A.M. Wyckid's Erotic Word-Forge

The warehouse door banged into the wall as I stepped out into dusky near-night in the Akkadian Warzone. I heard the dogs scatter, and something skittered to the ground in the narrow street. I draped my olive-drab trench-coat over my Kevlar body armor and walked out to see what it was.

A fixed blade knife, I thought, picking it up and thumbing the edge. It was well-worn and badly maintained, but still a deadly weapon. I stabbed it into a near-by telephone pole, left it, and made a rapid ascent to the roof-top across from my place.

When I looked down from twenty feet up, the dog who owned the knife was already prying it out of the pole. He glanced up, right into my eyes and froze in fear.

These Akkadian dogs were different from their L.A. cousins. Another sub-species perhaps. Their packs were smaller, three to five instead of the fifteen to twenty I was used to. They were more likely to be nomadic rather than having fixed dens. Less sophisticated in their technology; more disorganized; less healthy but often more vicious.

The dog broke eye contact and ran. I followed, leaping to the rooftop across the street. He glanced up occasionally to see if I was still on his tail. It was good practice, though I had no intention of actually running him to ground.

I'd spent a few weeks learning the territory, trying to get a handle on the ecosystem, who the players were and what niches they filled. My arrival had disturbed the animals, and it had taken this long for things to settle down again.

Eventually, he crossed a wider street, one I couldn't safely cross from the roof-tops. I let him go rather than descend to the ground. He looked back from half a block away and saw me watching from my high perch. He stopped, turned, gave me the finger. I smiled.

I returned to Akkadia, a year later than planned, and found my old home city unchanged. It had a thriving tech sector that, directly or indirectly, employed a great many of the residents, but, unlike many other places, the local government had not pimped the city out to get the firms there. The firms came on their own because it was a great place to live. Maybe someone finally understood the simple truth that, in order for business to make money, people had to spend money, and in order for people to spend money, they had to make money. It seems rather obvious, but it had rarely been done. Since the city hadn't given away the tax dollars of the residents in order to bribe companies to come there, the money got spent on other things. Non-essentials like roads, flood-control, hospitals, schools, libraries, museums, in other words, fluff.

But like any other large city, it had its dark side, maybe a darker side than most cities. There were rolling sectors of decay where bad elements could take up temporary residence until they came to the notice of the authorities and were rooted out. Then urban renewal would rebuild the scabbed area, and the dark elements would roost elsewhere. It was an endless cycle, like the seasons — immutable, but never exactly the same.

Naturally, I was drawn to one of these areas. It was a place where you knew exactly where you stood. Where the strong preyed on the weak, and the weak preyed on who ever they could, but mostly the weak just prayed.

The ronin were different from the usual Zone dwellers. These were entrepreneur criminals, a sort of mockery of the middle class. They existed less on strength and more on brains. I knew them. I'd run with — and against — their kind in L.A. The band of ronin I employed found the warehouse for me. It was just across from the place where they squatted. Based on square footage, the warehouse came cheap. After I was done with it and before the heavy hand of government purged us out of that sector, it would probably be transformed into a meth-lab. The warehouse was close to a freeway entrance and was therefore close to everything else that was close to the freeway which was everything.

Many of the residents of that part of the city had cars, but nothing nice. Nice got turned into trashed in a big hurry there, unless you had somewhere safe to keep it. That was the beauty of my building: it had a big bay door that could be fitted with an opener, and the space inside could hold several cars if necessary.

The previous occupant had bricked over all the ground floor windows, making the place about as secure as you could get in the Warzone. I'd replaced the old furnace with a high end heat-pump that provided cooling as well as heating. The existing water heater would be good enough, unless I stayed for more than five years.

In the far back corner, behind the mechanicals, I'd had the Hole built. It was as identical to Thomas's as I could manage, down to the tiny entry room. The mortar on the cinder-brick walls hadn't cured yet, but it would be ready in a few days if I needed it.

Upstairs was a large warehouse, and I set up my living space next to the larger of the two bathrooms. It had a large gang shower with four heads, four urinals, and two toilet stalls. The smaller bathroom on the other end had probably been the ladies, but the plumbing on that end of the building was hopeless.

All I needed was a place to stash one or more cars, keep the rain off my head, and give me time to think and plan. I wasn't worried that the space wouldn't be up to Antonia's standards. If I ever brought her there, it would be for her to die. No one would hear her screams through the thick brick walls, and if they did, they wouldn't care — there were screams in that part of the city every night.

