tagBDSMOwning The Calligrapher

Owning The Calligrapher


Among the perks of wealth is the contacts you make and control, especially in a small town. My contracting and waste disposal and recycling firm holds a stranglehold on the local economy.

I control the roads, the trash, and the building construction. Through my significant campaign donations I own the local District Attorney, all the judges, the sheriff and a majority of town councilmen.

My parents died when I was 12 and gave me a nice nest egg to start with. however I worked hard to get to this position. I worked like a madman from the time I was 16 until today, at age 40, I can relax a bit. My power gives me basically anything I want. I have no children. I don't want any. I got a vasectomy 15 years ago to forestall any paternity suits as I do like the ladies.

I have had a string of mistresses, all of whom wanted a ring on their finger. At that point I cut them loose with some nice consolation prizes. I'm not unattractive, six feet even with brown hair that has just a touch of gray at the temples. I'm not quite in the shape I was when I was sweating out in the sun nine hours a day, but neither am I fat. I could stand to lose about ten pounds. I look sort of like a leaner, thinner faced, Ray Romano. I know how to satisfy a woman even if I'm not hung like a porn star. (its average size if you must know.)

My wealth means that I can afford just about anything I want but I'm not that kind of guy. Your as likely to see me shopping at the Good Will as much as I frequent Sacks Fifth Avenue. I have a lovely home that I, quite honestly use to impress people. I also have the proverbial cabin in the woods. Most of it is invested for that day when I decide to stop working altogether and spend my summers in France and my winters in Australia. The rest I use to buy things other men only dream of which brings me to the calligrapher.

As I said my house is a show home. I use it to show off my art collection and parties and to remind folks like the district attorney, the judges, and the councilmen and cops that show up at these parties that I can buy them and their lives six times over. I also use these occasions to stake out new worlds to conquer. It may be a cop's girlfriend, a judges daughter, a business associate's wife, anything that strikes my fancy. This night it was the delightful calligrapher. I had hired her to emboss nameplates and invitations for the dinner I was throwing to unveil a new piece of art that I would one day gift to a museum for a highly over valued tax deduction. For kicks I invited her to attend the party with a guest.

I found her on the internet. According to the bio she posted, (Do people realize how that stuff can be misused?) she was new to my town and had been married to her husband Scott for three years and had no children. Her picture on the web was stunning but in person she was even better. She was five foot five with long brown hair and blue eyes. I could not tell much about her body because she wore an ill-fitting, dowdy dress. However, I could tell that her breasts were about the size I like them and judging by the rest of her she could not possibly be fat. A ridiculously tiny diamond and a narrow wedding band encircled the third finger of her left hand. Here was a project worth perusing!

I began to devise the most devilish and brilliant of plans!

As the party wound down I began to put my plan in action. I had asked her to stay after the party to "Discuss some potential business," She seemed delighted. After I got rid of the pretentious bore of Councilman Franks, I went in for the kill.

She was waiting there off to one side with a man who could only have been her husband. His suit was cheap, his haircut bad and his stature average. I could read him right away and knew that he would be no problem. He was probably a retail store drone or a file clerk.

"Ah Ms. Clayton, so nice of you to wait for me."

Her smile was intoxicating as she said.

"Thank you Mr. Summers, but it's Mrs., Mrs. Ellen Clayton. This is my husband, Scott."

The piss ant offered his hand. The only thing he could come up with was the stunningly inane,

"Nice place you have here."

"Thank you." I gave him my most endearing smile

"Well Mrs Clayton, may I call you Ellen? I know that we spoke earlier on the phone, but after seeing your work tonight I want to thank you for your work. It is lovely."

"Thank you Mr. Summers. You may call me Ellen. You said you had other business?"

"Yes, I would like my monogram painted on several walls and door and some detailed lettering elsewhere in the house. Can you do that sort of thing? I will pay you well."

She fairly jumped out of her skin when I uttered the phrase "pay you well." I knew that this fish was hooked!

The rest of the conversation was small talk and pleasantries. It turned out Scott worked at the local very low end tire mart. They were knew to town but had already learned of my power and influence. I arraigned for Ellen to come over in three days for me to describe and show what I wanted done. That gave me time to put my plans into effect.

