A Tennessee Education Pt. 04

"I have an idea. But let's see how the morning goes."

An hour later Sharon drove to Mistress Linda's home. Her slave, of course, was Charlie, the metal worker. Sharon had made arrangements some days ago and this time suited Linda best. Thirty-five was let out of the trunk and followed his Mistress standing in deference to the two women as they briefly conversed inside. Linda pointed to the backyard indicating where his shop was and Mistress sent 35 on his way with instructions to wait by the back door when through.

When Bobby entered the shop, Charlie put down his tools. He had been crafting a cage. Bobby noted retaining rings of various sizes hanging on nails. Below were cages, all of identical length - the standard 1.5" that Ms. K had established as the norm.

"Are you getting ready for Christmas?" Bobby said casually, nodding to his work.

Charlie smiled. "The thing is, by Christmas most of these will be locked on some slaves' cock."

"They are being converted at that rate?" Counting, he estimated Charlie had at least 30 cages constructed.

"About one a day. That's what I figure. I keep pretty busy making them. Word has been getting out in the past year. I think it has to do with the women's group. The Mistresses talk and other women are starting to listen. They take note how their slaves act and, well, things happen after that."

"I love being Mistress Sharon's slave."

"Doesn't seem like that to me."

"What makes you say that?"

"The fact that I have to do this again. I've only collared a few guys twice. You're on thin ice if you ask me."

Bobby felt a torrent of guilt engulf him. "I am hoping that because I'm here it's a good sign. I want to be hers. I really do."

"Sounds like you aren't sure if she feels the same."

"I'm not sure. That's what bothers me."

"Then do more. Serve her until it hurts. You can't make her decide but you can persuade her by how you act. If I were you I'd do everything she ever asked and then some. Now come here. Let's get this done."

Bobby let Charlie take measurements, and size the collar. He thought about what he had said. Knowing his collar number was in the 400's was important to Bobby. He had lived this life for years and probably knew what he was talking about. He was trying to do everything Mistress had asked but hearing Charlie's point of view reinforced what his gut was telling him that he needed to be the perfect slave. And that was what he wanted most; to be all hers and feel her ownership.

Before the collar was shaped Bobby told him the date, slave number and phrase to engrave on the steel rod.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" He said not looking up from his work.

"It was Mistress' idea. She told me I could have you add whatever I wanted.

"I like it." He smiled. "Remember these words man. Don't disappoint her."

"I won't. And thanks for being so honest. I appreciate it."

...

Mistress Sharon drove alone. She knew this was going to be an interesting next few hours but she felt like they both needed this. A little before 2 PM she pulled into the parking lot of an old country store. The store was closed, probably because it was Thanksgiving. Most of the shops and stores around her were empty today. This was a day like Christmas in which family's spent time together. She smiled sadly thinking of the family gathering she was missing in Oklahoma. Deb had flown north and she knew everyone else would be there too. She would have too except not being there. There was no way she was going to leave 35 alone. She told Deb who she knew would relay the news to the rest of her kin. "Maybe later she'd call home and say hi to Mom and Dad," she said to herself.

She banged on the hood. "Get dressed. You have two minutes."

Sharon felt the car suddenly move as he squirmed into his clothes. This really was country. She could hear the birds chirping and insects in the nearby trees and overgrowth. Pulling out her purse she checked her makeup. After a touch-up and a quick brushing of her brunette hair she opened the hatch. Thirty-five squinted as sunlight hit his dilated pupils.

"Where are we?"

She didn't answer. He looked around. When he saw the store she smiled.

"Randolf? We're in Randolf!"

"Yep, your place is right down the road."

"Yea it is."

"Comb your hair." She handed him a brush. "I texted your mom yesterday."

"What? You did? How did you get her cell?"

"I used your phone." She watched for his reaction. To his credit he didn't react. "Anyway, she thinks you texted her and that's going to be your story. Do you understand?"

"Yes Mistress."

"Good. I told her you wanted to come for dinner and that you were bringing someone very special. She asked who but you said you wanted it to be a surprise."

He smiled. "Well it's going to be."

"Don't disappoint me 35. If you do, you know the consequences."

Adrenaline pumped through his body as a thousand different scenarios, both known and unknown ran through his mind. He had no clue she would ever bring him here. It was one thing for Jasmine to bring him home and quite another for Mistress to take him to his parents. "How am I going to handle this? What else hasn't she told me?" He was nearing an anxiety attack when she interrupted his thoughts.

