SoulMates Part Twelve:   The San Francisco Scene.

Chapter 32:    Public Play by the Bay.

If it seems that most of these reflections start with a
Wednesday, I would have to agree. After some careful
consideration, I have come to believe that fact is because
activities and experiences that were pivotal in the development
of my relationship with Monique usually started on Wednesdays.
That is not to say that important and far reaching milestones did
not happen on other days - they most assuredly did. The
difference was that those memories were more often the same
discoveries that all people in love find together - a special
spot for dinner, a favorite place to walk hand in hand or a
secret look that means "I love you" and "I want you.".

Wednesdays, however, were the days that defined the part of our
relationship that was unique in my experience. Those times
together, locked inside her office or in her home, that seemed to
become the cusps of crisis for our still fragile love. This had
been such a cusp, and it had been a Wednesday, but that is the
point at which any further comparison to earlier scenes ended.

It was nearly October, and Monique and I were in San Francisco
meeting with some of the West Coast Hotel Managers. We had gotten
into the City on a late Tuesday night flight after working a full
day in Washington. We were both exhausted, and went to our rooms
for much needed sleep. 

When the wake up call came, I was still not ready to get up, but
duty called and skills learned on long Navy nights got me up and
moving. Showered, shaved and ready to get dressed, I walked out
of the bathroom towards my suitcase in the closet just off the
entrance when an envelope that had been slid under the door,
caught my eye.

I picked it up, thinking that the staff had put someone else's
express checkout under my door by mistake. The envelope was
sealed with no address on it. I flipped it over and froze.
Vermillion lips sealed the envelope - Monique's signature mark. I
ripped open the envelope and read it quickly.

               nathan,
               
               Hope you remembered that it is Wednesday, lover. I
               expect that you will still be prepared for your
               Mistress. I can't lock the door, today, but I do
               expect you to be properly attired and to be at my
               disposal tonight. I have a very big evening
               planned, lover. See you at breakfast.
               
               Mistress Monique.
               
               Proper attire, of course, meant that I would be in panties today.
I had anticipated this and was prepared with two pairs of tiger
striped bikini panties. Wishing that I did NOT wish that today
was any day other than Wednesday, I slipped my pair of satin
tiger stripes on and finished dressing. I carried the gift
wrapped box with Monique's pair down to breakfast.

She was already in the restaurant I arrived. She smiled up at me
and motioned for me to sit as I walked up to her table. I wanted
to kiss her, but we were in one of our hotels and already under
scrutiny by the staff and management of the place. "Good morning,
darling." I said quietly.

She smiled and gave me a flirty wink over her coffee cup. "Good
morning, Nate. I like your suit. Are all your accessories as nice
as your tie, dear?"

"I hope you will think so, Mistress."  I slid the brightly
colored package over to her. "That one is for you."

She picked up the package and gave me a moue of regret. "And I
had hoped to catch you without." She gave an exaggerated sigh and
slipped the box into her brief case. "I will check these, later,
Nate. Now, what about today's meeting schedule?"  And with that,
we fell into the routine of preparing for the day, discussing
agendas, known complaints from the attendees and other issues
that might come up.

At the end of the day, we headed back to our rooms. In the
elevator, just as we reached her floor, Monique turned to me, her
face hard. "Go shave and see to any personal needs. I will expect
you to meet me in the lobby in fifteen minutes. We are having
dinner with some friends of mine tonight."  The door whooshed
open and she was gone without a backward look and without giving
me a chance to say a word.

I was two minutes early, but she was already waiting impatiently
for me. I thought it strange that she was wearing a belted rain
coat, but reflected that the weather in San Francisco was very
unpredictable. She herded us into the first available cab,
snapped out an address I was unfamiliar with, and we were off. 
When the cab stopped, in a not too reputable looking
neighborhood, she paid the cabbie and all but pushed me out of
the car in her haste to get where we were going.

The store front we went to was not fancy, and once inside the
door, there was some type of entrance foyer with another door and
a security camera. She picked up a wall phone near the door and
spoke into it. The door swung open to reveal a very swanky dining
room. Monique motioned for me to follow, and strode in. Once
inside, she shed her coat to reveal that a leather jacket and
skirt had replaced the power suit she had worn earlier. Although
not revealing, it was out of character for Monique Sanderson,
Executive V.P. - it was not out of character for Mistress
Monique.

Monique spoke to the hostess, a lovely woman in a very clingy
gown, who led us quickly to table where four other women sat
sipping drinks. Monique directed me to sit at one end of the
oblong table and she took the other available seat, at the head
of the table. The women all conspicuously greeted Monique, and
just as conspicuously ignored me. A waitress in a very short
skirt and very tall heels hurried over and went to Monique.

