed and ran over to pick up the book and smooth out the pages that she had bent.

At that moment... something shifted in her psyche. Ok, she said to herself. The world doesn't give a damn about me. Fair enough, I will return the favor in spades. From now on she would care nothing for anyone else. Anything she did, would be for the benefit of Susan and it it hurt someone else, so be it.

She graduated Summa Cum Laude in three years with a degree in library science and a minor in foreign languages.

One of her favorite haunts was the Book Nook, a large bookstore on Main Street run by an old hermit with the same love of books as she. Many an afternoon she would sit there in a lounger, studying, researching or just reading for pleasure. The old man's name was Dovid Estraikh - a yiddish immigrant who had settled here before Susan's grandparents were born. They became friends from the day she first set foot in the store. He eventually knew about her preferences in literature, and would mention any new titles that had come in that were congruent to her tastes. She read a lot of books there, but also always bought the ones she enjoyed - she wasn't about to impose on their friendship by using him as a free library. Then...

Not long after her graduation, she was brought up short at the closed locked door of the store by a wreath on the door. Dovid had passed away.

She sat down on the bench under the window and cried. She reflected that had she been superstitious, she might have been depressed about the fact that every time she graduated, someone close to her died. That was followed by the germ of an idea.

"Susan. Why do you want that old store?" Her attorney - her late father's friend - was shaking his head. "There is no way that it makes much income. I'm not even sure the old man covered expenses." She couldn't explain - at least not to a man who didn't share her love of books. This was a real bookstore, with high ceilings and massive wooden bookshelves arranged in almost random fashion. A wooden counter and old fashion lights and fixtures. It was like a maze for book lovers. If it had been one of those modern sterile glass and steel cubes, she wouldn't have even given it another thought. The estimates that she had received for the worth of the property would not strain her money assets.

She commissioned him to find out who would inherit the old store and what they were going to do with it. In a few days, he reported that a grandson and granddaughter were named in the will. It took a few more days to come up with the second answer. They had no intention of saddling themselves with a musty hundred year old bookstore a thousand miles away and it was for sale if anybody wanted it. The asking price was quite moderate.

A week after the probate court awarded the inheritance, she signed a paper giving her ownership of the entire building, along with contents.

She stood in the closed bookstore with an elated, almost orgasmic feeling. It was hers - thousands and thousands of books. All hers. It made no difference if the store made money or not - if it did, fine, but her fortune and income would make the business immune to worries about balance sheets and profit statements. She explored the building. Upstairs - it had two floors - was dusty and abandoned. These used to be offices, but that was decades ago. She spent little time looking around there.

She didn't have to examine the retail part of the shop - she knew it probably as well as the old man did, but the back storage room was new. She looked around the large area - stacks and stacks of books on tables, more on rickity bookshelves on every wall, and a bookbinding table with supplies on one end. A desk where he probably did his paperwork - no computer, the man was a child of his century. The ledgers were still on paper.

A door in one wall probably led to the rear apartment that she had never seen, of course. She opened it and... whoa, this was a flight of stairs. Feeling around for a switch, she finally managed to turn on the lights, dim though they were. A few steps down and she was in a... basement. Hmmmm. Dusty, some miscellaneous boxes and junk, but mostly empty. Nothing here of interest.

The other door went into the living quarters. A bedroom, living room with kitchen and a bathroom. All she needed. The store would need some upgrades, Internet, a real Point of Sale terminal and an inventory server. She had no intention of spending her life hunched over paper ledger sheets ever night. But, first...

Three bids and a few weeks later, she moved into her newly redone apartment and opened the store. Fortunately, the local TV station did a short piece on her reopening and customers began to come back in. During this time an idea came to her. The more she thought about it the more of an obsession it became. Finally, it became the be all and end all of her new business.

A month after the general contractor was done, a crew from a very specialized company - one that sold secrecy - arrived to install new bookshelves in the storage room - the old ones had been removed and junked by the previous contractor. When they were done, she had a nice new room to use for administration of the front of the store. But, there was something special about one bookcase. By moving a particular book out the way, a lever was exposed that, when moved would unlock a latch and allow the entire bookcase, loaded with heavy books or not, to swing away from the wall effortlessly. It just happened to be dead centered on the basement door.

At this time she made a Major discovery - with a capital M. Of course, while the old bookcases in the back room were discarded, the books were carefully moved into stacks in her apartment until she could examine them to see why they were in the back and not up front for sale. Most were just books that hadn't been put out yet and some were used and needed some maintenance.

As she began to empty another bookcase, she was stunned to see that she was holding a Shakespeare first folio. She very carefully set it down, then pulled the next very large and heavy book down. Oh my God! It was a Gutenberg Bible. And a first edition of Darwin's Origin of Species. The entire bookcase was filled with rare books - not only rare, but some of the most valuable editions in the world. Now, very, very carefully, she carried the tombs into her bedroom and set them on the floor behind the bed. All evening she carefully opened and read snippits in the old books. Finally, she sat down and thought.

The value of the collection was unimportant - she had more money than she would ever use. But it was obvious that the grandchildren of Dovid would have kittens if they ever found out that they had sold an old bookstore containing several million dollars worth of rare editions. Dovid obviously just collected them over almost eighty years for his own pleasure, since he didn't display them or attempt to sell any. Fortunately, she thought. If word had gotten out about what treasures were in this old building, the old man wouldn't have lived through the night. Tomorrow, she would buy some steel footlockers and store the books in the concrete and fireproof basement until she could purchase a display case.

They would also be for her pleasure, only. Well, maybe some day when she was an old woman, she might donate them to a museum. But for the present...

Now it was time for the secondary remodeling, only this time without bids, local contractors or even permits. For all her wallflowerness and inability to socialize, she knew how the world worked. A trip to a city down the coast got her a new set of remodelers - only with these she didn't have to worry about contracts or performance bonds, just with having enough cash to pay them at the end of every shift. The jefe - boss - and his three illegals began to work on the basement. The stairs were replaced with much a more solid wooden staircase. New lights and wall sockets were put in, and a kitchen with a sink. And a little bitty kitchenette. In two corners and the other end, three toilets were installed. Plus two open air showers. And a system to pump the contents of the toilets and showers up to the sewer input.

Certain other items were installed at various locations that the workers must have wondered about, but the first rule about working in another country illegally, is, don't ask questions.

After it was painted and carpet laid in part, furniture and appliances were delivered and carried to the basement by the workers, then installed and hooked up. Finally, she was satisfied with her Woman Cave... No, a Female Grotto, paid off the workers, added a bonus, and sent them on their way.

She was in her element. Surrounded by books, socializing with people who liked books also, and of course, an entire building full of books that she hadn't read yet. She had always heard of the adage that only one person in a hundred reads as much as one book a year. That was unbelievable. Books were what made mankind civilized - the written word passed down from generation to generation so that knowledge wasn't lost when the previous generation died. She had found her niche for life, except... There were three items of unfinished business before she could settle down and enjoy her new being.

Her Grotto was filled with stacks of women's magazines that she pored over. Always before, they always seemed so shallow and meaningless, but back then she wasn't trying to learn how to become a woman. At her new dresser, she smeared on makeup, applied lipstick, tried on new clothes - then stripped it all off and started again. The first attempts made her look like a drunken whore after a Saturday night, but eventually, she came closer and closer to the look she wanted. Weeks went by with evening after evening spent in single minded concentration on transforming herself from a plain Jane to what was becoming a beautiful vixen. Not only did she work on her physical appearance, she also practiced her facial expressions, from a friendly smile, to a 'do you like what you see?' look.

She joined a gym that offered self defense lessons. Just like any new venture that she tried, she threw herself into it with total concentration. She knew that she would never become the deadly female fatale of the Hollywood set, or be able to take on a man in a straight forward fight, but after a few weeks her skills and confidence reached the point that she could definitely disable anybody who assumed that they were assaulting the normal, helpless female. In addition, her physical stamina, never before very high from her sedentary lifestyle, was considerably improved.

Besides her reading of women's literature, she spent a considerable time reading men's literature - specifically porno sites, the rawer the better. They had little erotic effect on her, but that wasn't the reason for her study. She wanted to be familiar with the lingo of the... sport, just to use a convenient word. And the use of certain... items.

Finally, she was satisfied that she could make no further progress with her appearance. By now, certain items of an... erotic... nature had arrived by Internet order. She reviewed her plans for a flaw, but could see none. It was time.

