tagNonConsent/ReluctanceChanges Ch. 05

Changes Ch. 05


Heather, now dressed in a dark, modest floral dress that buttoned up the front, never did answer Bryan, nor did she speak a word out on the sidewalk as I let Dagmar into the back seat of the car, Heather right behind her as she was instructed. Once we were out and moving along with the sparse traffic, I took a quick glance in the rearview at her, sitting back in the seat, but visibly stiff as a sculpture with a tense expression in the flash of the overhead streetlights through the sunroof.

Don't fret, Heather." Dagmar said as I felt her reposition herself behind me with her hand at the back of my seat. "Nothing bad is going to happen to you, okay?"

"Okay.", Heather answered in an unconvinced tone that matched her expression.

"You're going to be my guest for a little while and, since what you own now amounts to whatever you have in that suitcase, I'd say you're lucky to have a place to go. Also, you don't want to be involved with what'll be going on back there, not at all. You want to be distanced from that, insulated from it, for your own protection, if you are indeed innocent. You understand, correct?"


"Yes what, girl?"

" ... Yes, Mistress."

"Besides," Dagmar went on, "You have no idea what to think now, finding out about those women,... and the I.W.K.! I can only imagine what you're going throug, and maybe that's not the best place to sort those feelings out, especially now, is it girl?"

"I,... suppose."

"I liked your dress, by the way. You have very nice tastes."

"Umm, thank you."

"I like this nice little outfit, too." Dagmar noted, her voice getting even heavier. "It makes you seem so innocent. Come closer."

"Uh-h,.. Mistress?"

"Come closer." she coaxed.

I glanced in the rearview mirror to see one of Dagmar's hands taking the front of Heathers dress, just under her breasts and pulling her to the other end of the back seat. There was the sound of a small tear and a surprised gasp from Heather.

"Oops.", giggled Dagmar. "Oh my, your skin is so nice and (tear) soft,... and warm."

"I- (gasp) Thank y- Oh!"


"Oh, that looks like a very nice bra. Did you wear that just for me, girl?"

"I- "(r-rip!) "-Oh, no, please!" Heather whimpered.

"Shhh-shhh-shhh. Just relax and give Mistress a nice kiss."

I glanced again and watched Dagmar forcing Heather down on the seat, her lips locked on the blonde's mouth, one hand spilling a breast from Heather's bra.

"Mmmm! Mmaaaa! Helmmmmmmp! Obmmmvvv!" Heather protested, uselessly trying to wrestle the bigger woman off of her while she was pushed down to her back.

"Oh, please, Mistress, I'm not lesbian, I've never- Ohhhh!!"

"You don't mind my hand down those adorable little panties, do you?"

"Oh god!" Ple- ummmm! Mmmmmph! Mmmmmmm!!"

"Shhh, little one. (r-r-riipp-p!) You'll just love sucking my pussy. Boy, take the long way home!"

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

Again, Heather was silent when I returned to the car after having escorted Dagmar up to her condo. She sat in back, huddled against the passenger side door, holding her tattered dress around her as she peeked up and out the back corner of the side window. She seemed more or less alright, but what did I know?

Close to three quarters of an hour later, I stopped the BMW in front of my garage, on the front of which, the motion sensor security light had activated. I shut the car off, removed the key from the ignition and sat, staring at the garage door while moths began gathering under the light. I didn't speak, or look behind me as I sat there. It seemed I should say something, such as "Welcome to the club", but I could only think about how Dagmar had used me. She clearly had no feelings for me at all.

I abruptly got out of the car and shut the door, feeling a lot of things at once then. My head was down as I reached the back steps and ascended the four, wide risers to the small deck before unlocking my door and going in.

Without turning on the light, I picked my cigarettes and lighter off the table and lit one, got the bottle from the freezer and took a drink. A couple minutes later I was standing on the back step, cigarette pressed between my thoughtful lips as I put the bottle down on the deck at the top of the stairs. Back across the hard pack dirt yard, I reached the BMW, opened the driver's door and laid the long, black coat from 'The Alejandro Collection' over the seat before shutting the door and returning to the back deck. I sat at the top of the short staircase, took another drink and regarded the scuff marks in the dirt at the foot of the steps as though their random patterns spelled some way out of this mess.