"Would you like a drink, Ma'am?"  she asked in a very breathy
voice.

"Yes, I would like a white wine, please. My man there, will have
water."  I had not even been asked. Annoyance flared, but then I
remembered that it was her night. I swallowed my anger,
determined to see this through.

"Nathan, I would like you to meet my friends. We all trained with
Mistress Sondra. This is Ruth, Hope, Clarrisse and Gretchen.
Ladies, this is my man, Nathan Evans."

Manners took over and I stood, greeting each lady in turn, by
name with a small bow.

The blonde, Gretchen, turned to Monique. "Well, Monique, I can't
say much for his training. Calling us by our given names, without
title and that pitiful bow is all the honor he does us?"

Monique looked at me hard. "Well, Nathan, you have evidently been
found wanting by my friends. What have you to say for yourself?"
"No excuse, Mistress, Pardon me, please, Ladies."  I repeated my
greeting, using the title "Ms." with each name.

The black woman, Clarrisse, turned an angry face to me. "That is
still inadequate, man."  She had a Caribe-French accent that I
would have found delightful in other circumstances. " I am a
Mistress and you will kneel to greet me."

I stood there, realizing for the first time at least part of the
game for tonight. I shook my head slowly, breathing deeply to
control my emotions, then I spoke. "Ms. Clarrisse, you may be a
Mistress, but you are not my Mistress. I kneel to her because I
choose to. I do not choose to kneel to you because you are not my
Mistress."

A strange look crossed the redheaded Ruth's face. "And if your
Mistress ordered you to render such tributes to us?"

With more confidence than I felt, I answered her. "She would not,
because she values the gift of my submission to her and would not
cheapen it by ordering me to render those gifts to someone I do
not know well enough to trust or respect that much."

Monique's face softened just for a moment, and then she spoke.
"Very well, Nathan, you may address my friends as Ms.."  Then she
summoned the waitress and spoke to her friends " I am famished.
Shall we order?"

They ordered. I was not given the opportunity to order. I was not
given the opportunity to eat, either. Monique slid some scraps
from her meal onto a bread plate and passed it down to me. I had
no fork or spoon since I had not ordered. Utensils came with the
meal. I was expected to eat with my fingers. 

Unfortunately, I could not eat. Monique had ordered shrimp, and I
am allergic to shellfish. "Nathan, I expect you to eat what I
give you. Don't make tonight harder on yourself than it already
is going to be, sir."

I shook my head. "I won't, Mistress."

She came bolt upright and every woman at the table turned to look
at me in utter astonishment. "Or rather, I can't. That is, unless
you want to see me in the Emergency Room in very short order. I
can't eat shellfish, Monique."  Her eyes went wide and she
started to say something, looked around the table and
reconsidered. 

"Very well, then you won't eat tonight, that is all. I will check
on this ... allergy"  her voice dripped with a sardonic doubt
that raised my blood pressure another notch, "when we get back to
Washington, Mr. Evans, you may be sure of that."  As if I would
defy her over something as pitiful as this. But I WAS hungry, and
that, combined with still being jet lagged had my emotions on a
hair trigger.
Nor did it help that we were starting to draw the attention of
other diners. Monique and the other women were not making any
attempt to keep their voices down. Their voices were carrying to
every corner of that damned place, and every other comment out of
them was something derogatory or inadequate about me.

After-dinner coffee was served to the ladies. By now, every other
diner in the room had given up any pretense of not gawking at our
table. Monique reached into her bag and pulled out that damned
gift wrapped box. She held it up like a trophy to show her
friends. 

"This is Mr. Evans' offering for today. He is wearing an
identical item in the hopes that it pleases me. Shall we see what
he thinks I will like?"  The ladies all gave a disinterested
affirmative and Monique shredded the paper. She pulled out the
tiger striped panties out, holding them with a finger in each
leghole to show them to the table and to the entire dining room. 

Gretchen gave a shudder of disgust. "Rather trashy, Monique. I
mean, I can see a male slave wearing such junk, but he actually
expected you to wear that?"

Monique curled her lip in disgust and dropped my gift into her
water glass. "He is already wearing them, Gretchen, and I can
assure you, he is going to regret his poor taste greatly."  She
then pulled the now sodden mass out of her water glass and strode
over to me. She dumped them in my lap, soaking my pants.

