Sorrel's Long Journey to Love Ch. 03

Mary shuddered. The idea of forcing Sorrel to expose herself contradicted her own puritanical background. She saw the discolorations on her breasts as well.

Florence impatiently said, "Higher. We want to look at your breasts."

Sorrel pulled her blouse high, well above her shoulders covering her face.

Florence reached out. Taking a breast in each hand, pulling, twisting, and squeezing, she said, "You see Fletcher. These boobies are much too small. They're too tiny. No one wants to fondle anything like these little pimples. Don't you agree Fletcher?"

Fletcher was forced to turn back around. He frowned, he hated being brought into this, "I think it's all a matter of opinion. Some men like big breasts, some like small ones, and some like what Sorrel here has."

Sorrel looked from Mary to Fletcher. Inside she was screaming. 'No!'

Florence took each nipple and pinched it causing Sorrel to flinch, "Yes, I think a change in size is in order. How big are these little things whore?"

Mary kept her mouth shut, but wanted to say something. She wanted Fletcher to make Florence stop.

Sorrel knew she meant her and she answered, "My breasts are a 34B." She paused before she added, "Ma'am."

Florence looked at Fletcher, "There you are. They're just little nubbins. We could expand them to say a 36D. Then she'd have something men could grab and fondle." She turned to Sorrel, "You'd like that wouldn't you whore?"

Sorrel whispered more to herself than anyone, "No." She lowered her blouse enough so that she could more easily see Mary and Fletcher. She looked directly at Fletcher. Her eyes were welling up with water. She had to say something, "Few men have ever touched my breasts, and the few who have never said anything."

Florence scoffed, "You little liar. You're a whore. I bet hundreds of men have grabbed your tits, and I bet you liked it. We're going to give you really big ones, and we're going to put a piercing right in the middle of each nipple." She pinched each breast, "Tell her Fletcher."

Fletcher looked at Sorrel. Covering his discomfort; giving no hint of sympathy for Sorrel or agreement with Florence he said, "We've been discussing a lot of things."

Sorrel looked down at the floor. She had nice breasts. She'd always been proud of them, and only two men had ever touched them, one was her husband, and the other was a boy she had briefly known while in college. She wasn't gay, she just always had more important things to do than play, but that didn't mean she wouldn't tease.

Florence spoke again, "Stand up whore, and pull up your skirt."

Sorrel shivered. She looked at Fletcher. Her eyes were wide; terror stamped vividly on her face, but Fletcher gave no hint of compassion or sympathy. She stood up and pulled her skirt up above her waist. She knew what was coming.

Fletcher was doing everything he could to control himself. They had more or less agreed to this, that was he, Warren and Florence, but agreeing in principle and actually acting it out was different. He'd never thought this through. If he had this wouldn't be occurring.

Florence said, "Move over closer."

As Sorrel moved closer, Florence reached between her legs and pulled her even closer. She grabbed her vagina, and started pulling it here and there. She tweaked and twisted Sorrel's labial lips. She grabbed Sorrel's clitoris and pinched it, "Look here Fletcher; right here!"

Florence was being as mean as she could be, "See we can get a dermatologist to reshape her labial lips. I was researching on the net how her labia can be carved to look like a flower.

Mary got up as if she were going to leave the room.

Fletcher spoke up, "Stay here Mary." He needed the support.

Florence looked into Sorrel's eyes, trying to perceive some sort of reaction. She glanced over at Fletcher, "What do you say we cut hers up so it looks like a rose? Then we can pierce her clitoris once, and pierce her labia twice, one piercing for each lip. Men at the whorehouses could attach a leash to her clitoris and walk her around like a real bitch."

Florence looked up evilly at the quaking girl. "What do you think of that Sorrel?" Tell her Fletcher, "Isn't that what we agreed on?"

Mary was borderline apoplectic. She kept her mouth shut for Fletcher's sake, but he had a lot of explaining to do once this little horror show ended.

Sorrel was numb. She swore to herself, 'if they do those things she'd take her own life. They weren't going to turn her into a freak.'

As Fletcher listened to Florence, his face betrayed him. He'd never seen anything like this before, and though he'd heard of such horrid things he doubted any of the stuff Florence mentioned ever really happened. This was awful! He expected Florence to be harsh that was the part she was expected to play. But he was still visibly repulsed.

