Gromet's PlazaLatex Stories

The Tale of Tim & Carol Chapter 1: From Bad to Worse and Seeking Help

by Rbbral

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© Copyright 2011 - Rbbral - Used by permission

Storycodes: MF; F/m; F+/f; meeting; leather; latex; capture; bond; gag; toys; pants; bagged; cons/nc; X


Chapter 1: From Bad to Worse and Seeking Help

I’m not a bad person.

All my friends will vouch for that. I’m quite bright, I have a university education and a job that really pays very well. I am 32, presentable, and some would say, not a bad catch. I have a pleasant demeanour, sharp sense of humour, am very tolerant of others and it takes a lot to push me to the edge. I’m not profligate, I have savings. I am generous and loyal with my friends. All in all I think I am very fortunate.

I am only saying this by way of introduction and explanation for when I tell you the rest of my story, and I hope you will agree that my actions were, under the circumstances, reasonable.

I am married to Carol, have been for 6 years now. She was only 20 when we married while I was 26, although this didn’t seem to be any problem. We don’t have any kids, we may one day, but not for the moment. So we spend a lot of time with each other. This can be good, and bad. Everyone needs their own space once in a while and I think this is where the problems may have started. Carol is smart, quick witted and very much with a mind of her own. In short she is a tough cookie. She is also very attractive, red haired in a page boy cut, slim but muscular, fit, as tall as me – 5’ 10’’. Yes, she’s a handful. Sex was always good, very good, she was assertive, even aggressive and we pretty well tried everything, I admit she was probably more adventurous than me. We tried bondage, me on her, and she on me, sometimes quite stringent, a little gentle spanking, we experimented quite a bit. At least I thought we were quite adventurous, in the early times that is.

So we had two strong personalities clashing, sometimes they compliment each other, sometimes they simply clash. It was fine at first, we used to have rows of course, sometimes over the silliest, pettiest things, but of course neither of us would give way. We would at first make up pretty easily; make up sex was always a lot of fun.

But her personality, at least I thought, was changing; she was getting much more critical, petty and cynical. I didn’t know the reason behind it. She had a career when we met, she was quite successful, but when we married, she gave it up. Despite me making more than enough for the two of us, maybe she resented this, but she wouldn’t admit it. I told her it was fine if she went back to work, but she did nothing about it.

Other than in our sex games, I never laid a hand on her, and never would, but she began to take advantage of her “weaker” sex (now there’s an oxymoron!) and become physical, again over the slightest provocation.

The sex started to become less enjoyable, certainly less adventurous, and then she began to become critical with me in that field. This is not a pleasant experience, she even began to make snide remarks that I had a girlfriend stashed away somewhere. This was nonsense for despite all the clashes I truly loved her, and never even dreamt of wavering from the straight and narrow. I really didn’t know what to do. Was it my fault, I didn’t think so, but you get to think that it may be, even though you have no ill intent.

I couldn’t even blame the mother in law! She and I didn’t get on initially, but interestingly as Carol became more critical, my mother in law, very surprisingly to me, began to become more sympathetic to my position. She then began to tell me that I should be more assertive with her. Carol had always been a child that expected everything and her mother, Fran (by the way a very attractive woman who had Carol at 18) blamed her husband and herself for not being more assertive with her. It was of course too late for that, I said once. Fran looked at me, and said, oh no, it’s never too late, which of course got me thinking.

So what could I do? Marital counselling she wouldn’t even consider. How about just beating some sense into her, no, just kidding. I certainly didn’t want a divorce, apart from the fact that she might want to clean me out. The odd thing was that she didn’t seem to want to separate, but just carry on, as is, which mystified me. Well, it couldn’t carry on the way it was.

It was Fran, surprisingly again, who brought up the idea. She needs discipline, she said, one afternoon, after she had seen Carol throw a tantrum at nothing.

“She needs to be brought in line, mentally….and certainly physically; you should not have to put up with her abuse. And you know what?”

“No.” I said.

“I think she may even thank you for it, not at first no doubt but perhaps in the end. She’s just a spoilt child, used to getting everything she wants and all children need, and Carol didn’t get this, are boundaries. They need the discipline, they need to know that if they cross that limit, then they will pay the consequences. I blame myself partly, my husband and I were so involved in ourselves that we simply didn’t parent her properly, and I’m very sorry for that.”