Susan was sitting in the student center, wearing a heavy jacket and scarf to conceal her identity to casual passersby, trying to look like a frumpy college student attempting to study. She had been there every night for a week, waiting for the correct time. Tonight was it, maybe. She saw Rodger coming across the campus, heading for the center. She immediately stood up, shucked off the jacket and scarf, arranged herself and waited. This was the first night that an audience of the few girls that knew her were absent, and that Rodger was alone.

It took Rodger all of a millisecond to notice the stunning brunette sitting there looking at him with a quizzical look. He didn't recognize her - actually, her mother wouldn't have recognized her with no glasses - contacts, now - makeup, lipstick, professional coifed hair, a low cut blouse with two firm and gorgeous white globes on either side of cleavage, and a not quite miniskirt showing shapely legs coming down from what had to be in his imagination, a perfect ass.

Like a missile tracking its target, he instantly changed direction to angle toward her table. As always, he started with what he considered to be a continental method to introduce himself. "HeLLLo, gorgeous. Where have you been all my life."

Keeping her voice in a practiced lower register, she answered, "Well, that depends on where you've been. For myself, I just started my graduate work here." She looked him up and down. "And who might you be?"

"Just the answer to your prayers, sweetie." God, he was not only conceited, but totally ignorant of just how stupid he sounded. After that night of excruciating embarrassment, she had made a promise to herself to never fall for any macho bullshit again.

She kept up the banter. "And what should I be praying for?"

He sat down across from her and said, brightly, "Me."

"Ok." she answered and bowed her head. "Dear Lord, please grant me the boon of the person who calls himself, 'Me'".

He laughed. Some more meaningless banter went on for a while, then paydirt. "How about a drink, sweetie?"

She apparently thought about it for a few seconds, then said, "Sure, it's late enough. Where to?"

"How 'bout The Golden Spur. Just down the street."

She got to her feet, and said "Lead on." Shortly, they were sitting in a booth, her with a margarita and him with a Tom Collins and trying to impress her with his charm. She waited, nursing her drink and waiting for him to get at least two down to dull the edges of any slight cunning he might have. Finally, she decided it was time...

She leaned over and whispered, "Listen, my place is just a few blocks away. We can go there and drink the same stuff but a whole lot more comfortably and a hell of a lot cheaper." She could see his eyes light up with the idea that he had just hit the jackpot. He nodded, gulped down the rest of the drink and got up with her.

They were in the alley behind the bookstore. She unlocked the rear door and ushered him into her apartment. It had been transformed from the dungy living quarters of the old man to a bright cheerful female pad. Not large, but neat and clean. She kicked off her heels, threw the jacket on a chair, moved over to her tiny bar and asked, "Same thing?" He nodded, looking around before relaxing on her sofa. She fixed his, and then another margarita for her - very light on the alcohol and both extra large - picked up both glasses and settled down beside him. She held her glass up, he got the message and clinked it with his, then both took a swallow. Settling back against him, she said, "Tell me about yourself."

Still thinking about jackpots, and putting his arm around her shoulders, he started in, "Well, I was born at a very early age," then laughed at his own stupid joke. So did she. Then he was off on his favorite subject. For a while he blathered about this game and that tournament - very little that she listened to and none that she bothered to remember. In a little while, the alcohol was getting to him as he started to stumble over his own words. "...and then this big gude... i mean dude, got in front of me, and I wet him... hit him with a... my elbow, jumped the line and goaled the run... I mean, runned the... ball..." He paused and gulped. "Boy this is some strong shit... oops, sorry, I meant tough shit... Heeeee heeee." She watched as the dumb jock took another huge swallow. Even if this had been a legitimate date, she would still have been going to bed alone. A few more mumbles, then he just fell against her, dead to the world.

She pushed him off of her and got up. The Mickey Finn had hit him like a ton of bricks, but her fear had been that of putting too little in his drink and it not knocking him out. Of course, too much and he wouldn't wake up at all, but that seemed to be a lesser evil. She immediately got out of the vixen clothes, cleaned off the makeup and put on some comfortable lounging wear. She had some major physical work to do before he woke up.

First, was dragging a limp male body that weighed about sixty pounds more than she did, into the storeroom. She grasped him under the armpits and pulled. By the time she got him to the stairs she was both sweating and breathing heavily - even after her weeks of physical training. It was a good thing she had joined that gym, or she might not have even been able to lift him. A few minutes rest, then down the stairs, his feet going clunk, clunk as they hit each step. Another rest, then across the floor to his final resting spot. Now, she walked over to her area and poured herself a glass of cold water. After a few minutes to get her breath back, she got down to business.

Off came his shoes and socks, then his shirt, followed by his jeans. Smiling, she looked at him laying there in just his underwear and remembering what it was hiding. Finally, off it came and she was left looking at the thing that she had always fantasized about, but had only had once. Her blood began to heat up and she wanted to lay back and let her fingers start walking again, but No! she told herself. According to her reading, the amount of Mickey she had given him should keep him out for hours, but if she were wrong and he woke up, it was all over. There was no way she would win a physical bout with a young man.

Carefully, she laid out the preinstalled chain with the big collar. She set the bottom half of the hinged circle under his neck, then swung the front piece up and over. Inserting a high quality lock through both the end chain link and the matching eyes, she snapped it shut. Now he was captured for sure. But, like this, all she would be able to do would be to stand back and look - out of range. She wouldn't dare approach him with his arms and legs free. He could strangle her or break her neck if he wanted.

So, next to his arms went two more chains, not exceedingly heavy, but far beyond the capacity of even the strongest man to break. Two bracelets went around his wrists and just like the collar, locks secured the chains and kept the binders closed. Then his ankles had the same treatment. She stood up and looked. Done.

All four chains went through pulleys on the wall, the arm chains up high and the ankle ones close to the floor. Each then went up the wall to other pulleys, then over head to a side wall then down to four manual boat winches. By tightening each one she could pull him to the wall, spread eagled against it in a big X. Then he would be approachable - and useable - without danger. On the floor were mounted some rings in strategic places that she hoped would be usable in the future.

She pulled a chair over and sat down, just looking at her capture and trying to analyze her feelings. This son of a bitch who almost fatally embarrassed a helpless and ignorant - in relationships, that is - female was now going to pay for his sins. And give pleasure to that female at the same time.

Suddenly, she was horny as hell - rutting almost. Looking at the tool laying limp on her captive, she knew that it wasn't an option yet, and she didn't want to take time to relieve herself. Instead, she stood up and stripped off her clothes. Now she was as naked as he was, but this time there was nobody else to see.

She knelt down beside the supine body, her titties dangling most erotically, but the unfortunate male beneath them was unable to appreciate the sight just above him. She suddenly realized that she had never touched the privates of a man before, not even on that accursed date. Hesitatingly, she reached down and took his balls in her hand, kneading them gently, pulling them down to test their stretch. Fortunately, she said to herself grimly, the months have allowed me to cool down - back then, in these circumstances, I would have gladly cut them off.

Then, unable to resist, she felt of his limp dong, manipulating it back and forth. From her books and research, she knew - intellectually - everything there was to know about that area, but her practical experience was close to asymptotic zero. She smiled. That would change. With that, she stood up. Finished! you son of a bitch, she thought to herself, exulted. Only now did she move over to her bed, lay back and began to slowly relieve herself with a massive orgasm. That night she slept upstairs.

The next day, she opened the store normally, emotions under control, brightly greeting customers as they came in the store. She hadn't seen the fruits of her labors since she left him last night. He had water available from the his sink and she had left him a tube of crackers and a half jar of peanut butter. He wouldn't get a real meal until tonight, and then only if he was deserving of it.

That evening, after unhurriedly closing the store, counting the proceeds and doing the necessary inventory procedures, she finally prepared to confront her tormenter. It was as if she had a delicious desert waiting and she were playing a game of letting the anticipation build by deliberately not rushing to consume it. All she needed was her daily shower and shampoo. No makeup to take off - the Vixen Susan was never seen around the bookstore or her few acquaintances. That was the domain of the Bookworm or Wallflower Susan - quiet, polite, ponytail and big round glasses. As she prepared to descend the stairs, she was still naked as Eve from her bath. He would see all of what he was going to get - but get strictly on her terms.