A three-strong dog pack was harrying a twenty-something blond who was obviously lost. Just being in this neighborhood at this late hour was a hazard for anyone, but her attire was too up-scale for this place. Maybe she was a hooker who had taken a wrong turn after a trick or who'd been dumped here as a punishment. Possibly just some young thing who'd had car trouble and got off the freeway in exactly the wrong place. It was her yelps of fright and pain that attracted my attention.

They dragged her into the alley between my building and the next one over. No doubt, they intended to do to her what you did to inadequately protected prey that wandered into the free-fire zone. I should have let it go, but I hadn't talked to another human being in weeks, and I was afraid I was losing the touch. My ronin don't count. Their conversational skills leave much to be desired. Adjectives and adverbs mostly, they were okay on nouns, verbs, and even the occasional conjunction. Obviously, the dogs wouldn't be any help in the conversation department, but the blond might be.

Besides, what the hell is she doing here anyway? I thought. It will probably be a good story, at least.

Silently, I entered the alley where they'd taken her and stopped. I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt off my head and listened. I heard sounds, her squeals of fright and pain; of fabric tearing; of fist on flesh. I approached and saw that she was on the ground and heard some kind of argument in progress.

"Fuck no, Marny. Twenty minutes is too long."

"But you guys always get your cocks sucked and I get diddly," a girl's voice.

"Please," the victim said. "Don't hurt me!"

Why do they always say that? It's like catnip to a cat here. It makes me want to hurt her. On the other hand, it's not in humans to just lay down and die; begging might be all she has to do for herself.

"I'm gonna sit on your face, and you're gonna lick me till I come," Marny said.

"Please no," she moaned. "I'm not gay."

Like she cares if you are gay or not, I thought. Probably more exciting if you're not.

"Marny, I said no!" Freddy yelled.

"Fuck off, Freddy. I saw her first, so she's mine," Marny said. "Go find yr'own or wait till I'm through with her."

I took a couple of steps forward, and my boot crunched in the debris littering the ally floor. All four of them looked in my direction — three rapist dogs and one very scared rape victim.

"What do you want, old man?" Freddy barked.

My shabby, surplus, olive-drab overcoat probably made me look a little bit like a wino. I was crouched and that made me look smaller in the gloom.

"Just knife this relic so we can get back to business," the unnamed dog suggested.

Click!

The sound of a switch-blade is only scary if you're not expecting it. I was expecting it — actually hoping for it. The sound of the hammer being drawn back on a pistol is a lot scarier — even if you are wearing Kevlar.

Freddy rushed at me, roaring his battle cry. I side-stepped at the last moment, caught his shoulder and wrist, twisting them to bend him forward, and redirected him — head-first — into the brick wall of my building. The sound of his skull cracking was sickeningly loud. Freddy left a trail of brains and blood as he slid down the bricks.

The unnamed dog was already swinging a board at my head. I jumped back out of the way, drawing the steel baton from the waistband of my pants. I flicked my wrist, and the steel sections locked into place with a sharp double snap as the two extensions came to full length. I ducked under his next swing and rapped him hard on the knee as he went by.

"Fuck," he yelled and hobbled on and out of the alley, probably feeling lucky to be getting out alive after what happened to Freddy.

Marny's switch blade clicked open. As she scrabbled to get behind the woman on the ground, her long black braid swung free from under her dislodged hat.

"Stay back, man, or I'll slash this bitch up good," Marny yelled, pulling the woman up as a human shield, knife against her throat.

"Go — ahem," my voice was not working yet. "Ahem. Go ahead and cut her," I said softly. "Threatening her only works if I give a fuck about her, which I don't."

"Stay back," Marny yelled.

"I just wanted the little piece for myself before you three got her all dirty," my voice has now fully warmed up and as cold as I could make it. "You would do just as well. So cut her if you want. We can watch her die together. Call it foreplay, and then I'll take you and fuck you until you scream. Or … you could just give her to me and save yourself."

Marny thought it over.

"No man. You take her. I don wan her."

There was something false in her voice, so when she shoved the woman toward me, I was already moving. The human shield collided with my leg, and she tripped, going down on her hands and knees.

"Fer Freddy, you prick!" Marny screamed, slashing at me.

