From stbush@iglou.com Mon Jan 06 22:53:44 1997
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: New Bombadil: Chosen - [F/F, some b/d, semi n/c]
From: Shelby Bush <stbush@iglou.com>
Date: Tue, 7 Jan 1997 03:53:44 GMT

Chosen - [F/F, some b/d, semi n/c]

Short Story # 7
by Tom Bombadil  (c) Nov 1996

Disclaimer:  All the standard rules apply.  If you are offended 
by explicit descriptions of sex or the human body, if it is 
illegal to possess such materials at your location, if you are 
under-age by law in your location, or if somebody else thinks you 
might have too much fun reading it, stop right now and remove this 
text from your computer.

This is purely a work of fiction, with all characters and actions
described by me coming straight out of my imagination.  As a work 
of fiction, it does not condone or condemn any of the activities 
or actions described, nor does it relate to any type of real 
events in my life, or known to me in the lives of any of my 
friends or relatives.

You've been warned.

I give permission for anyone to share or archive this story.

********************************************************************

This whole situation started with a strange letter I received in 
the mail one day.  It came in a plain white envelope, was typed 
(not laser printed) on plain paper, and simply said that I'd been 
chosen.  Also on there was an address and a date, along with 
instructions that I was to show up there with nothing but myself 
and my purse.  The date was three weeks in the future.

It looked like a joke.  It felt like a joke.  It had to be some 
weirdo's idea of something funny.  So I threw it onto the pile of 
junk mail on the shelf beside the door.  I thought that would be 
the last I'd hear of it.  Naturally I forgot all about it within 
five minutes.  

Two days later, at work, after I'd spent a few hours searching 
through old case files, I got called into the boss' office.  Since 
I'm not yet a partner in the firm, he's still my boss.  I expected 
that to change soon, though, after saving those three patent cases 
he thought we'd blown.  Sixty five million is a lot of money.  Our 
fee for winning was not insignificant.

The plaque on the door read "Harold Reuter".  Simple, elegant, 
no pretension whatsoever.  Just like the man behind the door.

"Hi Harold.  What's up?"  He disliked formalities around the office, 
unless there was a client nearby.  He also hated to waste time on 
little things like pleasantries and small talk.  

"Hello Virginia.  I was just trying to figure out how to spread 
your workload around, and I'd like some input on who you think 
should handle the McGruder problem."

Alarm bells went off in my head.

"Spread my workload around?"

He looked at me like I should know exactly what he's talking about.  
My confusion was evident.

"Well, yes.  The work still has to be done while you're away.  
After all, this is a business."

"Away?"  He had lost me.  Totally and completely.

"Exactly.  While you're away.  Didn't you get your letter?"

"Letter?  What letter?"  If I sounded confused, it's because I 
was.  He wasn't helping me any.  Not at all.

"You know, the letter.  The one saying you've been chosen.  I got 
word of it yesterday, so I've been trying to figure out how to get 
you your two months off.  Paid, of course.  The only snag is these 
damned McGruder cases."

Memories of that thing I'd received began to filter back.

"Harold, what kind of a joke are you trying to pull here?"

He looked at me with a rather pained expression on his face.

"I don't joke around, Virginia."  He was right, of course.  In my 
ten years with the firm, I'd never heard of him joking about the 
work, the clients, or the company.  Something began to feel bad, 
deep in the pit of my stomach.

"What's going on?  I get some wacko letter in the mail telling me 
that I've been 'chosen', and the next thing I know you're trying 
to book me time off work.  What gives?"

The expression on his face didn't change.

"You've been chosen.  What else is there to say?"

"All right, I'll play this silly game for a while.  I've been 
chosen.  By whom?  For what?"

He shook his head.  "Unimportant details.  I don't know the answers, 
and even if I did, they wouldn't help you anyway.  All that matters 
is that you have been chosen, and I have to make it so you have the 
time to go."

There was a long, uncomfortable silence while I tried to find my 
voice and my composure.

"Forget it!  I'm not falling for some idiotic joke!  No matter who's 
trying to pull it off!  So you can forget about scheduling time 
off for me.  I'll be here working right through to Christmas, at 
least."  Since it was late spring, that meant long after any 
deadline for being 'chosen'.

He smiled before he replied.  I didn't like the look of that smile.  
It was the same one he used when closing in on an unsuspecting 
opponent in court.  "Fine.  It *is* your choice.  I'll just finish 
up this little chore though, just in case you change your mind.  
Thank you for your help."

