Sausages for the Slave Ch. 12

Dan had tucked himself in behind the Foreign Exchange stall in the arrivals terminal of Paris Charles de Gaulle airport. He kept a close watch on the constant stream of people exiting from airside, trundling their wheelie suitcases or pushing trolleys piled high with baggage. No sign of Mary. If she had given me a mobile phone she could have called me, thought Dan. Or, using her fancy tech knowledge, she could have tracked me by seeing where the phone was. Serves her right.

Just then Sophia appeared, pulling one medium sized case. Sophia his saviour, or potential saviour. Dan looked at her objectively as he stepped out and waved. He didn't appraise her in a sexual way, as he might instantly and instinctively do normally. Didn't give her the old fuckability factor rating. Instead he rated her suitability as his meal ticket out of slavery. This was his priority right now. She was his great white hope. As he had guessed from his sideways glances on the plane, Sophia looked about thirty, shortish stature, long body, shorter legs relatively, sturdy frame, rather large breasted for her size, tidy bob of wavy brown hair. Wearing sensible clothes for the journey; grey leggings, soft lilac sweater on top, black pumps. Practical and comfortable, Dan decided. Sophia knew what she was about and would work for what she wanted. He felt in safe hands. When she came over to him, Dan gallantly took over the suitcase trundling duty. Sophie was familiar with the airport and they were quickly on their way to the train terminus.

Sophia bought the tickets for both of them from a machine, waving Dan away, saying she knew how to do this, which suited Dan, since he didn't have a red cent to his name. Forty minutes later they were somewhere under Paris, heading, he learned, for Viroflay. Sophia told him it was a nice-but-nothing suburb to the south west, not far from Versailles. The great-aunt's house was a typical turn of the last century suburban house, she said. Three thin storeys over basement, long narrow overgrown back garden, classic stone masonry finish, shutters on the windows. Think of Proust's Combrey, she added. Meant nothing to Dan. Then Sophia got down to business and things became awkward.

'I suppose the airline will be phoning you to let you know when your luggage is due to arrive. Which reminds me: We should exchange phone numbers.'

'Eh..I don't have a phone actually.'

'What! You just travelled four thousand miles without a phone.'

'Well... Since I'm taking a break from my old life. Heading out on a new adventure. I thought it best to make it a clean break. I didn't want people phoning me from the States constantly and asking where I was and what I was doing.'

'You could have just bought a new SIM card. Give yourself a new phone number. A bit mad to throw away the phone.'

'Well... It was an old phone, anyway. I'll get a new phone.'

Dan was saved by the need to change metros. Sophia led him through a maze of tunnels and escalators, to the metro that would bring them to Virofley. The train popped up to the surface after a couple of stops and ran along beside the river providing a welcome distraction. Dan became very interested in the river Seine and asked Sophia about the various landmark buildings in the distance. The immediate danger passed. After a load of stops Sophia told him they were getting off soon.

Dan trundled Sophia's suitcase the short walk from Viroflay Metro station, past an exotic modernist parish church, across the main street and into a long narrow laneway lined with the type of houses Sophia had described. Most had walls topped by railings with tall pillars on each side of an ornamental metal gate which had sheets of metal welded on their inside. To keep dogs out or in, Dan mused, or just for privacy. The short driveways dipped steeply to a basement/garage. To the side of each driveway, level paths ended in a few steps up to the front door.

Sophia stopped outside the narrowest of the houses, produced a bunch of keys and led the way inside the locked gate. At the ground level there was a small window beside the front door. At the next floor above there was one slightly larger window with white shutters on either side. Above it, in the gable under the roof, a small porthole type window. At the foot of Sophia's steeply sloping driveway, the basement garage door had been replaced with a slit window and a metal utility door.

Clearly space was at a premium in this house. Dan thought it looked more like a square lighthouse than a real house. He had enough sense to stifle the snigger that threatened and say it looked lovely. This was his potential underground railway, his route to freedom, it didn't have to be a mansion.

Sophia walked to the short set of steps leading up to the front door. She stopped before reaching the door and turned back to Dan.

'Dan, don't take this the wrong way, but I'm a single girl and I have to be careful who I let into my house. I really don't know you from Adam, so I need some insurance here. You understand?'

'Sure. Makes total sense. I'd be the same. What do you want me to do?