I parried the knife out of her hand with the baton and my palm-heel strike took her under the jaw, snapping her head back. Marny collapsed into an unconscious heap on the ground.

"D-don't hurt me," the woman said when I turned to her.

Fuck. I wish you would stop saying that, I thought.

"I'm not going to," I said, crouching down next to her.

"You're not? But you said you'd …"

"Just lending confusion to the enemy," I said with a grin that faded as I thought I caught a glimpse of … then it was gone again. I shook the feeling off and got back to the moment. Her clothes were hopelessly shredded and the pale flesh of her small breasts glowed in the dim light. Her panties were nowhere to be found, but I did find her purse and handed it to her.

"We better get you inside," I said, settling my coat around her shoulders. "You'll never get out of here intact the way you are. My place is here," I said patting the brick wall that made up one side of my building. "I'm Darius. What's your name?"

"I'm Amie," she said. "What about Marny?"

"The dogs will likely eat her."

"Real wild dogs?"

"No. Dogs like them — like her. They have no problem eating their own."

"Could we … take her with us?" she asked hesitantly.

"Look what followed me home, Mom," I laughed with my voice pitched high. "Can we keep her?"

I lowered my voice and continued. "You will have to walk her, feed her, and clean up her mess. It's a big responsibility."

Back to high voice, "I'll do it all, Mom. Really I will."

My laughter was bordering on the insane. Too much time pretending to be insane as camouflage had left its mark on me. I stood up, reached a hand down to Amie, and helped her up. "This way," I said.

"What's going to happen to her?" Amie asked.

"Probably just rape, unless someone fancies her for a snuff film," I said.

"Bring her, too, please."

The way she said `please` made me think that Amie was someone who was accustomed to getting what she wanted.

"Are you sure?" I said. "Remember she's a vicious dog. You're not safe around her."

"Yes, I'm sure."

I got Marny's one-twenty over my shoulder in a fireman's carry.

"Uugh," I said. "She stinks! You get to bathe her."

I lugged Marny inside and up the stairs, Amie following. I sliced the dog's rancid clothing off with my blade just inside the inner door, as far away from my living area as I could. Under her filthy jeans, coat and shirt, she was average height, and her young, too-thin body was a mass of whip-cord muscle. Her black hair was surprisingly long, thick, and healthy.

Clean her up and add some body fat and she'd be lickable, I thought.

For now, duct tape was the only thing I had to secure her with. I strapped her wrists behind her back and made a tape hobble for her ankles.

"There's soap and shampoo over there and towels on the shelf," I said, depositing her on the tile floor of the shower. "Let me know when you have her cleaned up, and I'll carry her out."

"You're really serious. I have to wash her?"

"I'm always serious," I said, glowering at her. "You said bring her. So you wash her. Or I'll drop her back in the street and let nature take it's course."

With a sigh she turned to the task.

Amie, too, was average height, but with blond hair that fell to her shoulders. She was well nourished and had twenty pounds or so on her charge, making her curvier in a really sexy way.

I left her to it and went to my make-shift kitchen. Automatically, I put coffee and water in the coffee maker while thinking about Amie.

My Master, Thomas, taught me that if you interfere in someone's fate, they become your responsibility — you own them. I interfered in Amie's fate and took responsibility for her. She interfered in Marny's fate and didn't seem to see what that meant. I didn't see the Dragon-spark in Amie, but there was something in her. Otherwise, I'd have simply escorted her out of the Warzone, chatting her up on the way.

My stomach growled. I hadn't eaten all day. So I checked to see what there was to eat. I always buy extra when I get Chinese so there was some of that left. Other than that, just bread and peanut butter. I put the Chinese in the microwave and returned to the bathroom to get a better look at Amie.

"Where am I? What are you gonna do to me?" I heard Marny ask. Her back was to me, and I'd come up quietly.

Now I was sure there was no trace of the Dragon-spark in Amie, but still, there was something. She's not a potential Dragon, but it may be useful to find out what this other thing is, I thought.

"You're at Darius's," Amie said. "You were filthy and needed a bath."

"Who's Darius?"

"Me," I said. She jerked around at the sound of my voice. "Remember. The guy you tried to knife."

"You fucking killed Freddy!"

"He had it coming," I said evenly, leaning on the door-frame.

Amie was rinsing out Marny's hair.

"Whatcha gonna do to me?" Marny asked me.