Ruth spoke up. "Well, Monique, if you are going to punish him
anyway, why don't we go to my dungeon?  Since he likes stripes so
much, we can take turns giving him stripes directly on his butt.
That way, he won't have to wear them either, and you won't have
to look at those ugly things at all."

Monique smiled evilly. "Wonderful idea. Yes. I think that will do
nicely. Nathan, you have fucked up big time and you are going to
pay the piper tonight, sir."

It was just too much. These women continually sniping at me, the
people staring and Monique's seeming utter lack of caring - I
just could not take anymore of it - not tonight and not after
what I had already taken. Whatever else they had planned,
whatever little scene they thought would follow this... this
ignominy, they had already gone too far. Softly, I spoke.
"Monique, soulmate, I think not, please."

Monique's eyes went wide, her nose flared and her face flushed
bright red. Instantly, her nose right was in my face and she was
practically snarling at me. "Oh, I think SO, Mr. Evans, now get
your sorry butt up and moving, Mister. And I" she gave the
pronoun hard emphasis, "*AM* your Mistress.  Something you seem
to have forgotten!"

Totally enraged myself, I stood and went right back into her
face. "I said NO, Monique!  That is enough, do you hear me??" 
She evidently did, because her backhand slap caught me across the
cheek. I fended off her second blow with a wrist block and caught
her wrist in my hand to stop an attempted third strike. Squeezing
down on her wrist to get her attention, I stared into her eyes.
"I *said* that is enough."  My voice was deadly quiet, now,
barely above a hoarse whisper.

She shook her hand free and stared at me, breathing heavily, her
lovely breasts rising and falling with emotion. Everyone, her
friends and all the other diners, were staring at us in
disbelief. Something warm trickled down my smarting cheek and I
reached up to wipe at it. Blood. She had cut me with one of her
rings. She stared at me for a few more moments, then turned on
her heel and stalked off. Her friends rose slowly from their
seats, and after moving away from me, careful to keep chairs or
tables between me and them, followed her out of the restaurant.

I sat back down at the table, wiping at my bleeding cheek with
one of the napkins, wondering what the hell had happened when the
waitress came up to the table with a small black tray and a slip
of paper. On top of everything else, Monique had stuck me with
the bill.

Resigned, I got out my company credit card. Monique could damn
well explain the charge. The waitress gave me a coy smile when
she returned with the charge slip. "Bad boy. Your Mistress is
going to be big time ticked off at you, blowing that scene that
way."

That analysis jolted me abruptly out of my fugue. "What do you
know about that?"

She actually giggled. "Maitresse Clarisse is my owner. The
Mistresses have been setting this up for weeks, now. You were
going to go to Ruth's, get your fanny warmed a bit so your
Mistress could show you off a bit to her friends. After that we
were going to have a party welcoming you as your Mistress's
chosen. Nothing rough, just fun, but you blew it."  She shook her
head in wonder. "One thing's for sure, though. You sure gave
everybody here their money's worth tonight. Usually the dining
room scenes are not that intense."

"Scenes?  here?"  I had to remember to close my mouth, I was so
surprised.

She gave me another smile. "Yep. This place is a club for people
into dominance and submission. That's why they picked this spot
for your introduction to the Mistresses in the first place. They
could be as hard as they wanted on you and none of the patrons
would be offended like in a regular place. Only referrals from
members get in to this club, so the people here are real players
themselves. Usually though, the play in the club dining room is
really subtle, but you were really putting on a great show until
you lost it."

I signed the check. "Yeah, well, let me tell you. It is the last
time I will ever trust my safeword."  I stood to rise. "If I ever
am in any position to need one again, anyway."  I muttered.

She looked at me in utter astonishment. "You SAFEWORDED??? 
WHEN?"

I wiped my cheek again and tossed the bloodied napkin onto the
tray she carried. "Right before I got this, and right after she
told me that I was going to that other woman's dungeon."  I
stalked out, oblivious to the fact that in that one last exchange
with the waitress, I instantly became even more of a spectacle to
these onlookers than before. The waitress was so surprised that
she did not realize I had stiffed her on the tip. She could damn
well get it from her Mistress.

Getting a cab in that part of San Francisco, late at night no
less, was a bitch. Finally, the Hostess took pity on me and
called one for me. Her pitying look did little to improve my
mood. 

Arriving back at the hotel, I was not surprised to find out that
she had packed and left. Whether she was flying back early or
staying with one of her friends, I did not know. I cared,
although I did not want to care. 

She was not on my flight when I headed home the next day. I
called Monique to make sure she was all right and got her
answering machine. Finally, I called Roselie. She told me that
Monique had arrived home on the Redeye that morning and was
staying at the hotel. I thanked her and hung up. I did not go to
work Friday and did not contact or hear from Monique all weekend. 

