I toss back the last of my beer, pull the buds from my ears, set the iPod on the table. I glance at Amy. She’s reading her Kindle and has a nearly full glass of wine. Drew is asleep in the lounge chair. The twins are playing in a pile of dirt. I push myself out of my chair, head onto the porch, crush the beer can, and drop it into the recycle bin. ...
Both she and Lisa were down to their panties. She knew Norm was stringing Drew along. He never played his A game with Drew. In fact, he said it was a pleasant challenge to lose convincingly. Not that he lost much. He usually beat Drew two out of three. Threw him the occasional bone as it were. But Drew was throwing well. Throwing better than she’d ever seen him throw. Still, Norm kept on him. Almost matching him point for point. Almost. He’d let him open up a decent lead. ...
(story continues from Drew’s Gift) Part 2: Drew’s Second Gift Amy never saw it coming. Master had ordered her to strip and put on her black corset, stockings, and black high heels. He tied her wrists, grabbed the small toy bag, and led her downstairs. When she reached the last step he stopped her. He pulled a length of rope from the bag and went back up. There’s a decorative iron railing around the stairwell. He tied off the rope, let the end dangle. ...
Amy gave the ribs a stir, put the lid back on the crock pot, and checked her apron. There were no spots., which was a good thing since the apron was for decoration, not effectiveness. She put the finishing touches to the crab dip, gave it a stir and a taste, nodded. She set the bowl on the tray and headed into the den. “How’s it coming?” “Almost done, Sir.” ...
Prologue I don’t have a lot of rules. I don’t micromanage Amy. As my slave, her job is to anticipate my needs and desires and see that they are met. And I’m a low-maintenance Master. Providing for me isn’t all that taxing. As I said, I don’t have a lot of rules, but one of them is the ten o’clock rule. Given her druthers, Amy would stay up half the night with a glass of wine and a book. But now, at ten, Amy gets ready for bed and presents herself to be cuffed and collared, naked, of course. I lock the collar around her neck and the cuffs to her wrists and ankles. I lock her wrists together and take her into the bedroom where I lock her collar to the bed chain. And that’s how she spends the night. That’s how she’s spent every night for the last fifteen years. That’s how long Amy has been my collared slave. All told we’ve been together twenty years ...
Amy knew. The instant she saw Drew’s car in the driveway she knew. In a few minutes she’d be on display, nearly naked for her ex-boyfriend. Drew wasn’t her official boyfriend. Her real boyfriend went to military school and she only saw him on holidays. Drew was a classmate and neighbor. They were in the same grade, belonged to the same clubs, were a couple, of sorts, at games and dances. They were friends mostly, almost like cousins, although, truth be told, kissing cousins. She had let him get to second base and he seemed happy there. A bit of kissing, a bit of fondling under her sweater seemed to satisfy him. ...