"Ask her," I said, pointing at Amie with my chin. "Leave you for the dogs was my plan, but she has other ideas."

"We'll get you cleaned up. Get you some clothes, and then you can go home," Amie said.

"I don't have a home!" Marny cried. "Without Freddy to take care of me, I'll probably be dead by tomorrow. Unless … I go to Ellis, but he'll turn me out."

I'd heard of Ellis. He was one the Zone's handful of pimps. Not too bad as heartless users of women go, but you wouldn't want your daughter or sister to date him.

"She's probably right," I said. "This is not a place where a woman can exist on her own unless she's armed, and she'd still need someone to watch her back."

"Then she'll have to stay here," Amie said.

"And who's going to watch my back?" I said with a smile.

"You've got to promise not to hurt Darius," Amie said, "then you can stay here."

"Yeah. Like you can trust a dog's promise. You should take her home with you. You must have a spare closet you can keep her in."

"I can't," she cried.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because … because … I'm afraid of her," she said.

"And you should be," I said. "She was going to rape you. Remember?"

"I know," Amie said. "She's just a girl. You can't just let her die. Where's your humanity?"

"Not a member of that club anymore, so I can too let her die," I said softly.

"What?" she asked.

"I'm not a human, so I have no humanity."

"If you're not human, then what are you?" she asked.

"Too complicated to explain," I said and walked out.

A few minutes later, Amie came up behind me and touched me on the shoulder. "What's the matter? Did I say something wrong?"

I turned and saw her bare breasts, curvy hips and blond patch of pubic hair. There was an unwanted tingle and stir between my legs.

"Look," I said, "you're not safe here." Maybe from me as well as Marny. "I'll find you some clothes, we'll have a bite to eat, and then I'll take you home."

"Okay," she said. "But you'll let Marny stay here?"

"She belongs to you," I said. "Are you giving her to me?"

"What do you mean? She belongs to me?" she said.

I explained the theory to her.

"Are you giving her to me?" I asked again.

She hesitated, then nodded.

"Very well," I said. "But it's going to be done my way."

I found some old sweats for Amie to wear. They didn't go with her white pumps at all, but it's an imperfect world.

We sat along the edge of my queen mattress — me between Amie and Marny — and ate the left-over Chinese. I'd moved Marny's taped hands from back to front with some extra slack so that she could feed herself. After the Chinese, we each had a slice of bread with peanut butter to pad out our stomachs. Coffee to finish off and then it was time for me to take Amie home.

"See if you can find a coat to wear on that rack," I said, pointing to the long steel racks where I kept all my clothes.

The chair I had in front of my computer was a heavy black thing on wheels. Heavy, even though the seat and back were made of a see-through webbing. It was omni-adjustable. The seat went up and down and front or back, the back could be raised or lowered, even the arms could be raised and lowered and moved out to the sides.

I wheeled the chair over to Marny, a roll of duct tape in my hand.

"Sit," I ordered.

"No. What are you going to do to me?" she said, pushing away onto the mattress.

I'm going to have to establish who the Alpha dog is right fucking now, I thought. I jumped forward and slammed her back onto the bed with my tactical boot right on her chest.

"Look, you little bitch," I hissed at her. "You either do as you're told, or I'm going to drop you right back in the fucking alley. And don't think you're going to get any clothing first. No. You're going to get more tape first. You'll be a helpless little piece of meat for whatever finds you. You'd better pray it's dogs — they'll fuck you all right, but they might not kill you after. There are a lot worse things slithering around these streets than dogs."

"Darius," Amie cried. "Leave her …"

"Amie, shut the fuck up," I said, turning to her. I was a little pissed at her. I thought we'd established that it was going to be done my way.

Stunned, she closed her mouth with a snap.

I turned my attention back to Marny. "I'm going to take my foot away, and you are going to sit in the chair and let me tape you down."

Marny got meekly into the chair, and I taped her chest and waist to the back. Then, I untaped her wrists and taped her forearms to the chair arms. Finally, I secured each foot to one of the spokes of the chair's base.

"She can't stay like that," Amie exclaimed when I'd finished.

"I'll work out something better when I get back," I said, draping a blanket around Marny's shoulders and putting the T.V. remote in her hand. I wheeled her in front of the set and turned it on.

"You better. I'm going to come back and check on her tomorrow."

Great. A house mother. That, I don't need.

