When Gretchen and I got back to the United States, Gretchen went back to work at her public relations firm and I went back to my job at the bank. Of course I eagerly took advantage of my regained freedom and did all of the things that I wasn't able to do as a slave.
I ate whenever I felt like it. I slept whenever I felt like it. I showered whenever I felt like it. I wore clothing. I called up friends on the phone and talked for hours. I went shopping to buy more clothes. I went driving just to prove I had the freedom to go anywhere I wanted whenever I wanted. I fingered myself to orgasm whenever I felt like it (which was often) and had sex with Gretchen every night.
However, no matter how much I appreciated my newfound freedoms, every night I would dream of being a slave.
In many of those dreams I'm naked and running through the woods. Apparently I'm an escaped slave and women in uniforms are searching for me. The women all have handcuffs strapped to their belts and some of them are carrying riding crops. I know that if I'm captured I'll be punished.
What makes the dream even stranger is that I want these women to catch me. Even though I hide behind trees and run as fast as my bare feet can run, I still want them to catch me and punish me.
There's another dream where I'm at the airport in Sessia and I'm ordered to strip by one of the airport personnel. The thought of being nude in public and humiliated is arousing, but I refuse anyway. After I refuse to take off my clothes security guards emerge from the crowd and grab me. They roughly hold my arms behind my back and rip off my t-shirt with their bare hands and unsnap and unzip my tight blue jeans while I struggle and try to get free. My jeans are pulled down my legs and past my feet, but my panties are grabbed and ripped off my body. Once I'm totally naked, I'm bent over a table and told to spread my legs so they can do a body cavity search.
In another dream I'm in my mother's house and naked, with my hands bound behind my back. My mother and sister are there and apparently I'm waiting for employees of the Office of Slave Identification (OSI) to come and take me away. I'm actually very excited and filled with anticipation of an erotic sort, however I don't tell my sister or mother about this and instead act nervous and bemoan the fate that awaits me. My sister gives me a sympathetic hug and at the end of the dream there's a loud knock at the door.
And every single time I had one of these dreams, I'd wake up feeling feverish and aroused and desperate for orgasmic release. I never talked to Gretchen about these dreams, but she's often seen me sitting up in bed, breathing heavy and quite often covered in sweat. Also several times she saw my hands shaking and saw my hand-eye coordination falter when performing simple tasks like getting dressed, so she knew something was up even if I didn't tell her what it was.
I suppose she just knew me well enough to know that I would tell her when I was ready. And one day in September, shortly after getting home from work, I found her in the kitchen sorting the junk mail from the good mail and I very simply broached her with the words, "We have to talk."
The words came out slowly and awkwardly at first, but the longer I talked the easier it became. Eventually the words just poured out of me, and when I was finished I felt like a heavy weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
Finally, when Gretchen had a chance to respond, she replied, "It sounds to me as if you're having a difficult time adjusting to freedom."
"It's not exactly freedom that's the problem, "I began, "it's more like...well, I don't know exactly. It's almost like post traumatic stress disorder. When I was in Sessia, there was so much excitement. I was humiliated and exposed totally naked in front of strangers and sexually abused. I mean, it was scary, but it was also the most exciting time of my entire life. The life I'm living right now is so *boring* by comparison!"
"Hmmmm" responded Gretchen, "would you like for me to find a way to make your life more exciting?"
"How do you mean?" I retorted. "It's not like slavery is legal in the United States. And it's not like we can just go back to Sessia whenever we feel like it. Traveling to Europe is expensive. And immigrating to Sessia and getting jobs that pay a living wage wouldn't be easy."
Gretchen didn't answer at first. She was always the logical, calculating one of our household. I could practically hear the gears turning as she thought it over and considered her options and formulated her plans. Somehow she was better at deductive reasoning and problem solving than I was. She always saw possibilities and solutions that eluded me.
"It's not necessary that you become my legal slave," Gretchen explained. "All we need to do is add an extra thrill to your life. And if we put some thought into it, I'm sure we can add that thrill to your life while still staying right here in the United States of America."
"How," I asked, almost breathless with anticipation.
"Be patient," replied Gretchen. "I'm still working out a plan. But before I make major changes in your life I'd like to have as much information as possible about what you need."
She then proceeded to pick up a pen and a legal pad. Then she sat down, and said, "for starters why don't you tell me about these erotic dreams you've been having. And I'd like as much detail as possible. Tell me everything you can about each dream and what it was that excited you the most about each one."
So, we sat there in the kitchen for almost two hours while I related these dreams of nudity and humiliation and helplessness and sexual slavery and why I found them to be so erotic and compelling and intoxicating. Occasionally Gretchen would ask a question, but mostly she just took down page after page after page of notes.
When we were finished Gretchen had thirty pages of notes and I was feeling hot and feverish from sexual arousal. I suggested that we have sex right then and there, but Gretchen had different ideas.
Looking at me over the top of her legal pad, she replied, "From now on we're going to have some rules around here. First of all, you don't get to decide when you have sex anymore; I do. So, from now on you take all of your queues from me."
I honestly didn't understand, but Gretchen was always the dominant one in our relationship. Even when I didn't understand what her motives were I usually agreed with her.
"Okay," I said.
"Secondly, I think that you should be always be nude around the house. Take all your clothes off right now."
This was more exciting. It wasn't sex, but being naked and exposed and available was still exciting. I rapidly began to unbutton the front of my blouse.
"Of course when you say *always* nude around the house, you mean only when it's just the two of us, right? I still get to wear clothes when we have company over, right?"
Gretchen arched an eyebrow and gently tapped her legal pad with her pen. "I really don't think so," she said coldly. "If we're going to make your life more exciting, I think you're going to have to expose your naked body to everybody who comes in this house."
I had shed my blouse and skirt and at this point was standing there in nothing but my bra, panties and some stockings. My hands froze as I reached for my bra and my mouth dropped open.
"Everyone?" I asked. The idea was extremely exciting; however it was also extremely scary. "What if my mother comes over? What if *your* mother comes over? What if I have to sign for a package? What if one of the neighbors drops by and wants to chat?"
Gretchen seemed to think about this for a few minutes and finally came up with a reply. "I'll come up with a list of carefully chosen people," she said. "Only those people will be allowed in the house. And I'll have a talk with our regular postal carrier and the local UPS deliver person. Both of them are female and I'm pretty sure they won't have a problem with a naked girl signing for a package."
