Please Master

"We are still together"

For years after their collaring ceremony, Richard and Isadora enjoyed an idyllic relationship. His homebuilding business continued to thrive and to provide a comfortable style of living for them both. He'd always believed in the benefit of hiring promising employees and nurturing them to their full potential. As such, less and less of the day-to-day responsibilities fell upon his shoulders. He had both a trusted office manager and an excellent general superintendent for such as those. Isadora achieved a full professorship at her university and recognition well beyond the academic community.

They had the financial means to travel if they wished, but their primary contentment was an ever-deepening affection and understanding of each other. Indeed, some of their most satisfying activities were simple evenings spent at home in their living room listening to music, reading, or just talking to each other. Richard liked his favorite chair, but Isadora preferred to be naked at his feet, kneeling or cross-legged on her favorite velvet cushion. Sometimes she would fix the drinks or brew the coffee, and sometimes he would. Really, they doted on one another and were both thankful that that they'd been blessed in finding genuine soul mates.

Their love life mellowed over time. The whip play became more ritualistic and less frequent, but Richard was nevertheless pleased to be able to lovingly give Isadora that which provided her with the tranquility and grounding she craved. He found it nothing short of amazing that her pulse rate would actually drop a little lower than normal during the croppings.

Isadora, in turn, never hesitated to enthusiastically satisfy him regardless of the effort required. She loved sucking him off and would playfully pout if she couldn't have his semen in the mornings before he went off to work. Anal intercourse was so commonplace that she was just as easily accessible there as with vaginal. And some of their most enjoyable times were spent simply cuddling each other at night as they slept after making love.

They became rather famous because of the frequency and intensity of their public displays of affection. Richard unfailingly opened the car door for Isadora whenever they went out somewhere, and she would just as unfailingly reward him with a passionate kiss. They simply tuned out those people who disapproved.

"No, seriously, have I become a whore?" she asked him.

"A whore?" he replied with a chuckle. "No way. Nope. Not possible." He laughed loudly and explained his reasoning: "Ladyslave, a wife can't be a whore with her husband. Somebody else has to be involved somehow for you to be a whore. And that's just not gonna happen, 'cause I won't ever give you to another man. You belong to me. Your golden collar says so. I want you all for myself. What HAS happened is that we've become extensions of each other. I think that's what SHOULD happen between us."

***

The years passed slowly for them, but they did pass.

When it started to dawn on Isadora that they had less years to look forward to than the years that had already passed, she began to worry. It had always been a nagging fear, but she'd been able to push it into the far corners of her mind, until now.

"Look, who's the boss around here?" Richard asked when she voiced her concern. "You leave that stuff in my hands. I said I'd provide for you. I will. I told you, I have a plan."

"Well, what's your plan?" she countered. "Inquiring minds want to. . ."

"That's for me to know and you to find out!" he responded with a grin, and then he lifted her off her feet and raced into the bedroom carrying her in his arms. Once she was on the bed and naked, wrists tied to the headboard, and he was between her legs with his tongue working on her clitoris, she forgot what the question had been.

***

Her health problems began gradually. She began occasionally having difficulty keeping her balance. Their doctor ran some tests, the results of which showed nothing in particular. Some other symptoms developed. Richard was concerned and arranged to talk to the doctor on his own without Isadora's knowledge. "You say the tests have come back negative, but she still seems to be having these problems," said Richard, somewhat exasperated.

"Well," explained the doctor, "there are some conditions that are like that, and some of those are diagnosed by ruling out the other possibilities." He paused, not sure if he should continue and then said, "some of them are bad. The one I'm thinking of that might be the cause, and I stress, MIGHT be, is called PSP. That stands for progressive supranuclear palsy. It's not a common neurological condition, but her symptoms are consistent with it. We'll just have to wait and see."

"If that's what she has, how do we fix it?" asked Richard.