Amie was a student. She lived in one of the nicer student apartment complexes a short way off the Akkadia University campus. There was a little money there somewhere. The way things worked out with Amie and Marny was a good thing. I wasn't done with Amie yet, I still wanted to know more about what I saw in her.

"You will come and see us, won't you?" I asked.

"Of course," she said. "I have to look in on Marny after all. I gave her to you, but I still feel responsible for her. You will treat her well? Won't you?"

"I'll do what I have to do, but I don't think you should worry about her. Remember she's been living on the streets. Probably sleeping in abandoned buildings without water or power. Eating poorly and irregularly. Pretty soon, staying with me will seem like heaven to her."

"I guess you're right," she sighed.

"What unit are you in?" I asked, looking out at the large complex.

"Number B two-oh-seven," she said, then looked at me in shock.

"What?"

"I had promised myself not to let you know that," she said. "Don't get me wrong, Darius, but you are more than a little bit scary."

The corner of my mouth arched into a little smile. "Yes." I nodded. "I know."

"Marny is taped to the chair," Amie said and opened the car door. "I don't want to keep you. I'll come by tomorrow."

She got out of the car and walked into the building. At the door, she turned to look back at me and threw a nervous little wave my way.

I stopped at the Red Satin Dungeon, a sex shop, on the way back to my place and bought a set of lockable leather restraints. A collar plus wrist and ankle cuffs. Then at the Home and Garden I bought some small padlocks, ten feet of chain, some large hasps, a twin-bed mattress, blanket, pillow, sheets, and pillow slips. I took it all and returned to the warehouse.

Getting all the tape off of Marny again was painful. More for her than for me, but still painful for both. "If you're good, you won't have to go through that again."

"You gonna make me your slave girl?" Marny asked when I put the leather collar on her.

"Say `Are you going to` not `You gonna,`" I corrected as I locked the collar on. "Now say it again."

She hesitated.

"Say it again," I ordered. "Are you …"

"Are you going to make me your slave girl?"

"Sure. Get on your knees and kiss my boot," I ordered, more playful than serious.

I was surprised when she actually did it without complaint. She looked up at me and seemed surprised herself.

She's been trading sex for security for a long while now, I reasoned. This is really just the same.

"Can you cook?" I said, pulling her to her feet.

"No. Not really."

"Do massage?"

"A little. You could learn me."

"No, say `You could teach me,`" I corrected.

"You could teach me," she said.

"Well, there's not much to clean, except the bathroom and the kitchen," I said. "There's really not much for a slave girl to do — except sex."

"You said you were gonna — um, I mean — going to fuck me till I scream. Are you going to?"

"No. I'm too tired tonight," I said. "Maybe another time, if you're a very good girl.

I used an electric drill to screw the hasp to the floor about ten feet away from my queen-size mattress. If you fit a hasp correctly, all the screws are inaccessible under the hinge plate once the hasp is closed and locked. The two inch screws I used would be impossible for me to pull out of the floor without some kind of pry bar, so also impossible for this small woman, strong as she appeared. The twin mattress went next to the hasp. I gave her six feet of chain between the collar and the hasp — I didn't bother with the cuffs for now. I locked one end of the chain to the hasp screwed to the floor.

"Come here," I ordered.

Hesitantly, she approached.

I opened the lock securing her collar, slipped the free end of the chain on, and re-locked it.

I set the blanket, pillow, sheets, and pillow slip on the mattress.

"Make up your bed and go to sleep. We'll figure the rest out tomorrow."

She spread out the sheet and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.

I looked at her sitting on her mattress, then at my neatly made-up bed, and then back at her. "Tomorrow, you're going to learn to make a bed properly."

She watched me as I stripped for bed. I've always slept in the nude and I wasn't going to let her change that. Besides, I am — more than a little — an exhibitionist. I work hard to stay slim and fit, and someone should see it.

"You don't got any hair," she said, gesturing to my genitals.

"Say `don't have,` not `don't got.`"

"You don't have any hair down there," she echoed correctly.

"No," I said. "And none on my chest either. I like being bare. What do you think?"

"It's sexy," she said, running her fingers through her own dark bush. "You shave it?"

"No," I said, turning out the light and getting into my own bed. "I just don't have any hair there anymore. It's a long story. Maybe I'll tell it to you some day, but for now, sleep."

I did not find her presence soothing. I hadn't had anyone sleeping this close to me for almost two years. If I'd been a normal person, I'd have had trouble getting to sleep. I'm not, so I was out instantly.

