Breakdown Ch. 02

As he strode out into the blinding sunlight, Galen had no idea what to do next. PeeJay was getting heavy, and the as-yet nameless blonde, while not putting up any resistance, was also not helping him any. About this time he noticed that the blonde's hands were bound together by what amounted to leather handcuffs, and that her skimpy costume, which had been provocative enough in the semi-darkness of the bar, proved to be pretty much not there in full daylight. [Oh shit! We're gonna get arrested!]

When he could tear his eyes away from her body, he looked into her eyes, and was irretrievably lost. Her bright, clear emerald irises drew him in like a moth to the flame, and it was quite awhile before he regained enough composure to speak.

"How did you get here?" he queried. She didn't answer, but lifted her cuffed hands in the direction of a vintage Buick, in poor condition. He sighed, and started to carry PeeJay to the car. The blonde didn't move, and when he realized she wasn't right behind, he looked back in askance. "Come along, now," he said, "we don't want to upset Mary anymore." For a moment it appeared that she was confused, unable to decide whether she should follow him, but the moment passed and she made haste to accompany him to the car.

Arriving at the car, he placed the unconscious PeeJay on the back seat and considered what to do next. She'd received a pretty solid whack to her skull, on her way to the floor, and she might have been seriously injured. Before doing anything else, he had to be sure she didn't need medical attention. Examining her closely, he could see that, although she wasn't bleeding, the bone was already swelling to form a "knot", and the skin in the area of impact was already showing signs of bruising.

"Can you get me a flashlight?" he asked, looking at the blonde. She nodded, and again held up her bound hands. "Oh yeah," he muttered, and after a short search of PeeJay's pockets, he found the keys, removed the cuffs, and handed the keys to the blonde. I can't just keep on thinking of her as 'the blonde.' She entered the car, and then withdrew a small flashlight from the glove box. [Just what the doctor ordered!]

In the relative shade of the car's roof, he checked PeeJay's eyes for dilation. He would have to wait until she was fully conscious to check her tracking, and if that didn't happen soon, he'd have to find a hospital. Satisfied, for the moment, that he'd done everything he could reasonably do for her, he turned back to the blonde. She still hadn't spoken. He thought he knew why, but he had to find out for sure.

"Why won't you speak to me?" he asked. She looked confused for a moment, then reluctantly pointed to the unconscious PeeJay.

"She won't let you talk?" he interpreted, and the blonde nodded.

"Do you want to talk?" he asked, and she nodded her head vigorously. [Okay, this is a bondage relationship, and judging from the costumes, a bit anachronistic as well. Let's see...]

"Is trial by combat valid in your lifestyle?" he queried, and once again she nodded.

"Consider this" he continued, "Isn't it true that your Mistress attacked me unprovoked, and in defending myself, I bested her in single combat? " Again the blonde agreed with a nod.

"Under the rules of conquest, then, she, and all that she possessed, is now mine, correct?" he continued. Another nod.

"So, since you were her slave, now you are mine." The light began to dawn, and fear began to creep into her eyes.

"Don't worry," he assured her, "I'm not going to hurt you, but you must realize that you are no longer hers to command. You are mine, and my first command is that you shall speak to me when it is appropriate to do so, and in a manner which is appropriate to our new relationship, until I tell you otherwise."

Hesitantly, she responded, "Yes Master." [Hmmm...] he thought, [that won't do, especially not in public.]

"Our interaction will be somewhat different from what you are used to," he informed her. "The words 'Master' and 'Mistress' shall never again cross your lips. Do you understand?"

The blonde, frowned, then shook her head, asking fearfully "But Mm... how should I address you then?"

"My name is Galen, and that is what you are to call me in public," he instructed, "or you may, if the situation seems appropriate, make use of any terms of endearment that are in common use. In private, you are to call me, and me alone, 'Sir'. Do you understand now?"

"Yes Sir," she responded, relieved, "Is there anything else you wish me to do?" Her voice is like music!

"Now, lovely as you are," he observed, "I don't want to have to explain your attire, or lack of it, to any law enforcement officials we might happen to meet. Do you have anything handy to cover yourself?"

"Yes Sir, I wore a beach cover-up on the way over here. It's in the trunk of the car"

"Get it then and put it on. By the way, what is your name?"

Startled, she looked at him and responded, pointing at PeeJay, "She called me 'Peaches,' but I never liked it. You can call me whatever you like, of course."

He considered that for a moment before asking, "What was the name you were given at birth?"

Tears welled up in her eyes before she softly answered, "Angel."

Fixing her with a grin he spoke, "It fits. Angel it shall be."

Grateful, for having her birth name returned, she flew into his arms and hugged him tightly around the neck. His body's response to this kind of attention was predictable, but there wasn't time to gratify those impulses.

"Later Angel," he told her, while gently disentangled himself. "We have to get going. Get dressed." Reluctantly she complied.