Chapter 33:    The Dark Lonely Days

As much as I wanted to be elsewhere, I was not going to start
hiding this late in my life. I was at work on time Monday
morning. It was the beginning of a hellish week of very dark
times.  Monique was coldly, formally correct at all times she
could not avoid being with me. Meetings that could not be avoided
were ended as quickly as humanly possible with absolutely no
unnecessary words exchanged. She would not speak to me at all
outside the confines of work or about topics unrelated to work.

Most distressing was that I could not even get her to talk to me
about it. More than anything else I wanted to know what had
caused her to deny my safe word. Was there some protocol or
convention that governed when a code word could be used?  Was its
use in someway inappropriate for that situation?  Something that
neither all the reading I had done, or my limited experience with
had Monique had taught me?  The night seemed like a bad dream to
me. The apparently public humiliation (even though it had not
actually been quite so public as it had seemed to me at the time)
had been too much, it had gone too far, so I had used the
safeword. Is that what was wrong?  Was the purpose of a safeword
physical safety only?  I needed to talk about it with someone who
was more knowledgeable than I, but who?  I could not talk to
Roselie, and Monique all but threw me out of her office if I
entered on anything other than business. When her office was not
locked against me in the first place.

Sudden changes in behavior do not go unnoticed. Monique's
premature and solitary return had told Roselie something was
wrong. Even she was shocked at the frigid atmosphere around
Monique when I was nearby. Wednesday, Monique did not even come
to the office, a first for her since we started having Wednesday
mini-scenes. She called in saying she was taking a personal day.
By noon, Roselie could not stand it anymore and was in my office
demanding to know what was going on.

"Darn it, Nate, this is wrong. You two love each other and I am
getting frostbite just being in the same office with you. What
the hell happened out there in California?"

I tried to pass it off as nothing, but Roselie would have none of
it. "We had a very bad scene in San Francisco, Roselie. I did not
meet her standards and she is very angry with me."  

"This has to do with those friends of hers who live out there,
doesn't it?  I knew she was planning something. She sprang it on
you, you could not handle it and now she is upset with you for
not showing well to the other dommes?  DAMN!  I knew I should
have warned you, but I thought she had finally figured out she
had to go slowly with you. I mean, after that Saturday at her
place, I thought she finally figured out that she could not
anticipate your responses the way she did with the subs she has
played with in the past. You are too much the Navy Dom for that
and don't think I won't tell her that, too. Mistress or no
Mistress, this is just stupid."  Roselie's nostrils were flaring
in her righteous wrath.

The last thing I wanted to do was cause more tension in the
office, particularly between Monique and Roselie which would not
be confined to the office. All I needed was for Monique to have
that to hold against me, too. "No, dear. I am not going to
discuss it with you, but, please, accept that the blame and the
fault is mine. Don't get involved, please."  Roselie looked at me
strangely, but ultimately, she acquiesced to my request.

Thursday, Monique returned to work, but the icicles remained well
established. God knows how I got through the remainder of the
week. I sure don't. It was awful - easily as bad as the worst of
my previous experiences in and out of the Navy. My work suffered, 
partly from the tension, partly because much of my ability to get
things done derived from my position as Monique's PA. Office
water cooler intelligence gets the word out really quickly. Once
it was commonly known that I was on the outs with my boss, the
office political infighters quickly became less interested in
complying with any requests from me.

Friday afternoon finally came. Monique left early hoping to
avoid, I am sure, any chance of having contact with me. If this
treatment continued, I would have to do something. I could not
take many more weeks like this. Bosses had been pains in the ass
in the past, and I had lived with it. The difference was that I
had not been in love with those pains in my ass. I was in love
with Monique and it was eating me up. Melancholia weighing
heavily on my shoulders, I faced the drive home with complete
disinterest. I called the reservation desk and got them to set
aside one of the available staff rooms for me.

By nine o'clock, I gave up any pretense of resting and went down
to the hotel's bar. Too far gone to stop and think about what I
was doing, I threw down two double scotches like water.

I ordered a third. The bartender, a tall, busty redhead whose
hair color was a gift of modern chemistry, put a drink in front
of me. It was not scotch. "You have had enough, Nathan. You've
the look of someone in recovery and your answer is not in a
bottle. If I had been here when you arrived, you wouldn't have
gotten this far."

