I sat down at my desk and turned on the computer. It had been a long fairly
warm day in late May. While waiting for the magic box to boot up I started
thinking back and wondering at how dull things have been around here
over the last few years. When my folks died I decided to move back to their
old farm in New Hampshire. I had lived in Vermont for a few years near some
friends who are into bondage. Slowly I wrote their story, but I never hoped
that I would find a woman-child like the one I had know in Vermont.
I knew it would be a lot of hard work bring the old place back, but I didn't mind. The biggest problem was I had was finding someone to share the chores with. Yep, it had been dull, but at the same time rewarding. I had crops growing in fields that had not been used in forty or fifty years. Now I just want someone to help and perhaps together we would do a few farmers markets.
Finally the computer was ready to go and I dialed into the server I used for my Internet connection. Checking my email brought a smile. A woman I'll call her Jill, whom I'd knew in real life, sent me an email. I opened it first.
In part it said; "Hi Tom; I've been writing this Dom and his sub," Jill knew I had a bondage kink. "He has been telling me that he and his new sub are not working out. He is looking for a home for her. I don't think she is in any danger, but they seem to having real problems. He is up in your neck of the woods. I hope you can make connections and help this poor woman. She is a friend from school."
Jill had included an email address, but didn't fill in some of the important details like the woman's name or age. I sat back for a few minutes and though about what I should do. "Oh, what the hell, nothing venture, nothing gained." I closed out my regular account and pulled up one of the "off the recorded" accounts I used and wrote to the address explaining that Jill had contacted me.
A few days later I received a reply and was very surprised that it had a photo attached. Not something I would have done, but I figured the guy must be desperate. Anyway the photos was of a woman in a rubber cat suit, hood, gag, cuffs, and heels. Not my style at all, if she was into this sort of thing I'd have to see if I could find someone else to help her. I turned to the letter.
Please find enclosed a photo of my new sub. We have been together a little over a month, but are having problems because I love her in the cat suit, but she hates it. She says, when I ungag her which isn't often, that she wants to be a barefoot nature girl and she didn't ask for rubber.
Well I'd like to find someone who will take her off my hands. She is drug and disease free, a non-smoker. I haven't made love with her—I was waiting until I had her better trained, but at this point I'm so pissed at her I don't want her.
He also included a general location of where he lived as a post script.
It was Thursday afternoon, so I wrote back with an offer to meet him and his
sub at a café I knew in his area Saturday morning. I also asked for
her measurements and sizes. He must have been online, because I had barely
finished reading my other email before his reply pop up on the screen with
a big yes on the meeting and her sizes.
Since I was my own boss, I took the rest of the day off, gassed up my new SUV and headed out to check the café. I wanted to have some idea of the lay out of the café and surrounding area. It was an old habit left over from my time in the military. I'd survived three years in Vietnam by always checking things out, carefully, very carefully.
The small town was on the west side of the Connecticut River. With a second, much smaller river running through the center of town. An old stone bridge once connected the two sides of town. However, twenty years ago the state said that the stone bridge could no longer be used, so a new concrete bridge had been built a few yards down stream. A committee had been put together to save the stone bridge and find a use for it. Today it is covered in flower beds, with a narrow path running down the center. I drove a cross the new bridge and turned right, just beyond the stone bridge was the café. I drove past it slowly. There wasn't any place for a hundred yards up the road to turn around. As I did turn around, I decided that I'd find a better way to get to the café. Parking across the street, I crossed and went in to see how it looked on the inside. It hadn't changed much. On my way out of town I noted the parallel parking on Main Street. Saturday, I would park here, just over the stone bridge and walk. That way if something was wrong I wouldn't be trapped on the narrow road in front of the café and I wouldn't have to cross the road to get to my rig.
Saturday dawned sunny and mild. A perfect late spring day. I left the house early for the nearly two hour drive. I wanted to be at the café at least thirty minutes before the appointed time. What was I afraid of? Cops! It was all to perfect. I kept wondering if it was some kind of set up—the woman wasn't really a woman, but a nice sweet 16 girl and her Dom really worked for the FBI or Mass. State Police. I really liked my life and didn't want to spend a few years in jail. I'm not into kids or the nasty stuff and I worried that I might be set up for something I would never do.
I sat on a bench on the end of the stone bridge, my hat pulled down over my eyes, watching the few people and fewer cars. I was dressed and looked like a local farmer. The town was sleepy this morning. It was 8:30 am and we were to meet at 9. At five of 9 I went into the café. I couldn't see any cars in the area with people just sitting in them, no curtains had moved in the building across the street. In short nothing seemed out of the ordinary or perhaps I should say, noting seemed artificially ordinary. My spotter (I had been a sniper) once told our commanding officer that I could spot something wrong at half a mile on a dark night. I hoped this was still true.