As she got to the bottom of the staircase, he noticed her immediately. The storm started. "Goddammn you fucking bitch, get over here and get this shit off of me!" Other than a glance at him, she acted like there was no one in the room but her as she entered her Grotto section of the basement. She had a set of solid curtains on an overhead track that could visually separate the room in to two halves - the haves and the haves not, she had joked to herself several times. Now she drew them closed.

Rodger couldn't see her, but the curtains didn't stop his voice. "DAMN YOU BITCH..." He was practically screaming now. "...TURM ME LOOSE OR I WILL KILL YOU AND STUFF YOUR HEAD UP YOUR ASSHOLE..." and so forth. She had installed a sound system in her area, but this was better than any classical performance. Music to her ears, as it were.

While listening to the symphony, she began to make dinner. This first time with her first guest, it would be finger food, not something that would have to be eaten with a fork or spoon. A pair of hamburger patties, french fries and wheat rolls would be plain fare, but filling and good.

Finally, dinner was ready. She heaped it all on one plate, then set it on a warmer. Then she drew back the curtains, partially, and walked over toward her captive. By now he had run down somewhat, probably from hoarseness more than anything else, but as he saw a naked woman deliberately approaching, his voice completely trailed off to nothing. Now he was just warily standing there wondering what was going to happen. By now, he had had all day to discover that his bonds were absolute and there was no chance whatever of his escaping on his own. Finally, a thought came to him that, a man in his position probably shouldn't make threats.

She could almost read his mind, as he prepared his new line of talk - entreaties and apologies and offers to make any unfortunate past misunderstandings good. That line of thought lasted for a few seconds - about how long it took Susan to reach the wall with the winches and began to slowly crank one.

Click, click, click. The chain connected to his right arm slowly began to move, pulling that appendage toward the back wall. "What the fuck?" His new line of entreaties went out the window, so to speak. "Hey, Stop That! What the fuck are you doing?" And more. Click, click, click. Watching him with a smile, she continued cranking until he was all the way back to the wall and that arm was raised over his head. Of course, during the process he resisted with all his strength, but with the pulley force advantage, she didn't even notice it. Now he was really raving. He had felt helpless during the night, but that was nothing to what he felt now.

Shortly, his other arm was pulled up and held. Next, one at a time, and unhurriedly, she cranked the chains to his ankles until they too were held against the wall and his legs were spread widely. She stepped closer - not close, but closer - and examined her totally helpless male X. His penis was dangling, flaccid of course - all of this was arousing to her, not him. She looked forward to learning all about the center of male sexuality and what it would do and how it would do it. Of course, intellectually she knew, but she wanted empirical evidence.

She picked up a small stool and set it about four feet in front of her captive, then walked back to her kitchenette and picked up the plate of dinner and a large glass with a straw. Slowly and carefully she sat down on the stool, looking at him. She put a french fry in her mouth and began to chew. Then, breaking off a piece of hamburger patty, ate that. He was totally silent now, just looking and wondering. Being spread eagled and naked in front of a woman whom he had a sinking feeling would like to cut off his balls and cook them too, was not a position that was encouraging.

As she ate, she thought about her changing psyche - in the past she would have died of embarrassment if someone besides her doctor had seen her naked - and almost did, she remembered - and a short while ago she had just sauntered across the vision field of a man, a stranger, mostly, flaunting her body like some floozy. Now she was sitting, nude, tits hanging out and crack in full view, in front of the same man. And in a few minutes, planned to bare even more.

Eventually, she finished what she wanted. She never ate much and still had a good figure - getting better with practice and exercise - mainly because she seldom ate junk food like this. Looking him in the eye, she asked. "Are you hungry?" He had to be - no supper last night except for some crackers and peanut butter, and the same for lunch and dinner today if he had rationed them.

"Please turn me loose. I won't hurt you." Wrong answer.

"Are you hungry?" She waited for a few seconds for an answer as his male ego fought with his fears. "Last chance. Are you hungry or do you want to wait for tomorrow morning?"

This was a young man, used to eating when and as much as he wanted. His hunger had to be gnawing at him. Finally, he said a single word, "Yes."

She stood up with the plate, picked up a piece of hamburger and held it in front of his lips - too far for him to reach. "Listen carefully. Don't even attempt to bite me. I may lose a finger, but you will definitely lose a couple of things down there you want to keep. Understand?" He nodded and she let him take the morsel of meat. Slowly she fed him, one small piece at a time. At intervals, she would hold the glass of water with the straw up so he could drink. Demeaning was the action - either be hand fed by a naked female, or starve - your choice.

Dinner over, she left him and cleaned up the kitchen and washed the dish and the pans. Looking at her, anyone would have assumed that she was just calmly performing a task being done by millions of people about now. But inside, she was a ocean of emotions, mostly excitement, anticipation and, yes, a sense of payback time.

She walked over to him, slowly, making sure her arms and hands didn't cover anything a normal male would want to see. On the way, she picked up a long plastic stick with a handle on one end and a fork on the other. Stopping in front of him, she held it up for him to see. "Do you know what this is?" He probably had an idea, but somehow, the words wouldn't come out. "It's a cattle prod. Not a taser, or a stun gun. A cattle prod." Now fear was definitely apparent in his face. She waited for that to sink in. "Don't worry, I have no intention of torturing you with this. I will only use it if you disobey me." She held the forked prongs in front of his eyes. "ANY time you disobey me." She turned and set it down far from his reach, bending over and showing a full rear view of her female crack, if he cared to look.

She sat down on the stool again and just looked for a minute. Then, straightening her legs, she moved them apart at maximum spread. Reaching down, she split her pussy with two fingers of a hand. "Do you recall using this?" He must have, he was staring at it. "Remember how warm and wet it was? How virgin tight it was when it wrapped around your dick? How it felt when you jammed it all the way up and unloaded all that creamy drippy stuff into me?" He did. So did his rapidly stiffening dick. His was a nice size, even limp. She knew that small penises grew in size but that large ones usually just got hard without much growth. Knock it off, she said to herself. This isn't a physiology class.

She watched, fascinated - this beat the hell out of studying the subject in books. Slowly rising, she walked over to him and stood directly in front, almost close enough for his now erect rod to touch her stomach. She reached up and lifted her breasts with her hands. "Remember these. How soft and firm they were? How they jiggled up and down? Hand candy, you called them." Then she leaned forward and rubbed them back and forth across his chest. Even helpless, chained and all, he had no control over those reactions in his body.

"My turn," she continued. Her hand traced down his chest, to his belly, then around his erect member and to his hanging sac. She cupped them gently in her hand. "I remember these, but I didn't touch them that night. They are so soft and pliable. And this..." Her hand wrapped around his rod and massaged gently back and forth. "It felt so good inside of me - at least until I found out that you were a conniving son of a bitch."

He gulped and looked at her face for a change. "I'm really sorry about that. It was a stupid joke that we shouldn't have played."

She looked back, still massaging his dick. "Do you know that I came within a hair of committing suicide that night? My first serious date and he displays me as a joke to his girl friends." The fear was coming back, afraid of what she was planning, afraid of what her hand might do down there right now.

"I'm sorr..." She stopped massaging and just firmly grabbed his rod - not painfully.

"Stop apologizing. It won't do you any good and I won't accept it." She moved the stool up closer and sat down on it. Her massaging was keeping it hard, despite some amount of fear trying to undo her action. Another item from books. She knew that he wasn't close to ejaculating unless his testicles began to rise into his body. Right now they were sagging, so she was safe.

"I've never had but that one experience with these. I'm afraid that I don't know much about them, but I hope to learn over the next few months." Now, both hands were busy, one above and one below. She continued to talk, inconsequentially, as she manipulated. She was a raw amateur, but she was doing something right. He was breathing hard and opening and closing his hands. And his balls began a slow rise with their contents to their hopeful destination. "You know. I hope to have your two friends in here to play with someday, also. Except for myself, I've never played with this area of a woman, either." There was more pleasant one way conversation, along with touchy - feely play. By now, he wasn't as concerned with being chained to a wall as hoping she would keep going.

He was getting close to going over the edge, so she let go and sat back and watched. Still fascinated by the physical actions of the male member. As it went down and his balls sagged back to normal, she asked. "Do you like that?" He just nodded. "How about this..." She bent over, pulled the now half flaccid penis up and suddenly sucked it into her mouth. That, and her massaging his balls again, caused his dick to stiffen like a suddenly blown up balloon. This time, he even let out an "Auuuuuuggggg" at the feelings.

