Valerie - A Deep and Dark December

"Valerie, one more such outburst from you, and you will seriously wish you had restrained yourself. You must not tax your Master's patience." Ruffnex Mizzou struck edgewise on her shoulder, causing her to cry out briefly.

"Why, my dear," said Lady Nadine, with a delicately mocking smile to Charles, "you are growing quite philosophical for a Dom in a jerkoff story. Until you spoke so eloquently just now, I had almost forgotten you graduated from Harvard. Whatever would the Hasty Pudding boys think?"

"Now slaves," said Charles, "get dressed and go to work. It's after 2 o'clock, and I will not permit my slaves to risk employment, health or liberty. Go!"

Turning to Lady Nadine, he said, "My dear, will you join me for a late lunch? I can forgive your Foxcroft and Wellesley diplomas, and even your Phi Beta Kappa key, if you can forgive me Harvard and mine. And of course the dear Hasty Pudding boys." As they rose from the couch, Lady Nadine smiled and took his hand.

***********************************

Six o'clock. Sally shut down her laptop and put it away. She had gotten out the last of the e-mailed proposals for new clients. She heard the door of Valerie's Lexus slam, and her boots walking across the garage as the garage door closed.

Quickly Sally shucked her bathrobe, knelt on the floor in front of the entrance door, her head to the floor and her face turned away, with her buttocks and vagina exposed. Her period had ended earlier and she had carefully washed her cunt.

Valerie walked in, radiating cold. Sally shivered.

"I need to start dinner," said Valerie, who disliked cooking. "I feel like stoving over a hot slave tonight." She laughed. "Get up, Twinklestar, no play tonight. We're on restriction, in case you'd forgotten. I can't even lay a tap on that lovely cunt."

Sally stood up, splendid in her nakedness, her body open and utterly receptive. Valerie sighed. "One Martini each (I'm just about finished with my period), and then let's get dinner. Oh how I want you."

Sally started singing to Valerie: "I love you, a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck, cause I love you". It was the song Sally's mother, long dead, sang to Sally as a baby.

Valerie looked fiercely at Sally, her eyes bright with tears. "I love you more, dammit, I love you more. I want you to have Mike's baby, my baby. I will fucking KILL for that baby!"

***************************************

Valerie decided that work was the answer. No touching Sally, no love, so girl, you gotta work. The alarm went off at 4:30. Valerie had slept in the third bedroom, the River Room they called it (corny, because denial is a river in Egypt). It was cold and bare, purposely, not to encourage any forbidden activity.

Valerie's shower was brief, much as she yearned for the hot water and a hotter hand on her vulva. A can of liquid breakfast, a half cup of black instant store-brand coffee (tasting like she felt, hot and bitter) and she dressed hastily, doing her makeup with less than her usual care.

Sally staggered downstairs, half-awake. Valerie blew her a kiss and said "Don't come nearer in that bathrobe, or it's cookies for both of us when Master finds out I raped you before you even had your orange juice."

Sally dropped the bathrobe and stood naked before her love. "Goodbye, Mistress, I love you."

"Bye sweetheart." And out the door she went, hoping the cold would kill the pain she felt, denying even a kiss to the woman she loved.

June had a fresh cup of good coffee waiting for her, her computer booted with her e-mails displayed, and a quick précis of the latest gossip.

"Mary's review was stunning, the ponies love the new Pony's Paddock format, we're under budget this month on ad production costs, and the Colonel is glowing." The CEO of Delgrasi was a former Army lieutenant colonel, and was referred to as such. "The Colonel says 'buck up and keep going'. You have a 2:45 meeting with Mr. Hogginbottom from Modern Watersports. They want to advertise their new line of underwater wear."

It was a good day. The Colonel liked to say that a hit on the brass was worth ten on the enemy. Valerie tended to agree.

Lunchtime came and went. Valerie had a tuna salad and a diet tea at her desk, replying to e-mails and IMs without a break, until nature called and she went to the ladies'.

Nature satisfied, she removed the tampon and as she had said the previous night, her period had ended. She put the used tampon in a plastic bag for Master. Yvonne was in for quite a Saturday night. She expected Master might suggest an auction to her as part of her coming-out.

"If I can get off restriction I might just bid for Yvonne myself," Valerie thought, "and give Sally a treat. That fat butt could take a lot of hits, and Sally would love that plump cunt to pieces. Oh well, back to the grind, and that pompous fool Hogginbottom will try to put a move on me again, like I'd spread in exchange for a fucking two-page spread in Popular Sub Swimsuit Edition ...."

