Kristin's Demotion

by Lorenzo Marks

  “I’m good. I wanted to speak to you.”

  Another pause, and then, “Why?”

  Kristin took a deep breath and said, “I’ve been through a difficult time, Charles. I can’t explain everything on the phone. I thought perhaps we could meet?”

  “What about your fiancé?”

  That caught her off guard.

  “You heard about that? Well, it’s over.”

  “Oh? Who broke it off?”

  “I did, Charles.”

  “And now you’d like to see me.”

  “I would. If you want to.”

  Charles seemed to weigh this up for a moment, then he said, “I was very much in love with you.”

  “I know,” Kristin said.

  “It took a lot of getting over.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Charles went silent again and Kristin waited.

  Finally, Charles said, “Apart from your engagement, I’ve heard other things about you.”

  Kristin’s heart skipped a beat.

  “Such as?”

  “I heard you’d had a nervous breakdown.”

  Thank God! She thought. He hasn’t heard about the FBI visit.

  “Oh that… it was just a rumor. I’m really quite well.” she said.

  “And that you are having an affair with your boss.”

  Now it was Kristin’s turn to go quiet.

  “Well? Are you, Kristin?”

  “No. Not now.”

  “But you were?”

  “Charles, I…”

  “What happened to you, Kristin? One of my acquaintances at the club said she saw you in the park. She said that you were… behaving inappropriately.”

  “I told you I’d been having some problems,” Kristin said weakly. “I’m okay now, I swear. I just wanted to know if… if you wanted to give it another try.”

  Charles sighed heavily and said, “Despite everything I’ve heard about you, I really do believe that if circumstances had been different, I would have.”

  “What circumstances?” Kristin asked.

  “The thing is,” said Charles awkwardly. “I’m seeing someone else now…”

  Kristin drew a sharp breath.

  “…and we’re thinking of getting engaged.”

  ***

  Kristin spent the rest of the weekend in deep depression. She understood clearly now, that although she was physically free, she remained trapped by her past. The simple fact was that she had done all those things, no matter what the reason, of her own volition, and they could never be undone. She could have argued that it was Shepard’s twisted mind that had created the specific deeds but ultimately, she had chosen to keep doing them, when at any time she could have stopped, if she’d had the courage to face the consequences.

  On Monday morning, she snapped out of her brooding and decided she would try to resurrect her career. Returning to OFS was out of the question but there were plenty of other Silicon Valley companies who knew her. She could start over. She’d done it before. Seated at her laptop, and armed with her mobile phone, she began sending e-mails and making calls. She felt better now that she was actually doing something constructive.

  Unfortunately, the day did not go at all well. Most of her contacts, were ‘out of town’ or in ‘meetings’ and promised to return her calls. None of them did. The one or two that she did manage to speak to were evasive and distant. By late afternoon, it became clear to Kristin that word had somehow gotten around. She had become a pariah.

  Dejectedly, she went into her father’s study and found a bottle of gin. She poured herself a stiff one, sat in his big leather chair, and moped. All around her, doors were closing. Friends, family, business, her ‘freedom’ was becoming to feel more claustrophobic than her previous state of bondage.

  Her cell phone rang and she checked the display. Brian, again. She watched the screen flash for a moment, finished her drink in one, and pressed the ‘receive’ button.

  “Kristin, how are things?” Brian asked.

  “Bearing up, I guess.”

  “Yes, well, it’s been a week now and I think we need to talk.”

  “Okay.”

  “It’s time we drew a line under this thing. Moved on, so to speak.”

  “Yes, it is”

  “So I’d like an idea of when you are planning to return to work.”

  Kristin leaned forward.

  “You mean, I’ve still got a job?”

  “I don’t see any reason why not.”

  I can think of plenty, Kristin thought.

  “Brian,” she said. “I really do want to work again, but there’s simply no way I can face everybody again after what’s happened.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that and I may have a solution. How about taking on a consultancy position?”

  “You mean work off premises?”

  “Exactly. You could liaise with the clients and report directly to me.”

  “What about Henry Shepard? Would I have to see him at all?”

  “Not if you don’t want to.”