I stared at him for a few seconds.  He stared back, waiting for me 
to leave.  So I did.  Just before I got back to my office, I got 
hit by a freight train.  That's what it felt like, anyway.

Belinda, my assistant for the past four years, was holding me in 
a tight, very intimate hug, and she was kissing me.  I mean, she  
was *kissing* me!  It took some time, and not a little arm bending, 
to get her peeled off my body.  It was the first time in four years 
that I'd seen her act in anything other than a strictly 
professional manner.

"Virginia!  I'm so excited!  I just heard the news about you being 
chosen!  It's so wonderful!  I can't wait for you to get back!  I 
just know we'll have so much fun together!"

She knew too.  How far was this joke going to spread, I wondered.  
Then there was that kiss she'd given me, and the hug.  She was 
nicely put together, well padded in all the places I liked, and I 
*had* fantasized about her a fair bit, but I had never hit on her 
or made any kind of advance whatsoever.  I didn't even know if she 
swung that way.  She had to have been put up to it.

"All right, Belinda.  Enough's enough.  Who put you up to this?  
Harold?  Steven?  Thomas?"  Steven and Thomas were the two main 
funnymen and practical jokers in the building.  Ninety-nine percent 
of the time, if something strange was happening, one or both of 
them were involved.

For a second she looked at me like I'd lost my mind.  "What would 
those idiots have to do with it?"  She grinned again and grabbed me 
in another bear hug.  "You've finally been chosen!  I knew it would 
happen some day!  I just knew it!"

It took a while to extricate myself again.

"Belinda, I have no idea what this chosen business is, and I have 
no intention of finding out.  Now please, just tell me who's behind 
this joke, then we can all have a little laugh, and get back to 
work."

I can't really describe the look that came over her.  It was a 
mixture of shock, denial, a hint of fear, and several other 
things.  She shook her head as if to reject what I'd said.  Up 
until that moment I had considered her a very level headed, 
intelligent, and stable person.  The bad feeling that had started 
in Harold's office got a little worse.

"Virginia, you've been *chosen*!  It's no joke, it's an Honour!"

I swear that I heard her pronounce that capital 'H'.  She looked 
like she was completely serious.

"Look, Belinda, this has gone far enough.  I have no intention of 
following up on this 'chosen' thing.  None whatsoever.  So whoever 
is behind it, whoever put you up to this, they can just take a 
flying leap."  She looked like she was about to say something, so 
I cut her off.  "No, no, I don't really care all that much about 
whose sick joke it is.  I'm not interested in playing this game.
Just forget it, and let's get back to work."

She looked like she was about to cry.  I had no idea what her 
involvement was, in what looked to be an elaborate charade, and 
didn't really care at that point.  It was giving me bad vibes.  
Ignoring the whole business seemed like the best thing to do.

Just before I closed my office door, I heard her whisper something 
to herself.  I was sure I wasn't supposed to hear it, but I did.  
Her words, their implication, and what I remembered, shook me.  I 
got virtually no work done for the rest of the day, and Belinda 
never said anything else about 'chosen'.  The sad, puppy-dog looks 
she gave me were reminder enough.

I stayed home that night, feeling a little shaken about the whole 
business.  A nice hot bath, a quiet dinner, time alone with my cats, 
and a decent Steele novel made me feel a lot better.  Around ten 
I got a call that made me feel a lot worse.

Anna was one of my closest friends, despite the fact that we had 
never been intimate.  I'd known her since my freshman year at 
UCLA.  She was the one who introduced me to the nightlife.  As a 
sophomore, she'd already been around everywhere, seen everything, and 
knew what and who to avoid.  She was also one hell of a fun person 
to be around.  I thought I knew everything about her.

"Virginia!  I just heard the news!  Isn't it exciting?"

"What news?" I asked.  That feeling in the pit of my stomach warned 
me.  I knew the answer, but had to hear her say it anyhow.

"Why, about you being chosen, of course!  Have you told your mother 
yet?" 

That was getting to be too much.

"Anna, what the hell is going on?  And don't wimp out on me, I want 
answers!"

"Why, you've been chosen.  That's it."

"This is getting monotonous.  Anna, who chose me?"

"That's immaterial."

"You've been chosen?"