Another loveless night at home, albeit with a great chicken dinner Sally worked all afternoon to prepare and a really good Russian River chardonnay (no play, no sex, no period, so wine was permitted). Sally's work was going well; she gave Valerie some pretty large checks to deposit (Valerie did all their finances).

Next morning was Decision Day. Valerie decided to come to the office later than usual (warning June the night before by IM) and call Joe Burbon from home. She would call him at his work.

Joe, like Mike, worked construction jobs. Unlike Mike, Joe was not a foreman, just a laborer. Construction being dead between the economy and winter, Joe drove a snowplow for the town he lived in, and picked up whatever odd jobs he could get.

Diane gave Valerie Joe's work number at the county office, in response to an e-mail, surprisingly without a warning about Eve's hatred. Valerie wondered: is this a set-up?

Best to be prepared. Bring a taser? Better than a gun, for sure. No dead bodies, no blood.

She called the town office in the distant county where Joe lived and worked. "Maintenance". "Joe Burbon, please". Without covering the receiver, the woman who answered called out "Hey, Bourbon, it's some broad and you got five minutes personal."

Joe's voice was strong, like his brother's. "Burbon," he said.

Valerie took the deepest breath she could, her chest tighter than any corset ever made it. "Joe, it's Valerie." "Valerie who?" "Valerie" her chest was aching, her throat was tight, she gulped "Burbon."

"What the fuck?! Why are you calling now?"

"I need to talk to you and Eve."

"What about?"

"I need to do it in person, not on the phone."

"Bring your girlfriend then."

"Why? Eve will kill her, she'll---"

"You want to talk, bring her. If you don't, then don't. I gotta go."

"I want to talk."

"Give me a number I can reach you at, say in an hour. I gotta work and call Eve."

Valerie gave her cellphone number. Joe said, "I'll call you." "Goodbye, Joe." "Maybe yes, maybe no," he said, and rang off.

Maybe yes, maybe no. Not much. Sally looked the question.

"He said he will call. If I go, you must go too. But this could be an instant replay of Harv." Harv tried to kill his former lover, Francine; the bullet meant for Francine deformed the cartouche on Valerie's precious collar.

"I'll bring my collar. We go together."

"I wish you could bring a .44 magnum."

"Mistress, no."

"All right, no. I must run, baby. Till soon." Air kiss, and run.

*********************************

Valerie couldn't focus. June had some lovely gossip about Imogene the receptionist rubber girl and her new boyfriend Froggy the sticky-tongued, and Mary's assistant Javier's new love (a newly-arrived muscleman from Senegal with an apparently inexhaustible seminal capacity--"I mean, Mary my dear, four times in just two hours, and positively flooded me each time! I've been farting cum all day."), and "you have a hush-hush staff meeting post-lunch. The buzz is that it's bonus time, and my babies need shoes. Calendar otherwise clear," but Valerie just made the appropriate (or inappropriate) responses automatically. She let her coffee get cold (June raised her eyebrows and looked down her nose at this).

"Valerie, are you all right? Is something wrong with you and Sally?"

"June dear, no, it's all good. We're on restriction, but that isn't it, we've been through that often. I've got a family problem, but not with Sally. I just can't talk about it now."

"If you need to, I'm here."

"No, June, you're great, and I appreciate that, but I can't. Work is work and friends are friends. I don't want to hurt you, but no."

Two hours since the call. Nothing.

Her cellphone rang. "Valerie, Joe. This Friday, late, like after 8. Eve doesn't want the kids to hear this."

"OK, Joe, where?"

"The barn, not the house. Eve doesn't want the kids to hear this." The kids were Naomi, fourteen, and her sister Nicola (Nicky), eleven. Valerie mentally agreed; no child should hear this or have to deal with this.

"Okay, Joe. See you."

"Yeah, see you."

Valerie was numb. She had to call Sally but couldn't. June buzzed her on the intercom. "Staff meeting in five minutes. Colonel says, everybody hit the head and land running."

The Colonel earned his Army nickname "Colonel Smoke" by virtue of his grizzled silver-black hair and polished ebony skin. The tiny combat infantryman's badge was always in his buttonhole; he left off the miniature Silver Star he had earned in Vietnam as a kid draftee in Tet; he thought wearing the decoration was boastful.