In her earlier life, the idea of taking another person's genital parts into her mouth would have been disgusting beyond belief. But now, after weeks of plotting and perusing porno sites, she was determined to try anything and everything. If her mind rebelled at something, she would just turn it off. Right now she was a clumsy falationist, if that is a word, but she hoped to get better with time. However, she noticed that her unwilling participant wasn't complaining.

Suddenly, she stood up. "I need to pee." With that she walked away and left him standing with an unfulfilled erection.

Twice more that night, she came to him, sat down and manipulated till he was hard and rutting, then left before anything happened. Except for the last time.

"Well, that should about do it for the night. We'll begin again tomorrow after work. But," she wagged her finger at him. "I don't want you to cheat and start without me. With that she brought out another item that she had paid premium dollar for at an upscale sex shop. He watched with disbelief as she put a heavy duty strap harness around his waist, then under and between his legs and up on either side of his equipment, then locked it on. Next, on the front, she installed a full metal dick and ball cage and locked it into place also. Now, he could pee and even get an erection - he just couldn't touch anything to get it on. Lastly, she unwound the winches so he could reach his bed and the toilet.

That night she spent in the Grotto bed, legs spread and rubbing herself until she was sore.

For a week, she did the same thing, with some variations, every night. By now, his seminal pressures must be enormous. Unlike the first night, all it took now for him to almost blow a wad was to just look at her naked body. She was afraid to play with him physically, because he would probably just shoot off on the first touch. She wondered if he would finally have a wet dream, like an adolescent boy. Eventually, she knew he would come, just from visual cues, if nothing else, but she was having fun trying to delay it as long a possible.

There they were - late in the evening - both of them, the other two conspirators from her night of infamy. They were both sitting at a table, occasionally speaking to each other, but just mostly reading - probably cramming for a test on the morrow. After purchasing her coffee, she walked over to the table as they looked up. "Hello," she greeted. Pretending to study a sticky note she was holding, she looked at each girl and asked, "Ashley and Renee?"

Both chimed in with "Yes." Typical young women, they never recognized the wallflower that they had tormented - and hadn't seen or even thought about for almost a year. Their eyes were only for the Anthony Doir outfit, the thousand dollar handbag with the familiar brand, the exclusive shoes from the Andrews collection - an ensemble they could only dream about purchasing some day, and probably only if they married money.

"May I sit down?" Of course she could. Any woman wearing what she had on was a welcome addition to a girl clique. They smiled and shook hands as Susan introduced herself - not as Susan, of course. "My name is Christina Falkner. I work for Johnson and Berkley Security Services." She handed them a business card with those names. Eyes widening, they waited. "We are investigating the disappearance of a Rodger Dunfield." Their eyes suddenly indicated understanding. "I'm not a private investigator," Susan continued with a smile. "Actually, my job with them is in advertising - but..." she took a sip. "... our firm doesn't have an office with a PI here, so I was picked to do some... preliminary fact finding."

Renee was impressed. "Gosh, do you have any idea at all where he went?"

Cristina - Susan shook her head. "I don't even know who he is. All I was given was three or four names of his friends to interview." She leaned over and continued with a knowing smile on her face. "You know how it is. Hollywood has shown that all that women in a detective flick are good for is bringing coffee and mail to the main man. And sex," she added, with a wry smile. "The only reason I am doing this is that a Man..." sardonic emphasis, "isn't available yet."

Both of them nodded as if they had been let in on an important conspiracy. Ashley began. "Well, he was a beginning senior, like us..." On they went with information that Susan didn't even bother to register, just sitting there taking voluminous notes in a shorthand that she would never be able to read later - especially since she didn't know shorthand. About halfway though, she hoped, she suddenly made a wry face and pushed her coffee away. "How about getting a real drink, girls? - my treat. Both looked at each other with unconcealed enthusiasm - offers of booze with somebody else paying were fairly scarce, unless they were prepared to put out. They both nodded. Susan pointed, "The Bard Room is just a few blocks away."

In a while, they were settled in a booth with steaming cold margaritas in front of them. After some more useless talk about the missing bastard, it eventually moved around to just girlie conversation. Finally, after the third set of men came over to hit on them - she had deliberately selected the establishment because of its popularity with college men trying pickup lines - she leaned over and said, "My apartment is just over a few blocks. We can go there and drink the same stuff, and in private."

Both other girls nodded. "Sure," said Ashley.

It was almost too easy. Any girl today would think twice about accepting a drink from a man she just met, but a woman was just another member of the club. A drink or so later, both girls were unconscious and collapsed on the sofa. Susan changed into her Grotto attire, i.e. nothing but skin, and began the process of hauling her new possessions downstairs. Rodgers expression turned to astonishment when he saw the first one come down, then put in his two cents worth. "What the fuck..."

Soon both girls were laying on the floor in the corner long since reserved for both. Off came the clothes and on went the binders, only in their case, just a neck collar and chain, and bracelets on wrists and ankles, but unlike their male counterparts, no chains to them. They were only for future use. Their neck chains were much longer than his, but at the moment were shortened to about eight feet with locks doubling them back.

In their case, the extra chains weren't needed. Even before her defense training, she could have handled a girl her own size and chained by the neck. Now... well, she looked forward to one of them physically objecting.

Laying on their backs nude, Susan noticed that both were bare of any hair from the neck down. She knew that that was the norm for today's woman. She had already scheduled the laser series for herself, starting in a week or so. For now, though, she had just shaved it.

Picking up the prod, she waved it at Rodger and said, "When they come to, tell them what is happening. Also, unless they want a taste of this, the instant they see me, they are to get down on their hands and knees and bow their heads. Capish?" He nodded, eyes still on the cattle prod.

She held her head for a minute. She had almost drunk too much herself. Apparently the new bartender at The Bard Room didn't know how much to water down the drinks. She pulled the curtains closed, cutting off any view of her harem of her private area - her "Grotto". She climbed the stair case, loudly slammed the door at the top, then quietly walked back down and over to the curtains. A surreptitious look showed Rodger standing and looking over at his one-time cohorts. This is going to be interesting, she thought.

Meanwhile it was time for bed. As she sat on her commode, trying to tinkle quietly enough to keep Rodger from knowing that she hadn't left, her thought was that men had it easy - not only could they do this standing up, but they could aim to not hit the water. Her next thought was that she had really had way too much to drink.

She woke up, looking at the ceiling, then at the clock. Jeez. Five am. What th... Then she realized that what had woken her up was a ruckus going on behind the curtains. Both girls were shouting questions at each other, and then more at Rodger. He was trying to get an answer in edgewise, but it wasn't happening. Susan got up and peeked though a crack in the drapes. Both girls were on their feet and trying to get the collars off. Then trying to pull the chains loose from the wall. Then back to shouting questions at each other. Finally Rodger shouted at the top of his voice, "Goddamit, you stupid cunts! Shut up for a moment." That actually worked.

Much calmer, Renee asked, "Rodger, what's going on?" Susan smiled, as he began to tell the tale as he knew it. Most of it was right, but it was light on self criticism. He sort of implied that Susan should have been grateful to have supplied entertainment to the group.

Eventually, Ashley asked, "The woman we drank with last night was that Susan person? No way."

"Well, she is. Believe me, she IS! Now listen. When she comes back, you need to get down on all fours and bow your heads. If you..."

Renee said "Bullshit" and Ashley chimed in with, "Yeah right. That bitch is going to rue the day she fucked with me."

Rodger shook his head. "You're going to get yourselves zapped big time, and believe me, you don't want that prod she carries jammed up your ass. It HURTS!"

Susan smiled. Good, rebellion was a good thing. Rebellions were made to be put down. She turned and quietly went up the stairs to her apartment. She needed a couple more hours of sleep and there was no way she would get it down there.

She overslept and had to run to get the bookstore open on time. It was obvious that she needed a helper. Her store was doing very well, with a small klatch for people to sit down and have coffee - no cups back in the stacks, please - and a solid WiFi point for customers. Fortunately, her square footage was large - most independent bookstores that she had been in were jammed into a small narrow front niche. She enjoyed the work, but some help would be nice.