"Oh yes, for five years now.  I tell you, I didn't know what living 
was until after I'd been chosen.  Until you experience it, there's 
no way to describe what it's like.  It's the best thing that could 
ever happen to you!"

"Hold it.  Stop right there.  Cease and desist.  I have no idea what 
this 'chosen' thing is, and, to be perfectly honest, I don't 
particularly want to.  I'm getting really sick of it.  I've never 
heard of it before, and I don't want to hear about it any more."  

"But Virginia, you've been chosen.  You can't just ignore an 
opportunity like this.  Trust me on this one.  It's too precious 
to pass up!"

"So far, Anna, three people I know, including you, know about it, 
but nobody has told me anything about what it means.  Nothing!  
Frankly, I'm getting pissed off!  Please, Anna, it's starting to 
really bug me.  It's not even remotely funny any more.  Who's 
behind this joke?"

She was silent for several seconds.

"Virginia, it's not a joke.  You've been chosen, and eventually 
you will come around.  Everyone does.  I thought it was some sort 
of prank too, but I went.  It was the one most important decision 
of my life, and I chose the right path.  You will too."

She sounded absolutely sincere and honest, as serious as I had ever 
heard her.  That feeling in my stomach got worse.  I also got mad.

"No way.  I don't go walking into practical jokes.  I don't know 
who's behind this, but I'm really starting to get choked."

"All right Virginia.  I won't talk about it any more.  One of the 
reasons I'm calling is to offer to put up your cats while you're 
gone.  When you change your mind, call me back and we'll make 
arrangements.  Oh, and call your mother.  She'll want to talk to 
you about it too."

I'd forgotten that she'd mentioned my mother.

"So my mother is involved in this plot too?"

"She was chosen twenty five years ago."

I sat there and stared at the receiver long after the dial tone had 
changed to beeps.  It was past eleven, and would be after midnight 
where my mother lived, but I called anyway.

"Mom?"

"Virginia?"

"Yes, Mom.  It's me.  Sorry to call you so late, but something weird 
is going on here.  Someone suggested I call you."

I could hear her yawning herself awake.

"It's okay dear.  I'll just sleep in a little later in the morning.  
So what's got you worried enough to call your old Mom in the middle 
of the night?"

"Mom, have you ever heard of someone being chosen?"

There was a long pause, and when she finally spoke, her voice 
quavered. 

"Chosen?  Whatever do you mean, chosen?"

"A few days ago I got a letter in the mail saying that I've been 
chosen.  That's it.  No details, no nothing.  Just an address and a 
date."

"Are you going to go?"  Anyone else would have thought she was 
talking casually.  I'd been with her through three marriages, two 
funerals, and two divorces.  I knew better.  She was tense with 
something.  I couldn't tell if it was fear or excitement though.

"You know about this chosen thing, don't you."

She sighed.  It was fear.  She sounded scared of something.

"I've been chosen for a long time, dear."

"Tell me about it."

"There's nothing to tell.  If you've been, you don't need me to 
describe it, and if you haven't, it wouldn't do any good."

"That helps a whole lot."  Sarcasm was dripping off the phone, at 
both ends.  "You know what I think?  I think someone's playing a 
really big, really tasteless practical joke on me.  You're in on it, 
Anna's in on it, Belinda's in on it, and even my boss is in on it.  
Well, you can all take a hike because I'm not buying it!"

A few seconds later, my mother spoke again.  "It's not a joke, 
dear.  It's completely on the level."  Her voice dropped to a 
whisper.  "Ginny, whatever you do, don't miss your date!  Please!  
Trust me on this!  I waited for three months before I went, and, 
well, it was much more difficult than it should have been.  And 
don't let anyone know I told you!"

"Mom!  What happened?  Come on, tell me!"

"No dear, I can't.  I've already said too much.  I've got to go 
now.  Luv ya!  Bye!"

The dial tone came back.  I couldn't believe how panicky my mother 
sounded at the end.  She made it seem so real!  The whole situation 
made no sense.  It went well beyond any kind of practical joke 
anyone at work, or any of my friends, could possibly arrange.  I 
decided to sleep on it.



The next day in the office everything was mostly back to normal, 
except for the looks I got from Belinda.  She kept glancing at me 
with those big beautiful blue eyes of hers, making like a sad 
puppy.  It didn't hinder her work, but it sure did mine.