Colonel Smoke was nothing if not direct. "None of this leaves this room, OK?" Nods all around; it was true, Delgrasi leaked less Sally's diapers. "I got good news and bad news. First, the good news. Print media's dying, everyone is either broke or bought, but Delgrasi is making out fine. Merit bonuses this Christmas. Point system based on increase in revenue from you bottom-line accountables, sliding scale 4% to 15% of base; non-accountables (staff and support), 5% of salary. Now the bad news. Just a rumor, not on the web or anywheres particular, but News Corp is sniffing around the family. Rupie Murdoch might want us. What the family will do nobody knows. Will and Rocky Delgrasi won't sell, but they don't control the show. They'll be rounding up support from the sit-on-their-asses cousins who think the world owes them. Now this is critical--I don't want resumes going out because people think they'll lose their jobs. We're specialists and we have a deep moat. No competitor comes close to us. But I don't want staff jumping off the chopper before we hit the DZ--comprendé? More to follow when known. Meeting over--move!" The Colonel wasted no time. Everyone went back to their desks, telling their waiting colleagues "pep talk from the Colonel. Merry and happy--maybe."

Valerie was less than enthusiastic, but mouthed the line well. Her businesslike attitude covered her distress. Friday was coming.

*******************************************

Joe and Eve Burbon lived on an old farm Joe bought years ago at a tax sale. The old farmer's wife had died, her children lived far away, the house was a wreck and the barn falling down. No one could make a living on that exhausted land, so the heirs let it go for taxes.

Joe and Eve were homesteaders. No money, just sweat and love. Joe re-roofed house and barn, replaced rotted wood, saved the money to pay plumber and electrician and watched them, learning how to do by himself to save the money he didn't have. Eve and Joe brought the farm back from the dead.

Mike helped them when he could, and tended both house and Joe's family when Joe got the kidney transplant that saved his life. Eve's brother Tommy helped when he could get back from his duty station with the Coast Guard.

Joe and Eve slept under the staircase in the house, in the hayloft of the barn, wherever they could. Eve gave up the pain and frigidity of her childhood under Joe's hands, lips and cock. They "christened" the house and the barn those first hungry years, with cum and with sweat. Their hard, calloused hands could still show their love for each other and for their home.

The house and barn were finished, clean, well-tended now. Naomi and Nicky had a home where it was great to grow up. Then Mike married, and then Mike died.

The ride was long and frightening. The snow was blowing around, although there had been no new snowfall so far that day. Spring Street was plowed, the Interstate was clear, but once leaving it behind, with miles to go on county roads, driving was a nervous, sweating series of skids, snowbanks, obscured signs, invisible lane markers, oncoming trucks and blanketed streetlights.

Valerie finally pulled her Lexus off the county road, onto the snow-covered gravel strip in front of the barn, and thanked the auto gods for antilock brakes and electronic stability control. Sally released her seatbelt and pulled on her skiing gloves.

Valerie took a shallow breath, slipped her seatbelt, opened the door, and winced as the cold air hit her face. "Time to go, sweetheart. Be strong." "Mistress, I love you; you are my safeword." They slammed the doors together and walked toward the barn, snow crunching under their boots and the wind reddening their faces.

The barn door opened easily. Valerie had not seen the barn for years. Now it was part storage, part stables for Naomi and Nicky's horses (bought from savings scraped up through the years), part Joe's workshop. They walked to the workshop.

On the wall were mounted deer and moose heads. Valerie remembered that Joe and Mike would go hunting with their father George, although Tommy would not go the one time he was there during the season. Eve loved to hunt, Valerie remembered; Eve and Joe each got a buck every fall, and the meat lasted a long while in their big freezer in the barn.

Joe loved to tell the story, how he and Eve were coming back with two bucks in the pickup bed and their rifles in the rack Joe put beside the rear seat, when the new game warden pulled them over. He scrutinized their hunting tags, and said, "Ma'am, you shot which buck?" Eve pointed to the 12-pointer, a candidate for a Boone-Crockett acknowledgment. "That one, Ma'am?" the warden asked. "Yep," said Eve, her thin lips tightening and drawing up her slight five-foot-two frame. The warden looked at the buck; one clean hole through the heart.

"I never doubt a lady's word," the warden said, smiling, "but let me just place my watch on yonder tree and see how well you shoot," clearly thinking that Joe had shot both deer and was using his wife's tag for cover. That was the last he saw his watch, because Eve took her Winchester, chambered one round with practiced ease, brought stock to cheek with a tight spotweld in one fluid motion, and squeezed off the round that blew the watch apart at two hundred yards, in the dusk of a November night, over iron sights.