  It might work, she thought. At least until another opportunity comes up. There was still the question of whether she could face Brian again, of course. Unlike the others, he had never intentionally abused her, and after all she had been through, there was a chance they could put what had happened behind them.

  “The truth is, Kristin,” Brian said, “I’ve missed you.”

  Kristin stood up quickly, suddenly feeling quite giddy.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Well, you know. I’ve become quite used to having you around.”

  Kristin gripped the edge of her father’s desk. The walls of the room seemed to be swaying.

  “What exactly would this ‘consultancy’ position entail?” she asked slowly.

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “What is the job description?”

  “The same as it was before. You came up with the title yourself…”

  “You mean this Junior Hospitality… are you insane?”

  “Kristin, I…”

  “That was Henry Shepard’s idea! Are you really that blind?”

  “Well, I do understand that Henry has been very helpful…”

  “No, you idiot! He’s…he…”

  “Kristin!” Brian said. “You know my feelings for you. I’m not sure what you had in mind, but this is the only tenable position I can offer you. Maybe we can change the title if you like, but the customers really do like you. You’re very good at what you do.”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you? You really expect me to act as your whore so that you can clinch your business deals? You sick bastard!”

  “That wasn’t what I meant. I was thinking about us. It will give us a chance to be together again.”

  “Us? There is no ‘us’! Did you honestly think that I would ever willingly let you touch me?” Kristin snarled. “You’re a disgusting old man! I don’t ever want to see you again!”

  “But, Kristin…!”

  Kristin’s cell phone shattered against the paneled wall of her father’s study. She had this awful sensation that she was physically falling apart, cell by cell. She picked up the bottle of gin, grabbed her coat, opened the front door, and walked off into the night.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Henry pulled into his driveway, shut off the engine, and remained in his seat. The house was silent, the windows dark.

  It had been a very long week. There had been a lot of tension in the office at first, but it seemed as though they were going to get through it. There was a sizeable ‘royalty’ payment due to ZifCom, but there would be no legal action from them. The government, it seemed, was determined to keep the whole episode as quiet as possible.

  On a personal level, Henry had sweated for a few days after Kristin took her leave of absence. He had fully expected to receive a visit from the police but so far, none had come. More than a we
ek had passed now, and as his trepidation had subsided, it had been replaced by a dull, aching void.

  Over the past few days, he realized that he would have preferred a confrontation with Kristin. At least she would have been acknowledging him. Now it was as if a permanent fixture had been removed from his life. It was like losing a limb.

  He found himself constantly wondering what she was doing. One thing he knew, it was over now, for certain. He had feasted on that glorious body for the last time.

  He let himself inside the house, turned on the lights, and wandered from room to room, as he did every night now. Everything reminded him of her. The coffee table and sofa where she had been ravished so many times, the kitchen where she had eaten her meals off the floor, the shower where she had first tasted his manhood, the bed where he had possessed her on so many nights, in so many ways.

  He could still see her, naked and wobbling on her high heels as she served his dinner, the succulent curves of her body, her dancing breasts and her tightly packaged cunt. He could still hear her pitiful sobs as he punished her with the cane, and he could still see the endearing look of sorrow in her round, moist eyes, that followed her beatings.

  She had become a part of this house and a part of him. Without Pumpkin, there was no Master. No purpose, nothing to savor, all gone.

  He took a can of beer from the fridge and stood out on the back patio. The sun was melting behind the trees and the evening breeze was mild. With a rueful smile, he gazed across the lawn and thought about the long hours of delectably erotic games he had planned for Kristin throughout the coming summer.

  “She’s gone, huh?”

  Henry snapped out of his reverie to see that Tony was leaning on the fence watching him.

  “Damn shame,” Tony said, without waiting for a reply. “She was a babe. Best fuck I ever had.”

  Henry was suddenly stung with a sharp pang of regret that he had let so many people use her. When she had been his property, it hadn’t seemed to matter and he had enjoyed loaning her out. He always knew that whatever happened to her each day, she was always his when they got back home at night.

  Before he could think of a reply, his mobile rang.

  “Yes?”

  “Henry Shepard?”

  “Yes.”

  “My name is Jessica Hartman, Kristin’s sister. Do you remember me?”

  Henry’s stomach rolled over. This sounded like bad news.