She could see he was stressed. "Would you rather go home 35?"

That's when it hit him. Clarity came and almost immediately his mind was awash with calm. She was beautiful. Standing there wearing dark pants and a pretty top under a white cardigan he saw her once more for who she was. "No Mistress," he said confidently. "I'm glad you did this. It will be good for my parents to meet you."

She smiled brightly, her expression making her appear even more beautiful. She observed his apparent anxious demeanor for only a few seconds before it suddenly vanished. "That's nice to know."

He brushed his slacks clean of a few lint balls.

"What were you just thinking?" She asked.

"How beautiful you look."

"What was going through your head just before I told you we could go home?"

"Lots of things. Mostly how things were going to go with my folks."

"We can still head back north."

"I know but I told them we'd be there and I want you to meet them."

Mistress smirked, "As you wish slave."

Ten minutes later they stood on the back steps of the old three-story home. It was an older home and similar to all the others in this old country hamlet. Bobby had told her the basic layout: four bedrooms upstairs and an attic above that. The first floor had a similar floor-plan as her home with a living and dining room and kitchen and back utility room.

Bobby knocked on the back door, the door commonly used by those that came and went. Yelling he let himself and Mistress in and once inside their olfactory senses was assaulted with the heavenly smells of home cooked food. "Smells great mom," he yelled.

"Bobby hugged his mother and introduced his guest. "Mom, Mistress Sharon."

His mother looked at him questioningly not sure she heard him correctly.

Sharon extended her hand. "Sharon Ashby ma'am. I've heard lots of good things about you."

"Call me Gail," she said pleased. She looked at Sharon and then Bobby, placing them side by side in her mind and grinned. She thought how nice it was to see her son with a nice girl his age finally.

A few seconds later his father came down the stairs. He was in his sixties and somewhat rotund with thinning gray hair. His eyes were blue and alert. "Who'd you bring with you Bobby? She's a pretty one."

"Walter!" Gail scolded gently.

"Dad, I want you to meet Mistress Sharon."

"Sorry Bobby, what was the name?"

Sharon extended her hand, "Sharon Ashby, Mr. Lewis."

"It's a pleasure meeting you Sharon. How long have you two known one another?

"Since early September. Your son and I are working together at the high school."

"Well you sure fund yourself a pretty one Son."

Bobby smiled. "I sure did."

"The food smells wonderful Gail," Sharon said. "Would you like some help?"

"I'd love some. The turkey needs basting."

"Thirty-five, help your mother. Mr. Lewis, can you tell me where your bathroom is?"

Walter and Gail both watched as Bobby opened the oven and examined the bird.

"Mr. Lewis?"

"Oh, pardon my manners; up the steps and straight ahead. You can't miss it."

"Thank you."

As soon as Walter heard the door shut upstairs he grabbed his son by the arm. "What did you call her?"

"And what's with the steel ring around your neck?" His mother asked hurriedly.

Bobby smiled, drizzled more juice over the turkey and stood. "I call her Mistress Sharon. Why?"

"Mistress?" his mom asked aghast.

"Yes, I call her Mistress. Do you have a problem with that? It's not a four letter word as far as I know."

"What kind of girl did you bring home?" Gail hissed in a whispered voice.

"A really nice girl. She's pretty and smart and she likes me. She just expects me to call her Mistress. And so I do."

His parents looked at each other obviously not pleased.

"Mom, she is a wonderful woman and I am so lucky that she has taken to me."

"Is she some kind of feminist or something?" Her dad asked.

"So what's with this?" Gail said pointing to the collar.

"Hi 35, am I interrupting a private conversation?" The room suddenly grew awkwardly quiet as Sharon returned.

"Not at all Mistress. My parents were asking how we met and why I refer to you as I do."

"Nothing wrong with asking about that. Gail and Walter, you've raised quite a charming son."

"And Mom wanted to know about my collar."

"Your collar?" Gail gasped.

Sharon spoke. "Mr. Lewis, when you hear the word Mistress what comes to mind?"

"Uh," he said. "I think of some lady that runs some old English mansion back in the old days."

"Well with your son I am the one in charge. That's why he calls me Mistress. He does what I tell him and that collar is a gift I gave him to remind him that I am."