By the time I heard the car door open and then shut, I'd adjusted to the point where some semblance of coping ability could be lured from the recesses of my mind. I took a drag and exhaled between my knees, down at the step my feet were resting on, not looking up at the sound of her shoes approaching, not even when they stopped within my field of vision.

"Where are we?" her quiet tone asked.

"My place."

"Oh. Who are you?"

A reasonable question.

"David Legassy. I'd welcome you officially but, under the circumstances, I just don't feel up to it."

"Don't worry about it. I've already had enough of your hospitality. Why am I here?"

" ... You're here because she decided you'll be here. She told you so in the car."

"What is wrong with you two? Do you know what she made me do?" she asked, quiet shock and humiliation in her tone.

Oh, I knew, alright. I was hard as a rock the whole long way to Dagmar's Condominium tower, there was just no helping that. I didn't answer, but took another drink, finally looking up at her. I offered her the bottle and, sticking her arm out from beneath the cape she'd made of my long coat, she took it. She tipped it and gagged a little before handing it back.

"I had no idea when I went there." I muttered.

"You enjoyed it!"

"I couldn't help it, and so did you."

"I- That's not-!"

"Yeah, get used to that feeling."

"I- I don't know what kind of sick game you two are playing here, but-"

"See, you're not paying attention, blondie. You keep blaming me, but it's all her. I had no idea what would happen in your house, any more than you did, and I didn't have any more room to refuse than you did, either. Didn't you notice how she kept referring to me?" I asked, becoming a little angry.

" ... So,... she's got something on you too.", Heather assumed, looking around herself and obviously wondering what interest Dagmar could possibly have in me.

"You might say that, yeah."


"None of your business."

"You know my business."

"I wish I didn't."

"Yeah, well when my husband gets his feet under him, he's going to get me out of this with lawyers and a lot of cops, who all happen to know that extor- Why are you laughing!?"

I took a drag, chuckling humourlessly as I exhaled in her direction while advising, "Forget about your husband."

"She can't do th-"

"You'd be pretty surprised at what she can do. I found out the hard way the first time I tried to kick against her. You'd be very fuckin' surprised, blondie."

" ... My husband is a powerful man, he knows people who know-"

"Your husband is fucked. If she doesn't turn him in, she'll dump him someplace like Yemen, or Iran, or North Korea. She says she likes me, and you can't imagine,... Look, just forget about him. He's not going to get you out of this, he won't even be able to help himself. She loathes him and she's only playing with him. She guaranteed you would come out of this, not him, and if you're smart, you'll try to sit tight and see what opportunities present themselves. Your situation is actually a lot more workable than mine, you should feel lucky." I judged, taking another drink and flicking the cigarette butt over the railing and into the darkness.

"'Sit tight'?", she asked, incredulous at my words. "How am I- I was just raped by that woman and forced to,... to pleasure her with my mouth! After having to make you-! How the fuck am I supposed to sit tight, you moron!?"

"Right. Well, like I said, get used to that feeling."

She regarded me with an intense and sudden anger, balling her fists and actually twitching, her muscles gathering themselves for movement before she emotionally leveled off, her anger losing its power as she clomped up the stairs and ended up plopping down beside me, looking dumbly at the ground as I had been earlier.

"Here, take another drink. It helps make life bearable when you're not sleeping."

She took the bottle and tipped it again, looking back down and hanging on to it. A few moments later, she was crying. Soon, her tears turned to sobs as her shoulders shook with them under my coat. I heaved a silent sigh and lit another cigarette, staring off into the darkness beyond the corner of the garage.

I couldn't talk to her and I had no real interest in comforting her. I was upset enough about Dagmar and not exactly in the mood to talk about it, and besides, I expected that Dagmar liked Heather more than she did me. For all I knew, it wouldn't be long before Heather was gratefully telling me what to do, and anything I said then could be used against me later. No, I sure as hell couldn't talk to her.

After several minutes, when she seemed to be mostly through her emotional maintenance period, I slowly heaved my suddenly tired frame to my feet and walked to the door, pausing and looking down at her back.

"You're sleeping on the couch. There's a blanket in the hall closet, food in the kitchen and a lock on the bathroom door."

I went directly to bed, hoping I'd still be buzzed when I woke up.

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

I was, but not enough.

