K's Candy Ch. 025

Part 25 Vacation mode, learning time, and one girl's backstory.

We came back home after brunch and Katherine got ready to enjoy the sun on the big deck while I made a list for the grocery store and liquor store.

I was sore and overstuffed, but those were good feelings. Every little muscle twinge reminded me of our amazing night and feeling full reminded me of Mistress' generosity and the fun we'd had at The Tavern.

Insights come to me at odd times, for no discernable reason. I was deep in thought in the meat section, trying to find perfect rib eyes, when the realization hit me that I had become completely un-self-conscious when it came to what I was wearing in public or how random people might perceive it.

This realization actually troubled me a little. Was I losing the ability to be humiliated? Humiliation was an important kink for me, and more importantly, for Mistress. Would we never be able to recreate those powerful, genuine feelings?

I had arrived at one of the paradoxes one encounters in this life.

In a chat room years ago, I recall a discussion about humiliation, and the other person was of the view that anything one did in service to one's Master/Mistress couldn't really be considered humiliating, since one should be proud to be doing it. That view was easy enough to understand and even to relate to, but my contention was that there are certain things that will always trigger one's humiliation/embarrassment response, regardless of how steeped in service and surrender one is.

It came down to the difference between the doctrinaire interpretation of D/s and the actual practice of it. In theory, yes, every time one served or obeyed, one could and should be proud. But we don't submit (or dominate) out of books. D/s is real people doing real things in real situations. And given that, there was plenty one could still be humiliated by.

I thought of myself at the market at this moment. I wasn't concerned with anyone's opinion of my dress or manner. But, two seconds from now I could receive a text from Mistress that read "bend down and kiss the shoes of the next person you see and don't say a word about it," and to obey that command would be greatly humiliating; the good feeling about having obeyed would kick in later, when my mind was somewhat back to normal.

I smiled, one of those odd smiles that one smiles when one shouldn't really be smiling. Humiliation was still possible. Whew.

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Unpacking groceries never feels like a chore for me. I'm not sure what about it I enjoy so much...I think it might the feeling, when done, that there are provisions, and that creates a feeling of safety in me. Maybe.

Groceries and liquor put away, I wandered out to the deck to see if Mistress needed anything and what thoughts She might have concerning dinner.

Mistress was deep in the throes of relaxation. In reply to the dinner question She said "whatever you feel like making," and held out Her glass, letting me know She needed another vodka with Key Lime juice.

I took the empty glass and made for the bar, mind more consumed with the possibilities for dinner. "Options lead to insanity" is a Zen proverb, and it was never more true than when your Mistress says "whatever you feel like making."

I brought Mistress Her drink and looked out on the lake for a moment. There was a nice breeze today, and the catamaran I was watching was taking good advantage of that, zipping along. I thought about asking Mistress if She cared when we ate, but thought better of it. "I don't know what I want, but I want it at 6:45" said no one, ever.

I grabbed a beer from the fridge and decided that dinner was going to be cheeseburgers, macaroni salad, the beautiful tomatoes I'd just picked up at the market, and ice cold bottles of Rolling Rock. This meal and a certain elegant simplicity and had the advantage of allowing me to take a nap after the pasta was cooked.

I put the water on for the pasta. Now that I had allowed the idea of a nap to creep into my consciousness, it suddenly was a struggle to stay awake.

It took seemingly forever, but the water boiled, and the pasta was cooked and submerged in ice water until it got cool, drained, and put in the fridge. I took one step out onto the deck; Mistress was asleep, and conveniently the sun had moved enough that She was in the shade and wouldn't get burnt to a crisp.

I shed my clothes and was asleep in no time.

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"Hey!"

I shot upright from the bed, for a second thinking I'd slept all afternoon and night and into Monday morning.

Mistress was standing there with a smile. In a moment I realized that I'd probably only been asleep a couple of hours.

I stretched. "Sorry, Mistress..."

"No worries, candy. I just woke up Myself." She joined me on the bed and held me to Her.

"So what is for dinner? I'm hungry." I was savoring the closeness.