The clock said nine A.M. — outside the sun would be well up. Vaguely in the dim light, I could see Marny sitting on the edge of her mattress, with her blanket around her shoulders, watching me.

"Mornin'," she said. "I mean, good morning. I need to piss bad, but I didn't want to wake you."

"Thanks. I can always use extra sleep. Bring them back when you're done," I said and tossed her the keys. She unlocked the chain from the collar, but didn't remove it.

She came back after a short while. I noticed that she'd re-locked the collar around her throat.

I got up, still naked, and she handed me the keys.

"Show me how to make the coffee, and then I can do that for you."

I talked her through the simple process.

I got the bread and peanut butter from the refrigerator.

"Let me do that for you," she said and took over the task.

"It's daytime now," I said. "You could make it out of the Warzone if you have anywhere to go."

"No. I don't," she said. "You keep me and I'll be your slave."

"I'll only do that if you can make yourself useful. Have you got a driver's license?"

"No. I've been here since I was fifteen. No one ever learned me to drive. I mean … I never learned to drive."

"What can you do?"

"I give good head," she said softly.

Who told you that? Freddy? I thought, but said, "How do you know it's good?"

"The boys come," she said.

"That's not much of a recommendation," I snorted. "You can make boys come just by looking at them."

"Why not try me out?" she suggested.

"Maybe later."

"You look interested," she said and gestured.

I was hard. Being an exhibitionist can have its drawbacks. I thought about taking her for a spin, but somehow I couldn't bring myself to do her even though she was willing.

"You want to impress me?" I said. "Go clean the bathroom. After that, I'll teach you to make a bed."

"Tell me what to do," she said without hesitation.

I showed her where the cleaning supplies were and took her through the routine I used. Actually, I embellished and made her process even more rigorous than the one I used. Why the hell not?

Half an hour later, the door chime sounded. I checked the camera. It was Amie. I buzzed her in, pulled on my BDU pants, and met her on the stairs.

"Marny's okay?" she asked.

"Yes. I've got her cleaning the bathroom."

"Why?"

"She was looking for some way to be useful. It was either that or suck my cock."

"You wouldn't!"

"It was her idea," I said.

"Then why didn't you?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," I replied. "I guess I didn't want to."

"Don't you believe it," Marny said, coming out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a pair of rubber gloves and her collar. "He had a stiffy like a piece of rebar. I could tell since he didn't have no pants on."

"What?" Amie exclaimed. "I don't like this."

"Say `didn't have any pants on` or `didn't have his pants on,`" I corrected, ignoring Amie. "Try it again."

"Sorry, Master. He didn't have his pants on."

"Master?" Amie said, wide-eyed.

"I sleep in the nude," I said, turning back to Amie and ignoring her latest question. "I always have. I don't see any reason to change that."

"And what's with the collar?" Amie asked.

"I chained her up over there for the night," I said, pointing to Marny's bed. "The `better arrangement` I promised to make. It beats the tape."

"I'll say," Marny added. "That stuff itches and pinches. The collar is much better."

"But why is she still locked in it?"

"I don't know. She's right there, ask her."

"I locked it back on after I took off the chain cuz it makes me feel safe," Marny said in answer. "Sides, slaves have collars. Don't they?"

"Say `because` not `cuz` and `besides` not `sides,`" I corrected. "Say it again."

"Because it makes me feel safe. Besides, slaves have collars. Anyways, …"

"`Anyway,`" I corrected her again.

"Anyway, I don't mind bein' … um, being naked long as I'm not cold, and I don't mind him being naked neither …"

"Say `being naked either,` not `neither.`"

"… being naked either. He's nice to look at. Don't you think so, Amie?"

Amie looked flustered.

"I don't understand you two," she said at last.

"We're different species from you," I said. "She's a dog and I'm a Dragon. She is, maybe was, a killer who ran in a pack. I'm a more solitary menace, but infinitely more dangerous."

"You're a good man," she said. "I can sense that in you."

"You keep making the mistake that because I look like you and talk like you, that I am like you, but I'm not." If you knew why I was here ….

"Why are you here?" she asked, surprising me with her bit of intuitive mind reading.

"That's a pretty personal question and I'm not going to answer," I said.

Amie looked at me oddly, and Marny was watching her. I couldn't tell what was going on in either one of them — very unusual for me.