My first call was to my private investigator. I keep him on a fat retainer. He asks no questions, simply supplies the answers I seek. His report on the Clayton's took him less than a day.

The most important parts were:

Scott and Ellen Clayton both aged 24 married three years. He works for Re-New tires at just above minimum wage. Their apartment is in the seedier side of town and Ellen was an art major in college and has tried her hands at several things. Scott can't keep a job for longer than a year. Bad attitude apparently. They attend the non-denominational God's Passion church. (I poured the concrete floor there.) They want to start a family but have no money. One car between them, Scott bikes to work.They left their last town with some debt clouds over their heads. It also gave their heights and weights.Scott was five nine and tipped the scales at 185 pounds. Ellen was five five and weighed 110.

The dossier had everything I needed to put my plan into effect. I would trap Ellen in a net. Once captured I would skin her old life off of her and I would own her for several months! During that time I would explore every part of her body, She would be my slave.

After a further day of preparations. Ellen showed up right on time. She arrived in an ancient Honda with peeling paint.

"Nice to see you again Ellen, why don't you come in?" I gave her the tour of the house and gave her

the extended tour. There were twenty rooms. A large pool in back. The was even a ball room with a vaulted ceiling. Her eyes were as big as saucers she was anticipating a huge dollar payoff. Little did she know.

I my art room I showed her what I wanted .

"I'd like to have you letter, 'The Dale Summers Collection" on this wall"

Elsewhere I B.S.ed about having her monogram some doors. We agreed on a price that was very fair I gave her some money for supplies she agreed to come back the next day and get started. During our tour of the house I got to know her situation a bit better. She confided in me that she really needed the job. She had worked as a calligrapher for just over a year. She was very good at her job but it took a long time to build up a clientele. I knew they weren't making it on her husband's salary. The payday she was anticipating was very enticing. She was wearing better clothes this time around, A nice blue blazer, white blouse and a blue skirt that fell to her knee and black stockings. I could tell that she had a good body under this outfit. In a few days she would reveal it to me whether she wanted to or not. I was counting on her being unwilling. So much more fun that way.

Once she left I put my trap in place. In the art room are two Ming vases worth millions. No one but me knows that they are imitations. The real ones I sent to my warehouse. They are relatively near the wall. I wanted painted. Over the last couple of days I had their bases rigged so that would topple over at the slightest breeze. Ellen Clayton had no way of knowing it but she would provide that breeze. As a fail safe they had a remote trigger mechanism. In a flash she would seemingly owe me millions with no way to pay me back.

The next day she came to work . She was wearing sweats, a paint smock and her hair was in a ponytail making her look even younger. I let her set to work laying down her drop cloths and preparing her paints.

"I'll leave you to your own devices for a while Ellen. I have some business to attend to."

"Thank you again for this opportunity, Mr. Summers," She said as I left the room.

I went to my control room. It is my hidden nerve center where I can watch through hidden cameras the doings in my house. Part of it is security but there are microphones and recorders to capture unguarded conversations in the lavatories. Information that might prove beneficial to my financial, political, or physical health. I was a benevolent despot but you can't be the SOB I am without making some enemies. I have a very small staff. A loyal driver and bodyguard who lives in a back building and two maids who come in weekdays and a chef. Since I'm a bit of a perv I'm not above spying on the maids changing into their outfits from my control room, for example. Now the cameras were tuned on my gallery.

She was midway through the first m in Summers , humming a hymn, when it happened. There was a thundering crash and the vases became expensive jigsaw puzzles. The look on her face was priceless. I thought that she would wet herself in panic and fear. It was time for me to become a drama king.

I stormed into the room.

"What the Hell!" I yelled.

She tried to shrink herself into disappearing. Her eyes were wild.

"I'm sorry Mr Summers, I have no idea how that happened! I am so sorry!"

"Sorry? So you have any idea how much those things are worth? Their priceless!"

I took a stride towards her, looking a bit menacing and said.

"Stay right there I'm calling the police. I hope that you have a good lawyer!"