The day after, just as she was leaving, she cornered me and 
surprised me with a kiss.  I melted into it.  She then ran off, 
sobbing.  Being Friday, I knew I wouldn't be able to talk to 
her for a while.  Not until Monday, at the earliest.

I decided right then and there to find myself some company for the 
evening, someone to help me lose touch with reality for a while.  
After I got home, I had a light dinner and prepared myself.

A shower.  Shave my legs.  Shave my lips.  Trim my bush.  Brush, 
tease, style, and put up my hair into a wild, arrogant mass of 
curls.  I can get away with it.  Sheer black nylons, red satin 
garter belt, red satin panties, strapless red lace push-up bra, 
black silk mini dress, black heels.  A few bangles, a gold necklace, 
matching dangling gold earrings, black opera gloves, and a black 
patent clutch purse completed the look.  Makeup a little heavier 
than normal, a little wilder.  A few touches of perfume in 
strategic locations.  I was going hunting, and wanted every 
advantage.

There was never a time when I lacked for dates or attention.  I 
matured early, discovered my preference early, and learned quickly 
how to get what I wanted.  Now, at five nine, 128 pounds, with an 
ungodly good shape for my thirty five years, with fiery red hair, 
a beautiful face, and absolute confidence, I can have almost anyone 
I want.  

Trust me to take a career path where my beauty means nothing.  I 
just had to prove I had brains as well.  I worked my way through 
college and got a degree in business law, passed my bar exam with 
flair and style, and now work for a very prestigious firm as 
a patent lawyer.  Nowadays I get handed most of the high profile 
cases.  Life treated me well.  Up until that letter came.

I took a cab down to one of my favourite nightclubs.  The doorman 
let me in with a nod and a wink.  I came back home two hours later 
with an absolutely delicious looking little brunette.  Sleek, 
lithe, and properly padded, the way she moved in that white leather 
thing she was wearing had me hot and damp.  I just had to take 
her home with me.  

We walked in my door, laughing and giggling, both a little giddy 
from the show we'd put on for the cab driver.  I couldn't wait 
to get into the bedroom.  I wanted to unwrap her and continue on 
with what we'd already started.  Thoughts of work, and the other 
thing, were completely absent.  That is, until I noticed she wasn't 
following me.  She was standing in the foyer, looking a little 
shocked, staring at that letter.  I'd left it lying there, and 
hadn't gotten around to throwing it out.  She put it down, gave me 
a *look*, and left.  Just like that.  No explanation, no goodbye, 
no call-me-a-cab-please-I-have-to-go-now, nothing.  I was beginning 
to wonder if this chosen thing was some sort of world-wide 
conspiracy.

The mood was lost.  I packed it in and went to bed.  Thoughts of 
anger, of revenge, and of doubt, haunted me until the wee hours.  
They continued right through the weekend.  What Belinda had said 
also haunted me, as did my conversations with Anna, Harold, and my 
mother.  Nothing made any sense!



Monday morning I dragged Belinda off into a conference room, 
demanding to know what was going on.  She revealed nothing, no 
matter what I said or threatened her with.  Finally, when I was 
a little tired and had run down, she asked if she could spend 
one night with me.

Needless to say, I was shocked, surprised, astounded, and very 
suspicious.  We agreed on Friday, and returned to work.  I 
checked into her old personnel files, wanting to know if my 
memory was still working properly, if my suspicions were founded. 

It was there, all right, but not quite as I remembered.  Harold's 
signature made it official though.  Belinda had been granted two 
months leave of absence, with pay, in lieu of.  There was nothing 
to indicate what it was in lieu of.  I remembered it being two 
months off, without pay, for rest and relaxation.  The date was 
about three years ago.

My next visit was with Harold. It didn't go quite as I expected.  

"When were you chosen?" I asked, rather sharply.  He stared at me 
like I'd gone crazy.

"Me?  Chosen?  I'd almost think you were joking if you didn't look 
so serious."

"Well?  Were you?  If not, how come you know all about it?"  Things 
made even less sense.  

"Oh, I see the problem."  He grinned, the same way he does whenever 
he knows something nobody else does.  He's got a lot of different 
smiles.  I knew most of them.  "I can't be chosen.  I'm the wrong 
type.  My wife was, fifteen years ago.  That's how come I know about 
it."

I just stared for a while.

"I'm the wrong type," he explained again, as though I hadn't 
understood.  I hadn't.  "The wrong gender.  A guy.  You know, the 
gorilla half of the race."  I finally understood.  Chosen was for 
women only.  

