The Weekend Ch 1

(for Rebecca)

* * * * *

He walked into the restaurant, an apparition from another time. Rebecca, who was working her third straight late shift and hated it, looked up and nearly fainted. A viking.....A Viking? She laughed aloud, then stopped herself.

The man stood strong and attractive, at least 5'10" with wide shoulders and what had to be a muscular chest under his shirt. It looked like linen, sort of dust colored, with a v-neck opening. She let her eyes travel down as the receptionist spoke with the man. He wore a broad leather belt and leather pants, above a pair of leather boots that came up to his knees. All of it dark brown. All of it decorated with colorful markings -- runes, she knew. Off the belt hung what looked like an ax, but in a likewise decorated leather sheath of some sort.

She watched him follow the receptionist toward her section. He barely glanced at Vicki, but raked his eyes over the empty tables. He chose...a corner booth, dark, secluded, and sat there. Vicki looked at him, shrugged and gave him his menu. He looked up and smiled, thanking her, then looked straight at Rebecca.

Rebecca caught herself staring into his eyes. His gaze held hers for a long moment, judging, testing. Then he smiled at her....the grin of a carnivore, a hungry animal. Rebecca approached the table and went into her usual routine, a sort of comic patter that generally loosened things up. She had never been afraid to meet and befriend strangers and almost always got large tips because of her warmth. This time, though, the gaze from the stranger was steady and firm. He was polite enough, listening to her chatter, but he did not seem to return the friendship implicit in it. He seemed more aloof, above her. After she finished, he reached out and touched her hand while he ordered a cup of coffee and a hamburger, medium, with a side salad. His voice was not a request, more a demand, politely framed, but nevertheless. Rebecca shivered inside, an electric thrill running through her.

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When Tom walked into the restaurant, he realized he was hungry...for food and adventure. He had come from dance practice...good solid country dances that always involved heavy flirting. Two of the younger Barony members had come on to him heavily, almost like a contest to see which woman could bed him first. But he knew them both...flirts who never came across in bed as they did on the dance floor. One was still very much the innocent teenager, despite being in her mid-20's; she was a scared rabbit if he tried anything beyond a straight fuck. The other was a cocktease for sure...at least an hour of talk and necking had gotten him a handjob the one time he'd called her bluff. He was not in the mood for their games tonight.

He had danced the Viking callouts he had devised, a few rounds of blacknag and Miller in the Middle, a very interesting hole-in-the-wall, and then he'd called it quits. He had to work tomorrow, he said, even though it was his "weekend" -- Wednesday & Thursday -- his days off from the Borders where he was manager of the Human Sexuality section. So he came to the restaurant, hungry, in more ways than one. He scanned the receptionist. "Vicki" her tag said, and she was not for him. A little overweight and quite assertive. He sighed inwardly. He knew he was a sight in full garb, the leathers tonight, designed for dance, flirtation and domination, not submission. He needed a submissive woman to play his game tonight, and everything about his stance and carriage said so. He followed Vicki (Gods, what a name, he thought, she's definitely a Victoria if I ever saw one.) into a deserted section and chose a booth for himself. She stopped, started to redirect him to a small table, but she saw his eyes and shrugged. He smiled as she handed him his menu. She moved away, looking at the waitress for the section and shrugging again.

He glanced at his menu, already knowing what he would eat. Then he looked up into a pair of deep brown eyes. She had said her name was Rebecca and she was spouting a little comedy line at him, trying to loosen him up. He smiled, but maintained his contact with her, letting her know that he was the boss. His eyes raked over her...petite, maybe 5'3 or 5'4, slim, except for a very nice pair of breasts. Her nipples already were visible under the starched white blouse she wore. Her legs were very nice, naked under the short red skirt. He knew that she was just right for his plans for tonight. He hoped she would be compliant. He tested her. He actually interrupted her, taking her hand in his and giving his order. From her reaction, he knew, immediately, that his hungers would all be sated tonight. She physically shivered under his touch and whispered, "Yes, Sir" clearly when he made his order. Just from that and the slight downward motion of her eyes, he knew...and she did, too.

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During the meal, Rebecca stayed near the customer. He had not given her a name, so she called him "Sir" throughout, checking on him every few minutes. There was no one else in her section, so she hovered nearby, watching his every move. His hair, long brown, to the middle of his back, was wavy, streaked with gray. His beard, cropped short, was also going gray. And his eyes, steely blue, gazed into her very soul, when she dared meet them with hers. It seemed that every time she looked at him, she became more aroused. She found herself fading into a little fantasy....