'Well, how about you give me your wallet and I check your driver's licence and credit cards. Just to be sure who you are. I'll take a photo of them on my phone and send them to a friend. OK?'

'Eh...would my passport do?'

'Wallet, Dan. Let's see it. Now don't tell me you don't have a wallet?' Eyebrows arched sarcastically, Hand held out expectantly.

'Eh...Well...I don't have a wallet, actually. Strange as it may seem. But I do have a passport.' Dan blurted out, thrusting his passport into Sophia's outstretched hand. 'I can explain. Really.'

'Really?'

But she took the passport anyway. Dan heaved a sigh of relief and waited while Sophia flicked through all the empty pages till she came to the details at the back. Standing slightly below her, Dan felt like a teenager with fake ID trying to blag his way past the bouncer into a nightclub or something. He wondered about saying the wallet must have slipped out of his pocket and between the seats on the plane. But then she'd be going on about cancelling his credit cards and all that stuff. Not going to work, Inspiration wouldn't come.

Sophia pursed her lips as she flicked back through the passport. 'Don't see the name Dan in here, Dan...If it is Dan? It's your photo all right. But who's Nathan Hemmings?'

'Me. Really... It's me. I'm Nathan Hemmings, but everyone calls me Dan. I was named Nathan, but my other name is Daniel.' Dan felt he was treading a careful line between a white lie and a sin of omission, but that he could defend his fancy footwork if accused of actual outright lying.

'I have always been called Daniel but I didn't put it on my passport. Who puts their middle name on their passport anyway?' This was drifting into actual lying. But needs must, and Dan needed to get past this naming difficulty which was trivial in the whole scheme of things. Just that Sophia didn't realise that yet.

'People who are called by their middle name just might put it on their passport. Don't you think, Nathan?' Eyebrows very arched now. 'Let's sum up, Nathan. We have no Dan, No luggage. No wallet. No phone. Yet you have just crossed the Atlantic. Doesn't add up really. Does it, Mr Nathan Hemmings?'

'Look, Sophia, I accept it's a bit of a stretch, but it is all explainable.' Dan said, putting on his most pleasing 'I'm just an ordinary guy' face while desperately trying to put the pieces of his new future back together.

'I can understand that if I were you, Sophia, I'd feel like sending me on my way right now. That's probably what you are thinking. You're thinking, I'll just go into my house and shut the door. He'll eventually have to go away. And, if he doesn't, I'll call the police. That's totally understandable. But think of the big picture for you. Think of this business you are setting up. You know that adding the science subjects to your home schooling project would really make a difference to what you can offer. It moves it to another level, as you said yourself. With me on board, you can do that -- straight away. Starting today.'

'Besides, I know I would be very good for this project.' Dan blathered on, anxious not to give Sophia a chance to reconsider, 'I love teaching science. I am good at this stuff. Very good.' He stepped back a step. Spread his hands out. No threat. 'So, whadda ya say, Kid? Give it a go?' He smiled up at her, giving up his cheeky movie brat pack grin, putting on the gangster accent. 'Whadda ya got ta lose, Doll?'

'I could lose my life, Nathan. How can I trust a strange man with some strange story that arrives in Paris with a passport in his pocket and nothing else? How weird is that? How could I feel safe alone with you, a mystery man, in my house?' said Sophia, moving further up the steps towards her front door.

Dan could see his opportunity slipping away. Scrounging for scraps outside McDonalds was back on the cards. He had the wit not to run up the steps after Sophia and panic her totally. He needed to take things down a level, ease the threat away. He would talk that nervous kitten down from the tree. Dan the rational scientist would figure a way out of this conundrum for Sophia. He stepped back a step -- no threatening moves from Dan.

'Sophia, I'll tell you how. Simple: Don't have me in your house. I agree that is the correct thing to do. But don't lose the business opportunity either. You can still make this work for your benefit, and safely.'

'But Dan, you are not the only English speaking science teacher in the world. You are not even the only English speaking science teacher in Paris. I just have to put a search up on LinkedIn, or on the teaching websites. I can find one.'

'True, but think of the time it would take. You have me here now, ready to start working for you. You kind of know me as a person after sitting beside me on the plane for over seven hours. Besides I can actually start on the lesson plans this evening. I could work on them full time. Some randomer you get off Linkedin won't be ready to start for a month - minimum.'

She was listening, arms folded. But at least still listening. That was a plus. Dan pushed on.