"No guys, ever?"

"My wife says no guys.  None chosen, now or ever.  It's a female 
thing.  I don't know anything else about it, so don't bother 
asking."

I left again, hardly better off than when I'd gone in.   

All that week Belinda kept me on edge, flirting with me, teasing, 
sometimes touching, even stealing the odd kiss.  I tried to stay 
away from her as much as possible, but that was difficult.  She was 
my personal assistant, after all.  By the time Friday rolled around 
I was a raw bundle of nerves.



I showed up at her place promptly at seven, as we'd agreed, and I 
was dressed in my club outfit, as we'd agreed.  She met me at the 
door in a skimpy red patent leather halter top and mini combo, 
with bare stomach, bare legs, and bare feet.  She looked hot - and 
vulnerable.  

Her place was nice - nicer than mine, and I make a good six-figure 
salary.  She certainly couldn't afford it on what we paid her.  She 
said nothing about the surroundings, and I didn't ask.

Dinner was delicious - A light salad, some sort of creamy seafood 
pasta dish, and a decadent chocolate and raspberry torte.  She 
also served a light, crisp white wine with the meal.  I had a 
couple of glasses.  All through dinner I couldn't help staring 
at her.  She was so - so open, so receptive, so eager to please.  
Her leather outfit hid little, and by the time we had finished and 
cleaned up, I suspected she wore nothing underneath.

We sat on the couch, in front of the fireplace, sipping our wine.  
After a rather uncomfortable silence, she spoke.  I listened for 
a while without making any interruptions.  

Her words were quiet, soft sounding, yet spoken firmly.  She never 
looked at me during her speech, but stared fixedly at the fire.  It 
was odd.  "You shouldn't be here.  Or rather, I shouldn't have let 
you come.  I couldn't help myself.  I've waited for you for so long, 
it hurts.  Losing you, when you're so close, is something I don't 
think I can live with.  I can't tell you about what it's like to be 
chosen, or describe it, or anything like that.  It's not something 
you can understand, not with words.  I can only show you a tiny bit 
of what being chosen means."

With that, she put down her wineglass and knelt in front of me, 
hands in her lap, head and eyes down.

"For tonight and tomorrow, I'm yours.  Completely and totally.  No 
reservations, no limits."

I stared.  She'd stopped talking, and was simply waiting for me.

"What do you mean?"

"I am yours, mistress.  Completely."

I'd played these types of games before with other women who 
considered themselves submissives, who liked to act out slave 
fantasies.  I didn't exactly get into the domination bit, but 
usually the fun afterwards made up for any lack of enjoyment on 
my part.  The same way I didn't particulary like playing a sub, 
even though I had on occasion.  Also, there were always rules and 
limits and safewords and telephone calls and all kinds of other 
safety nets.  I wondered where Belinda's were.  I decided to play 
along for a while.

"All right, slave, what do you want to be called?"

"Belinda, mistress."  That threw me a bit.  Usually the person 
wanted to be called slave, or slut, or bitch, or some other type 
of derogatory name.

"What's your safeword?"

"I have none, mistress."

I argued about that with her, and she simply kept saying that she 
would set no limit on what I could do.  No limit.  Her insistence 
on that point made me nervous.  I asked her again, how and where 
she would draw the line.  No limit, was her only answer.  I decided 
to truly test her.

"Put your hands behind your back."  She did.  "I'm going to do 
something now that will be uncomfortable.  Hold your position 
as long as you can."  I cupped her cheek with my hand, ran it along 
her jaw to her neck, then slid around to the front until I had her 
throat in a light grip.  I squeezed - not too hard, but enough to 
restrict blood flow.  She simply took it, looking into my eyes.  Her 
face became flushed, then red, then darkened.  Her lips turned 
purple-blue and she started gasping.  When her eyes began 
fluttering, I let go.  She was willing to let me kill her.  That 
scared me, right to the core of my being.  No limits, she'd said.  
Now I knew she meant exactly that.  I waited for her to catch her 
breath, and for her colour to return to normal.

"Belinda, what is this evening about?"

She looked like she knew what I meant.  She wasn't dumb.  Just 
inscrutable.

"It's about you, and about me, and about being chosen.  What it's 
like, in a small way.  Tonight is us.  It's something we'll never 
have again until you return.  Tonight, I am yours, Mistress."