  “Yes, I do,” he said.

  “I’m sorry to trouble you, but I was wondering if Kristin was with you?”

  Again, Henry felt a twist of dread.

  “No, she’s not. Is anything wrong?”

  “Well, I’m not sure.” Jessica sounded upset. “She wasn’t here when I got home today. Mom assumed she went for one of her walks but it’s been over four hours and we’re getting really worried.”

  “Have you tried her cell?”

  “That’s the problem. Mom found it in pieces in Dad’s study. She didn’t take anything with her at all. It didn’t look as though she was planning to go anywhere.”

  Henry was studying the patio.

  “Well, I’ll be sure to call you if she turns up but I seriously doubt if she will.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Shepard. I hope she hasn’t done anything… well you know.”

  “Did she suggest anything like that? I mean did she seem…?”

  “It’s been difficult to tell how she’s been thinking. She really hasn’t been well, you know,” Jessica replied, stifling a sob.

  “I understand. I’m sure she’ll be alright. I’ll call you if she turns up.”

  Henry hung up and went back into the house, sat on the sofa, and stared at the wall. All this time, he had derived so much pleasure from hurting her. At first, his passion had been driven by a deep-seated hatred, but as time wore on, he had discovered a new side to himself. Her humiliation and debasement were an unwavering source of excitement to him. Each time he’d devised another demeaning performance for her, he’d experienced an intense voyeuristic rush, and he had become addicted to it. Eventually, as she had surrendered more and more to his will, he had lost sight of the possibility that she might have a tipping point.

  At ten o’clock, he went up to his bedroom. He lay on his bed fully-clothed, and waited for the night to tick by. He knew he would not sleep. He fretted, unable to settle his mind. He kept seeing images of the staff in the office, huddled in soft-voiced groups, sending accusing glances his way. Would they not feel that they were partly to blame?

  He must have dozed off because he was awoken by the sound of his doorbell. The clock said twelve thirty. His face was damp and he realized he must have been crying in his sleep.

  He looked out of the window, saw no police lights, and then crept nervously downstairs. The doorbell rang again. He pulled the door open and drew a sharp breath.

  She was wearing a knee length coat and sneakers without socks. Her nose was pink and her eyes were puffy and her arms were wrapped tightly around her. Henry was suddenly transported back to that intoxicating Saturday - it seemed like years ago - when she had first reluctantly submitted to his demands.

  Henry stood to one side and Kristin walked wordlessly past him into the living room. He closed the door and followed her. She looked slowly around at the room as if reacquainting herself, turned towards Henry, and then shrugged off the coat. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Then, looking him in the eye, she raised her hands and placed them behind her head.

  Henry gazed at her for a long moment, trying to be certain that she was real. Then he went to her and put his hand on her cheek. He bent his head and he kissed her gently on the lips, tasting alcohol on her breath. She yielded her mouth to his tongue and he put his hands on her breasts. He touched her firm thighs, lightly squeezed her buttocks, and then rested the palm of his hand against her pubic mound.

  Finally, Henry found his voice.

  “Where have you been?”

  “Lost, Master.”

  Henry’s pulse quickened.

  “Your family have called. They’re worried about you.”

  “Will you call them for me, Master?”

  “What should I tell them?”

  “Tell them I have come back to you. Tell them I will be safe here with my Master.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked, looking into her eyes.

  “Yes, Master. I have nowhere else to go.”

  All of a sudden, the dark cloud in his head lifted, and was replaced by a delirious giddiness. He stepped back and surveyed her naked body, feeling himself getting hard.

  “You know that a slave who runs away has to be punished, don’t you?” he said.

  “Yes, Master. I beg Master’s forgiveness.”

  “Then, bend over.”

  Henry fetched his cane from the dresser and Kristin braced her hands on the coffee table. She pushed out her rump and spread her legs wide, offering him her juicy cunt and soft, round buttocks.

  Henry ran his fingers over her ass cheeks, and then let them fall to her vaginal opening. He felt her shiver, watched her hanging nipples lengthen, saw the swelling and moistening of her labia.

  Henry raised the bamboo cane high over his head and delivered the first stinging blow.

  “Welcome home, Pumpkin,” he said.

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