“But we are talking about a woman of 26, mature beyond her age, at least when she isn’t throwing a fit, smart, bright, her own woman.”

“That’s irrelevant Tim, age is immaterial, she is one of those people that on the outside has to be boss, has to have the last word, but……I really believe this, actually needs to be nurtured, to be led. I think she needs a strong man, she certainly never had it with her father, who was, how can I say, otherwise occupied. Anyway as I said I blame myself for not doing anything, but it isn’t too late for you, not by a long chalk.”

I chuckled at the thought, me, the big disciplinarian.

“So what should I do? Take her over my knee and spank her all the time, chain her to the kitchen, or the bed, give me a break.”

“Tim, it’s you that’s been giving her too many breaks. The spanking and the tying to the bed she may like too much.” Fran said with a twinkle in her eye.

“Just because I’m in my forties doesn’t mean I haven’t lived, believe me. No, it has to be a change in her lifestyle, not just a paddling when she does something infantile. She won’t learn from that at all, and she may end up resenting you more. Tim, I think you need professional help.”

“You mean like a psychiatrist?”

“No, no. I mean someone with experience in behavioural modification. Someone who can take her in hand and….modify her behaviour, make her understand the error of her ways right now. She is not going to learn this from you….. or me.”

“I don’t understand what you mean, who you are referring to.”

“Well, I can do some research.” She said with a smile. “I am sure you can find anything on the Internet, yes?”

“But…. even if you do, find…. someone who will take her in hand, and…. I don’t know… modify her behaviour… it all sounds like Stepford Wives…. supposing she doesn’t want to be… taken in hand, or modified, whatever that means?”

Fran laughed, and patted my wrist.

“Well let’s just worry about that if we get there. Look, you can’t carry on like this, so something, something quite drastic I think, has to be done, yes? She’s my daughter and I love her, but she really needs something drastic, I think.”

I nodded, she was right; if it went on like this I wouldn’t be answerable for my actions. On the one hand I was a bit worried what Fran had in mind, but on the other I knew something had to be done, and this was at least a start.

“Leave it to me Tim, it shouldn’t take long.”

So I left it to her. I kept thinking on it, and how Fran had seemed very much in control, almost as if she had been expecting the problems that Carol and I were having. I even got a sense that she had been relieved, that now she could do something. Her husband I hardly ever saw. Paul had never been any kind of disciplinarian to Carol, and very rarely came to our house. Neither Carol nor I saw him more than a couple of times a year. He seemed pleasant enough, but very quiet and he always seemed to glance at Fran before saying or doing anything.

Fran certainly wore the pants and I could see why Carol was able to get away with her errant behaviour with her father. The only thing that surprised me was that Fran hadn’t taken over the discipline of her daughter. But then, it appeared she was, now.

So Carol and I carried on as before. Getting on fine for a while and then having a blow-up over something. I was getting very frustrated, and began to stay away from the house on more occasions, which only led to her being more accusatory.

It was a month before I heard from Fran again, and she invited me over to her house one evening – for a chat, she said, and to meet someone who he was sure would be able to “help Carol and me with our problems.”

Two nights later, I went over to my mother-in-law’s house. I have to say I was quite nervous, I don’t know why. Paul wasn’t there again, or if he was, he was out of sight; I rarely saw him there, or anywhere else for that matter. They have a good sized house so maybe he was doing a male thing somewhere else.

Fran came to the door and showed me into the living room. There she introduced me to Monica. She didn’t give me her last name and I didn’t ask. I sat on the couch next to Monica and Fran brought us drinks. Monica was maybe mid-thirties. She was in very good shape indeed and extremely attractive. She must have been 5’ 10” with jet black hair pulled back in a loose chignon. She wore little make up, and certainly didn’t need any. She seemed well aware of my appreciative looks and when our eyes met did not avert hers at all.

She was dressed in a light tan soft leather two piece pant suit, with the smooth pants tucked into her matching knee high boots. Under the jacket she wore what looked like a shiny satin dark brown blouse, buttoned to a high mandarin collar, which accentuated her ample breasts. It was power dressing to the extreme. Together with her cool demeanour it had an effect of saying, I am in control here, don’t fool with me.

She spoke quietly, with calm assurance and with no noticeable accent, maybe upper middle class but from no identifiable area. From the outset, it was clear that Fran had advised her of our marriage “problems”, perhaps in more detail than I had initially wanted. Monica was in charge of the conversation and Fran had now settled in to listen.