That evening, she stripped naked as usual, then quietly went down the stairs to her Grotto with a plate of sandwiches. It was much quieter now than this morning, although she could hear talk. As she drew the drapes back a little, it all fell silent. She had made a major Dagwood for Rodger and she transferred it to a paper plate, then walked over to his area, deliberately not looking over at the two new cunts. He knew by now, to back up to the wall when she approached, and she set the plate down within his reach and backed away. Only then did she look over at the chained girls.

They were definitely not following the orders she had given. In fact, they started up the minute she looked that way. Ashley, first, "I want this chain off, right now! You're going to prison for the rest of your life, unless you do it now. Right NOW!"

Susan looked around at Rodger, who was already stuffing the food into his mouth. He gestured with one hand, palm up and mumbled around a mouthful, "I told them what you said..."

She looked back at the girls. "Then why haven't you complied with my orders?" This was fun.

"Look, I don't care what you think we did to you, you have no right to put this stuff on us." This was Renee. "If you take it off, we'll leave and forget it ever happened."

Susan looked puzzled. "Why aren't you on your hands and knees like good little slave girls?" That set both of them off with threats and cursing, faces red and screwed up with rage, Renee especially.

"If I get my hands on you bitch, I'll rip off your goddamn tits and stuff them down your throat."

Susan smiled to herself. A gangsta girl wanna be. She deliberately and slowly began to walk toward the woman. "When I tell you to get down on your hands and knees, I suggest that you do it immediately, or... or... I shall punish you." She hoped she was coming off like the timid wallflower they used to torment - one who had just made a mistake in approaching within reaching distance of them. Sure enough, Renee grabbed for Susan's hair with a curse and the start of a girl fight.

"Fucking bitch, I'll tear..." was as far as she got. Susan aimed a vertical three finger hand spear to Renee's solar plexus, then followed it with a chop to the front of her throat. The last with much less force - that stroke could be a killing blow, even by a hundred and twenty pound woman. Renee went down like a punctured balloon. Before Ashley could react, a foot jabbed into her stomach and doubled her over, gasping for air. That was followed by a straight armed, open hand bitch slap to a cheek that spun her around, causing her to collapse in a heap.

Susan turned around and leisurely walked over to the shelf with the cattle prod, then back to stand beside the moaning women on the floor. Ashley recovered first, somewhat, and before she could realize what Susan was holding, was suddenly screaming as the two prongs of the prod were jabbed into her stomach and the trigger pulled. She fell back, tried to rise and fell again, still screaming.

"On your sleeping mat, bitch. On your hands and knees." No timid wallflower voice this time. It was more like a female drill instructor. She pointed the prod at the girl again and began to approach. "NOW!" Ashley, thrashed around trying to get her limbs to working, then scrabbled over to her mat and assumed the doggy position. Then she jabbed it into Renee's side, and fired. The girl spasmed and thrashed and tried to scream, but her throat wasn't working well, yet. "You too, cunt! Get over there." Renee tried to get up, fell back, then eventually dragged herself to her mat, and sloppily got into the proper position - sort of. Her balance was off, and she kept falling forward.

"Listen carefully. When you see me enter the room, this is the position you will assume until I tell you to get up." She waved the tool toward both women. "Or you will get this as much as is needed to train you." She looked over at Rodger for the first time since the ruckus had started. He was holding half of his sandwich, but not eating. Just staring with wide eyes and reevaluating his opinion of this 'mere' little woman.

Susan brought her stool over and set it down in front of them, close enough to touch either one with the prod. With the beatings and the electrical shocks on top of what probably would have been uncomfortable hangovers, the two girls were having a heavy go of the evening. When she decided that their heads had at cleared somewhat, at least to the point of understanding speech, she said, "Do you two understand the way it is from now on, or do you want more?" A pause, but no answer. She jabbed Ashley with the prod, but didn't trigger it.

The girl flenched - jumped actually - and said in a terrified voice. "No! Yes! No! Don't shock me again, please!"

Susan poked her again, and corrected her. "Please, Mistress. Don't shock me again." From her porno researches, she knew that all dominant women were called Mistress. Just as all Alpha males were called Master. "Say it!"

Ashley squeaked out, "Please... Mistress. Don't use that thing again."

Next was a poke at Renee, who was having a much heavier time of it. "How about you, cunt."

The wobbly girl was barely able to keep herself supported on trembling arms. "Y...y...yes... Mistress."

Susan had only had sex with an actual person once - Rodger - and had enjoyed it, until the night turned into a nightmare. She had certainly not had lesbian sex with a girl, and, in fact, had never had it cross her mind until her transmogrification from a wallflower. But she had full intention to find out what it was - well, as soon as her two bitches got their heads to stop spinning. But for now...

She got up and walked over to Rodger's winches, and began to spread him against the wall. He knew now to not resist, and just backed up to the wall and waited for his limbs to be stretched wide. She walked up to him and noticed that his dick was fully rigid, just from seeing her body up close. She walked up and pressed her body to his, and said with a vixen smile. "If you're a good boy, you might get some candy to eat. Or, something." She knelt down and, with the tiny key on a silver chain around her neck, removed the cock and ball cage. She knew that there was no chance of his holding back long enough to put it in her. His gonadal pressures had to be approaching critical mass after all these days without relief.

She began a physical stimulation - light traces up and down his body, bobbling her breasts in front of him, and casually rubbing herself, splitting her lips with two fingers and inserting the middle one in the hole. This was all stuff that she had learned from watching massive amounts of on-line porn videos. She watched his testicles raise and then flatten and disappear into his body and knew that the end was near. A few more light touches and he suddenly stiffened with an "Uhhhhhhhhhhh."

It was one thing to read about male sexuality, and another to see it on various videos, but the actual act of ejaculation caught her by surprise. First, was the force - his load of creamy liquid arced more than six feet across the floor. Second, the amount was startling. She knew that he had been storing it up, but it was still impressive. She worked his rod back and forth, like she had seen done in videos, until the internal pump ran dry and the liquid flow stopped. Looking up, she could see Rodger slumped back against the wall with a contented smile on his face.

She got up and left him hanging there enjoying the massive relief.

The two girls had been apprehensively watching the action, and as Susan walked over to them, picking up the prod on the way, they became positively nervous. She sat back down on her stool, legs open, and just looked. And looked. Now there was fear in the two faces. Finally, she spoke up. "Now..." Pause. "...both of you are going to eat my pussy." What a stupid term, she thought. Licking pussy or sucking pussy would be valid, but nobody was going to eat anything. What the hell, that is the term that was used by knowledgeable practitioners.

She continued. "Just to make it interesting, the cunt..." - she had just found out this week that the term could refer both to a girl or her lower parts - "...who pleases me most will get one of these sandwiches, and sleep on her mat tonight. The other one will be hogtied for the night, and just to emphasize that poor performance isn't allowed here, she will get a session of this!" With that, she held up the prod. Now the fear turned into terror. Susan stood up, walked over to the wall and brought back a chair - a comfortable padded one that would allow her to sit on the edge and expose her crack, but also lay back in a reclining position and be comfortable. Sitting down, she pointed at Ashley. "You first. And you will not lift your hands or knees off the floor unless you are moving." A pause. "NOW!"

Ashley scuttled over between Susan's spread legs and began to lick up and down her crack. At the first touch, she knew that she had to get things slowed down or it would be over before Renee even got a turn. She grabbed Ashley by the hair and pulled her head back. "You've done this before, haven't you, slut?" The grimacing girl nodded then screamed as the prod jabbed into her side and triggered. She tried to lunge sideways but the hand in her hair just caused more pain as it pulled her back. "That is what you are going to get every time you forget to call me Mistress."

"Yesss, Mistress," the girl blubbered. "I'm sorry, Mistress."

"Now answer the question." In her pain the kneeing girl had forgotten what she was asked. "Have you eaten pussy before?!"

"Yes, Mistress. Sometimes."

"Ok." Susan pointed back to her slit. "Keep going. Take it slow." Susan had absolutely no experience to be able to tell expertise in this particular field, but she knew that she was in heaven. Finally, she pointed at Renee. "Your turn."

"Yes, Mistress," came out immediately. She wanted no further part of the electric tool. Renee started in, and, when stopped and asked the same question, affirmed that she also had done this before.

In a few minutes, Susan pointed to Ashley again. "Now both of you - take turns about twenty seconds apart." The next few minutes were nirvana and then she dissolved in an orgasm like none she had ever had by herself. Pushing the current girl's head away, she just lay there with her legs outstretched and stiff as she shook and trembled in the post orgasmic spasms. She was wasted, and feeling generous so she informed both that they had been satisfactory and split the sandwiches between them. Then she let the slack out on Rodger and went back to her Grotto.