That's as close as I have ever come to running away from someone.  
Scared didn't do justice to how I felt.  But yet, there was a deep 
down secret thrill, knowing that this woman, kneeling before me, 
had given herself to me, absolutely and completely.  That feeling 
rushed through my body like a drug, leaving me giddy and unsteady.

After a few sips of wine, some deep breathing, and several long 
minutes, I was back in control.  She was still there, still 
kneeling, head down, waiting for me.  I had the feeling that 
without orders, she'd kneel there until our time was up.  That 
feeling changed to certainty as I looked at her.  To Belinda, it 
was no game, no pretension.  Fear and exhilaration fought for 
dominance deep in my guts.

"Well, Belinda, what do I do with you now?"

"Anything you wish, Mistress."  I sat and thought for a moment.

"What do you want to do?"

"Make you happy, Mistress."  That didn't help.  I needed something 
more direct, something more forceful, to find out what she was 
expecting from the experience.  I knew there had to be more for her 
than me fulfilling the usual fantasies of having a naked slave 
licking me to orgasm all night long (I'd had that once before, and 
always got damp when I remembered the experience.  What a wonderful 
time that was!).

"Belinda, I'm going to ask you some questions.  I'm ordering you to 
answer them openly and truthfully.  I don't want the usual drivel 
about 'pleasing your mistress'.  First, why did you want me to come 
tonight?"

She shivered slightly, even though she was still dressed, and the 
fireplace was nearby.

"I want you to want me."  She looked like she was going to continue, 
then stopped.

"Remember, I ordered you to answer.  I expect complete answers.  
Now continue."  

She started, then stopped, then started, then stopped, then finally 
spoke.  "I'm trying to convince you to go so we can be together 
afterwards, Mistress."  

That much I expected.  "Why?"  

She was a long time in answering, and when she did, I had to strain 
to hear her.  "Because I love you, Mistress."  

I sat there with my jaw hanging open again.  I had to go for 
a short walk, out to the kitchen and back, before I could gather 
together my wild thoughts.

"How long?"  There was no need to finish the question.  She'd know.  

"Four years, Mistress."  Ever since she'd first started working for 
me.  If I'd known!  All those lonely nights, the lost weekends, 
the endless boring dates, wading through the weirds and wackys 
trying to find someone nice, someone to share my life with, and 
having no luck whatsoever.  Now Belinda was there, right in front 
of me.  I didn't know anymore if she was strange or not, but I had 
worked with her for four years.  I thought she was a regular person.  
She was intelligent, witty, a lot of fun, and built just the way 
I liked.  If there was any way to design my perfect partner, she 
would have been my model.  Now she was my willing, and loving, 
slave.  The situation simply boggled my mind.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?"  

Her voice was low and pained.  "Before, I was too shy.  After I was 
chosen, I couldn't.  You weren't allowed.  Only now, if you go, can 
I be with you.  Mistress."

"Why?"

"I can't tell you, Mistress.  That's part of being chosen.  I can 
only give you this time, now, to show you what it's like, and what 
you mean to me.  I want to make you happy, to satisfy you in any 
way you want.  I am yours."

Well, that was enough for me.  I am, after all, only human.

"Stand up and strip."  As I'd thought, one string two buttons and 
one zipper later she was naked.  She was beautiful.  Full breasts, 
small, pink, very hard nipples, chest neatly tucking in to a slender 
waist which then flared out to a full set of hips, and firm thighs 
that neatly tapered down to beautiful calves, slender ankles, and 
perfect feet.  Central to all was a flat, firm stomach and a neat, 
carefully trimmed bush.  Beautiful.

I motioned her over to me and she came.  I explored her body 
completely with my eyes and hands.  She sighed, she whimpered, she 
moaned, but never did she do anything to hinder or stop me.  I even 
brought her off twice, sliding fingers into her vagina and rectum 
while rubbing her clit.  She seemed to love it.

Then I had her undress me.  I was steaming by the time I was naked, 
since she used her lips on every inch of skin as it was exposed.  
Everything she touched tingled.  I couldn't resist.  I had her give 
me a tongue bath.  By the time she was finished, I was whimpering 
with my need to cum.  When I finally made her play with my pussy, 
I came, and came, and came like crazy.  