By this time, PeeJay was beginning to stir, and Galen wasn't in any mood to deal with the verbal abuse he knew would be coming, after she awoke. On examining her closer, he found she was wearing a halter-top under the leather biker jacket. Before she could fully awake, he untied and removed the halter, and put it to use as a gag.

Not wanting her to get the wrong idea, i.e., that he might have been sexually abusing her, he started to zip the jacket closed, but at that precise moment she awoke. Finding her hands bound and her mouth gagged, she expressed her extreme displeasure by trying to kick him. Her attempts to injure him, although inconvenient, were totally ineffectual, as he was practically sitting on her legs. It was a small matter to move from "practically," to actually doing so, and the change in her facial expression told of her additional discomfort.

"You've been a bad girl," he told her, reaching for her belt buckle. As her obvious fright grew, he continued "This kicking and squirming won't do. I'm going to have to immobilize you until I can decide how to dispose of you."

On hearing that, PeeJay fainted... probably as a reaction to the unfortunate choice of words. It did make it easier, however, to bind her legs and move her to the Buick's large trunk, where there wouldn't be any curious looks about her captive state. Under the circumstances, it seemed a fairly satisfactory turn of events for Galen.

Looking down at her former Mistress, Angel grinned wickedly, and muttered "Bitch!" just before slamming the trunk closed.

"Angel, can you drive?" Galen asked. She nodded, and he continued "Okay, let's move the car into a shady patch up near the highway." Just as they were preparing to park, he saw the tow truck approaching from the direction of Statesboro. He got out and met the truck.

"Are you Mr. Cuvier?" asked the driver. Galen nodded and replied, "Yes. My car is still on the interstate, about a mile toward Savannah from the exit. Do you need me, or do I just give you the keys?"

"Either way," responded the driver. "I'll deliver it to this address." He held out a business card. "You can come with me now to get anything you need from the car, or you can get it from the garage, in about forty-five minutes."

After some consideration, Galen took the card and replied, "Thanks, I think it would be more convenient to meet the car at the garage." He handed the driver the keys and waved as he left.

Turning back to Angel, he said, "As much as I like the idea, we can't leave PeeJay in the trunk much longer. This heat could kill her. Where do you girls live?"

She gave him a serious look, and said "Sir, I live wherever you tell me to live. So does she, though she may not know it yet," indicating the trunk with a nod. "But we still pay rent on an apartment, in Statesboro," she concluded.

"Will we be able to get her into the apartment, unobserved?" he ventured.

Looking at his watch she nodded, "Yes Sir, there shouldn't be anyone moving around our building for another couple of hours."

"Okay, then, Angel, lets go home!" She grinned at him and threw car into gear.

---------------------------------------------

On arriving at the parking area at the rear of the apartment building, Galen told Angel, "I want to scout things out, and I want you to wait here for me. Do you have the apartment key?" She turned off the auto ignition and handed him the key ring, pointing to the apartment key.

He removed the apartment key from the ring and handed back the ring, telling her, "Angel, restart the car, and keep it running until I tell you otherwise. Be ready to fly if necessary." She acknowledged and complied with his instructions, as he exited the car and made his way to the second floor apartment.

It was an older building, with only two floors. Much older than anything he'd seen for a long time. The first floor was mostly empty storefront space, boarded up, because all of the "mom and pop" shops had gone out of business. It was just another small-town tribute to Wally World. Occupancy of the second-floor apartments was better, because many people needed affordable places to live, even if it had to be in otherwise-abandoned commercial buildings.

The girls' apartment was an end unit, so there was only one next-door neighbor, and all of the units were separated by masonry firewalls. It was a pretty good setup if you didn't want nosey neighbors getting involved in a family squabble.

Galen went down the hall, knocking on each apartment door as he went. No one answered. Satisfied that all of the tenants were away for the day, he returned to the car. The parking lot appeared to be empty of other cars for the moment, and there was no visible activity in or around the other buildings in the area.

Looking at Angel, he drew his finger across his neck, giving the universal signal for 'kill'. She understood, and after turning off the ignition, got out of the car. Together they walked around to the rear of the car. Angel opened the trunk, and he lifted out a fully conscious PeeJay. She didn't show any inclination to fight again, right away, but the look on her face was pure venom.

Galen threw her across his shoulder again, and with Angel closing the trunk and opening doors, he carried his living burden into the apartment. Setting her gently on the sofa, he tried to arrange her for as much comfort as possible, without removing her bindings. He then moved a dining chair into position in front of her, carefully placing it so that she could not effectually kick at him, then he sat down, facing her. The hatred in her eyes burned bright, but he had more important issues to deal with.

Addressing her, he spoke. "PeeJay, you took quite a rap on the skull. I don't think you've suffered any serious damage, but I want to make sure of it. If I can't be sure, I'll have to abandon you at the local hospital. Do you understand?" She grudgingly nodded.