He looked at Sorrel and he knew she was about to break down, "I thought a tiny little piercing with a ring in her navel would look nice. He emphasized the tiny. I don't recall these other things you've mentioned Florence. I have no opinion"

He really did have an opinion and he finally said so, "Modifying her body was never something I considered. I told you I didn't believe in disfigurement. I have a daughter. I'd never let anyone do something like that to her. What you're saying Florence is mutilation pure and simple. I won't allow it."

Sorrel listened intently. She thought. He won't allow it, but Florence's next comment dashed that thought.

Florence said, "The labia sculpting and piercing was your brother's idea Fletcher, not mine."

Fletcher knew that wasn't true. Florence was only being unnecessarily cruel. It was a part she was expected to play, but not this well. He said, "I'll speak to my brother about that."

Florence wasn't done; not yet. "The Colonel wants her branded. He wants the company logo branded on an ass cheek and on her face. He wants everyone to know she's a whore, and she belongs to our company." She looked at Sorrel, "Don't look away and pretend you didn't hear me. You're going to be branded, and branded in a place where everyone will see."

Fletcher sat there, white knuckled. He knew his brother could be vindictive, but he knew he would ever go along with the kind of horror Florence was describing, "I'll mention that to my brother also." Then he got after Florence, "Ms. Henderson you've said a lot. Most of these things my brother has never mentioned, and knowing him, would never agree to. Sorrel's a loser. She blew her big chance with the company, but we're not going to crucify her. I can make her life plenty miserable without doing any of the things you've mentioned"

He was getting wound up now, "Besides. It's not your company. It's a private firm. My brother is the majority shareholder, but I own all the rest. When you say our company, it's not our anything. It's mine and my brothers. You, like Sorrel, work for us. We're not branding, carving up, or piercing anybody."

Florence felt betrayed. She stood up, "Well I've got to be going. I'm supposed to meet the Colonel for lunch. He and I have a lot to discuss, and I don't want to be late."

Fletcher got up also, "I'll walk you to the door." As he stood he turned to Mary. "Get me a hairbrush will you? Sorrel, stay right there."

Fletcher walked Ms. Henderson to the door. They were still talking in an animated fashion even as she got into her car.

Fletcher walked back to the living room and sat back in his chair, "Sorrel get over here and kneel or squat down with your back toward me. Your pig tails look very nice and they're very cute, but somehow they just don't seem to work."

Mary reappeared with several hairbrushes.

Fletcher selected one he liked. As Sorrel squatted closer he carefully undid the hair ribbons and let her hair fall down around her shoulders. He gently rested a hand on each of her shoulders. She felt warm, delicate, "You have nice thick hair; lovely color. You seem to have gotten some knots in it. I think I'll just brush some of them out."

Sorrel felt his hands. She didn't like being touched, but didn't resist.

Mary watched him incredulously. He hadn't so much as gone near a woman since his wife died. Now he was brushing this one's hair.

Sorrel sat dutifully between his legs while he slowly pulled the brush back from the front of her hair. When he found a knot he was careful to stop and re-brush it until the knot was out.

Sorrel couldn't see his face so she couldn't try to interpret his mood or what he might be thinking. She'd been acquainted with him ever since she had joined the company, and she never liked him. She thought he was an arrogant overbearing blowhard. He was sort of handsome, but not her type.

Of course, Sorrel knew, she really didn't have a type. She liked to tease men and manipulate them, but she never considered falling in love or anything like that, not since her childhood sweetheart, her former husband, and he had turned out to be such a bust. Sorrel asked, "Are you really thinking about all those things Ms. Henderson said?"

Fletcher had hoped he'd handled that one, but he gruffly answered anyway, "To tell the truth none of the things she mentioned this morning had ever been discussed or even considered."

He stopped brushing her hair and pulled her head back so she could see his face, "You're a thief and conniver who has been caught. You know the score. You have no rights. You have no choices. What we decide to do. What I decide to do is what will be done. Like I said; you're nobody, nothing. You belong to the company, but you belong to me first, and if I want to pierce your nipples, brand your cheeks, and slice up your vagina I'll be the one to have it done."

Mary let out a little gasp.

Sorrel was getting ready to cry again, "I told you. I didn't sign those papers. Those audio-tapes were fakes. I never stole anything. Somebody invented the whole story."