"Um...whatever I feel like making?" I said with a giggle. Fortunately for me Mistress joined in the laughter.

Mistress was approving of my dinner plan. Katherine Blackwell was highly educated, erudite, cultured...but She never lost Her appreciation for the simple things in life. It was one of the many things I loved about Her.

We ate on the small deck; the late day light is perfect there. The waning sun gave everything warmth and a vaguely psychedelic glow.

As we ate, I watched Katherine clearly enjoying Her meal and if I do say so myself, dinner was a smashing success. Within my somewhat narrow range, I know what I'm doing in the kitchen.

I was getting caught up in the sudden realization that, counterintuitively, being a slave had increased my confidence as opposed to having pounded it down, when Mistress asked me how the shopping trip was.

I told her that it was uneventful, except for my ruminations on the topic of humiliation and the potential trap/paradox involved there. I laid out everything I'd thought about and my conclusions on the matter.

Mistress leaned back and sipped a Rolling Rock. I told myself, half-jokingly, that She was so impressed with my analysis that She couldn't really think of anything to say. Being real about it, I wasn't sure She would say much at all, anyway; Mistress was not given to deep theoretical discussions of D/s, in my experience. Her actions and words always seemed geared right to me and to the here and now. She was, far as I could tell, an empiricist in these matters, something I'd often thought was a way in which Her and I were perfectly compatible.

Her replay surprised me a little bit, not so much for the content but for the expansiveness of it.

"I think you have it essentially right, candy. I don't talk about these things a whole lot with you, not because I wish to keep you in the dark about anything or remain somehow mysterious or some other nonsense. I don't talk abut these things because, as you pointed out, in practice they resolve themselves.

"At the same time, I feel it's My responsibility to have thought these things through so that I can come to My own conclusions and be ready to apply those findings to the unique situations that arise.

"In effect, I study the book but My actions are not dictated by the book. This is mainly because there are too many flavors, too many variations of people and how they will or won't mesh, for any set of rules or guidelines to apply across the board. At the same time, it's useful and I would argue necessary to have a solid grounding in the underlying theories. Not unlike a modern musician being classically trained."

She smiled at me a moment before She continued. I was rapt, getting this rare insight into Her theory and style of dominance.

"And the result of all that, for Me, is that I feel that I have what I need to own you and love you properly, while at the same time keeping Myself open to new things I might learn, and most importantly reading the signals from you. Those signals, more than anything, tell Me if I am proceeding correctly. No book, no theory, no so-called expert can give Me that knowledge.

"As to this particular topic, I agree with you." She smiled, a little wickedly, and took another sip of Her beer.

"After all, who wants someone who can't ever be humiliated?" We both laughed and clinked bottles. I took another bite of my cheeseburger. If there was a heaven on Earth, I somehow had stumbled directly into it.

Then She asked me about work. This totally threw me; I assumed that She talked to Rick about this on a regular basis and thus knew everything there was to know about my work.

I told her this and She laughed. "Oh, no, candy. It's your job...Rick would come to me if something were wrong and since I haven't heard anything like that from him, I assume everything's going well."

She never ceases to amaze me.

My turn to talk at length. I described the settling-in process, the day-to-day, etc. I sensed that She wasn't necessarily interested in the details of my...non-work interactions with Rick, to put it delicately, so I didn't really talk about that part of it.

Then of course in typical Katherine fashion She not only acknowledged the elephant in the room, She called it by name with a bullhorn.

"What about the other stuff? She said, matter-of-factly, like the uncle no one likes showing up at the funeral and making crass remarks about the deceased.

This was a perfect example of how one could be so fully surrendered and still have moments of embarrassment or humiliation. I took a brief guzzle of beer, trying to somehow cool off my suddenly burning hot face.

I looked at Mistress and there was nothing sadistic or condescending in Her smile; if anything, it was encouraging.

So, I talked, describing our encounters in detail. For good measure at the end, I threw in the brief use by Rick's friend Lenka at the party. I had a feeling that Mistress hadn't been aware of that.