She burst into tears as I pulled out my cell phone. I was about to call in a lot of favors. She was in hysterics by the time the cops showed up. She kept crying and saying , "I'm sorry" over and over again.

"Sorry Doesn't cut it young woman!" I bellowed.

The cops cuffed her and brought her down to the station. I called the DA and told him it was time for some favors to be returned. It is very good to own the law! Naturally there was no way she could make bail on the string of charges I had the DA slap on her. A few nights in jail would help make her compliant. I also made sure that her free lawyer she would request was one that I owned to make sure there were no snags. With the help of my lawyer who is as crooked as they come when I want him to be and the DA and her lawyer we built an iron clad out for her which she would have to take.

Three days later at the courthouse the noose was tightened around her neck and the trap door pulled. I came in flanked by my lawyer. Her lawyer was already there in a side meeting room. She was fairly new lawyer and was ruthlessly gunning for the top, She learned that playing ball with me would bring her to that place a lot faster. Right now she was paying her dues in legal aide. She would not be there long.

Scott Clayton, her worthless husband was already seated.

A few moment after we came in the bailiff escorted Ellen in. She was looking very bedraggled. From my police friends I learned that she had not slept much over the last few days. She had been booked, Photographed and fingerprinted and issued a prison jumpsuit but not strip searched. Scott had visited her twice in the county lock up. Apparently he was very angry with her and not the supportive husband he should have been. That would work in my favor. Ellen looked at Scott with imploring eyes. He shot back naked hostility.

Her lawyer, Gilda Washington spoke first.

"Ellen we are here to talk about your charges and possible escape from prison if not punishment".

Ellen looked bewildered . "What do You mean?"

"You'll see. First the District Attorney is going to read the charges and punishments likely to face you."

Fred, the DA read off a list of twenty charges including grand theft, vandalism and everything he

could conceive of.

"All in all, he summed up, I am looking at asking the judge for a minimum sentence of fifteen to twenty years, partly in light of the fact that the items you destroyed either through intention or negligence are irreplaceable cultural artifacts"

Ellen's breath caught in her throat. "Twenty Years? But it was an accident"

Even Scott seemed taken aback.

Fred replied. That may be the case but it does nothing to alter the fact that you destroyed not one but two priceless artifacts.

Gilda then regaled Ellen with what awaited her in prison. She missed no detail. The randy guards, the bull dykes , the lonesomeness, the lack of privacy, the preposterous idea of Scott waiting twenty years for her. She did not miss a thing.

"However, she announced, Mr. Summers has an alternative sentencing idea that you may be interested in . Even if I get you off on most of the charges you are looking at a minimum of ten years in prison, I would give his proposal serious consideration if I were you."

It was time for my lawyer Jerry Goldsmith to spin his oratorical magic.

"I am Jerry Goldsmith esquire, Mr Summers' attorney. We have consulted and agree that the incident was an accident but we believe that you deserve punishment. There is an alternative to jail we would like to offer however. A four month, 120 day personal services contract."

Ellen asked uncomprehending, "What does that mean?"

Gilda then spoke, "It means that if you agree to work for Mr. Summers for four months the District Attorney will drop the charges."

"What kind of work?"

It was time for me to speak. "In simple terms Mrs. Clayton it means that you do anything I ask for four months, If you do a first rate job I will have the charges dismissed. Fail to live up to my every request and you go to prison immediately."

Ellen, beginning to get a glimmer of what I was asking, said."What do you mean by "anything?"

My wink and leer made my intentions clear.

"Oh God no."

It was time for Scott to react. "Now see here!"

The DA told him to be quiet.

Jerry spoke again. "You are considered as well Mr Clayton. Mr Summers is prepared to pay you $260,00 for the loss of consortium with your wife for four months."

Just as I predicted. Scott's eyes lit up at that figure. The scumbag was willing to sell his wife out for just over a quarter million. But then again if I was as poor as him I might do the same thing, although I like to think that I would hold out for an even million.

Gilda then spoke, "I'd advise you to take it Ellen. What Mr. Summers has in store for you can't be worse then prison. You will live in his beautiful house. All that luxury! Part of the agreement is that he can not permanently harm you. Also the judge hearing this case is known informally as the "hanging judge" He almost NEVER issues less than the maximum."

