Home > Fiction > Lost and Found

Lost and Found

October 13th, 2003

FictionIconThe alarm sounds raising him from his dreams of her and he slaps it angrily to quiet it. He stands and slides his bare feet into the dark blue slippers she gave him three years ago today. They match the silk pajama pants he wears. He never wore the top after he bought it. She stole it and wore it when they had company as she was not allowed to be fully clothed in his home. It made a nice contrast against her pale skin and an even nicer view when she bent to retrieve something revealing her bare bottom and her equally bare pussy lips as she was not allowed to wear panties. He sometimes slept with it but never wore the shirt again after…

He shakes his head as if to clear it and shuffles to the bathroom stripping himself as he goes.  He lays the pants on the whicker chair beside the bathroom door (her idea), leaves the slippers under it, and then opens the door and steps onto the cold tiles. The rugs had to be removed and he was never able to bring himself to replace them as they were her touch as well. He glances around and sees that white towels and a white terrycloth robe have been laid out for his use and only then realizes that the staff has made themselves scarce, as they do this day every year.

He turns the water on in the massive stand-up shower barely noticing the temperature as he steps inside. He glances around inside and then walks over to the seat he often shared with her when she wasn’t kneeling at his feet waiting for his next command. His staff had long since removed all items that belonged to her and boxed them up under the guise of making things easier on him. He refused to let them throw anything away, including her shampoo and conditioner, in case she did one day return to him. The chances of that ever happening became bleaker and bleaker until one day he just accepted that he would never see her again.

As he sits under the methodical pounding of the water, he lays his head back against the cold tiles and closes his eyes, thinking of her. Her vibrant blue eyes. Her thick pink lips. Her beautiful thick auburn waist length hair. Her thin, pale throat. Her large perfect breasts. Her tiny waist. Her hips that always had that slight sway with her step. Her long beautifully formed legs and her tiny feet. He goes over her in his mind’s eye thinking about that last morning they shared together.

“Master, please don’t leave me today. It doesn’t feel right. I just don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be alone today.”

“Jenna Lynn, if I stay home today I’ll lose my job. Then what will we do?”

“But, Master, if you leave you may lose your slave. That man is right outside the door! He follows me around and makes lewd gestures and comments. Master, please! Please at least take me with you.”

“Jenna, the last time I took you with me my boss had a conniption. I am skating on thin ice as it is. I cannot jeopardize this job. We’d lose everything. The house, the cars, the animals. Jenna, I’m sorry. I just can’t.”

The girl fell to her knees. She spread her thighs ever so slightly and clasped her hands behind her back. Her back was completely straight
but she kept her head bowed, her eyes on the floor. Her shoulders began to tremble but he couldn’t tell if it was from fear or crying or both. He couldn’t bear to see her this way but he didn’t have a choice. If he didn’t go to work he would be jobless and they would be penniless. He just couldn’t see going from a multimillion dollar corporation and six figure salary to nothing. He would surely lose her if they were living in a cardboard box.

He reached down and trailed his finger from her forehead to her chin and then lifted her face so that he could look into it. She snapped her eyes closed and held them shut tight. He stared into her face for a moment or two angered at first and then realized she was really scared. Gently, he traced her lips with his other hand and let his fingers find their way to her pert nipples. Even though they had a number of people caring for the house, both men and women, she was still not allowed to be clothed when she was at home. If they had company it was different.

“Look at me, little girl.”

She lowered her head again and kept her eyes shut tight. He pinched her nipple a bit tighter and growled “Open your eyes and look at me, Jenna Lynn. Now!”

Hesitantly, she opened her eyes and raised them to meet his. “You will be fine, my girl. Jayson and Bryce are here. They would never let anything or anyone hurt you. And Andrew and Walter are in the  stables. When you go for your afternoon ride they will have already been warned about the stranger on the property. And Jayson has already phoned  the police. You are perfectly safe here, my love. I have made sure of it.”

“But Master…”

“No more buts, Jenna. I’m running late. I’m going to get my ass chewed as it is.”

He grabbed hold of her collar and dragged her to her feet. Lowering his face to hers, he embraced her and kissed her passionately. Again she began to tremble and he held her tight hoping to make her feel a little safer in his arms.

“Master, please call often. I love you so very much.”

“I love you, too, my Jenna boo.” She giggled slightly at the old saying he had been saying to her since they became one.  That was the last time he saw her.

“I love you, too, my Jenna boo.” He murmurs aloud as he stands to wash his hair and body.

To his surprise, there are fresh tears on his cheeks and the water has turned cold. He curses himself and quickly washes and rinses off stepping out and wrapping himself in the huge terrycloth bathrobe. He ties the robe at the waist and then strides out of the bathroom.
Glancing around the room, he sees his suit laid out on the bed as Jenna used to do and fresh tears begin coursing down his cheeks.

Angrily, he brushes the tears from his cheeks and growls into the bedroom. She was just a slave. Why am I so damned sentimental
about a slave?
He walks to the bed and sees the suit laid out was Jenna’s favorite. Black slacks, silver silk shirt, black tie and black blazer. He looks at the floor and there are his black loafers that she loved so much. Has my life become so routine that my staff knows what I will wear each day? He walks to the kitchen and sees the one member of his staff that always refuses to hide herself on this day.

“Good morning, Sylvia.”

“Good morning, Mister Solarski.”

“Sylvia, how many years have you worked for me?”

“Let me think. Just about twenty-three years, Sir. As I was your father’s cook as well.”

“And when I was a child, did you call me Mister Solarski?”

“Heavens no. You were just a boy then.”

“Then why on earth do you call me Mister Solarski now? Sylvia, how many times have I told you? Call me Kristopher. You did when I was a boy. Why not now?”

“When you were a boy, you weren’t my employer.”

“And I’m not now. I am at the very least your friend at best your family. Please. Call me Kristopher.”

“I’ll call you Kristopher when you start taking my advice.” Her voice softens and she takes his hand in hers. “Kris, she’s gone. She’s probably been killed, honey. Let her go. Find a new girl to care for you.”

He settles an angry glare on her and snatches his hand away from hers. “What do you know? She could be alive somewhere hoping and
praying that someday this maniac will let her come back to me. And have you forgotten what happened when I did try to find another slave? No. I will not give up on her. I love her.” he trails off and thinks about what he just said. “I love her.” He says with a little more conviction. “I do. I love her! I love her! So you see? She has to come home to me!”

He storms angrily out of the kitchen and leaves the cook to her task, marching back up the stairs to dress and then wait by the phone as he
does every year. Hoping that she’ll call. Waiting to hear her voice and know  that she’s okay. After three years, he still waits.

Categories: Fiction Tags:
Comments are closed.
%d bloggers like this: