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The stewardess gave Linda a questioning look when Lady P told her Lindadid not need anything to drink but did require a blanket. Afterreturning with the blanket and a wine for Lady P, the stewardess noticedthe wrist adornments and with a knowing wink at Linda, spun with apracticed flair and continued her service duties. The purpose of theblanket became apparent when Lady P took another lock and secured thecuffs together before pulling the blanket over them. Fortunately forLinda the flight was relatively short as she was unsure if she would havebeen released to use the restroom.Linda's arrival at the ship did not garner the attention she thought itwould as she was not the only slave who strode up the gangplank withhands locked behind them. Likewise, her ball gagged mouth (with thepanties behind) raised no eyebrows. Her accomplished gait and her heightdid draw the attention of some jealous slaves and lecherous masters.Also noting the arrival of this beautiful slave was a tall. Aunt Rita opened her eyes, and gasped as she saw my masked face. She tried to get up, but I pushed the tip of the prod further into her left breast, and she whimpered.?Stay still!? I commanded. The deep hiss of my voice had its effect on her too, just like all the other women.?Do you know who I am?? I asked.She was gasping, and trying to swallow. I pushed the tip of the prod a bit more into her bosom. She moaned.?Yes?yes, I know. God! You’re Jack the Whipper!?I chuckled inside. The women would from now refer to me by this name, I thought. Jack the Whipper. Did have a ring to it!I moved the tip of the prod over her breast, gently stroking it, and then ran it over her neck, touching it below her trembling double chin.?Did you watch the news tonight?? I asked.?Y-yes, I did.? She stammered. ?Then I’m sure you know what I’ll do to you if you try anything silly. Hmm?? I thrust the tip into the soft, moist skin of her double chin. She grunted.?Yes. I know. Please, please don’t. Don’t hurt.
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” She reached down and pinged a fingernail against the aluminum pylon that was now one of her legs. They were sitting at her kitchen island drinking tea. There was a small, pink bakery box with a couple cranberry-orange scones that Callie’d brought from a bakery she said was her favorite, but neither woman was eating. The therapist cocked her head slightly to one side: tell me more.“You’re probably going to think I’m crazy, but I feel like a caretaker for this. Like it’s my charge. Someone abandoned it here and I had no choice but to take it in, and now I’m responsible for caring for it. It can’t do anything on its own. Without me it just sits there. I open my eyes in the morning and it’s leaning against the chair by my bed and I imagine it feeling sad and lonely and just wishing that I would wake up already.”“You’re right,” said Callie. “You are crazy. Come on, eat a scone. They’re feeling sad and lonely too.” Her vibrating cell phone woke her. What time was it? The morning was.

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