Ellen began to really understand her predicament. "You are telling me I either agree to let him do god knows what for four months to me or I go away to prison for twenty years?"

"Precisely." Said Gilda and Jerry at the same time.

"This can't be legal!" Spat Ellen.

Jerry said, "Its a personal services contract. Perfectly legal, How Mr. Summers chooses to enforce it is his affair."

Ellen sputtered, "But ... but"

Scott, dollar signs dancing in his head, said, "Take the deal honey,,, How bad can it be? At least its not prison."

Ellen replied, "But Scott, don't you realize he wants to ... wants to do THAT to me?"

Scott answered, "Better than being made a lesbo plaything in prison."

"But were Christians Scott I can't give him what he wants." Ellen pleaded with her husband.

Then the worthless shit said something that made me want to hug him.

"Its not like he'll be taking something I never had also I can hang around four months but if you go off to prison I am out of this marriage."

Ellen started to cry, "Oh Scott, Scott..."

Despite the fact that he was crud Ellen loved him very much and did not want to lose him. His greed and lack of compassion were just what was needed to push Ellen off the precipice and into my lap.

With tears in her eyes she signed the many pages of the ironclad, and perfectly illegal, agreement.

Ellen poor, powerless and surrounded by lawyers she believed honest and truthful, followed their lead.

There were some legal documents for Scott to sign as well. The look on his face when I handed him the check for 260,000 made me wish I had a camera.

The District Attorney then announced "We are done here. Remember Mrs. Clayton if you fail in your commitment to Mr. Summers these charges will be reinstated. And you will go to prison."

"Mr. Scott you may have fifteen minutes with your wife. After that time you are to have no contact with your wife for 120 days. If you do you will void the agreement and will be forced to give back your monetary compensation."

Everyone save Scott left the room.

I waited outside with my lawyer. Her wailing could be heard through the door. Fifteen minuets later Jerry knocked on the door and said. "Times up!"

When I entered the room Ellen and Scott were standing apart, I could tell by her body language and the look on her face that the last ounce of resistance had been leached out of her. He gave her one last kiss and then silently left the room, Ellen was finished crying but he sadness over her husband's betrayal would no doubt leave scars upon her heart.

Jerry summoned the bailiff.

I spoke, "The bailiff will take you back to jail to get your things then the police will drop you off at my place."

Ellen, with her tear streaked face, looked at me and said.

"What do you expect from me?"

"I won't tell you all of what is in store for you but I can tell you that I want absolute and total obedience and that we will know each other biblically. You will find that I am gentle and kind, But you won't want to make me angry. I think you will enjoy your four months, at any rate it won't be boring"

"Why me?"

"Because you are undeniably beautiful and because you have cost me about 20 million dollars."

"That was an accident ,,. I don't know how that happened."

"Be that as it may, Sometimes we pay for our sins with our skins."

At that point the bailiff came in.

"I will see you in a few hours. " I told Ellen as she was led from the room.

I went home to prepare for Ellen's four months of slavery. What's the expression? "Its good to be king."

About three hours later Ellen arrived at my place in the back of a squad car. Once again she was dressed in her sweats and paint smock. I had had her car delivered back to her apartment the day of her arrest. Her purse was over a shoulder. I made small talk with the officer for a while and then sent him on his way. Ellen was silent and completely cried out.

Once the cop left I turned to face Ellen.

"Mrs. Clayton. Essentially for the next four months I own you and can do anything I like to you. You are a slave and will act like one and be treated like one. You will own nothing for the next four months. You will have no will of your own. You will fuck me when I want, where I want, and how I want. The word NO can send you back to jail, a trial and prison. You will address me as "Master." Do you understand?"

Ellen nodded resignedly.

" I can't hear you."


"Yes what?"

"Yes mm...master"

"That's better."

Follow me.

I led Ellen to my private movie theater and had her stand on the small stage in front of the screen, I confiscated her purse and cell phone. She had no idea that cameras were watching her from every angle. I sat in the front row with a microphone to emphasize my authority.

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