"I'm sorry to say that it's not anything that's curable at this time. We're not even sure what causes it. It could be caused by some virus we haven't discovered yet. It could be exposure to some environmental factor yet to be identified. It doesn't seem to be hereditary or contagious. The good news, if it can be called good news, is that it's not fatal in and of itself. The bad news is that it predisposes its victims to pneumonia, choking, loss of mobility, trouble seeing, trouble speaking, and certain other things."

"So it's incapacitating at the least," said Richard, and his heart sank. Isadora would go into desperation and panic for sure. Maybe she doesn't have it, he thought hopefully, but if not that, then what? "We'll do as you suggest and wait and see. In the meantime, you won't mention this to Isadora. You don't know what it is for certain, or even if it's something serious, and that's what you're going to say. If you don't know what it is, then in all honesty, you can say that it's something that might just go away on its own, can't you?"

"Well, sir, ethically, I'm not sure I can do all that," he protested.

"Doctor, look in her records. I have a medical power of attorney on her. She has one on me. I'm not asking you to do this. I'm telling you to do this under the authority she gave me. If this really is what Isadora has, she's not going to be able to handle it without a lot of preparation. That's my job. To take care of her. To protect her."

*** When the symptoms got worse and were fully consistent with the diagnosis of PSP, Richard went doctor shopping and found an MD who was willing to give Isadora his learned "second opinion" that she was most likely suffering from some kind of vitamin deficiency and that taking some high-potency supplements ought to do the trick, cautioning her that it would take a while for them to begin to have a good effect. She'd probably feel worse before she began to feel better.

Meanwhile, Richard set himself to work. He made appointments with his accountant and his lawyer. He had specific requests that they were astonished to hear, and they protested that what was asked of them would be hard to accomplish, but he was insistent that they figure out how to make them happen, and soon. And quietly.

He contacted Isadora's university to inquire about endowments, also discreetly. And he made some other calls, too.

Isadora's mounting concerns about her health were repeatedly met with Richard's calming assurances that everything would be alright. After all, the doctor had said so, hadn't he? She just had to wait it out. "Very well," she shrugged. "You're the Master."

"That's right," he echoed. "I'm the Master." And I'll never let anything cause you to fear, he thought to himself.

***

It took several months to finish the preparations, but finally they were done to his satisfaction. On a Thursday, he asked his office manager to arrange an employee meeting the following Monday at 10:00 in the morning. Everybody was to come in to the office for it. He would only say that it would be a significant announcement but not a cause for worry. The company was in good shape, in good hands. Nobody was getting laid off or anything like that. Efforts made on Friday to get him to shed some light on the subject matter got nowhere, but he did ask that both his office manager and his general superintendent arrive punctually at 9:00 am Monday to go over some things in preparation for the meeting. And he deflected having to handle questions at the end-of-the-workweek whiskey party by canceling it for that week, saying he needed to leave early.

***

Saturday at Richard's and Isadora's was quiet. Isadora figured something at work was on his mind because he'd had to go into the office for a while first thing in the morning, unusual for a weekend, but by the time evening rolled around, he was his romantic self once again.

"Why don't you and I get a shower, go upstairs and enjoy each other?" he suggested, and she was only too glad to agree.

"You really do look lovely tonight, my dear," he said once they'd settled themselves in the bedroom. "Let me drink in the sight of your glorious naked body." She smiled and did a slow pirouette for him. "Now, let me drink in the taste of you, too." He positioned her onto the bed and knelt between her legs. He savored her aroma and her growing wetness. Nothing in this world was as delicious to him as the flavor of her! It only took a few minutes for Richard to bring Isadora up to operating temperature. He surprised her by taking her in a missionary position. He took both her hands in his, and propped himself up on his elbows, and Isadora saw what she could only describe as a look of pure adoration on Richard's face as he gazed deeply into her eyes while he slowly, ever so slowly, moved in and out of her.

"I want to never forget this," he confessed to her, "for as long as I live."

She was struck by the intensity of the moment and felt her orgasm approaching.

"No, don't look away," he insisted, still with her hands in his, "Look at me when you come. I want to be as close to you as I can tonight."