She was not subtle and didn’t mince words, which at first I found a bit unnerving, but I soon realized that she was a very confident and competent woman, and had no reason to mince words.

“Tim,” she continued, “what I will say you may find uncomfortable, but sometimes the truth is just that. I don’t have time to waste on euphemisms, or breaking things to you slowly. I pride myself on knowing human nature and all its….. irregularities. I am like a dog trainer; you know, like the ones you see on television, only I train human beings, to behave correctly, to the satisfaction of my client. I train young and old, male and female. Are you shocked?”

I nodded slowly. She smiled and placed a hand gently on my knee.

“Well get over it, Tim. If you want to stay with Carol, and I can see you do, then things have to be done, and quickly. Carol has never known discipline, Fran admitted that to me. Her husband Paul, well he was no help in that regard, he has his other uses, Fran?” I didn’t know what that meant, but Fran just nodded and smiled and Monica continued.

“Yes, I exercise a form of behavioural modification. I turn people’s lives around. I change their outlook. I turn bad apples into good. I have a very high rate of success. In fact I always get what my client wants. And you, Tim, are my client, not Carol. Her opinion or her wishes are of no concern to me, her behaviour has been irrational, and to put it plainly, she needs to be brought in line, to be taught a few, perhaps painful, truths. I can do that. I have done it many times before. But you must tell me that it is what you want, you must have complete confidence in me, to leave me to do what I do best, without interference, because I won’t work any other way. This is the only way to save your marriage, believe me. The status quo will not last long, it will get worse, and then you will have a messy breakup. There has to be something done, now, and I am the person who can do it.”

She stopped for a second and I could hear the tick of the carriage clock on the mantelpiece, there were no other sounds, it was very eerie.

“I am prepared to answer some of your questions, I’m sure you have many, but I don’t propose to go into great detail about our training methods, I say “our” as I have two very competent and loyal assistants, who assist me in my training.” She stopped again, taking a sip of her drink.

“Well, I don’t know where to start. I still love Carol, despite all the arguments and scenes, and I want her, well, the old Carol, back.”

“I don’t know what the old Carol was like Tim, but the Carol I will bring back will be a new Carol, I think, I know, a Carol you will fall in love with again. She will join us at my house in the country, which doubles as a training facility, and we will train her how to behave properly. We will get her volatile emotions under control, and make her appreciate how fortunate she is to have a husband like you. I cannot say how long the training will take, that will depend on her to a great degree. Maybe a month, maybe three, but rest assured I will achieve success, I always do.”

And as I looked at her across from me, I believed her. If anyone could bring Carol round it would be Monica. To be honest it didn’t worry me too much about what her “training methods” would be. It had gone too far for that now.

“Now, your er…training methods. I don’t want Carol…. hurt or injured… I mean, what exactly…. how exactly do you work?”

Again Monica responded with a calm reassuring smile.

“Sometimes Tim…. in order to make an omelette you have to break eggs. Now don’t be alarmed. I promise you that Carol will not be harmed or injured. If she does not comply with my…. requests, my guidance, then she will be disciplined. Now that may take many forms, but I assure they are effective. Will she be disciplined physically? Perhaps yes, that depends on her. Will there be other forms of discipline? Yes, I use many types. I will deny her freedom of movement if I choose. It will not do her any good if she wishes to return here in the first week, will it? I will sometimes deny her freedom of speech. There is very little she can tell me I don’t already know about her, and I am the one that will be doing the talking, and she will be doing the listening, and obeying. It all sounds quite harsh, but that I’m afraid is what she needs. We will turn her into a compliant, obedient, loving wife Tim.”

And then she lent close to me, very close.

“And here is the amazing thing. At the end of the training, she will do it willingly; she will be happy and proud to be your loving wife again. I am expensive Tim, but what price do you put on your marriage and it will be…. I guarantee it….. successful. I will provide you with a DVD every two or three days showing her progress. At first you will be shocked with our methods, perhaps, but once you sign on the dotted line we have a contract Tim, and I always honour my side of the bargain. There will be times perhaps when you wish me to stop the training, but I will not. You must remember what the final goal is, and there will be, without a doubt, along the way, rocky times.”

She lent back to allow me some air, and to let me think for a while, no doubt.

“So, what is it to be Tim? You are at a crossroads, and you may wish to think on it, here is my fee.”