I order a cup of coffee and sat at the rear of the dinning room. I had told Bill I'd be wearing a red ball cap with the name of a feed company on it. Right now it was on the chair beside me. At five after 9 a couple walked in. He was about five six, middle aged, and not in very good shape—certainly not a FBI type unless he was in deep cover and even then I could not imagine an agent letting himself go this badly. She was a looker, at five eight, a taller Bo Derek—the same high cheek bones. In fact she could have been her sister. She was dressed in a denim skirt that fell half way to her knees; a white long sleeve blouse covered her medium size, but shapely breasts; and 6 inch heels. Her hair was a honey blond that only a natural blond can have. She was carrying a small purse and a back pack. All in all a very nice package and if she was a day under 25 I'd eat my hat.
Deciding to play the game I picked up my ball cap from the chair beside me and put it on. Bill quickly spotted my hat and led her over to where I was sitting. I stood as they approached. He stuck out his hand and we shook hands. His hand was damp and I knew he was more then a bit nervous.
"Tom? I'm Bill and this is Jo." I let him speak first.
"Hi, please sit down." Jo first looked at him and then me. Hers eyes were amazing! The only eyes I'd ever seen like hers were owned by a girl on the cover of National Geographic! She waited until he had seated himself before she pulled out a chair and slowly sat down. I suspected she was waiting for Bill to say something, but he ignored her. Finally she sat, dropped her eyes to the table in front of her, hunched her shoulders and waited.
The waitress came over and Bill ordered coffee. Jo still had not said a word.
"Jo?" I asked. Rapidly she glanced up at me. Then softly in a gentle, delightfully musical voice;
"Yes, Sir." The waitress gave her a hard glance.
"What do you want?"
"Nothing, thank you. Sir."
After giving me and Bill a hard once over, which I didn't like, she left.
"Do you want her?" Bill didn't mince words. I felt he was almost ready to jump up and run out.
"Jo? Do you want to leave Bill?" I asked. Bill glanced back and forth between us.
A very soft "Yes," floated across the table. At least she hadn't said sir again.
Are you wearing or do you have anything that belongs to Bill?
"Yes, everything I'm wearing, but the back pack is mine."
"O.K. Take this bag." I pulled a plastic shopping bag from under the chair next to mine and handed it to her. Go to the ladies room. Change into this clothing and put everything you are wearing, including your shoes, into the bag. Then come back here." She got up and left.
"So, Bill, tell me about her."
"We met at a party about a year ago. Jo is from New York and I was down visiting some friends. The party was on the kinky side, but not really a scene. Over the next year we chatted on the net. Finally we decided to give a 24/7 relationship a try. I've wanted to do one for a long time. To make a long story short I went to New York and picked her up. I made her put on the cat suit I sent you the picture of. She wasn't happy, but went along with it. The only things she brought with her were her bag with drivers license, a few personal thing, and the back pack with bondage things. Almost as soon as we got home she started complaining about the suit. We had talked about rubber, but I guess I didn't make it clear that I wanted her dressed that way all the time. The last few weeks have been hell."
"Well hopefully this will be the end of it." I couldn't believe that she had agreed to hook up with him. But she may have been desperate, even if I didn't know why yet.
Jo came back wearing the long skirt and halter style top I'd given her. She was bare foot, I hadn't brought her any shoes. Carefully she placed the bag next to Bill's chair, then went around him to sit in the chair she had been sitting.
"Jo?" She looked up at me with those incredible eyes. I caught a faint smile hidden behind those eyes. "Please show me you drivers license."
I figured her for at least twenty-five, but wanted to be sure. Without any hesitation she dug around in her hand bag and pulled out a wallet. From the wallet she produced a New York state license and handed it across the table. Taking it from her I read it. I had guessed twenty-five—she was twenty-nine. Better then I'd dare hope. Her full name was Joanna Tompkins.
"Thank you." I handed it back to her.
"You two all set?" Bill asked. He never even looked at her.
"Yes, I think so." I said as I watched Jo. Bill downed the last of his coffee in a gulp, got up, picked up the plastic bag and hustled out the door.
Jo looked up at me, then glanced around to see if he was truly gone. For the first time she really smiled. I couldn't believe how truly beautiful she was.
I didn't say anything for a few minutes. Instead I watched as Bill walked across the street and jumped into a nearly new sport sedan. He didn't peel rubber, but he didn't waste anytime leaving town.
When I glanced back at Jo, she was watching me.
"Are you ready to go," I asked her. I watched as a look of confusion crossed her face, then she brightened as she nodded her head yes. I got the impression that she had not been asked her opinion for sometime. We stood and she picked up her two bags. I pulled out my wallet and picked up the tab.
Outside, I led her across the bridge to my SUV. Unlocking it I held the back door as Jo put the bag on the floor. Then I held the passenger's door as she got in. None of the few early morning strollers on Main Street seemed to pay much attention to the beautiful woman.