'So here's what you do. Go in and close your front door behind you. Keep my passport. I trust you with it. Take a picture of it and send it to a friend. I'll wait outside the gate,' said Dan already stepping back towards the street. 'Then, you go down to the basement. Leave some paper and a pen. Unlock the basement door and go back upstairs, locking the inside door to the basement behind you. OK?'

'Sounds weird, but I'm listening.'

'Lean out your living room window and tell me when I can go into the basement. I will go in and write out the full explanation as to why I am here and how. I will also give you contact names and numbers that will allow you verify that I am who I say I am. I'll push that under the door for you to read. You can check me out while I am locked in the basement. I won't be twiddling my thumbs while you are doing that. I'll be working on a first lesson plan outline for you. Getting your show on the road. How about that?

Sophia looked long and deep into Dan's face. He looked up at her, held her gaze, pleading and urging with his best sad puppy eyes. She gave him a slow smile. 'OK. Outside the gate. Go.'

Dan decided to keep his account of events tight. He scribbled his story rapidly, using an old work bench loaded with gardening accoutrements, empty flower pots, bits of wire, and packets of plant food. Behind him, a ladies bicycle leaned on the far wall, above it was a shelf laden with old paint tins, boxes of odd stuff - junk in short. There was an ancient lawnmower by the back wall near the locked door leading to the interior of the house.

He kept his message simple. He wrote that he had agreed to be his wife's slave and signed a contract to that effect. They were now divorced but the contract stood -- in theory. He had decided to run away. The reason he had no possessions was because he was had been playing at being a slave, and slaves had no possessions. His ex-wife -- still his pretend slave owner-- was travelling for work abroad and had taken him with her. He wrote out Mary's name and her mobile number. On the basis that nobody could make up a story that outlandish, Dan hoped Sophia would buy it, and not bother to phone Mary.

Dan was about to push the single sheet under the door when the bundle of green cable ties lying on the table gave him an idea. The ties were for tying plants to stakes etc. but were also the sort your average kidnapper or such uses to tie the hands of their victims. Dan noted that the bike behind him, Sophia's no doubt, had the usual U-shaped bicycle lock hanging on the frame. He had an idea.

Dan added an addendum to his note to the effect that if Sophia passed the bicycle lock key under the door he would lock the lock around his neck and tie his hands to it with the cable ties. Then he would be no threat to Sophia. She could open the door. Dan the potential rapist and murderer would be neutralised. He pushed the revised note under the door and waited.

A short time later a short stubby key appeared under the door. Success. Dan got to work. Locking the bicycle lock around his neck was easy. It had a very medieval feel to it; heavy and clunky, but at least it was plastic coated and smooth against his skin. Next, he put a cable tie around each wrist and pulled them reasonably tight. The last bit was the hard bit. He slipped a third cable tie through his two wrist cuffs and manoeuvred the end of it through the U of the bicycle lock. After a bit of blind fiddling he got the tip of the cable tie slotted into the locking head and pulled the tip through until the cable tie was tight around the U-bar of the bicycle lock. His wrist ties were now tied to the bicycle lock by this third tie. Dan was effectively tied up. Deja vu all over again, as they say. He got down on his knees and pushed the bicycle key back under the door to the house.

Sophia had him stand out in the drive was while she surveyed him and satisfied herself as to his helplessness. No threat there.

'OK, I'll open the front door and you can come it.'

As he came in the front door and stood in the small hall, Dan felt his escape plan was back on track -- at last.

'Nice to see you all safe and secure, Dan, or Slave Dan,' said Sophia with a smile, looking him up and down. 'I hope you didn't think I was being paranoid, but a woman has to be careful.'

'I do understand, totally,' said Dan, feeling slightly foolish as he stood in her hall with a heavy bicycle lock around his neck and his wrists clipped tightly to it. 'Thanks, Sophia, for letting me into your house and for putting up with all this palaver. But it really will be worth it for your business. You'll see.'

'Maybe. Tell you what. Why don't you go through to the front room and get to work on that outline lesson plan? Let's see if you are as good as you say. I'll get something going in the kitchen,' said Sophia as she disappeared towards the back of the house.