She didn't say much during the recitation of my exploits (Rick's exploits, really). She gave a slight smirk, a knowing smile here and there.

At the end, Mistress asked me how I felt about the dual nature of my job, what if anything I had learned from it to this point, etc.

I started talking. I had to admit that I loved my job, and if I was being 100% honest I loved both parts of it. Rick's ability and willingness to make sexual use of me however whenever it struck him to do so, made me feel oddly important, as if I were more necessary to the operation of the company. Could Rick replace me tomorrow? I'm sure he could but being there, day to day, it didn't feel that way.

The other part -- the actual on-paper job -- was great. It was interesting and I was good at it. And this was another instance where I recognized that being Katherine's had made it easier to claim my own value in the job, to recognize it and to be able to not only think it, but know it and say it as well.

Eventually Mistress admitted that Her and Rick had had some discussion of me and my job performance, but it was mostly perfunctory stuff along the lines that I was doing a really great job, and that Rick was pleased with my work.

"All aspects of your work, slut," Katherine said, giggling, as She polished off a beer.

I blushed wildly, but recovered enough to say that I was glad, and to thank Her for having created this opportunity for me. All else aside, the job was not only a chance for me to do something productive and interesting, but it had also helped me understand submission and surrender more deeply.

I asked Mistress if She knew Rick's friend Lenka at all. I was curious but at the same time was anxious to get the focus off of me.

Katherine smiled. "I actually do. Make some coffee and we'll enjoy the night air while I tell you that story. Have we got anything for dessert?"

I got up. "Klondike Bars, Mistress," I said over my shoulder as I moved into the house. I hadn't thought about dessert, but I always kept us well-stocked with indulgent frozen goodies.

"Perfect!" I heard Her say.

Over coffee and Klondikes (and a cordial or two), Mistress related the story of Rick and Lenka.

"Lenka, nee Camilia Andropu. Some years ago, Rick was in Bucharest and saw this stunning redheaded girl in a club. Rick in the same room with a beautiful woman was like iron filings in the presence of a magnet; he immediately went over and started talking to the stunning girl.

"Rick was smitten, but I really don't know if he was smitten romantically or by the prospect of having stumbled upon a potential supermodel."

Mistress laughed. "For Rick, the two could have an equally strong allure."

"Camilia was pleasant but guarded with Rick, not surprisingly that a girl that looks like her probably got plenty of unwanted male attention.

"Rick was getting to his pitch, one or both of them, when a well-dressed but somewhat unsavory-looking guy spiritied her away and out of the club. Rick was going to intervene in some way but the presence of two large unfriendly-looking men quickly dissuaded him.

"Rick wasn't done, thought. The next day we went about trying to find out who she was, who that guy was, etc. Using some cash and connections, he was able to find out that Camilia was a top-shelf call girl, and the guy who took her out of the club was named Marius, a no-nonsense pimp who spread a lot of cash around to keep his operations safe from law enforcement and reportedly had ties to the Sadoveanu Clan, a Bucharest organized crime group."

I listened, wide-eyed. This story had taken a hard left turn.

"As Rick delved into Camilia more, it became obvious to him that Camilia was not with Marius 100% willingly. Rick never came up with any evidence that Marius had physically abused her, but it was clear that Camilia couldn't just decide she'd had enough of hooker life and walk away. She might be addicted to drugs, or Marius might have something on her family...who knows?

"Had Rick asked My opinion at this point, I'd have told him to run, not walk, back to the U.S. and forget Camilia entirely. Not because of anything about her, but because I doubt Romanian pimps with organized crime connections are the best people to be dealing with. Rick is smart and every successful but, in some ways, he can be terribly naïve. Don't forget, he knows next to nothing about this girl, and less about her pimp."

Mistress sipped Her coffee and looked out onto the now-dark lake. "Alas, I wasn't consulted."

We shared a light laugh at that. It was a phrase we used to describe things we would never be consulted about, like government policy or bad decisions by CEOs.