Fletcher was embarrassed by what he'd just said, but he was getting pissed listening to her try to squirm out of what she'd been caught red-handed doing. He still wished he hadn't said it, "Why don't you shut up. You've been caught. I saw the documents. I heard the tapes, and you were there when they were played. Don't give me any crap. Keep it up and I'll have you spanked. How would you like that?"

Sorrel didn't say another word.

Mary listened to everything they were saying. She didn't like it, but she knew Fletcher was just venting. He'd never disfigure anyone, let alone a woman, and the idea of having her beaten was silly. When his children were little and his wife was alive, it was her, not him who did the spanking, and that was only for the boys. No one ever, not ever, touched his daughter Marion. Fletcher just wasn't the type to allow it. He liked to yell and holler, but he never hit another person, certainly not a child and never a woman, not as long as she could remember. It would take an awful provocation to ever have him get that mad.

Mary looked at Sorrel. She'd read all Sorrel's background just like Fletcher. Something just didn't seem right.

Fletcher interrupted Mary's train of thought, "Mary would you be a dear? Out in the back, in my workshop there's a small metal container that just came in yesterday with the other things we purchased. Would you go get it for me?"

Mary was mad at Fletcher. She wasn't sure why. She just knew she was. She turned around and gave Fletcher the sweetest smile, "No dear. Go get it yourself." With that she stalked from the room.

Geez thought Fletcher, 'what's gotten into her?' He better leave her alone for now. He thought he better get the case himself. He looked down at Sorrel, "Would you like a cup of coffee or a piece of toast or something?"

Sorrel thought she'd missed something about what just went on between Fletcher and Mary, she just didn't know what. It occurred to her that Mary wasn't just a housekeeper. She said, "Yes, a cup of coffee and a little toast would be nice."

Fletcher, back to being Mr. gruff and grumbles, said, "Well go on in the kitchen. Fix us a pot of coffee, and make the both of us some toast. Then wait in the kitchen. I'll be right in." He didn't wait for an answer. Mary's answer was enough for now. He turned and went to his workshop to get the case he needed. He wondered what was bothering Mary.

Finding the metal box he needed, Fletcher returned to the kitchen and the smell of freshly brewing coffee. He went over to his chair and sat down, "Pour me a cup, and put in a little cream, no sugar though. Fix me some of that toast you've got in the toaster. Just a couple pats of the butter

Sorrel did as she was told. Pouring out a hearty cup of coffee, and adding only a little of the half and half she found. She pulled out two slices of toast and put two pats of butter on each piece. She carried it all over to Fletcher.

The whole time she was feeling silly and uncomfortable. The blouse and dress she had on were ridiculous. Neither provided any comfort, and neither provided much in the way of concealment. It felt like the stupid outfit revealed more than it hid. Every time she moved she felt the skirt sliding up and the blouse sliding across her breasts. Then again she thought, in spite of the silliness of the clothes, the difficult situation she was in, and the uncertainty of it all, she felt differently. Just the act of making coffee and toast gave her a feeling of control. It was stupid; odd somehow; any other time, any other place, and in different clothes, she'd be having a good time.

New Jewelry?

Fletcher came in carrying his little metal case. Pointing to a chair he said. "Sit down here."

Sorrel, finished with the coffee and toast sat where he indicated.

Fletcher looked her over. Gosh, he thought. She's gorgeous. He liked what she had on. It was a little on the fetishistic side, but it sure looked good on her. She had nice firm breasts and her nipples were pressing against the soft material of the blouse. The skirt was so short it was impossible not to see all the way to the very tops of her thighs. He felt nervous, a little self conscious.

Fletcher started fumbling around in his box. Then he began, "I'm going to give you some jewelry. Once I put it on, you won't be able to take it off. Don't even try. It's important that you wear it all the time. This was one of the things he'd decided to do just a few days before. He wanted to make sure he knew where she was all the time, and he wanted to make sure no one forgot who was responsible for her. The jewelry made sense.

Sorrel bristled at the prospect of being forced to wear something and not being able to take it off; something somebody else gave her she'd have to keep on all the time, but she was hardly in a position to argue. She looked up and nodded her understanding.

Fletcher said. "Hand me your left hand." She did so.

He took a piece of metal from his container.

Sorrel saw there seemed to be some sort of gem or stone in the middle, but the thing wasn't a ring, rather it looked like a metal strip about an inch long with a small stone in the middle.