His words and his sincerity were what hit her, and they catapulted her over the edge with overwhelming force. She couldn't take her eyes off of him and screamed in ecstasy. He came immediately after, anointing her with his seed.

They lay there for a while, arms around each other. Richard was still gasping for air. "Oh, God, woman, I love you so much," he said with ragged breaths.

After both of them had returned to earth, they made inconsequential conversation until it was time to sleep. "I'll get your vitamin capsules for you. By the way, did you forget to take them this morning?" I'll bet you did!" he said.

"Well, of course I forgot, because you weren't there to remind me, Master," she countered.

"Not a problem. I'll just get you a double dose."

She had to be careful taking them. Swallowing had become a little difficult.

***

She was in bed using Richard as a back rest while she tried to read, but waves upon waves of languor soon began to crash over her. After fighting them for a few minutes, she came to the conclusion that she might as well lay down and go to sleep and told Richard as much.

"Yes," he said in a most profound way. "It's time to go to sleep, my love. Let me hold you; go to sleep." And he kissed her, over and over again.

Richard wrapped his strong arms around Isadora, and they both settled in. He was sure she was out, but she suddenly sat up and said, "You know, Master, I've often wondered why God didn't make sex between a husband and wife a sacrament, like holy communion or baptism." Richard was stunned and at a loss for words for a moment.

Finally, he replied, "He did, for us."

Then she was back in his arms once again. He listened carefully, and when he thought that her breathing had become a little more shallow, he quickly and carefully got out of bed. He raced downstairs and guzzled down the even greater number of capsules he'd prepared for himself. One of the tasks he'd accomplished at work that morning was replacing the vitamin mix inside the capsules with something else.

I just hope and pray that the big dose I'm taking will allow me to arrive there before she does, he thought. So I can be the one who greets her, if He allows it. There, on that far and distant shore. I've asked Him. I've begged and pleaded tearfully. She didn't know, I reminded Him. She's innocent. I'm the guilty one. I'm not worthy, I didn't have enough faith. Please, please, let us be together in Your heaven for all of eternity, but, if not both of us, then at least her, because You can protect her better than I ever could.

The clock struck twelve midnight. He hurried upstairs and got back into bed. Isadora was unresponsive but still breathing when he put his arms around her once more, and he stayed stock still until he, too, slept. Then all was quiet.

***

Almost precisely at 8:30 on Monday morning, the owner of the housecleaning service that Richard had contracted arrived at their home as instructed. She intended to personally take care of this first visit to her new, prestigious clients in the hope of securing some repeat business and quality referrals. She entered the pass code she'd been given into the home security system's key pad and heard the solenoid click to allow her to go in. Only the slow ticking of the tall case clock in the hallway disturbed the silence, which she found a bit odd considering that both vehicles were parked in the garage, implying that the residents were still at home.

She saw the large manila envelope on the hall table that she'd been told to find, which contained the instructions she would need. On the outside were written the words, "OPEN IMMEDIATELY." Inside, the first thing she found was a brand new $100 bill with a Post-it note attached, saying, "Keep this cash for your trouble and do not mention it. It might be confiscated as evidence if you do." Next was a sheet of paper on which was written these words, which stopped her in her tracks:

"DO NOT proceed further into the house. Please use the telephone on the hall table to call 9-1-1 and report that there are two fatalities at this address and that a medical examiner is needed. Find the sealed white envelope enclosed inside the manila envelope and be prepared to hand it to the authorities when they arrive. Don't take it out of the plastic bag. It will explain everything. They will have questions for you, and once you have answered them, you are free to leave. You've been paid for a month's services which will not be needed now, but you are welcome to keep the payment as my thanks for your cooperation and my apology for your inconvenience. (signed) - Richard Hayes"

Inside the manila envelope was a sealed plastic food storage bag with the white envelope inside. She picked up the phone and made the call as instructed.

A police cruiser arrived ten minutes after. The uniformed officer on duty carefully took the plastic bag and was impressed that somebody had already considered the need to preserve what was in all probability evidence regarding a crime. Putting on gloves, he extracted and opened the white envelope. Several documents were inside. A formal letter, "to whom it may concern," stated that he, Richard, had taken it upon himself to cause his terminally ill wife, Isadora, to die from an overdose of sedatives. She'd had no idea that this was being done, so she was legally and morally innocent, he explained.