Gail asked quietly, "Bobby said you were brought up in the church."

"I was; all my life."

"Is all this biblical? I mean, it sounds like it's all backward to me."

For the past two weeks, Sharon had been planning this get together and she knew conversations like this were bound to occur. In particular she knew this inquiry, in one form or another was going to be asked and so she was prepared. Taking her time she digressed a bit, talking about various biblical characters and stories and eventually brought her remarks around to the very passage she knew they'd use against her. She did so in such a way as to give them no recourse but remain silent.

"That's why the collar is engraved with a number. See, look here," she pointed to the number while Bobby bent down." It's a number marking him as a slave. Kind of like how Jesus told us we should be slaves to our Father in Heaven."

"Sharon!" Gail gasped.

"Stand up son!" His father commanded.

Sharon gently pressed her hand on 35's shoulder while she addressed Gail. Thirty-five dare not move.

"I'm sorry we can't see eye to eye but I hope you can see that 35 is very happy. He wanted you to meet me and I very much enjoy his service. I just reminded him not to long ago that if he ever wanted to leave I wouldn't ever get in his way. "He's still here," she said patting is head. "Stand." she said quietly.

"Dad, you didn't mention the verse after the one you told Mistress."

"What verse?" he said indignantly.

"The one that says husbands are to love their wives to the point of death - like how Jesus loved people."

"But you aren't her husband."

"I know that but neither is she my wife."

His father glared at him; his nostrils flaring in anger.

"Dad I am not doing anything wrong by submitting to her."

"Submitting! What the hell can't you see? Men don't submit. Women do!"

Gail gasped. "Walter. How dare you say that? You know better than say I submit to you."

"What are you talking about?" He said.

"You know that we work as a team. I never vowed to obey you when we married. We deliberately kept that word out of our marriage vows."

The air hung thick with tension. Having been backed into a corner Walter changed the subject. "So where are you living Bobby? Did you have any trouble finding a place to live? That area where you work has quite a high crime rate."

"I'm not living in the city. Mistress and I live about a half-hour away. She has a nice home in Maple Grove."

"Oh god!" he exclaimed.

"So you two are living together." Gail said disapprovingly.

Sharon replied, "Gail, if you are worried that we are sleeping together let me assure you we aren't. We don't even sleep on the same floor."

"And we've never even kissed!" Bobby said grinning oddly.

"No, I guess we haven't. Hmmm, I never even gave that much thought," Sharon observed.

"So she's not your girlfriend?" Walter asked.

"Walter!" Gail chirped once more. "My husband asks the most intrusive questions sometimes. I apologize for that."

"Gail. It's really not a big deal. I don't mind you asking and I know your son doesn't."

"OK then," Walter said, "is she your girl?"

"No dad, she's my Mistress." He let the words hang a moment. "And I'm her slave - Thirty-five. Remember?"

Sharon watched Walter do his best to not explode. She wondered how many times he'd have his values challenged before he truly lost it.

Gail wasn't convinced Sharon was telling the truth. "Bobby, is she being honest with me?"

"Yes Mom. Of course she is."

"I mean about the no sex part."

Sharon grabbed Bobby's crotch and squeezed. He didn't flinch. "Gail, we can't have sex. I have him locked up inside a steel cage. He's pure. That's biblical isn't it? Purity, I mean."

Gail and Walter both gasped. It was just too much to process and the conversation for the past twenty minutes made Thanksgiving seem light years away. Sharon had chosen her words well. After all, the bible did teach purity and here was the very assurance that Bobby would remain so. Gail's jaw hung open. She had no words to respond.

Walter asked, "Is the food about ready Gail"

"Oh my gosh! I forgot about the food. Yes it is. Everything is ready to eat and you know how I am about not letting good food wait."

"Amen to that. Get the show on the road Gail!" Walter ordered.

"Gail?" Sharon asked taking her by the arm. "How about you and I have a seat at the table and we let these two capable men put the food in bowls and platters. I'm sure you've been the one slaving away all morning."

Everyone looked at everyone else. Gail finally spoke. "That sounds like a Thanksgiving tradition I could begin enjoying."

"Then let it begin now," Sharon said as the ladies watched the buys walk slowly into the kitchen.

Walter scowled at his son. "What kind of woman did you drag in here?"

"She's the best thing that has ever happened to me dad. Don't go judging her. I've never met anyone like her."