I found her in the kitchen, wearing jeans and a pink polo shirt. She sat at the table with a cup of coffee in her hands, staring straight ahead as if in thought. I took the bottle off the counter where she'd obviously left it and took a pull, searched out the Tylenol and filled a glass from the tap before administering three to myself.

Neither one of us spoke a word.

I went back down the short hall to the bathroom and took a shower, dressing in a clean pair of tattered work jeans and an old gray shirt afterward. These articles had been in the laundry when Dagmar cleaned up and I smiled grimly at the one thing I'd been able to pull off with her to date. Combing back my wet hair to a slick, once again considering a pompadour, I left the bathroom to deal with another day.

Back in the kitchen, she didn't seem to have moved and I wasn't sure if that was the same cup of coffee, or what. I made myself fluffed eggs and ate while leaning against the counter, rather than sit at the table, directly across from her.

My intentions for the day were simple: Putter around in the garage and ignore Heather.

In the garage, I refused to think of what happened the night before, refused to think about how my unwanted victim was actually sitting in my kitchen as I carefully drilled a pilot hole down through the twelve mm. pipe, trying not to break the little 1/8 bit. I was actually successful with both the pilot hole and my refusal to think of the immediate past and present until a few hours later, when I realized I'd have to go out for a few things.

"I gotta go out and pick up some stuff." I quietly said about ten minutes later in the living room.

She sat watching some science fiction DVDs I had.

"So, what? I'm not your wife."

"Well, no shit. I thought you might need something. Forget I asked."

I turned to go, but she stopped me.

"Wait,... I'm sorry. I'm just having a hard time,... adjusting. I do need some things, but I don't have any money."

"I can get it, what do you need?"

"No, I coming with you." she informed me, turning my entertainment off before standing.

"What? Why?"

"Why shouldn't I? Did she say I have to stay here, that I can't go out?"

I regarded her, noting again how nice her body was in her jeans without actually checking her out and trying to figure her expression. Was that a poker face, or was it resignation that I was seeing?

"No.", I answered, having to make an effort to ignore her body. (what was wrong with me?)

"There you go. Anyway, it's boring here. Why don't you have TV service?"

"I don't need it, let's go."

"What about my shows, House, CSI, Law and Or-?"

"Not my problem, let's go."

We took the Monza, as it wasn't Dagmar's business, and she seemed to lighten up a little more beside me, probably glad not to have to so soon get back into the black, German sedan where she was raped by Dagmar.

"I'm trying not to blame you." she said as we roared down the blacktop, windows down in the heat. "I believe you when you say you had no choice; I remember the way you looked at she and I a few times last night,... It's just hard. To look at you and not see my abuser. I'm sorry, I just can't help that."

" ... I know."

I did. It didn't take a genius to figure out how she must have felt.

"I see it the exact same way, except I'm the abuser.

She seemed to mull this over for a kilometer or so before speaking again.

"Ummm,... Did she say anything else? Did she say what would happen to me between now and whenever she lets me go?"

Of course, I knew that there was no guarantee Heather would ever be let go, but there was no point in telling her that.

"No. She just told me to take you home with me and put you up until she got in touch."

"I hope she meant that as a figure of speech."

"I wouldn't count on that." I advised, lighting a cigarette.

After a pause, she asked, "How long have you known her?"

"A little over a year. A lot better in the past week or so."

" ... Is she dangerous?"

"Anybody's dangerous. But, she has a lot more potential and means, yeah. Let's just say that she's a lot more livable when she's happy."

"And when she's unhappy?"

"Think of Hurricane Katrina, the Indian tsunami, Pompeii, and the Haitian earthquake all at once. Especially if you're the one who was dumb enough to cause it."

"She into BDSM? What's this 'Mistress' thing?"

"Yeah,... after a fashion. But I gather she's not the average Domina. Don't call her a Dominatrix, by the way. She hates that."

"I don't want my boobs tied off and squeezed till they're purple." she said worriedly.

"You're in luck, she's not into that shit. Our Mistress prefers mental torture instead."

After another pause, she said something I didn't catch. I glanced over, but she was gazing out the side window at the green blur of the trees and occasional house going by.

