(C) 2006 Rachel Gumm. You may freely distribute this story digitally, but only in full, crediting me as the author. I welcome feedback. You can e-mail me through the link below.
After the unmistakable rumbling of Becky's van pulling up outside, Andrew strolled to the door and opened it before his guest had a chance to ring the doorbell. He was in his early thirties, well built, and somehow managed to make the early stages of balding look fashionable with his short, spiky hair.
"Hi," he greeted, looking relieved that Becky was finally at his house.
"Hi," she said. Her frizzy hair was tied back in a ponytail above well-worn casual clothes, and she carried a tote bag. "May I come in?"
"Of course," replied Andrew, motioning for her to come inside. "Would you like a drink?"
"No, thank you," said Becky as she followed Andrew down the hallway and into the lounge. "So where's the merchandise?" she asked as she sat on his couch. Evidently, she wanted to get straight to the point tonight.
"Give me a second," said Andrew, grinning. He left the room. A few moments later, the rattling of metal chains could be heard from upstairs. The sound grew louder until he finally reappeared, holding a leash in his hand.
Walking timidly behind him was a woman in her late twenties who was wearing nothing but steel cuffs around each limb and a matching collar, all joined together by chains that had started to lose their shine. She must have worn them often, and for at least a good year or two, realised Becky.
When Andrew stopped walking, the woman obediently knelt down at his side. Andrew grabbed a chain and pair of padlocks from behind the couch Becky was sitting on before unfastening the woman's leash from her collar. He replaced it with the chain, padlocking one end onto her collar and the other onto a floor hook discretely hidden beneath the couch.
"This is my slave," he said proudly.