Fletcher said. "Place you left hand on the table." He took a small measuring tape, one a jeweler might use and measured the circumference of her pinkie finger. Then he took the strip of metal and measured the same length off on that. Fletcher took the metal strip and placed it in what looked like a small vise like device. When he tightened the vise the strip of metal formed a perfect circle. He took the now circular piece of metal and slid it over her pinkie. He marked off the point at which the full-length circumference of her finger had been measured. Then using a pair of snips he cut the circular metal strip.

"I'm going to place this on your finger. Then I'm going to take a very small quantity of solder and seal it on permanently. When I seal it, there may be some pain."

Sorrel looked at him, "Pain?"

Fletcher nodded, "Only a little."

She didn't say anything.

Fletcher took a thin strip of what looked like some kind of paper and wrapped it around her pinkie, "This is supposed to be insulation designed to prevent any discomfort. It may or may not work." He refitted the circular hunk of metal on her finger. Looking in the box he pulled out a small soldering iron. He plugged the device in and turned it on.

Sorrel watched as the soldering iron grew red hot. Fletcher took a piece of solder and pushed it up against the point where the two ends of the circular strip met. He warned, "I read how to do this, but this is the first time I've actually done it. Wish me luck."

Sorrel thought. 'Luck my ass. He's practicing his metallurgy skills using her finger.'

With the solder pressed tightly against the edges of the metal strip Fletcher touched it with the soldering iron.

Sorrel yelped in pain. She jumped out of the chair yanking her hand back and out of harms way.

Fletcher looked up at her, "I forgot. You aren't supposed to move your hand."

Sorrel was holding her discomfited hand in the air, waving it around, trying to alleviate the pain, "Thanks. Thanks for telling me."

"Let me see your finger. We may have to try it again. He looked and saw her finger was turning red, but it looked like the solder had done its work, "Go run some cold water over your hand, while I prepare the necklace I have to put on you."

Sorrel looked at Him, 'You're going to solder metal around my neck."

Fletcher looked up and smiled, "Not at all. I have something else entirely in mind for your neck."

Sorrel held her hand under the cold tap water for several seconds, but the pain refused to abate.

Fletcher was getting impatient, "What's taking so long?"

Sorrel answered, "It still hurts."

Fletcher said to no one in particular, "Mary would know what to do." He looked back at Sorrel, "Hold on. I'm going to get Mary."

Fletcher got up and left the kitchen. He trotted over to the stairway and yelled up the steps, "Mary! Hey Mary are you there?"

Sorrel could faintly hear Mary's response.

Fletcher yelled up again, "Could you come down. I think I've burned Sorrel."

Mary trundled down the steps to the kitchen, "You did what?"

Fletcher said, "I was soldering a ring to her pinkie and I think I burned her."

Mary went straight to Sorrel, "Let me see the finger dear."

Sorrel held up her hand.

Mary looked at the finger. She looked at Sorrel. Then she looked at Fletcher, "What were you thinking?"

Fletcher answered, "I wanted to put this strip of metal on her finger so she couldn't take it off."

Mary looked at him incredulously, "So you thought you'd melt metal around her finger?"

Fletcher shuffled and answered, "It was only a tiny amount. It couldn't have hurt much."

Mary continued, "Fletcher why would you want her to be unable to take a silly pinkie ring off?"

Fletcher answered, "It's not so much about her taking it off. It's to make sure no one else could take it off."

Sorrel looked back and forth between the two people.

Mary replied, "Look, that sounds stupid. If anyone wanted a ring like this, I mean really wanted it, they would just cut off her finger."

Sorrel cringed.

Going on Mary asked, "What's so special about this ring that it mustn't be taken off. Are you all that insecure about this woman?"

Fletcher was getting impatient again, "No I'm not insecure about this woman. I just don't want her to be able to take the damn thing off."

Mary looked at Fletcher, "Got anything else you want to put on her?"

Fletcher brightened, "Yes. I have a necklace here. This however won't be hard to do. I already measured her neck, and this has been cut to precisely the right length. It can be affixed to her neck with a small piece of metal I intend to mash on."

Mary looked at him with a thoughtful expression, "You're going to mash a necklace around her neck?" Mary remembered when Fletcher was much younger he had been a great experimenter. Mary was figuring out what these devices were really for, "Fletcher. Let me help you get the necklace on."