I wanted to scream at her, to demand my drink, to tell her to let
me... .. let me...... let me what?  Drink myself back into a
hole?  I looked at the two glasses beside the one she just put in
front of me, amber dregs in their bottoms, and shuddered. I
inhaled deeply and took a sip from the glass. Seven up.
Carefully, I set the glass back on the bar. "Thank you."  I said
gravely.

"You're welcome."  She said with equal formality. We both knew I
was not thanking her for the drink. "Wanna talk about why you are
trying to hide in a bottle?" I shook my head. She smiled sadly.
"Then I will guess. You got woman problems. Hell, everybody in
the house is talking about how the front runner for the next V.P.
slot here is now in the doghouse with his bosslady. Given how you
look, I would say that she is more than your boss."

I smiled sadly. "I love her. It is why I took the job in the
first place, to be near her, to have a chance to win her. Now, it
may all be over."

"So, go beg her forgiveness."

I looked up at her. "Even if I am not the one in the wrong?  I'm
not, you know. Only she won't speak to me long enough for us to
work through that."

"What is more important, being right or being together?  If being
together is more important, then you need to get forgiven so you
can start communicating again."

"Even if I am in the right?"  I asked again.

She snorted derisively. "Hell, man, get your priorities straight
here. You are dealing with a woman and she is not thinking about
right and wrong. She is thinking about being hurt, probably by
you, and how that felt. She is thinking about not being hurt
again. You wanna be right and do you wanna be alone?"

She made it sound so simple. On reflection, it probably was that
simple. I tipped her, kissed her cheek and headed for my room.
Her words haunted me long into a dark, sleepless, lonely night.

God, but I was so very tired of being alone.

That morning, I wrote her a short letter. 

               Mistress Monique,
               
               In all honesty, I tell you that I sincerely regret
               my behavior that night in San Francisco. Whether
               warranted or not, my feelings should have been
               dealt with differently. I sincerely apologize for
               shaming you in front of your friends. I know this
               apology, in itself, is inadequate. I therefore
               offer you whatever restitution you desire, without
               safeword, without reservation.
               
               I love you. I hope you one day believe that again.
               
               Nathan
               
               I posted it by special messenger, and prayed she still cared
enough to read it once she realized what it was.

Chapter 34:    Preamble to Payment

Her answer arrived back at my house, again by special messenger,
late Sunday afternoon.


               Mr. Evans,
               
               I have received your note and am considering what
               action to take on it. You shamed me in front of my
               friends. Your behavior called into question my
               training of you and your commitment to me. I will
               tell you that I cannot remember when I have been
               hurt so badly. I want you to have some inkling of
               how badly I hurt, so I will accept your offer of
               restitution. 
               
               This will not be dominance and submission, Mr.
               Evans, I will not degrade my art that way. This
               will be reparation made to me by you. The
               trappings will be the same, but not the intent.
               Think carefully, sir, before putting yourself in
               my hands that way. 
               
               I still love you, too, Mr. Evans. I just do not
               know if I can ever forgive you.
               Another message will tell you what to do should
               you decide to follow through on your offer to give
               me restitution. Be very sure, Mr. Evans. I promise
               you a glimpse of Hell itself.
               
               Monique.
               
               
               Everything else in the letter was meaningless. She still loved
me. There was still a chance. As for Hell, well, I already knew
all I needed to of that place - it was a future alone without
her. I would pay her reparations, and I would continue to hold to
her love and I would continue to hope.

Monday, I was waiting in the office for her. She never arrived.
Roselie arrived to tell me that Monique had decided to take a
week of vacation and would not be back until Sunday. Another week
of black loneliness loomed and I felt momentarily ill. I had
hoped that we would deal with this quickly, but I should have
known better. Monique would take her time and whatever happened,
it would be when she was ready, not before.

Monday and Tuesday passed slowly. On Wednesday, I was working
through the pile of paper on my desk, trying to pretend it
mattered when Roselie came in.  "Nate?"  Her voice was little
more than a cracked whisper. She swallowed and tried again.
"Nate, the phone. It's Monique."

My hand shook as I picked up the receiver. "Yes, Mistress. How
may I help you."

"Hello, Nathan. Are you still committed to giving me
restitution?"

I nodded, then realized that she could not see me, and repeated
my answer, verbally. "Yes, Mistress, I am."

"Then I am not your Mistress, at least for the interim, Mr.
Evans. You have forfeited the privilege of calling me that, as
you have forfeited the right to my protection. A Mistress is
concerned with the safety and well being of her submissive at all
times, something that you forgot in front of my friends and
colleagues, sir. Now, I am concerned only with my needs, sir, and
those needs are to see you broken the way you seem to think I
wanted that night."  Her voice was so cold, I shivered. "This
will not be dominance, Mr. Evans, if you come, you will be hurt.
You will be hurt badly. Do not expect any other outcome, sir."