The last few weeks had been a balm to her tortured memories of her first night of sex. She became a split personality almost - well, actually, there as no almost about it. The Bookworm or Wallflower Susan was prevalent - shy, polite and friendly to customers, and her new helper, Marci. At night, she was still the same ponytailed girl with big glasses, but one that was slowly transforming into a female Sybarite. It was especially important that the three fixated on the looks of her original form.

The Vixen Susan was never seen again around the bookstore or by the three slaves underneath it. That version was reserved for serious work and learning in other cities only. And the future...

On her days off, and at night when her eyes had had their fill of reading and her physical body had had a surfeit of sex, she began to plan her future. Vixen Susan wasn't going to live out her life in a bookstore, but Bookworm Susan would never give up on her literary interests. However, both versions knew that the status of the slaves in the basement was temporary - they might be there for years, but still, someday, something would happen to destroy Susan's Grotto. There was no telling what - a condemnation by the city for new buildings, or a park or anything. A bad fire on the block which would condemn the structure. At that time, her new life needed to be in place and ready.

Carefully, slowly she began to educate herself on the art of disappearing in a society which was rapidly becoming all invasive. It wasn't easy, and it took time to do it right, but it could be done.

Tonight was a red letter night. Standing before Rodger, but out of range, since he had the run of all of the slack in his chains. "Tonight, Mon Ami, you are going to fuck me for real. But first..." she pointed to his mat, "... lay down and put your hands behind your back and cross your legs." He didn't even hesitate - this girl might be a quiet little bitch, but her cattle prod ruled her domain - and at the moment she wasn't even holding it. She always made sure that it was in sight, not far away and hanging ready.

Once he was in a position where he couldn't make any sudden moves to overpower her, she immediately stepped over to him and locked his hands together behind his back. He could move around his area but there was no way that he was any danger to her, even if he wanted to be. Besides, she was still keeping up her gym and self defense classes and it was very possible that she could hold her own with him, as long as the struggle didn't descend into just a male/female strength match.

Pulling a spare mat over to join with his, she lay down on her back, knees bent and spread. "Let's see what your mouth can do. And I want to feel plenty of tongue." God, the porno sites on the 'Net were going to wreak her King's English. A few months ago, she wouldn't have even known what she was saying, if it had been spoken to her. Now she was fairly fluent in sex lingo and getting better as she discovered new things to try.

By now Rodger was resigned to his fate, if not satisfied. He was fairly certain that his captor didn't intend to do him physical harm, like slicing things off with a knife but, he knew that she had no qualms about inflicting any amount of pain to get her way. Still on his stomach, he clumsily ooched up between her legs and began to work on the laser smoothed slit. It was good, but she reached down and grabbed his ears and maneuvered him to the areas she most wanted serviced. Eventually she was about to go over the edge and pulled his head up and away. "Enough wet work. Let's see if the other end of you works, or if it's only good for embarrassing little girls.

He kept a neutral expression as he lifted himself to his knees and clumsily knee-walked forward between her legs. He bent over and put his face on her stomach to let himself down without falling forward on top of her with a splat. She put her arms up and helped him lay on her, then reached around and guided his rod into the proper place. His last ejaculation had been four days ago, so he had plenty on tap and was ready to go. As he pumped, she wiggled a hand under him to get a finger on her clit so that she could pace along with him. Not only the physical stimulation, but the sight of a man on top of her rapidly climbing the hill to orgasm stimulated her to reach it before he did. Spasming under him, she was in a seventh heaven long enough that she didn't even notice when he blew off, also. Finally, he just collapsed on her, head on the mat beside hers - sweaty and panting.

After considerable hunting - and lots of learning about the technique of how to find the quarry she was looking for - she contacted a fixer, a man who, for a price, could find, fix, alter or produce just about anything. The first item that Susan procured, was a birth certificate for a 25 year old girl, by the name of Susan Harris. It was issued by a hospital which, twenty years ago, happen to have a fire which caused major damage to the records section of the establishment. People had been asked to bring their documents back to be re-registered. Some did, some who had long since moved away, didn't.

With that, it was easy to receive a Social Security number.

Susan had never had the slightest interest in females, sexually. But that was before she got the chance to explore the body of one, besides hers, and had made the discovery that a woman had lots of places that could be fun to play with. She had run across an erotic medical site, and had ordered a few items for play. One was something called a speculum. Of course, she was a familiar as any educated female with the use of such devices from her infrequent visits to the gynecologist. It was just that she had never connected the items with fun and sport for sex.

Renee was on her mat, face down but with her legs held wide by a set of metal stocks. She was also bent double because her wrists were also held by that same rig, her arms leading under her body back between her legs. This left her butt and crack high in the air for... well, fun. Susan had the speculum pushed down the girl's asshole all the way to the flange and was turning the little thumbscrew to open it up. Over the course of months, she had made the girls' backdoor entrances considerably wider until they could now accept it at full extension - not comfortably, but without danger of tearing something.

Beside the girl was a basket of plastic colored balls, a little over two inches in diameter and each just small enough to be able to enter the extended hole held open by the medical device. Susan dipped one in a bowl of lube, then dropped it in the hole. A little tap and it fell all the way to the bottom. Then another, and another. Since the speculum spread the inside considerably wider than the entrance hole, she was able to insert six before the hole filled up. By gently pushing and jiggling with a finger, she could make the balls settle a little deeper and then could insert one more. Then with some pressure that caused the bent over girl to wiggle and moan, an eighth.

Finally, loosening the thumbscrew, then holding the top ball in place with a finger, she could wiggle the speculum and slowly withdraw it. As it exited her butthole, the girl's sphincter closed normally, trapping the balls inside. Next, Susan put a belt strap around the girl's waist, then from it another strap from her belly around and through her crack, then up to the back where it attached. With that in place, she could no longer expel the balls on her own. And since her lower rectum was full and more, her body was wanting - no, insistently demanding that she shit them out. No problem with that, but first...

Susan moved around to the front of the girl. Lifting her face, she planted a kiss directly on the lips. Renee immediately returned it with interest - not because she was passionately wanting to, but because of the ever present fear of the hanging and very visible prod. Girly kisses didn't do much for Susan, but she was trying to develop a liking for them. Now, she sat back, spread her legs widely on either side of Renee, then moved forward far enough for her pussy to contact the girl's face. "You know the drill. Bring me off really well, or you get to store those balls until tonight.

"Yes, Mistress," she answered, her lower intestinal tract discomfort very plain on her face. She got right to it and by now, knew exactly how Susan wanted it done.

A trip to an Eastern seaboard city got her a drop box for mail, such as is used by college students and others who have no permanent residence. With that, the next thing was a drivers license and a passport. Susan Harris was now a legal residence of South Carolina. Of course, Susan Phillips was a current residence of California. Her fixer had taken a liking to her, no doubt because the Vixen Susan was a real looker, even though he never hit on her. He knew nothing of the details of Susan's building of a phantom life, - or even her real one - but gave her lots of good advice on how to do it. And about financial dealings - particularly on how to make money disappear and then reappear somewhere else.

Slowly, and with great care, Susan transferred sums of money to different accounts - never in great enough amounts to cause alarms to be set off in the banking industry. Stocks were purchased, then transferred between brokers on occasion - enough transactions to make it very hard to trace, and unlikely for any trace to be done unless someone suspected major criminal activity. And there was none, except for the idea that governments really don't like for their citizen's transactions and activities to be hidden, however legal.

A year went by, then another.

By now, Roger had screwed Susan in all possible ways, missionary, spoon, doggie, standing, - even anal, although she was still ambiguous as to the pleasure of that act. She never did anything else with him except use him for sex. The girls, on the other hand, she tried everything she could think of and anything she could surf up.

It was time to go. Or plan to go - it might not actually happen for ages. But the building next to her was now closed and effectively abandoned. It would have been immediately torn down and probably replaced with high end condos, except that the economy was in the sewer and money for tearing down and hauling off wasn't available, let alone for rebuilding something new. The one on the other side had been vacant ever since she had bought the bookstore.