Eve said scopes were for pansies.

Everyone laughed at the story then. Now Valerie wondered. If Eve lost it tonight, how was her aim when she was mad?

Valerie opened the door, and stepped in, Sally following. Sally closed the door.

Eve stood next to Joe. Birthing and raising two children had not changed her slight build, almost childlike breasts, and her tight-lipped mouth seemed drawn even tighter. Joe was clearly uneasy.

"Hello," said Valerie. "Hi," said Joe. Eve and Sally looked at each other, looked quickly away.

"Eve," said Valerie, "whatever you think of me now, I was a good wife to Mike. I loved him. Maybe you know or maybe you don't, but we didn't have sex with each other, from the day we met until the day we married. I'll swear by anything you believe in, I never looked at anyone else until the day Mike was put in the ground, and I wished and prayed that day that I was in the ground with him.

"I couldn't give him a baby. My tubes are scarred. Mike understood; I couldn't handle adopting a baby, so Mike gave up his dearest wish for my sake. He was never a daddy.

"I don't know what happened to me. Part of me was dead and part was a ghost until I met Charles. And then I met Sally. You don't want to know about that, and that's okay. But I want a baby. I want Sally to be a mommy. And I want--and I want--"

Valerie's voice broke. Eve stared at her, her eyes bright, drilling holes in Valerie's face, her thin lips even tighter, her breath coming in short sniffs. Eve's hands clenched and unclenched. Joe stood like a tree, hardly breathing himself, his huge hands clenching like his wife's.

Valerie plunged ahead, her head spinning "I want a Burbon baby. I want Joe to father her artificially and Sally to mother her and we'll adopt her and there will be no contact between Joe and Sally and me and you will never need to see the baby or me or Sally ever again and we'll go and as far as you need be we'll be dead like you want us to be and"---the words gushed from Valerie as she shook, and Sally was barely able to stand.

"How the hell do you know what I want?" Eve shouted. "How the motherfucking hell do you know me? Because I yelled something at you five years ago and you went away mad? How do you know what made me do that?! You ain't God. You may have a college education and a cool job and a big house and a fancy riceburner out there, but you ain't God. I ain't got a college education and that. All I got is my faith and my guns, like your man said. You don't know enough. But you might, you just might, hurt enough to understand me."

Valerie started to speak, but Eve cut her off. "Listen, dammit. Don't talk, listen. I grew up hard, with parents who whupped me good. I was never good enough, never worked hard enough, never ate little enough. God was watching and God was vengeful and would repay with awful recompense, and my parents were in place of God and never let me forget I would die and go to Hell. I wanted to kill myself, but that would only mean I'd go to Hell faster. I suffered in that house of a child's tears beyond anything y'all ever do. Y'all claim to have safewords (Valerie gasped; how could Eve know this?). I had none. But I did have, thank you Jesus, I did have Tommy.

"Tommy took many whuppings for me. Tommy took care of me when I was sick, did his chores and my chores, helped me with schoolwork. Tommy was mother and father and Jesus and God for me, when the words mother and father and Jesus and God were just pain and misery.

"My parents told me God hates queers, that this country is damned because God hates queers, and I believed them. I wanted them to love me and Tommy, and stop hurting us (Valerie was shaking; Sally was leaning on the barn wall with her face in her hands, and then threw back her hands and leaned into the wall as if she was being beaten), and they would love me if all the queer faggots would all get AIDS and die and go to Hell.

"Tommy and I grew up somehow. Tommy escaped first, and I was right behind him. I clerked in some stores, lived on nothing, barely escaped being a whore just to live, and then once again God proved to me She exists--first She sent me Tommy, and then She sent me Joe. I should have been a psycho frigid bitch, but I met Joe."

She looked at her husband, and the pain vanished as her eyes teared. "You taught me what it means to love, but the queer thing was still there. Joe wouldn't let me teach our kids that, and I love him even more for that. But it was still there. Until last month."

Eve stopped. Valerie heard nothing but the blood rushing through her ears. Eve had thrown her arms around Joe, but her thin arms could not reach around the big man. He wrapped his arms around her and held her.

Eve took in a big breath, like a drowning man.

"Tommy came home. His time in the Coast Guard was up. Do you know what he was in the Coast Guard? Do you know, you wise ladies?"