"Do you want know why I was here last night?" she said softly, looking me right in the eye. "God told me to be here!"

Oh, bloody hell, I thought. Not one of those. "Do you talk to god often?" I asked.

"It was the first and only time," she said.

"Drugs, stress, sleep deprivation, schizophrenia — that's most of the list of causes for hallucinations," I said. "You're sure it was none of those?"

"I am," she said flatly.

"What did god say to you?" I asked. "For that matter, what did god sound like?"

"I said talked, but it wasn't like you and I are talking right now. It was like I just knew. Knew to get off the bus, and start walking. Knew not to conceal myself from Marny and her friends even though I'd hid from others that night."

"Why were you so scared? You thought god was with you after all."

"Because … I lack faith. I always have. That's why I don't practice anymore. At the time, I was thinking just like you, that I'd gone insane. When Marny and her friends dragged me into that alley, I was sure I had lost my mind. Then you showed up, and now I'm back to God was telling me what to do."

"Hmm. You don't seem crazy," I remarked. "What's god's plan then? Do you have any insight into that?"

"None at all," she said.

"Then I guess, pending further communications from the big guy, we'll have to just muddle along by ourselves."

She nodded.

"We need to do some shopping," I said. "There's very little to eat. I guess we need more furniture. Marny is going to need some clothes so she can look more normal when she's out and about."

"Sexy slave girl clothes?" Marny asked.

"Yeah. Why not? But we'll order those online later. For now just some everyday stuff. If I had a washer and dryer, you could do laundry and save me going to the laundromat. So I guess that goes on the list."

"You don't seem worried about the expense," Amie remarked.

"I never worry about money."

We didn't get back until late. For the first time since I'd arrived back in Akkadia, I hadn't thought about Antonia and why I was there. It made me feel a little guilty.

The minute we got back inside, Marny shed her clothes, put her collar back on and locked it. Her transition from dog to slave seemed to have taken fully, if surprisingly quickly. It was a step in the right direction.

Amie looked like she didn't approve but made no comment.

Marny threw herself down on my bed, and Amie stepped into the kitchen area to make herself a cup of tea.

"Marny!" I yelled.

"Yes?"

"Guest," I said pointing to Amie. "Slave," I said pointing at her. "What's wrong with this picture?"

Marny sprang up to take over the task. Amie looked like she was going to reject her help, but the look I gave her made her yield. She opened the rice-cooker box and started looking at the instructions while I started laying the pipes and running the wiring needed for the washer and dryer that would arrive tomorrow. Marny brought the tea and sat listening to Amie, trying to learn as much as possible about cooking.

"How about fries?" she asked. "How do you make them?"

"You have to deep fat fry them," Amie said. "We don't have what it would take to do that. Anyway, they're not very good for you. Let's see if we can figure out how to use this rice-cooker."

Amie had suggested that the rice cooker might be an easy way for Marny to make some food. They were on the bed, Marny laying belly-down, propped on her elbows and kicking her heels up behind her and Amie just sitting on the edge of the mattress sipping her tea. They went through the instructions — Marny reading aloud and Amie helping when there were words that Marny couldn't read or pronounce. She was correcting the girl's English now, too.

They made some stir-fry and rice. We ate sitting along the edge of the queen mattress for the last time. After, Marny and I drove Amie home.

When we got home, we went online to find "slave-stuff" for Marny. I was sitting in the black chair and she was kneeling on the floor next to me. It was right for the master / slave relationship but also I was sitting in the only chair. We ordered leather, latex, and spandex clothes, plus spike-heeled boots and opera-length gloves. She was like a kid in a candy store. No, she was a slave in a fetish-gear store with a no-limit credit card.

There was a section for bondage and discipline gear, and I clicked into it. "In case I need to punish you," I said to her, but I was really thinking of Antonia. I added a flogger, cane, and paddle to the cart.

"I think this flogger would be better than the one you picked," she said.

"Be a good slave and finish this out for me," I said, standing up and pulling her up into the chair.

"Yes, Master."

"Get better restraints. An extra set, too — you never know, Amie might need them," I joked, but she was already absorbed.

The prices of some of the things she added were pretty high. I wasn't paying that much attention and I didn't feel like going back over it with her. By the time we'd finished, we had added more than five thousand dollars to my credit card.

What the hell, I thought. I'm going to use some of this gear on Antonia. It would be good to have a feel for it before then.