She showed me a piece of paper, and on it was a large figure, well into five figures. I took a deep breath. But of course it was my marriage at stake and I could afford it. It didn’t take me as long as I thought it would to agree, for I nodded there and then. Both Fran and Monica did not seem surprised, but happy and straight away I signed a contract, which Monica had clearly drawn up before, expecting a satisfactory outcome to her negotiations! She gave me the account number of a Swiss bank (!) to transfer the funds and as soon as that was done she advised me that she would be in touch.

So the evening was over, we finished our drinks and Monica stood and shook my hand. I looked down at her blouse and noticed that it wasn’t satin but a material that looked like….

“Latex, or rubber.” Said Monica with a confident smile, knowing I had been staring at her. “Unconventional, certainly, but I have a strong liking for it, the feel, and even the smell, and I like leather too, but less so although that is more accepted in public. Rubber has many qualities and Carol will find that out soon. You look a bit worried Tim, don’t be. She will be in good hands, it will be a shock to her no doubt, but we have your, and her, interests at heart.” She hugged Fran and was gone.

“You have done the right thing, Tim, I wish I had done this years ago, but it is not too late, you’ll see. Monica is a real….. professional, and soon we will see the benefit of her labours. Go home now, back to Carol, and soon Monica will be in touch with you.”

Monica Takes Over

It took Monica only a week to get in touch. The week had gone very slowly. In the back of my mind I kept wondering if I had made the right decision. When Carol was in a good mood, I thought not, but then when we had yet another argument, I couldn’t wait for Monica to call and bail me out!

The call came one day at work and she said that she would come round to the house to “collect” Carol. I asked if I should tell Carol about this, or whether she needed to pack anything. I must have sounded very naïve, for Monica laughed aloud and said, let’s keep it our secret, our surprise (or rather Carol’s) and don’t bother about packing anything, they would bring all they needed and everything else would be provided for Carol at the facility.

And so I went home, perhaps a bit nervous now, not knowing what I had got Carol into, but knowing also that at least I believed it was the right thing to do. We had a light dinner and were in the living room as the bell sounded. Carol looked surprised, as I said I would get it.

When I opened the door, my jaw dropped to the floor.

“Are you going to invite us in, Tim? I know this all looks a bit melodramatic, but believe me the….. outfits…… set a tone to the coming…. proceedings, that Carol will not forget, I promise.” The three women, dressed in matching long double breasted leather coats buttoned to their chins swept in. They quickly unbuttoned the coats and dropped them on the chair by the door.

“This is Polly and Natalie; they will be assisting me with Carol’s education.” They both smiled and said hello. This afforded me an opportunity to inspect them in detail. The two girls appeared in great shape, were each about 5 feet 9 inches, Polly blonde and Natalie raven haired. They couldn’t have been more that 25, and had voluptuous bodies accentuated by their rather bizarre clothes. Where Monica got such young assistants from I didn’t know. They were dressed for action, I could see, and chuckled at my reaction as my jaw had probably dropped. Both wore red latex tights tucked into bright red leather ankle boots with four inch heels. Above that they wore identical thick black latex bras, with thick cross straps buckled across their chests and over their shoulders. Both had full breasts, held firmly and pushed out to hard points by the bras. Shoulder length black latex gloves completed their attire. I knew it was latex all right as I could smell its sweet aroma. They were very aware of my reaction to them, and rested their hands on their hips as Monica said.

“You can see we came ready for possible resistance. I mentioned that I had a penchant for latex and you will see we are dressed in it this evening.  Now how this pans out really depends on Carol, but my girls are experienced in this collection part of the training, so we will be prepared if Carol chooses to be uncooperative.” Monica was dressed differently than the two assistants. If it hadn’t all been in latex, it wouldn’t have been shocking at all, or it was fairly formal business attire – four inch black pumps, black latex tights, or stockings, I couldn’t tell, loose white blouse with turtle neck, and a gunmetal grey two piece consisting of tight skirt to her knees and a double breasted jacket, tight at the waist and flared to her hips. In one of her black gloved hands she held what appeared to be a large bag designed for containing skis.

“I think we are ready to see Carol now, so let’s go and meet her, we’ll try to do it the easy way, though I have to say that we always end up doing it the hard way, I’m afraid. Let me do all the talking Tim, it will be over very quickly, we don’t have time, or the inclination, to argue, or explain…. all will be revealed in time, as they say.”