"Neither have I," he hissed. "That's what concerns me. Look at us. We're in the kitchen and they are in there relaxing."

"And Mom and Mistress love it. Isn't it nice we can do this for them?"

Walter didn't have an answer. He kept spooning out the stuffing from the bird while Bobby cut the meat, separating the white from the dark into two piles.

Sharon and Bobby left several hours later. The conversation moved away from the younger couples' relationship and on to other subjects. Sharon told of her upbringing and found Walter to be quite interested in her tales about life on the ranch. The two of them talked and talked and Sharon found his fascination with ranch life humorous. They must have spent an hour on that subject alone. Sharon realized 35's dad really did have a enthrallment with the wild, wild, west although Sharon did her best to let him know it wasn't anywhere like it was portrayed on old TV westerns.

Gail dug out the old photo albums and soon the four of them were huddled together. Sharon listened while the Lewis family reminisced of trips, vacations and significant events they shared during the past thirty or so years. Walter even had Gail pull out their album, the one containing photos of them when they were in high school. Sharon learned they had known one another as kids and married as soon as they were both eighteen.

It was the hours conversing after the intense pre-dinner conversation when Gail and Walter really got to see the side of Sharon; the side that Bobby loved. Later that evening after they had left Gail and Walter spoke of her intellect, her attention to detail, the way she kept Bobby close and how charming and interesting she was. Walter made mention at least ten times how pretty she was and even laughed that she kept Bobby locked. They struggled with the whole Mistress-slave thing but could see they did share a genuine friendship they couldn't help but admire.

Waving goodbye from the front porch Mr. and Mrs. Lewis watched their son and girlfriend leave. They watched once more in horror as Sharon opened the trunk and their son climbed in. Upon locking the door Sharon blew them a kiss and settled herself into the driver seat, waving goodbye as she backed out. She didn't smile but inwardly she was about to explode with laughter as she caught their reaction. For Sharon it was the perfect way to end their stay and she felt abundantly proud of her slave. "One down; one to go," she said quietly.

...

"Don't undress," Sharon had told 35 as he climbed into the trunk.

Thirty-five wondered where they were going next. Obviously it must be somewhere public. "Why else the unusual order?" he thought.

When she next opened the lid the parking lot was immediately recognizable. He got out quickly and she snapped a leash onto his collar.

"Let's go have a drink or two." I want to meet some of your friends." Sharon said. She thought once more about her modus operandi, "Push him. Take him out of his comfort zone. Make him realize he is owned not just privately but publically." She wondered which would be harder, time with family or time with friends. He had gone above and beyond her expectations with his folks. This would be another test.

Thirty-five looked at her curiously. "Permission to speak," she said.

"Do I have permission to speak at will again - like you gave me at home?"

"Home? Home is with me."

Thirty-five grinned. "I mean at my parents."

"Permission granted. But remember. I'm not your friend," her eyes suddenly penetrating. "I'm your Mistress."

"Always."

"Let's go." She tugged on his leash and led him inside.

For a Thanksgiving evening, the place was surprisingly busy. Bobby spotted several familiar faces within seconds. Sharon marched him to the bar and ordered two beers. Bobby greeted the bartender casually but received an odd look in return. It was the leash and he knew it.

"Let's find a table slave," she said loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. Several heads turned and soon most all watched as she marched with him in tow to the far side of the room and sat.

Bobby waved to several but remained seated at their table. Focusing his attention on her they talked about their visit with his parents. She commended him for being such an obedient slave.

"Do you mind being leashed, slave?"

"No. I understand what you are doing."

She smiled devilishly. "And what is that?"

He sipped his beer. "I think you are marking me as yours to all my friends."

"Maybe I am. I hadn't thought of it quite that way but I guess it's doing that too." She looked around the bar. "So, you don't mind having this on?" she yanked on the leather strap playfully.

"No Mistress. Earlier today I realized just how much I am yours. That's what made my time at my parents so easy. I belong to you and there is no shame in that."

Sharon smiled. "Was that a hard decision to make?"

"For about ten seconds it was agony and then I suddenly saw things for what it was and all the internal tension left. Like I told my folks, there is no shame in being yours. I want to be yours and I wanted my parents to get to know you - and me as your slave" he added, "for who we are. It really was pretty easy after that; real easy in fact."