I swallowed, hard. I looked up at Roselie to see her eyes wide in
concern, her hands shredding a paper tissue as she stared at me.
"I understand, Monique. I accept your terms. I love you and I
will do whatever is necessary to restore what I took from you."

"You have also forfeited the right to profess your love, sir. I
am not sure I can believe a man who hurts me like you did. Very
well, then, Friday is the Columbus Day holiday. You will present
yourself at my home after work on Thursday. Arrangements have
been made for your...."  her voice became dark, frightening,
evil, "entertainment until I arrive home from Aruba on Sunday
Afternoon. Sunday Afternoon and evening, I will take my pound of
flesh out of your ass, sir. Take the next week off, Mr. Evans. I
will be back in the office, and you will need every minute of
it."  her voice seemed to break for a minute, then became hard
again. "to recover. When you are able to return, we will decide
your future with the company. Good bye, Mr. Evans. You should be
afraid. You should be *very* afraid."   I hung up the phone, very
slowly.

I sat in silence, staring at the phone for a very long time.
"Nate?"  Roselie's voice broke through my dark thoughts. I looked
up at her. "Nate, tell me what this is all about."

"I can't, love. Trust me, I can't, and I won't."

"But, I need to know what this is all about. Monique said you
would be staying at her place, waiting for her?"

So, Monique had told her that. "Yes, I am. She said something
about entertaining me for the weekend until we can get together
and work this out. Don't worry about it, dear."

She shook her head. "I have to, Nate. You see, I am the
entertainment. She talked to me before she talked to you. There
will be directions for us when we arrive Thursday night. Nate,
tell me what this is all about. I don't like this - this feels
wrong. What is going on?"

Roselie had turned the tissue into fragments. She would never be
able to handle what was going on. She could never be a party to
what was to come. She would never forgive or trust Monique again.
"Retraining, love. I screwed up and Monique has decided to make
me pay by putting me through a long session. I expect it to be
rough, but nothing I can't handle and nothing I would not willing
give her. Trust me, it will be okay."

She wanted to be convinced. "You are sure?"  I nodded and she
looked happier immediately. "Well, then, I get to be the Mistress
till Monique gets home. Won't that be fun?"

I gave her mock grimace she expected and hoped for. "Oh, loads, I
am sure. I can't wait..... NOT!"

That made her laugh more easily. Mission accomplished. Then she
became more pensive again. "Nate?"

"Yes, Roselie?"

"You wouldn't know why Clarisse, Monique's friend from Oakland,
has been calling her, do you?  I told her today that Monique
would not be back until Monday. I told her you were here, but she
said she only wanted to talk to Monique and would call back. You
know what that is all about?"

Clarisse, the black domme with the lovely French accent and the
cute blond slave girl. I shook my head. "No idea, love, but I am
sure she will call again when Monique is back if she still needs
to talk to her."

Roselie shrugged. "Guess you are right. So, Nate, you gonna tell
me what you did to piss Monique off enough to let me domme?  She
NEVER lets me top folks. Says I don't have enough discipline to
be a good Mistress. Personally, I think I am just a little
gleeful, but there it is. So, give, Evans!"

I smiled at her teasing and shook my head. "Nope. You wanna know,
you ask Monique. Hell, it would probably give her pleasure to
tell you in exhaustive detail and in her current mood, I will do
nothing to deprive her of the least ounce of enjoyment."

Roselie sniffed and stuck her nose imperiously in the air. "Well,
I will have almost three whole days and nights to worm it out of
you. Think about that, Nate. I get frustrated very easily."  she
warned as she strutted out of my office.

That night, I readied the house for long term absence. I paid any
bill that might come due in the next two weeks, and stopped my
mail until further notice. Since I took Monique at her word, I
did not know when I would be able to return.

Chapter 35:    Payment is Due

I parked in my usual spot at her house in Great falls. Roselie's
car was already there. She had left an hour earlier than I had,
consistent with Monique's orders. Evidently, some of Monique's
plans for me required some preparation and I was not to see them.
I sat in my car, wondering if I was obsessing with Monique. There
was not a doubt in my mind that the next four days, and on into
the next week, were going to be terrible. I sighed. It really did
not matter. 