My last order was simple.  "Pleasure me.  Pleasure me all night.  
Pleasure me until I can't take any more."  She did.  She taught 
me things about my body, ways of giving and receiving pleasure, that 
I'd never dreamed of.  It was around three in the morning when I 
collapsed for the last time.  Nothing she did after that could get 
me going again.  Nothing.  She was still sucking on my breast and 
sliding a finger in and out of my hole as I fell asleep.

I woke up to the very pleasant sensation of being eaten for 
breakfast.  After I finally peaked and came down again, I smelled 
breakfast.  Belinda had been up and cooking before I even woke up.  
While I had my breakfast - toast, ham, eggs, fruit, and juice - she 
had hers - me again.  I had two more wonderful orgasms before she 
finished.  

She pampered me in the shower, she pampered me after the shower.  
She gave me an hour-long massage.  After my nap, we kissed and 
cuddled.  Her body pressed up against mine felt so good - so soft, 
so sensual, so warm, and so responsive.  I treated her to dinner.  
Only by giving her a direct order would she act normally in public.  
I stayed the night again, despite the fact that her time of 
submission was over.  It seemed that her self-imposed limit came 
and went without notice, as that second morning went nearly the same 
as the first.

When I left for home that evening, I was more completely satiated 
than I had ever been before in my life.  

I think I said before that I'd never really enjoyed having a  
submissive as a partner.  Belinda was different.  She brought out 
something in me that I'd never felt before.  Telling her to do 
things, her following my orders, felt right.  It felt natural.  
Maybe it was because of the obvious pleasure she showed at obeying 
commands.  Maybe it was because of the way her eyes glowed whenever 
she looked at me.  Or maybe it was the way she whispered "I love 
you" when she thought I was still asleep.  Whatever.  Her ability 
to pleasure me certainly must have had something to do with my 
decision.  I just knew at that point in my life I wanted her more 
than anything else in the world.  I didn't care if the chosen 
business was a practical joke or not.  If it meant possibly being 
with Belinda permanently, I was going to give it a try.  I'd join 
that club or whatever it was.



A week later I was standing in a rather nondescript office in a 
rather nondescript part of town.  The receptionist looked rather 
nondescript too, as did everything else.

"Can I help you?"  She even had that higher than normal 
rather nasally voice most people find very irritating.  

"Er, ah, I hope so.  You see, I've been, ah, chosen?"  Nervousness. 
I felt like a complete fool, like an idiot.  But memories of that 
weekend at Belinda's made me come.  I had no choice, since I'd 
tasted heaven and wanted more.

"Name, please?"

"Virginia Eventide."

"Identification, please?"  Weird, but okay.  I showed her my 
drivers licence.

"Very good thank you.  You're right on time.  I'll take your 
purse.  Don't worry, you'll get it back later.  Nobody will play 
with it while you're busy.  Now follow me."

Feeling naked without my purse, combined with the other thoughts 
and emotions I was feeling, almost made me bolt.  Remembering 
Belinda, I forced myself to calm down and continue.  She opened a 
door for me, motioned me through, and closed it behind me.  That's 
when I noticed there was no handle on the other side.  In fact, 
there was no obvious exit from that room.  The door I came through 
had closed flush to the wall, and didn't open when pushed.  Neither 
did any of the other possible doors.

A voice, not the secretary's, but still female, came on over some 
sort of hidden speaker system.

"Congratulations Ms. Eventide.  You've been chosen, and you've 
accepted.  Please step through the door now opening to your left."

I tried to ask a question, but the voice said to be silent and do 
as I was told.  So I ended up in a smallish locker room.

"Please remove all your clothing and jewellery.  Everything.  Place 
them on the hooks and shelves provided.  They will be returned to 
you afterwards."  I did as I was told, feeling like an idiot.  I 
didn't seem to have much choice, since I was sealed in.  Besides, 
I had decided to go along, hadn't I.  If it turned out to be some 
sort of tasteless joke or whatever, I knew I'd make someone suffer 
badly.

I was instructed to return to the other room, and watched rather 
nervously as the door leading to my clothes sealed shut.  Another 
door opened and I was told to relieve myself, as I was not going 
to have that luxury for a while.  I did.  When I was back in the 
central room, that door slid shut and another one opened.  It lead 
to another small room.  That room turned out to be a short hallway, 
since yet another door opened at the far end.  