Carol was sitting on the couch reading, as we entered, and her jaw dropped as she saw firstly Monica…. and then even more bizarrely, Natalie and Polly.

“What the he…. who the hell are…. Tim, who are these…. people?” Monica calmly sat down on the other side of the couch.

“Hello Carol, you don’t know us, but we know you, now there is nothing to be afraid of, we are here to help you. We’ve been told you have been going through a hard time for a while and have been acting….. well, let’s say irrationally, so Tim here and your mother have decided you need some behavioural training and we are going to do that.”

Carol stared at her, lost for words for a moment and then said to her almost in disgust.

“Are you crazy, get out of my house…. Tim, don’t just stand there gawking, tell them to leave.”

“We’re here at Tim’s request Carol, he’s had enough of all your tantrums and tempers so we’re going to take care of you for a while at our facility. Now you can come with us peacefully or…… well we will have to take you by force, unpleasant though that will be for you. It’s all a terrible shock for you I’m sure, but you must decide quickly…. hhmm?”

“Force? Out of my own house? And you dressed in….. these weird clothes, just where do you think you are com…..”

As she was saying this I saw Monica make the slightest nod to Natalie, who had taken a position behind Carol. Swiftly Natalie placed a gloved hand over Carol’s mouth and nose, as Polly grabbed both her wriggling legs under an armpit and Monica delved into a side panel of her ski bag. She coolly took out a pair of leather cuffs attached to a short steel chain and expertly slipped them round each of Carol’s ankles immobilizing them. Carol had been concentrating on trying to remove Natalie’s hand from her mouth and nose with no success, as Natalie appeared very strong as well as expert.

Monica now handed to Polly what looked like a tangle of rubber straps and tubes and bulbs. With Carol’s legs now immobilized Natalie pushed her face down on the couch and straddled her back. Natalie pulled back her head roughly and released her grip on her lower face…. and Polly quickly thrust a large rubber bulb into her mouth as she gulped in some air. Carol glared at me, daggers in her eyes, as Polly expertly pulled back heavy rubber straps attached to the faceplate that covered her lower face and attached them behind at the back of her neck, then another strap passing either side of her nose, over her head and attached at the back again. All this time Carol groaned and gurgled, flapping her useless fettered feet, while Monica grabbed both of her wrists, pulled them together behind her and calmly cuffed them together with similar leather and steel cuffs.

They then pulled her upright into the sitting position. Although she now continued to glare at them, and me I noticed she had stopped fighting, clearly realizing that she was in way over her head. Her whole lower face from under her nose to around her chin was covered with a smooth, curved black rubber faceplate, with an 18 inch tube and bulb extending from her mouth and resting on her fast rising and falling chest. She was still making quite a noise, grunting and groaning into the gag and Monica smiled and took the bulb in her hand. Carol stopped groaning and turned to look at her.

“Carol, this is an inflatable gag you are wearing, and you are making far too much noise, so…..” She squeezed the bulb in her rubber gloved hand, and Carol shook her head violently and grrrred at her..

“You will be silenced by the simple expedient of me pumping up the inflatable gag in your mouth….” She carried on squeezing.

“Until you are silent.” Carol shook and rocked her head, to no avail, as I saw her cheeks balloon out….. and she became almost mute, and now just a quiet mmmmm was all I could hear. The somewhat surprising thing for me was, while my wife was being manhandled so expertly by these rubber clad women I found this a little exciting. Somewhat embarrassingly I sat down opposite her, as she glared silently back. The two young women calmly leant against the back of the couch, looking as if they did this all the time….. well, maybe they did, I thought.

Monica spoke again, the same cool, assured tone as before, as if nothing had happened.

“So now you realize Carol that we mean business, that this is not a joke of some kind. You will be coming with us to our facility, to be educated and trained, to behave properly. Your husband will be advised every day or two about your progress, we will video most of your training and send him DVD’s to keep him apprised. He has paid a lot of money to keep this marriage of yours afloat and so my girls and I will see to it that it is not wasted. He will have no say in your training; he has left that to us, so it’s no use pleading to him for mercy…… and anyway,” she smiled, “you will see soon enough we show no mercy. Now the clothes, I’m afraid have to go. We have lots of latex at the facility and that is what you will wear, like it or not. Although I think you will get to like it, it is so flattering for the figure.” I had to agree, for Natalie and Polly looked really stunning in their outfits.