The city was known for its homeless people, and Susan had been on the lookout for a particular type for months. Finally, she found a younger woman, although from her chemical and alcohol abuse, she could have passed for fifty, but was very unlikely to reach that age - in fact, from her looks and actions, she would probably drop dead before reaching her thirties. Slowly, Susan befriended her, gave her small amounts of money and allowed her to sleep next door, inside - even though that building wasn't hers. There was a very small storage room in the back, and Susan hammered the lock off.

Marge was her name, unless it was Sandy - Susan never could get that straight. Neither could Marge/Sandy, for that matter. Apparently she was hiding from a couple of abusive husbands, or boyfriends - or maybe the law. Her periods of lucidity were never long enough to tell her whole story.

She stopped ordering replacement books and let it be known that due to economic conditions, she was going to have to close the bookstore. She had to let her helper go, although not before finding her another and better job. Her customers were sympathetic and several tried to help her find financing or some other source of money, but none of it panned out. Susan began to become despondent, although she tried to put up a brave front to her customers. They all thought the little girl very brave and tried to cheer her up.

Of course, once the last customer left for the night, the despondency disappeared and she became the normal Susan - the Bookworm Susan, of course, in front of her three playthings.

Right now, her favorite playtime was a triangular seance with her two female playthings. She had become a real devotee to lesbian sex. For one thing, it was much less hectic - as a man got hotter and further along in his fuck session, he just wanted to go faster and faster to reach the end. Few had the discipline to pace themselves to allow the woman to keep up, and Rodger certainly didn't. He was slave to his gonads and once a certain point was reached, she was just along for the ride.

With a girl, or girls, they could take as long as they wanted, licking, nuzzling, kissing, whatever - until they decided to bring it off. Tonight, all three were laid out in a girl triangle, on their sides, upper leg with knee bent and foot on the floor to support it. Each girl had her head between the legs of her partner and was casually licking up and down on whatever part of the slit seemed appropriate.

After all this time, the Stockholm syndrome had taken over the two captured girls. Unwillingly, they had become attached to, if not friends with, their dominator. They would smile at her and actually give and make expressions of affection for her. Surreptitiously watching at times from beyond her drapes, she knew it was real. Susan had read as much as she could find on the syndrome, and had tried to maximize the development in them. She never used the cattle prod now, and in fact, had it out of sight and this was probably the major catalyst for the girl's attitude.

Susan knew that neither would attempt to cause her harm now. She was still in full charge, and they knew it, but the only punishment they now received was a hard swat on the butt on occasion. That was usually followed by a blubbering apology from the recipient as the girl hugged and kissed her Mistress. If it weren't for the collars and chains, an observer would have just assumed that these were three close friends.

Some nights the three would sleep together after a satisfying lengthy session of girl on girl pleasure. However, there were nights that came around where sex with another female wasn't sufficient - her body would insist on an orgasm with her pussy canal filled and being pumped by the real thing.

The pace of the bookstore became slower and slower as she ran out of product. Finally, she announced a closing sale for the next weekend. On those two days she sold most of the books to old customers, then finally, the residue to another bookstore as a pennies on the dollar, take all, lot. Her rare books were put into a secure footlocker and delivered to a security storage firm - by the New Susan. There was nothing left in the building that she cared about - except for the three toys downstairs. Now, she effectively disappeared from view. She never shopped in her normal stores anymore, always going across the bridge where she wasn't known. And she always entered and left her apartment by the alley door, after making sure that nobody was observing her.

On occasion, dressed in a way as to be unlikely to be recognized - not that she any any friends who would, only ex-customers - she would prowl the streets looking at the homeless women. The one she had befriended was still sleeping in a somewhat hidden alcove next door. And going downhill physically all the time. The only question was, would she hit the end before Susan found a replacement?

Other than that, she spent her time reading and playing with her toys. Waiting...

Using the Fixer for a source, Susan took possession of a large box of birth control pills. These she started giving to her two females. After a month, to make sure the pills were in play, she lengthened the chains on each girl. Now they could enter Rodger's area - if the slack wasn't locked in.

She pulled Rodger back to the spreadeagled position against the wall - tight. Using a pair of candy bars as inducement - sugar was used as a reward and was something they seldom got, and like all Americans, craved - she told both girls to work on him and the longer he lasted, the more of each piece of chocolate they would get. It was something different in their uneventful lives, and they went to work with gusto. Rodger was all smiles as he realized that he was going to get a piece of two different cunts, but soon found that his gratification was not going to be immediate. The two girls kissed, nuzzled, licked, felt and probed as he desperately tried to get them to wrap something around his rod and move up and down. Finally, about three hours later, in the throes of frustration, one of the girls finally hit a trigger point that sent him over. He blew off with a force that sent his jism across the room.

An hour later, she told Renee to step up and straddle his dick and bring him off in the vertical position. Susan had to get a pair of thick cushions for her to stand on so as to be able to lower herself on his pole - he was about four inches taller than either girl. He had no problems getting off in the normally way.

By now, the new Susan had possession of all of the assets and moneys of the old Susan. She only kept enough money around in the name of Phillips to be able to live on and pay taxes and utilities. Every couple of months she would drive to Vegas, or another city, change into the Harris version and fly to her new home city. She wanted to make sure that she had a firmly created residence waiting for her when she made the switch. Her new identity wouldn't stand a major in-depth look by an investigative agency, but, even so, it was as good as the average transient, and far better than most illegal aliens. The main problem was with her wealth - she definitely didn't want to trigger a tax evasion investigation and so far, most of the money hadn't been laundered into the new Susan's name and was still overseas in offshore accounts. That was a problem for the future.

She also bought a small revolver - totally illegal in this city, but she had no intention of using it but once.

The Vixen Susan was coming to the fore. More and more she would spend the night in another city, dressed to kill, and learning all of the female routines that she had missed growing up. This version of Susan had no problem with the opposite sex - at a bar, beach or dance club she was soon surrounded by young men, all wanting to get lucky with her that night. The Wallflower part of her made sure that she did nothing stupid - like accept drinks from strange men. She didn't want to wind up in an underground room with a chain on her neck - not unless it was on her terms. The three captive playmates were used less as time went on and sometimes, when leaving on a long trip, would allow all of them free reign with each other. The girls had access to a small electric stove and refrigerator and could prepare food during her absence. Nonetheless, she seldom was away for more than three days.

Suddenly, everything came to a head. She had had the back door replaced with a metal one years ago, and on the inside were massive triple bars. It would take a sledgehammer to have a chance of getting through it. There was also an infared camera system above it at the eaves that she could look at before opening the door. After all, a dark alley at night isn't a recommended location for a single female - self defense lessons or not.

Tonight, she scanned both ways down the alley - clear - then unhooked the three metal bars. The door opened outward, since an inward opening door is much easier to pound in. But, the door only opened about two inches, then stopped. She instantly pulled it back shut and locked it. Another look at the camera, straight down, showed... something... a bag maybe, leaning against the door. Then the object came into focus and she saw that it was a person - or a body. Now she pushed the door hard, and managed to shove it open enough to be able to squeeze outside.

It was her homeless neighbor.

Susan started to take a swallow of the liquor that she had just poured, then shook her head. This was a night of all nights that her head had to be clear. Marge - if that was her name - was laying on the floor of her kitchen. Apparently she had been trying to enter the back door, or as least, pounding on it to attract attention. She wasn't warm, but rigor mortis hadn't set in so she could only have been dead a few hours. Poor little girl, she thought. But, for some luck in certain things in life, that could be me. Susan had laid her on a blanket and put a towel over her face. There was nobody to contact - this little girl had been abandoned by life before she grew breasts.

Her plans had long been rehearsed, over and over, and even enacted out, so there was no confusion as she began to put them into action. It was too late to start the main action tonight. There was too much chance of not being done in time to catch the last train. She sat back down and ran over her plans. There was nothing in the bookstore that she wanted to take - everything of value was long gone, including her collection of rare books, now in a security storage vault many states away from here. She had hoped to have a few days warning so as to be able to set the stage more effectively, but she would work with what she had.

Before going downstairs, she dressed as a disheveled Bookworm Susan, hair untidy, blouse fastened with the buttons out of order - in general, not the shy, but firm girl they were used to. She walked slowly down the stairs and then over to a chair in their area. They could immediately tell that something was not right, especially since she was wearing clothes and was drinking directly from a tequila bottle.

They looked back and forth at Susan and then at each other. Finally, Ashley asked, "What's wrong, Mistress?"

Susan looked over at her, hopefully looking bleary eyed - an act, since all that was in the bottle was water. Then she began to cry. That really got the other three in a tizzy. Both girls almost began to cry themselves, even though at this point they hadn't a clue at to what was happening. Another swig, then Susan halting said, "My bookstore is closed." Pause for more crying. "Bankrupt." Pause. "I don't even have money to keep the lights on another month." Then she really began bawling. God, I hope I'm not overdoing this, she told herself. She turned away, and with water from the bottle, surreptitiously splashed some on her face to make it wet. Rodger, being just a jock without a empathetic bone in his body, just stared.

Very quietly, Renee asked, "What are you going to do, Mistress?"

Susan calmed down a little and wiped her face before replying. "I don't know. Yes I do. I'm going to turn you loose, then kill myself." Wide eyed and with jaws dropping - at the idea of their freedom, or my demise, she wondered - they were speechless. Suddenly, she began blubbering again, jumped to her feet and ran up the stairs.

Once in the kitchen, she poured herself a real drink. Phase one is over, she thought. With another drink to make sure she could get to sleep, she retired for the night.

The day was about fifty hours long. There was nothing to do until tonight, but check and recheck plans that had been made and checked for almost two years now. A couple of times, she went downstairs, still crying off and on where the three could see her. She lay in her bed trying to read, but finally realized that the last several chapters had gone by without her even registering what they were about.

Finally, the sun began to set, she got up, laid out the clothes she would need later and her single bag. Down into the basement she went for the last night. The three had been in a tizzy all night and all day and now just looked at her approaching, not knowing what their feelings should be for now.

Susan, had three huge pitchers of ice cold Margaritas - two real, and one just ice water. She set it down and looked at the three. "We're going to celebrate our last night together." She poured, then handed each a large glass. "Drink up." All three loved alcohol, but had received very little while chained in the dungeon, so they gladly accepted the cold glasses and drank with satisfaction.

Renee, swallowed, then started to ask, "Mistress, are you really going..."

That was as far as she got. Susan shook a finger at her and replied, "Drink now, talk later." After all this time, the discipline was automatic, so the three just sat back and drank. The pitchers were semi-hidden behind the table, so Susan always filled her glass from the water pitcher. This was going to have to be a delicate operation. She needed them drunk enough not to know what was going on, but not so drunk that they collapsed unconscious. The girls she might manhandle up the stairs, but Rodger's dead weight would be an entirely other matter.

In an hour or so they were well on their way, toasting each other and talking trash about almost everything. Once they were fairly oblivious to what was happening, Susan walked over and began to unbolt Rodger's winches from the wall. Eventually, they were laying on the floor. He was past noticing. She went across to her Grotto area, and returned with a bag that she dumped on the floor. Their old clothes.

Unlocking the collars from each girl's neck, she told them, "Put on your clothes." They laughed and joked, and stumblingly began to dress, not bothering to worry about which originally belonged to who. The girls she wasn't worried about, but she needed to make sure that Rodger was pretty far gone before unlocking him. Finally, with him looking on in confusion, she unhooked all of the metal from his body. He was free for the first time since he came down in the Grotto. To him also, she said, "Put them on." While he was making heavy going of dressing, she was collecting all the chains and equipment and piling it by the stairs. Once the three were dressed - and most railroad bums would be wearing a neater collection of clothing - she sat them down and handcuffed one arm to one leg on each.

Time of of the essence now. She began to put the chains, collars, winches and equipment into canvas bags - no more in each than she could carry. Then up the stairs with each to the back door. Finally, in the dark, down the alley to the next block and deposited each in a different dumpster. It took five trips. Then she changed clothes to a nondescript set in which it would be hard to distinguish as to whether she was male or female.

Now was the hardest part. She removed the revolver from the hidden space in the floor, walked over to the body of the homeless woman in her kitchen, placed it to the temple, closed her eyes and pulled the trigger. It was a small gun, but even so, this was the first time Susan had ever fired a weapon - the first time she had ever even seen one fired - and the explosion was far beyond what she was expecting. She jumped up cursing. Damn it. They could have heard that halfway across town! Actually, it could barely have been heard in the alley, but in her inexperience, she didn't know that.

No matter. Nothing to do about it now. Time to move on. She laid the gun in the woman's limp hand, then went back downstairs for the last time, uncuffed the now singing trio, and guided them stumbling up the steps and stood them by the back door. In the storage room of the book store, she struck a match and put it to a wad of newspaper.

Immediately, picked up her bag and a bottle of tequila, opened the back door and pushed the three through it. Guiding them down the alley, watching for cruising cops, she crossed the street at the end and kept going two more blocks to the park. There she set the three on a bench, handed them the bottle and began to walk swiftly away.

Walking diagonally toward the train station, she finally reached a position where she could look far down the street her bookstore was on. Nothing much was apparent yet, although she could see a glow reflecting on the parking meters outside. About ten minutes later, she was on the train. And in another five minutes she was riding across the bridge. Looking back across the water she could now see a definite fire in the middle of town. Since her bookstore was deliberately stuffed with empty cardboard boxes, she knew that the old wooden building would go up like a Hindu funeral pyre. And take the two buildings on either side with it. That was part of her gift to the merchants of the city. Demolishing that tract of old and worthless buildings would take years and an untold amount of money in fights with people who wanted to maintain the "historic" features of the city, but who also wanted someone else to pay for it. In this way, the building owners could rebuild what they wanted without all the legal headaches.

She wondered what the three would do when they woke up the next morning. Would they claim they had been held as sexual captives? Would the embarrassment of that condition prevent them from doing so? Even if they did, the investigators would have questions about them about claiming that they had been chained in a basement. Where are the chains and winches and collars you described? A fire wouldn't have destroyed them. Are you making this up?

Further investigation - and the statements from the three that she was despondent in losing the bookstore - a true fact as far as anyone knew - and her statement that she was going to kill herself. In a fire that hot, it was unlikely that a body would be found, but traces of one would be, along with a gun. Obviously, she set the place on fire, then shot herself.

Later that night, paying cash for a ticket, she headed east on a bus.

The French Riviera at Cap d'Agde, Languedoc was beautiful - the blue sky, azure water, acres of skin... Vixen Susan had discovered the wonder of nude beaches and the associated communities. What you saw was what you got, if you wanted it. Mostly, during the day, she lay - nude, naturally - in her hammock outside of the little chalet she had rented, reading. Lots and lots of reading. Or touring the little stores of the town. She didn't need to buy anything especially, but she loved the interaction with people, especially male people who looked her up and down appreciatively. Her minor in college was foreign languages, and she spoke and read French, German and Italian almost like a native, and could get along as a tourist in a half dozen other languages. The old Bookworm Susan, who could barely put a sentence together in the presence of a man, would never recognize her new twin, engaging in easy repartee with young and handsome things in every kind of setting.

Nights were wonderful. About sundown, any number of young men would come up to the gate and politely inquire if she would care to accompany them to dinner - and to other forms of entertainment available on those special beaches. Usually the answer was yes, and at least once during the night would have her enjoying her entertainment prone - maybe on top or on bottom - but enjoying the position, whatever it was. Sometimes in concert with multiple partners of both sexes. The Wallflower Susan had definitely perished in the fire.

She knew that certain things had to be done while she was on her extended vacation. For one thing, her money that was overseas needed to be at least partially laundered back into the new Susan's name. She didn't know if it would come from a major win at a casino, or maybe a very lucrative job she was offered, or what. She would get some advice from people who were in the business of moving money discretely - no shortage of them in the socialist countries of Europe.

The rare books that she owned... Those were really the property of educated mankind and were not to be kept hidden away in a storage locker. But, a young girl couldn't just show up with several million dollars of rare books - that would definitely get her attention she didn't want. Much planning needed to be done on that problem.

And, her past life needed to be filled out some more - there were too many empty spaces that might show up even on a simple credit check. But there was no rush - she planned to spend the entire summer relaxing in parts of Europe as the first vacation she had ever had. Besides if...

She broke off her musing as a tanned and well built hunk stepped up to the fence. Her eyes got wider. My God! That thing might even touch bottom in me. Wow... This guy had definitely been standing in the front of the line when they were handing out male parts. She put the book down, and ooched herself out of the hammock, having to display quite a bit of her intimate self as she moved her legs around to get balance.

I'll worry about money and books and identities tomorrow, she said to herself.