Katherine took up the story again. "Rick manages to get a meeting with Marius, in a place that Rick described as beyond shady and scary. Rick comes right to the point and tells Marius that he wants to buy Camilia out of her arrangement with him.

"At this point I'm amazed that Marius didn't have his goons beat Rick to a pulp, take whatever cash he had on him, and dump him in an alley. But Marius is more businessman than thug. One million dollars, Marius says."

I realized I'd been actually holding my breath. I exhaled and poured us more coffee, hanging on Her words.

"Rick might be naïve about some things, but not about the value of a beautiful woman. Crass as it might be, it's his business, and modeling and pimping are two sides of the same coin. Rick counters with $200,000 and to hear him tell it, at that moment Marius and he understood each other as businessmen. The settled on $440,000."

Mistress smiled at me.

"There's our happy ending, right?" I smiled back, genuinely happy that a potentially scary story did in fact have a happy ending.

Katherine laughed. "Not so fast, candy pants!" I laughed -- "candy pants" was a playful name She used rarely. It made me feel good to hear it...to feel and to see Her so relaxed and enjoying Herself. This was what vacation should be.

Mistress forged ahead. "Rick arranges to wire the money to Marus...Marius tells him where he can find Camilia. The fly in the ointment...the part that Rick didn't think through at all, was that Camilia didn't know him from Adam and might not want to just take up and leave with him."

Oh. Yeah. The way Mistress had told the story, leading up to the fairy tale non-ending, had made me mentally gloss over that part.

"And that of course is exactly what Camilia was thinking. To make matters worse, Camilia didn't mind being a high-class call girl, and in fact rather enjoyed the lifestyle it afforded her. A lifestyle Rick had just removed her from, without consulting her. Needless to say, it wasn't a pleasant conversation.

"Gradually Rick wore her down, and convinced her to come back to the States with him, finally getting through to her that modeling was better than being a hooker, even a well-compensated one..."                           

Her voiced trailed off. I assumed there was a wrinkle.

"I'm sensing there were still complications, Mistress."

Katherine sighed knowingly. "Two complications to be exact. Camilia's sister Cristina and her husband Adrian. She can't leave Romania without them -- she's been supporting them. They are both doctors it turns out but due to some political chicanery, can't practice medicine there. So Camilia's been paying their bills with her lucrative career.

"At this point the really amazing part of Rick, and the absolutely crazy part of him come to light. He doesn't back off, though he easily could have...$440,000 for Rick is a bad night shooting craps. But he says, OK, I know what you need. He gives her a few thousand walking around money and says he'll be in touch in a few days.

"Now, I know Rick has connections but three days later she shows up at Camilia's place with green cards for everyone, first-class plane tickets, and interviews at three hospitals for Cristina and Adrian.

"And that's the fairy tale ending, I suppose. Cristina and Adrian both are working at Greenhaven Hospital. They're paying Lenka back for all that time she supported them in Romania, not that she needs the money. Marius presumably is in pimp heaven back in Bucharest.

"All this happened before you started working there. Rick's been keeping Lenka under wraps for a bit. It seems that now he's ready to go public with her.

Only one thing was left pending, for me. "Wow, Mistress. So...are they a couple?" I probably sounded like an empty-headed gossip, but I really was interested to know the answer. It wasn't really clear from the interactions I'd had with Rick and Lenka, or from Mistress' story.

Mistress looked at me. "I wonder about that, too. I really don't know. Rick shares all sorts of stuff with Me...shares this crazy story, but doesn't tell me if he's with Lenka, in that sense. It seems to Me that he wouldn't have gone to all this trouble and expense for someone he didn't want to sleep with, but like I said, Rick understands the difference between business and pleasure and has a good handle on both."

I blushed a little. That I knew all about. "And the name Lenka?"

"Marketing," She explained. One name...exotic but somewhat familiar.

I nodded. "I know there's more to modeling than looks and body, but on those two fronts she's certainly got it covered."

Mistress nodded Her agreement. "'Got it covered' is an understatement, pet."

I laughed softly as I got up to start clearing away cups and plates. "When I'm back in the office I'll just ask Rick straight out."