I got out of the car, and locked my wallet in a hiding place in
my trunk. I hid three keys to the car in magnetic boxes
throughout the car in the event that Monique tried to deny me my
keys again. Why I bothered was a mystery - it was not like she
really wanted me here. I was here because I had forced the issue.
I wondered how many more times I would find the strength to come
back, like I had after Boston, like I was doing now.

Roselie met me at the door and ushered me into the foyer. She was
dressed in a plain grey house dress. It was so unlike her
normally flattering garb that it surprised me. She was frowning
as I put my coat and sports jacket into the hall closet. I turned
to her and raised my eyebrow in question. She beckoned me into
the den and indicated that I should join her on the couch.
"Nate. Please, tell me what is going on. I have read the
instructions Monique has left, and I don't like this. I don't
like it at all. Make me understand. Make me believe that this is
something I want to be involved in."

I hesitated. "What did Monique tell you about it, Roselie?"

"Nothing, other than how to make your life a living hell for the
next two and a half days. Dammit, Nate, some subs would find what
she has planned for you unbearably exciting, but you are going to
be absolutely miserable. This is completely out of character for
Monique, Nate. She has made errors with you, but she is not
this... this.. this damnably insensitive. She has to know that
the scenario she has planned is completely wrong for you. My God,
it is not even scene type humiliation.  This plan looks like she
set out to make it as personally degrading for a man like you as
she possibly could. Nate, this is wrong!  How can I participate
in this?  Make me understand or else I am leaving right now."

In my heart, I knew that Roselie was absolutely correct. Monique
had done her level best to find ways to bring me down, to hurt me
as she perceived herself to be hurt. What Roselie had not
considered was that her presence, her participation in this was
very likely integral to the plan. Having Roselie see me mortified
this way was part of my reparation. Monique would probably not
consider my sacrifice adequate if Roselie did not participate.
"Roselie, do you want to see me and Monique make up?  Get back
together?"

She nodded. "Well, then do as she asks. I will get through it.
Heck, knowing you did not want to do it will make it easier for
me to take. She thinks I need training, and I need her. Help us
both, sweetheart. Help her, and in so doing, help me get through
this hurdle to get back in her good graces."

"You're sure?"  her voice was small and very quavery. She really
was upset. "Once we start, there is no going back."

"I have no choice, dear. Let's get started."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then nodded jerkily.
"Follow me, Nate. You have never been where she told me to take
you before."  She stood and lead the way toward the back of the
house. Once there, she unlocked a door and led me down stairs
into the basement of the house. A hallway ran back toward the
front of the house. The hall was long, perhaps longer than the
house it self. On each side of the hall was a six closed doors
that opened into the hall. Behind us, at the rear of the house,
was another door.

Roselie opened the first of the doors and beckoned me to precede
her. The room was empty, and starkly white. On either side of the
room were closed doors. Roselie walked to one of them and opened
it to reveal a small closet. "Strip, Nate. Everything, including
any jewelry. Make sure you hang everything neatly, as I am
required to inspect and assess demerits for failures of that
nature. I will be back in ten minutes to prepare you for the
weekend."  She hurried out the door into the hall, shutting it
behind her.

Twenty years of being ready for inspections had some uses. The
closet would have passed a Marine white glove inspection when I
was done.

Roselie returned and after examining the closet carefully, she
shut the door. A loud click announced that something had latched.
"Only Monique has the key to that door, Nathan. The only way you
get your clothes back is if she opens that door."  She led me to
the facing closet on the other side of the room and opened it. I
looked inside and groaned inwardly. I should have known.

A dress form stood in the closet. On it was an old fashioned
Victorian corset. Shoes sat on the floor beside the dress form's
base - high heeled shoes. High heeled shoes that were easily and
inch higher than anything I had yet worn for Monique or for Maria
and her women at the Boston school.

"Well, let's get this over with, Nathan. That corset was ordered
with Maria's measurements, so it is designed just for you.
According to Monique's note, the one you wore at Maria's place
took four inches off your waist. This one is designed to take up
to eight inches off your waist. I am to tighten it every six
hours for the time you are there."

Getting into it was painful. Eight inches total meant it had to
be laced to take off at least the four inches Maria's corset had
taken off me. Roselie had to use the belt straps to get me
compressed enough to get the lacing done. The front of the corset
was made of two boned panels that were tied permanently together
up the center of my front. Lifelike prosthetic breast forms gave
me the image of cleavage to fill the cups. 

Roselie knelt in front of me and rolled the provided stockings up
my leg (I could not bend over enough to do it). I stepped
carefully into the shoes and heard a click as she buckled up the
ankle straps. I looked down at her between the twin mounds of my
fake bosom. "They lock, Nathan. The keys to these, however, are
available, for use in an emergency. Regardless of her orders, I
would not lock you into those stilts without access to the key,
and I don't CARE if she knows it!"