She took a pair of scissors out of the side of the ski bag as Natalie and Polly grabbed Carol firmly and pulled her face-up onto the carpet. Despite her wriggling and mmmmmm’ing Monica quickly cut her sweat suit top and bottoms off.

“My, what a fine body you have Carol, but I’m afraid the bra and panties have to go too.” And she expertly snipped them off, exposing Carol’s jutting breasts and fine dark red thatch.

“Yes indeed, what a stunning body. I hope we don’t have to punish it too much.” She chuckled and the other two girls grinned at the in-joke.

“Now some of our clients find the travel element a bit traumatizing and make a mess of themselves during the move, so we are going to take care of that now.” They lifted Carol up to the standing position and then leant her over until her head touched her knees and her bum stuck out at the rear. From the ski bag Monica took out a ziplock bag and pulled out a red pear shaped rubber plug. I held my breath as she squeezed over it some lube from a small tube then, smiling at me, placed a rubber gloved hand on Carol’s squirming rear, as she was still wriggling in the clutches of Natalie and Polly.

“Now relax Carol, just relax, this is known as a butt plug and it is going in the place it was designed for, like it or not, now try and relax…. good…. good, there we go…. half way already…. are you sure you haven’t had some intruders up here before, you naughty girl?”

And, truth be told, she had, my cock for one. I had quite enjoyed the tight grip of her arse over my cock on a couple of occasions, but she didn’t seem to like it quite so much as me and as time wore on we didn’t practice it any longer. Monica continued to push and slowly twist the plug despite Carol’s mmmmmfing into her gag. Soon the plug was swallowed by her anal passage and just the red base plate now showed. She now seemed in shock, rocking her lowered head from side to side, and did not even try to kick out at them when Polly released the panic snap at her ankle cuffs. Monica raised her feet, one by one and Natalie pulled up a pair of loose rubber bloomers with tight waist band and leggings, then attached her ankle cuffs again.

“So, you are well plugged, dear. Nothing will make its way out of your rear and the bloomers will collect any pee if you lose control there. Good. Now we are all ready to go. No time for goodbyes, I’m afraid. When you see Tim next is up to you, Carol dear. Learn the error of your ways and embrace your new life we have planned for you and you will be back in no time. Fight us and……. well, not a good idea at all.”

While Monica said this Polly had laid the ski bag open on the carpet and unzipped its full length, all of six feet with straps at one foot intervals. I noted inside it was lined with latex, I should have known. As they dropped her back, she started to wriggle and mmmm again, her eyes ablaze, but expertly they straightened her legs and tucked them in one end then zipped her up to her waist, covering her strange looking rubber bloomers. She stared up at them, and then me, now there was pleading in her eyes and she continued to mmmm into her gag, her cheeks bulging underneath. But I had to hold firm, this was the only thing that would keep us together I thought, otherwise we would fight ourselves to a standstill.

“So say goodbye to Tim, Carol dear. Let’s hope it won’t be too long before you see him again, as a changed woman. There are holes throughout the head section so there will lots of air for you to breathe, nice rubber scented air…. you will get used to that. We’ll see you soon.” And Monica leant over, and while Natalie and Polly held Carol’s wriggling form she pulled up slowly, inexorably the zipper until it was at her face, her glaring eyes and her mute mouth…… and then she was gone.

As Polly and Natalie pulled the various straps tight around the bag, Monica said.

“Don’t look so worried Tim. It may be a hard road for her but you will both appreciate it in the end, I promise.” She went and got their coats from the hall and without even a glance down they helped each other on with them, buttoning them to their necks. Monica took me by the shoulders and pecked my cheek.

“As I said to Fran, you will get DVD’s of her progress and training every day or so. The training is very intense and we will attend to her every day. The first few may be a little alarming for you, Tim, but you are in for the long haul remember, and neither you nor Fran can stop the process now.” Natalie and Polly each took a reinforced handle of the ski bag and seemed to lift it effortlessly. It rocked gently between them and I thought I heard a faint murmur, but maybe I imagined it, I don’t know. I opened the door and both Polly and Natalie gave me a broad smile as they carried their “prize” out with them to the SUV in the driveway. I recalled that during the whole process the two young, stunningly dressed girls had never said a word to me, not one. They had dropped one back seat so Carol, silent and unmoving, was placed up against the front seat. Then they all got in, waved in a friendly way, and drove off with my captive wife.



Story continues in Chapter 2

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