Dan had to hunch over to get one hand free enough to write. He could do this stuff in his sleep. He rattled off the headings. Subject; magnetism. Target class; 13 years old/first year of post primary/ junior high/whatever the French equivalent was. Topics to cover; Magnetic field, Magnetising iron, The compass and navigation, Practical demonstration of magnetic effects; Practical exercises in lab; Homework.

He heard Sophia busying herself in the kitchen, taps running, kettle boiling. Suddenly he needed to pee. The sound of running water did it. This was a problem that even Dan the scientist could not solve without outside assistance.

'Eh..Sophia?'

'What?'

'I need to use the bathroom.'

'It's upstairs on the right.'

'But I can't. My hands are tied.'

Sophia came in from the kitchen carrying a tray containing a coffee pot, two mugs and a packet of biscuits.

'You are not serious. Is this a trick?'

'No. Deadly serious. The running tap did it. I really need to pee.'

'I'm not going to untie you. This whole thing could have been your plan all along just to get inside my house. Well now you are inside, so you are staying tied up.'

Yet again Dan had to come up with a solution fast. This freedom bid was becoming hard work. He needed a solution that didn't involve peeing in his pants. And certainly not a solution that involved Sophia holding his dick while he pee'd. He didn't think Sophia would go along with that. At the same time he didn't want to find himself outside on the street and weighting up his chances with McDonalds again.

'There is a way around this, Sophia. Here's the plan. You take off my trainers and chinos -- no peeping -- my shirt will hang down over everything. You don't need to see anything unpleasant. I'll hop upstairs and be back down in a minute.'

Sophia had glanced down at Dan's rapid work on the lesson plan. She liked what she saw. He clearly knew his stuff and was quick to deliver the goods. Yes, she decided, he'd be an asset for her home schooling business venture. She crouched down beside Dan and removed his trainers. While reaching under his loose shirt-tails to undo his chinos, she decided to lighten the mood, smiling up at him, joked, 'Now this is an offer a gal doesn't get every day. Hold still.'

'Well make the most of it,' Dan bravely bantered back. 'And remember, no peeping.'

Sophia started loosening the button on Dan's chinos, her hand brushed along the front of his trousers. The inevitable happened. By the time she was tugging his pants down to his knees, Dan had a roaring, throbbing hard-on.'

'Oh, Dan, I accidently peeped. It looks like you are very pleased to see me. And what's this? No underpants?'

'Another 'No' to add to the no wallet, no phone and no luggage list. My, you really do travel light,' she giggled, clearly not put out by the sight of the aroused male in all his glory.

'Sorry, Sophia,' apologised Dan, as he stepped out of his chinos, glad, at least, that the shirt tails hid his throbbing cock and balls from direct view. 'It's just that it's been a while,' he explained. 'Anyway, I told you not to peek.'

'Aww, poor little slave, mustn't be getting any?' Sophia standing up beside him, her head only up to Dan's shoulder, running her hand up his thigh as she did so. Dan shivered as she gently cupped his balls. They were already tightening up, getting ready to spill. 'When did you last get some?'

'Please, Sophia.'

'Answer the question, Slave.'

Sophia, still cupping his balls, let her thumb stroke the underside of Dan's rigid shaft, while sliding her other hand between the cheeks of his ass and pressing into his puckered asshole.

'Oh Goddd! I'm going to cum,' blurted Dan, as Sophia gave a second thumb stroke to his quivering, trembling, straining erection. He spurted thick white cum heavily, urgently and repeatedly into the front tail of his shirt, from where it dripped onto the grand-aunt's, circa 1937, best quality, varnished parquet drawing room floor.

'Oh dear,' smirked Sophia.

'Sorry, Sophia. I really couldn't help it. It's been weeks, in fact.' Gasped Dan, still panting heavily.

'I'd have expected more control from a slave. Now what will we do with you? And what a mess you've made. Your shirt is ruined, and look at the floor. You'll have to clean that up, won't you, Slave?'

'Yes, Madam, gasped Dan, forgetting in his excitement, that he was no longer a slave and that this wasn't Mary or one of her gang of slave driving pals abusing him.

'Wow! I'm getting to like that "Madam" thing,' said Sophia. 'Shows a bit of respect. I like that in a man. Keep it up. And I don't mean your penis. You can let that have a rest, Slave.' Sophia still had one hand cupping Dan's balls as they slowly relaxed after the effort of ejaculation, Her other hand slowly circled his ass, bringing him down gently. Dan's breathing eased.