About ten miles out of town I found a mall parking lot I had noted earlier. Pulling in I found an open spot where I could watch both the entrance and Jo at the same time. No one had followed us out of town and I began to relax a bit. Jo looked around and seemed a somewhat confused.
"Ok, now we can talk." I began, she looked at me sharply. "Tell me how you ended up with Bill."
She looked around for a few seconds, then cleared her throat softly and looked at the floor.
"I met a guy in college and he was very nice. We got married as soon as we graduated." She looked at me, seeking reassurance that I wanted to hear her story. I nodded yes while glancing around. "Everything was OK for the first few years. But we kept trying to have a family and nothing worked. Finally we got checked out and they found I had several cysts on my ovaries." Jo paused for a few seconds then went on. "The doctors were afraid they might be cancer so they removed both ovaries. Jack, my husband, didn't seem to mind at first, but it seemed to eat at him and we began to drift apart."
Once again she glanced up to see how I was taking this news. I just smiled at her and she went on.
"I guess I've always been a bit kinky. When I was a kid we visited my mothers family out in Washington State. I have four cousins, two boys and two girls, we were always playing cowboys and Indians. I always wanted to be an Indian so I could go barefoot and get tied up. I didn't know then what all that meant, but I really liked the feeling." She smiled. "I remember one time when the boys—Sean and Teddy were away at camp I got, Dolly and Ruth, to pretended I so bad they had to take my dress off before they tied me to a tree. Of course I wasn't wearing anything under it and they got a real kick tying their nude cousin to the tree. I was about fourteen at the time and it turned me on so much that I had my first orgasm." Jo stopped as I reached between the seats and found my bag on the rear floor. I pulled out an unopened bottle of water and handed it to her.
"Thanks." She took a drink and went on. "As the marriage began to come apart I began to look around for an outlet for my sexual energy. An old friend, you know Jill, from school invited me to a party. It wasn't really a scene party, if you know what I mean, but just a party where some of the guest wore handcuffs and the like. I met Bill there and he seemed really nice. Shortly after that we began to email each other. Jack and I divorced, he moved out west. My job was hectic and I didn't think about much of anything—like finding a boy friend or getting into the bondage scene for a while. Bill began to push me a bit—like asking me to tie myself up. That's when I started to buy all the stuff in the bag. It was fun for a while, but I wanted more. One day my boss got busted for doing crack. He held most of the stock in the company and the place went bust. I spent six weeks looking for a job, but when people found out who I had worked for they didn't want to talk anymore. Bill had been trying to get me to move in with him. Faced with bills and no job I figured what the hell, I'd give it a try." She took another pull on the bottle.
"So, he picked me up in the middle of the night. As we had agreed I had tossed out all of my clothes—really," Jo looked at me to gauge my reaction. I didn't think I'd need them anymore, I was moving out into the country and Bill had promised me I could be a barefoot nature girl—just what I wanted. Anyway he showed with the cat suit, heels, cuffs and a gag. I know it was stupid, but I wanted so much to belong—I guess? Do you understand?"
"Yes, it was pretty dumb." I agreed, wondering where this would leave us.
Jo hung her head, "Yeah, I know that. Anyway when ever he would take out the gag I would bug him. After a week it started to get on his nerves. I'll give him credit, he didn't hurt me, but he sure wanted to get rid of me. He emailed Jill and here we are."
"Now, let me make sure I've got this clear." Jo looked at me waiting for me to continue. "The only person you've had intercourse with for the last eight years is your former husband? And you can no longer have kids?
"Yes. I have a doctors report, which I got for Bill, that states that I'm," She paused and shuddered for a second, "sterile as well as drug and disease free."
"OK, you can show that to me later. When you say "barefoot nature girl" what do you mean?"
Jo stared out the windshield for several seconds. "I want to live in the country—on a farm and I want to be nude and barefoot all the time--and in some form of bondage." It all came out in a rush. She turned in her seat and looked at me, "There is a story on the net about a woman named Bree. She lives on a farm in Vermont, she's always nude and in—ah—I think the author calls it crisscross chains? Her hands are connected behind her back with cuffs and chains that run through a ring on her chain belt to her ankles. That sounds really neat. It is on a web page I found a while back." She study the smile on my face, then said, "You look like you have read it."
"Yes, I've read it, in fact I wrote it." If I had told her there was a rattle snake under her seat I don't think I could have gotten a bigger reaction. Her smiled melted my heart and I knew I would do anything to keep this woman. "I don't have much to offer, but if you want to try a real life Bree story, I'd love to have you."
"No cat suits, water sports, kids or scat?"
"No, just a lot of bondage." I replied.
"OK. I'd like to give it a try."
"Are you sure, after what happened with Bill?"
"Jill wrote us and told us all about what a nice guy you are. Bill let me read the email. All my dreams have been based on the Bree stories since I first read them, so if that is what you are offering, count me in. After the last few weeks I don't have much to lose."
I started the truck and we headed north, toward home.