I was surprised at the vehemence in her voice. "What does that
mean?  How would she know?"

Roselie rose to stand beside me as I balanced carefully on the
impossibly high, impossibly comfortable heels. "This entire floor
is under constant video surveillance, Nate. Nothing you do or say
here for the next three days will escape being recorded. She did
not say not to tell you that, but I would have anyway."

Roselie's increasingly vehement reaction to what was planned was
comforting - I was pretty sure she would be more of an ally than
a tormentress. BUT, I needed her to back off a bit. If she got
too upset and left, or worse, actively defied Monique, it could
only serve to make things worse. I reached over and pulled her
into a tight hug (which felt really strange with boobs, even fake
boobs). "Hey, calm down. It will be okay. I asked for this
chance, all right?  Let's see how it goes. Be my friend, Roselie.
Be Our friend, Monique's and mine both, and we will get through
this just fine." 

She stood very still in my arms, then nodded. "Okay. Well, the
easy part is over, then."  She went back into the closet and came
back with that damned chastity. Efficiently, she had me buckled
up and my penis pulled back between my legs. "I don't know
whether to be insulted or not, Nate. No hardon?"

"Guess not, sweetheart. Maybe it just belongs to Monique."

She gave the belt another pull and the buckles clicked locked.
"Well, it sure does, now."  she said with a hint of her usual
mischievous nature. "I don't have the key for that. You either
cut it off, or she takes it off. Now, hold still and relax, or
this will hurt."  A pressure on my ass told me that I was to be
plugged. It slid home easily. Recent practice during scenes with
Monique, combined with a relatively small device, I guess. "That
does it, Nathan. Now, follow me."

Easier said than done. It was pure hell moving in those heels.
The addition of the restrictive body corset and the intrusion of
the butt plug did not help my mobility, either. Roselie led me
back into the hallway and closed the door behind me and then
locked it. "Nathan, all of the doors down here, except to the
room you were just in, or to the upstairs house are unlocked. 
The only bathroom available to you is in the room we just left,
and your time in the bathroom will be restricted to when I let
you in, per Monique's instructions. You are free to enter any of
the unlocked rooms and explore. You will be in most of them over
the next few days anyway. Nathan, this basement is Monique's
dungeon; the place where she fully indulged her not insignificant
personal wealth and her taste for kinky sex. The only door that
you should not open is that one."  She pointed to the one at the
back of the house and then went and opened it.

She stood aside for me to walk up and look outside the opened
door. It took me a bit to get there, moving in those damned shoes
was a very uncertain process. I was surprised to see my
trenchcoat and a pair of shower shoes in the little alcove. "Your
keys are in the pockets. I could not find your wallet in your
pants pocket before I locked the closet, so i assume it is still
in your car?"  I nodded. "Probably a smart move in her current
mood." she muttered to herself. She shook off that observation
and returned to the task assigned by Monique. "Anyway, I am
directed to inform you that this entire scene, from now until she
personally releases you, is one of her go-no goes, Nate. And THAT
is the part of this I do not like being a part of. I am directed
to tell you that if you can't handle what she has planned, then
your only way out is to walk out this door. Use this." she
pointed to a very dangerous looking knife lying on the floor, "to
cut the center seam of that corset and the locked ankle straps of
those shoes, then put on the coat and the shower shoes and leave.
The door will lock behind you."  She pulled the door shut. "The
only time you may use that door without the go no-go penalty is
if there is a real emergency, like a fire."

"Nate, I have to leave you now. She wants you to face this alone,
without the support and comfort of another person. I am to be
your safety valve and I will supervise your daily program for
Monique. I will be back on a schedule that I cannot share with
you to perform some .... activities for Monique's entertainment
and your training. Sleep when you can, but when I arrive, you
have got to do as I say, or she will know. There are red intercom
buttons in every room. I will hear you if you need to call for
help. Make sure it is really an emergency, Nate. Her orders. Just
as I am to inform you, that bodily functions are not an
emergency."  She sighed. I knew she was going to complain again
and forestalled it a hug.

"Thank you, Roselie, for caring enough about us to do this, even
with your reservations. I will be fine."

She smiled, or at least tried to smile. "I hope you will still be
thanking me in three days. Move carefully in those shoes, and get
some rest. You will need it."  With that, she ascended the stairs
and left me in Monique's version of Dante's Inferno. Problem was,
I was too damn stubborn to abandon hope. It was all I had left.