Half a dozen women, obviously waiting for me, stood in the next 
room.  I balked at being cuffed, but was soon 'persuaded' to accept 
the restraints.  They overpowered me, and a woman with a crop laced 
me a couple of times to "teach me to behave".  Her words.  After 
that came the ankle hobbles, the collar, and the gag.  I was lead 
off through another room full of busy office workers, both men and 
women, all dressed.  I was mortified, but none of them gave me more 
than a cursory glance.

We passed through there into what looked like a storage area where 
I was tied to a curious chair.  It was narrow, with a high back and 
adjustable arms.  They tied down my legs, removed the handcuffs and 
secured my arms, tied down my thighs and my waist, then tied in my 
upper chest and secured my head.  That's when they dragged me, and 
the chair of course, to the other side of the room.  

Panic set in when it became obvious they were going to seal me in 
a wooden crate, but by then it was far too late.  In I went and 
was prepared for shipping.  Heavy padding lined the box on both 
sides of me, further restricting my movements.  They bolted the 
chair to the crate's bottom, then used ropes to secure me and the 
chair to both the front and the back.  The padded lid was hammered 
into place, and I was off.

Regardless of my fears, the trip ended up being quite boring.  
Despite heavy handling, the secure tie down job and the padding 
kept me from being roughed up.  I do know I ended up on a plane, 
because the turbulence almost made me ill.  Doing that behind a 
gag, I knew, would have been trouble, so I fought it off.  My crate 
must have been in the cargo area because it got damned cold.  Being 
nude didn't help matters.  The flight lasted a long time.

After landing, there was more handling and moving, then the faint 
murmur of voices.  When I heard someone opening my crate, I was very 
much relieved.  Finally, I thought, I would be freed.  The chair I 
was tied to was unfastened from the crate, then it and I were lifted 
out and set on the floor - or rather the concrete.  I was outside, 
totally nude, in the middle of an airport.  There were several large 
planes, DC 10's, I think, and quite a number of smaller jets and 
prop jobs.  Because the sun was directly overhead, I figured that 
I had to be somewhere in the tropics.  The stifling heat and 
humidity made that almost a certainty.  I couldn't see anything 
other than buildings, planes, and a distant line of green, so there 
was no way to visually confirm my guess.  Somewhere behind me I 
heard a voice I recognized.

My chair, with me in it, was turned 180 degrees.  Directly in front 
of me, tied up in a similar chair, was my mother!  And standing 
behind her in a nice pant suit was Anna!  Behind them, another dozen 
women, of all ages, shapes, and looks, were also bound to chairs, 
and other women were hovering over them.  Then came my biggest 
surprise.  Belinda walked up to me.  She was dressed in a rather 
aggressive looking black leather outfit.  Bound and gagged as I was, 
I could only stare.  

"Perfect!  You're here!  Oh, we're going to have so much fun 
together, you and I.  But darling, you look so confused and 
upset.  What's the matter?"  She walked up to me, looking me square 
in the eye.  "Oh, I know, you don't understand, do you?  Well, let 
me explain.  You were chosen.  By me.  Just as I was chosen by 
someone else three years ago.  That someone else passed away not 
too long ago, but promoted me to being a free member before she 
died.  With my new status came the privilege of being able to 
choose.  All I had to do was convince you to take the first step.  
And I did."

She looked really smug, staring at me like that.  I glowered back, 
feeling completely confused and quite upset.

"Oh, now you're angry.  You think I lied to you or something.  As 
a matter of fact, I didn't.  I do love you.  But I want you to be 
mine, to be completely devoted to me and nobody else.  I showed you 
what it would be like that weekend in my place.  You just didn't ask 
which role you would be playing.  Now you know.  In two months 
you'll be mine.  I can hardly wait to get you home and between the 
sheets!"  

"You're wondering why your mother is here too, I bet.  She was 
given to Anna by her last mistress.  The woman wasn't happy with 
your mother's dedication.  Well, we asked about the phone call you 
made, of course, and she told us everything, just like she's trained 
to.  Now she's here for some disciplining.  You see, she wasn't 
supposed to warn you about anything.  It was supposed to be your own 
honest choice.  Not that it matters now."

She was stroking my hair, caressing me, and fondling my breasts 
the whole time she was speaking.  Just before leaving, she leaned 
over and kissed me on the forehead.  She repeated what she'd 
whispered back in the office, adding in a line that sent further 
shivers down my back.

"I've been waiting four years for you, my love.  Now you are my own 
chosen one."  Her touch thrilled and excited me.  Her laugh chilled 
me to the bone.


<Fin>