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“I know they are,” Sandra said. “I’m not like myself, but you know,” she beamed impishly, “I rather like it.”
“Of course it’s not like home,” Laney tried to be reasonable, “but you’re all getting way too bizarre for me. I think I’ll go for a walk.”
“Laney, eat your lunch,” Erik countered her.
“I’d rather walk.”
“No,” he answered calmly. “You’ll sit and eat your lunch, then we’ll both walk.”
She pouted as she munched her way through her ham and cheese, and downed a beer. When she was finished, she sat back dolefully while the others chattered on. Then finally, tired of her sullen attitude, Erik pulled his wife to her feet and guided her to the front door.
“It’s raining,” she said.
“I thought you wanted to walk? The fresh air will do you good.” He turned to his friends. “In fact, I think we all need a little exercise.”
There was no more than a drizzle falling as the six hiked the island in separate directions. There was little to explore, not much beach, and while the house was surrounded by a paradise of steamy tropical foliage, the opposite end of the island was barren rock. Seeing all there was to see in an hour’s time, they headed back to the old estate, feeling much revived by their outing. And for Laney, her dour spirit seemed to lift. They played rummy, a game of scrabble, and began to piece together an old jigsaw puzzle when they finally broke for dinner. Then, the men seemed to scatter again, while Laney, Sandra and Elise headed toward the kitchen.
***
Thoughts of spells and sex and Christian Barth’s wicked book did not arise again until much later that night. When the old wind-up clock on the mantle chimed ten, it seemed to toll another consciousness, one that walks in with the wind, where beer, games and simple small talk have no power to turn it back. Another passion pressed their spirits—one so remarkably devious that it was on them before anyone realized what was happening.
Matthew and Elise were lounging on a thick rug, pillows behind Matt’s head, Elise using her husband’s tummy to rest hers. Jason sat on a stool a few feet off massaging Sandra’s shoulders while she sat on the floor in front of him. Laney had one couch to herself, stretched out like a lazy cat, and Erik, who’d tended the fire and otherwise puttered about the room, finally stopped before the hearth and lit a stick of old incense, letting the smoke catch the current of air and cover the room with a soft grey fog.
“Why don’t you read some more from Barth’s book?” Matthew asked him.
“Shall I?” He didn’t consider the request for long finding the book conveniently placed on the mantle next to the clock. Settling into an easy chair, he opened the cover.
Even Laney seemed ready to hear more of the startling narrative. Outside, they heard the wind rage. There was no rain now, but drafts in the old house set the candles flickering, sometimes too fast to seem reasonable. Inside their living room retreat, the charged air seemed about to explode—as though the six had spent too many hours ignoring what was becoming more obvious to them all. There was a spell working in their midst—though it wasn’t clear if this was self-imposed, or, as Matthew suggested earlier, had been cast by their enigmatic host.
Now inside the cloud of incense, Jason’s eyes seemed to take on the same dark glow that had gripped Erik’s. And the excitable Matthew appeared focused and quite certain of something—strangely calm. The three women were subdued, though their calm only masked an enormous hunger churning in their bellies.
“The Subjugation Of The Ego,” Erik began. “Chapter Two… To refer to a slave without name is essential. Names may well be useful after the submissive has learned their craft; bu
t for the initiate, it is necessary to treat them in ways that remove the normal customs of humanity from their consciousness. Remaining nameless is a first step. A slave will learn watchfulness immediately, so that simple eye contact will communicate the master’s message, leaving words unnecessary. A good slave will respond to simple commands when referred to simply as ‘slave.’
“In addition, the slave collar is essential in the dehumanizing process. The device should be snug, affixed about the neck tightly, though not enough to bind. It should remain in place at all times—being a substantial reminder to your slave of their subservient nature. Collars are also useful for leashing and other means of bondage.
“Raw livestock should remain naked for everyday activity. They do not eat at tables, sit in chairs or on sofas, sleep in beds, and should be tethered when walked or ordered to crawl on all fours. It is only proper that they remain at the feet of their masters, or humbly waiting in corners during meals, where, if their master is so moved, they are fed by hand, or given scraps from his plate when his meal is finished. In the same way, if it pleases the master to keep their slave at their side, they will sit at his feet, and at night sleep with only the very necessary bedding on the floor. A slave’s comfort is never a matter of consideration in the early stages of training. And to allow any sort of simple luxury would be detrimental at this juncture. Every measure taken with initiate livestock should emphasize their degraded status.”
Erik looked to the audience, and seeing their rapt attention was about to continue until his eyes fell on Jason.
“I read ahead in the book,” he said rather quietly and quite unlike the boisterous man.
“So you’ve read this chapter?”
“The gist of it. Then I did a little exploring…in the cellar…” his voice trailed off, though his message got the attention of everyone in the room. All eyes focused on Jason’s muscled body and the aura of strength that seemed to wrap him with an air of authority. Even Sandra seemed more alert—though she couldn’t see the impact of her boyfriend’s physical presence, she could feel it through his hands. With eyes gleaming from his newfound source of command, Jason ran one hand down Sandra’s neck, continuing to her chest where he pressed his palm across one breast and squeezed. She quaked, shyly grinning as a tingle of delight flooded through her.
Then with Jason smiling deviously, he reached to his side, and pulled out a fat leather collar, which he placed around his fiancée’s neck.
“Ooh!” she jumped slightly, her hand going immediately to her throat to feel the smooth surface of the piece. She let out a gentle sigh.
“Turn around, slave,” Jason ordered her.
Elise was sitting up now, Matthew as well, tucked in behind his wife, the two glaring with desire at the demonstration before them.
“Take of your clothes,” Jason ordered.
The nervous Sandra stared into her boyfriend’s eyes with hers wet and gleaming. Then, as if in a trance, her hands went for the buttons on her tee shirt, slowing opening each one like a dutiful slave until the thin knit fell off her shoulders with one simple shrug. She giggled childishly and bowed her head; which put a scowl on Jason’s face. He reached for her chin and drew it high so she couldn’t hide.