Having administered the capsules to her, he had also taken his own lethal dose secretly. Then, he lay down on the bed next to her and held her in his arms until they both fell asleep. Having provided for his wife's final needs, he now had neither the need nor the desire to continue this life. He suggested that a simple blood test would confirm these statements and that a more intensive examination would only waste their time and the taxpayers' money. He requested that their bodies be transported together, in tact, just as they were found, and even provided the contact information for a local funeral home. This guy thinks of everything, concluded the policeman.

The letter concluded: Don't even bother attempting to find out how I got the sleeping pills, boys! Then there was Richard's notarized signature -he'd gotten the damn thing notarized, for Pete's sake, the sergeant thought. A quick and careful search of the premises found both Richard and Isadora, dead in their bed together, naked, Richard's arms around her, still protectively holding her. The bodies showed no sign of warmth to his touch. He pulled the hand-held radio from his belt and called it in. No need to get the neighborhood all excited with sirens, he advised. No need at all, now.

***

At a quarter before nine that morning, Bethany, Richard's office manager arrived at work to discover that Richard wasn't in as of yet. And with this meeting coming up. Well, that's no surprise. I'll bet anything he's still in bed with Isadora doing you-know-what, she thought, a sly smile appearing on her face. Well, who could blame them, she continued. Isadora's drop-dead gorgeous, and Richard's a hunky, healthy guy.

The door opened, and Bethany expected Richard to walk in, but it was Jacob, the general superintendent instead, the tall black man whom Richard had first met while his company was volunteering on a Habitat For Humanity housebuilding project. The angry young man from the ghetto whom Richard had mentored and was now his strong, confidant, reliable right-hand. Jacob looked around.

"Richard not here yet?" he inquired.

"Nope!" replied Bethany, and Jacob immediately and correctly understood the implications of her smile. His smile back at her told her he'd come to the same conclusion about Richard's likely whereabouts.

"Well, I suppose we'll start the coffee brewing and wait," she said.

"I guess so."

Precisely at nine, the door opened once again, but instead of Richard swaggering in, it was Richard's lawyer. "Well, hello, counselor," said Bethany. "What a surprise to see you here this morning."

"A surprise?" he responded. "Richard didn't tell you that I would be coming in to go over the transition and get you both to sign the paperwork?"

"All we know is that there's supposed to be a big meeting today, and we were told to be here in preparation for it," said Jacob. "And Richard's not even here yet!" added Bethany.

It was the attorney's turn to be surprised. "Now, how could Richard possibly be here this morning? He and Isadora left for their ocean cruise yesterday."

"OCEAN CRUISE?" exclaimed Bethany and Jacob together. "WHAT ocean cruise?"

"Well, I assume it was an ocean cruise," he replied. "Actually, Richard called it their 'voyage,' as I remember. He left letters for each of you and asked that I give them to you before we began the formalities." He handed a letter each to Bethany and Jacob. "I thought you knew."

They tore open their respective envelopes and began to read. If Jacob had been capable of turning white as a proverbial sheet, he would have done so once he got halfway through the first paragraph. Instead, he quietly said, "Mother of God!" and slumped into the closest chair. "They're gone!" sobbed Bethany.

And that was how they learned that Richard and Isadora were both dead.

Both of them wanted to jump into their cars and get to Richard's house to be a part of what they imagined was going on there, but their responsibilities to the business kept them in place at the office.

A half an hour later, a call to the office from Richard's and Isadora's residence, made by a police detective, swept away any lingering doubts as to the reality of this nightmare.

When the initial shock had cleared away, they learned that Richard had somehow managed to convert his "small business" construction company into a privately held corporation with Jacob as its president and Bethany as secretary. More amazingly, he'd done it in a way that required neither of them to contribute any cash or to be burdened with any immediate tax liabilities.