He held up a forefinger and said, "I want you to try to follow my finger with your eyes. Will you cooperate?" Again she gave a grudging nod. He moved his finger around in an intricate pattern, attempting to discover any difficulty she might have tracking it. There was none. Taking her head in his hands, he then slowly and gently moved her head to its limits, asking her to rap the floor with her heels if the motion caused her any pain. It didn't.

As he continued his examination, Angel watched with interest." Sir, are you some kind of doctor?" she asked.

"No, but for awhile I was part of a volunteer rescue squad, and I was trained as an EMT."

"Cool! When you beat me up, at least you can fix me up," she commented. He turned toward her in shock.

"Angel, why would I ever beat you up? I might not ever even spank you!"

She met his gaze in surprise, "I'm sorry Sir! It's ... it's just that every Mm... uh Dom that I've ever served has beaten me, at one time or another." She then looked at PeeJay, and observed, "and it sure didn't look like you had any problems with hitting a woman..."

Seriously, he explained, "I really do have issues with that, however, PeeJay isn't a woman."

Angle looked at him curiously. "Why? Because she's a lesbian?"

"No," he replied. "I don't mind women who prefer the love of other women. Women who pretend to be men are another matter entirely, especially when they claim and count upon the considerations that our society affords women."

"What do you mean," Angel asked.

"That," he said, pointing to PeeJay, "is an abomination. She is blessed with a beautiful body, soft, clear skin, and a wonderfully full head of gorgeous black hair. Her genetics establish her sex, but not her gender. She chooses to hide her wonderful, natural attributes under a mantle of barbarism that she believes makes her the equal of any man. She ignores her femininity, except to use it as a shield when faced with physically stronger opposition, and she has forgotten that her true, feminine nature provides an opportunity to become a greater force for change than the faux man she tries to be."

He strode over to the window overlooking the street below, then turned back toward the women.

"I would bet that PeeJay has had very little experience interacting with civilized men, and she probably believes that she has to act like the few assholes she's allowed to get close to her, in order to be treated acceptably. I'm not going to waste my time trying to cure her of that condition; it's one that has taken her entire lifetime to acquire. It's not my problem, and I have other things to do. I can tell you this, though; how you behave toward other people is a choice. I know a number of wonderful women with whom a man has no chance for a love relationship, because they only love other women. A few of these wonderful women are captains of industry, and a few are dommes. A few are both. None of them are bitches, nor do they pretend to be men."

Angel seemed to be digesting his words, and PeeJay appeared to be in shock, so he stopped for a moment to collect his thoughts.

"Honestly though, all that is just my personal philosophy, and has little bearing on my reaction to PeeJay. The simple fact is, she attacked me physically and viciously, without provocation. In that moment, from my viewpoint, she gave up any legitimate claim to womanhood, and became my mortal enemy. I do not offer quarter to enemies, at least not while they are trying to kill me."

Angel nodded her understanding, and approached him. "How may I serve you, Sir?"

"Angel, you don't have to serve me, or anyone else," he paused as he saw the fear in her eyes. "Is this something you need?"

"Yes Sir," she replied, ashamedly, "I do. You won me in single combat, and I need to hear and obey your commands in order to feel your acceptance of me as your prize, and to know my own worth."

[Fuck!] he thought, [this is getting complicated...]

He put one arm around her (tiny) waist, and with the other hand, lifted her chin and drew her into a kiss.

It started out innocently enough, just a friendly pucker and kiss. It didn't stay that way long, though. First, he felt her tongue, seeking entrance through his lips, and he automatically gave way. Going with the moment, he began exploring her mouth with his own tongue.

[Damn, she tastes good!]

Their embrace became tighter, and their body temperatures climbed as their tongues danced to a passionate melody, unheard by anyone else. The kiss seemed to go on forever, breaking only when both of them were forced to, because of oxygen deprivation.

They sank to the floor, oblivious to the fact that PeeJay remained - literally - a captive audience. Angel fumbled for a moment before she succeeded in loosing his trousers, then she pushed them below his knees. Her need was too great to spend time trying to get them off him completely. She abandoned the beach cover-up, and he was delighted to re-discover that under the slave-girl outfit, she wore nothing at all!

She laid back and opened her legs in an invitation he was unable to refuse. As he slid into her (very wet!) channel, they both groaned in pleasure, and as they became joined in coital bliss, each sought to re-forge the kiss that started it all. They succeeded beyond their wildest expectations. Moving in tandem, they climbed higher and higher peaks of passion, until finally they were standing together on the cliff-edge of orgasm. Their bodies agreed it was time, and together they leapt over that cliff, each experiencing a soul-shattering climax.

They came down slowly, cuddling, and murmuring their feelings and pleasure in each other. Reluctantly, Galen broke his embrace, and Angel allowed it. He rose and helped her to her feet, then drew her again into his arms. They shared one more kiss of nearly violent intensity, then still holding hands, they stepped apart and stood face to face, as each gazed into the others eyes. It was truly overwhelming, and in that moment they each knew that, no matter what else the future held, they had shared love's embrace at least this one time, and created a memory that neither would ever forget.