From experience, I'd learned that women can't be trusted alone with money and Dagmar was very clear about my monthly allowance. That's why I had to go around with her and how I found myself in the lineup with her at the grocery store. While a little bit more at ease around one another, it was still an uncomfortable experience. It was like everybody knew, or something. I'd just begun to get over this feeling when the cell phone in my pocket rang, vibrating at the same time.

My heart immediately sped up, wondering what misadventure this call heralded. I dug it out and was about to answer when I remembered how I had to do it. I sighed, rolling my eyes and noting the big, tough looking construction worker who was waiting in line right behind me.

"Hello, Mistress." I droned, closing my eyes.

"That's not a very positive tone, boy."

"I'm sorry."

"I doubt that. Where are you? Did someone just call for a price check?"

"We're at the Supermarket."

"How mundane. Heather's with you?"


"Put her on."

I handed the phone to Heather, mouthing that it was Dagmar. She looked at me, her eyes widening as she took the phone. After a moment's hesitation and without even trying to drop her voice, she put it to the side of her face and greeted Dagmar.

"Hello, Mistress. ... Umm,... not really. ... N-no, Mistress. ..... Yes. ........... Yes, Mistress, goodbye."

She handed the phone back, telling me Dagmar had already hung up as I took and closed it, dropping it back into my pocket. I involuntarily turned when I heard the amused hiss from behind me. 'Joe the plumber' stood there smirking.

"What the fuck are you lookin' at?" I asked him with a sneer while spreading my feet a little.

In retrospect, I think that his subconscious mind recognized a trapped and desperate animal, dangerous beyond reasoning and, despite his size, he shot me an uncertain, dismissive smile before looking away. I was actually disappointed by this. I can't explain why but, at the time, it would have been almost as good to be punched in the face as it would have been to mutilate his with my knuckles. It had been a rough nine days, and day ten didn't look like it was going to be any easier.

Heather looked sideways at me while we lugged the bags out to the car and, loading them into the hatchback, she explained.

"She wants us back at your place at five. Rolex time, she said to tell you."

"Fuck!" I hissed under my breath, finishing in a rush and checking my own watch. "A little less than an hour. Get in, I got more stops to make while I have the chance."

After grabbing a few immediate project needs at Canadian Tire, I hit the liquor store, getting in and out like a priest in a whorehouse before getting us under way again.

"We're going to be late." she said as we sat at a red light.

I checked my watch.

"According to Acqua time, we have twenty eight minutes."

"We'll never make it.", Heather worried.

She was making me nervous.

"We'll make time out towards my place."

"Not enough." she predicted.

We decelerated wildly out in the road and shot into the driveway with two and a half minutes left by my watch, Heathers mouth harping like it was most of the way back.

"-I'm just saying that whatever it was at Canadian Tire could have waited! Now we're late and-!

"We're not late! Made it with two and- Oh, fuck me, that's her!"

There was a black Mercedes coupe in the driveway, the same one that was there on the day my Mistress terrorized Earl.

"You didn't say she'd be here!" I yelled.

"She didn't tell me she would be, I assumed she'd call!"

"Well, never fuckin' assume anything with her!"

"Well, I'm sorry, I just wouldn't have-!"

"Never mind! We have to,..."


"I don't know! Something!" I yelled as I brought the car to a stop, unable to describe to her the kind of mayhem that generally went with Dagmar's visits. I was freaked out and I suddenly realized it was mainly because of this woman who'd been at me the whole damned way back to the house.

I turned the car off and said quickly, trying to calm myself, "Okay, we'll just leave all the stuff here and not keep her waiting. Try to look dirty and tired, or something."


"No time." I said, glancing at my watch and opening the door.

"Why should I-"

"Just shut up and move, blondie!" I hissed, getting out and shutting the door.

I was half way across the yard, horrified at what Dagmar might have been up to all alone in my home this time, when the other door slammed.


I turned and, without stopping, hissed over my shoulder, "Shut up!"

"I've had enough of that!" she declared as though she were speaking to a maid. "My name isn't 'blondie', and I don't appreciate being told to shut up!"

Now I had to stop as she hurried up to face me, her face pink with anger.

"Do you think we could deal with this another time? Isn't it enough that I had to listen to your mouth the whole way back!?"

"There's nothing to deal with, moron! Stop telling me to shut up and don't call me 'blondie'!"

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