She was a maiden, dressed in a chemise and an overgown, cowering in a corner as Viking raiders plundered her village. She was trying to hide, for she knew, KNEW, what these marauders did to innocents like herself. She would be raped and kept as a plaything or sold into sexual bondage by some fiendish pagan lord. She was crying, trying to be a small as a mouse, when the door burst open and the warrior loomed over her, laughing, bloody sword in hand. She screamed......

"Rebecca," the voice commanded, "Can I have the check?" She woke from her reverie and saw him grinning at her. She was embarrassed and blushed deeply. He looked into her eyes.

"He can read my thoughts. He knows my fantasies," she thought to herself. She hustled to get the check, and handed it to him, with a polite, almost submissive whisper, "I'm sorry I was slow, Sir, please forgive me."

Tom smiled and whispered, "Of course, Rebecca." Now he was certain. He took a ten from his pouch for the meal, and added twenty for her. He also wrote a brief note, "At the bar, in twenty minutes." He rose and walked, steadily & surely, from the restaurant into the bar, where he ordered a bourbon and water. He waited, patiently, keeping an eye on her time.

She took the check and pocketed the twenty! Twenty!!! "Oh, migod," she thought, "What a great night!" Then she read the note. She froze briefly, knowing she couldn't do this. She knew that, but also knew she would. She felt as though her stomach was in knots, her nipples erect and hard as pebbles, her pussy beginning to flow. She knew she would go to him, with him, and become his. She checked her watch ... her shift ended in fifteen minutes. She prayed no more customers would come.

Rebecca was lucky. Her relief was early and no one else had come in to her section. She rushed to the back and changed out of her uniform, into the short skirt and blouse she had worn to work. She stopped, and quickly touched herself...wet, open, hot. She knew what lay in store and she rushed to get there. In her haste, she either forgot or decided against wearing her panties.

She entered the bar and looked for him. He wasn't there! She panicked, looking at her watch...12:03. Her heart sank. She was three minutes late. He must have left, tired of waiting. She nearly cried. She went to the bar, intending to have a glass of wine and then go home to her vibrator and her cold, empty bed.

The bartender looked at her and said, "Here's a note some guy left." She opened it with fumbling fingers.

"You're late," it said. "This will cost you. I'll be in parking lot, waiting, until 12:15. Be there or you lose the opportunity."

She ran from the bar to the parking lot, praying to the goddess that she wasn't late again. She stood, looking for him, when a dark blue PT Cruiser drove up. The passenger side door opened. She tried to see who was in there, but the compartment was dark. She took a deep breath and climbed in.

Jazz played softly (Miles Davis, she thought). She put on her seat belt and turned to look. He smiled at her and spoke in a harsh whisper, "You were late, Rebecca. That wasn't a good start to the evening. Now, hold out your hands."

She quickly complied, whispering, "Sorry, Sir, but you didn't give me enough time."

He hushed her immediately. "From now on, until we part company, you will address me as "Master" and will not offer excuses or reasons. Do you understand?" She nodded, silent. "Good. You will learn quickly how to please your Master." He took a pair of leather and fur manacles and bound her hands before her with them. Then he attached a chain to the clasps and pulled it back, attaching it to an overhead bar in the van. He pulled and her hands were elevated, not stretched but above her head. She knew she was displayed. "Now, Rebecca, tell me what your schedule is for tomorrow and Thursday."

She hesitated, then spoke in a hoarse whisper, "I have them off, Sir...Master, I mean. I do not have to work again until Friday evening."

"Other plans?"

"None, Master. I was going to do some shopping, but it can wait."

"Social plans?" His voice almost laughed, as though he knew she had little or no dating life at all.

"None, Master"

"Very good." He unbuttoned her blouse three, no four buttons, and spread it wide. Her naked breasts were exposed. He put the van in gear and they drove, carefully obeying the speed limit. At every light, if he stopped, people stared. She was aroused, totally aware of her situation. At one point, she glanced to her right and saw two teenage boys staring at her, laughing and whistling. Another time, a police cruiser went by. She could have sworn the cop looked right at her and smiled. She felt her pussy open further, her nipples harden until they were painful, her whole being desiring a touch, a word, a command. "Master?" she whispered. "Master? Where are we going?"

He didn't even look at her, but drove on, not saying a word. She felt the cold throughout her body. She had spoken out of turn. She realized that he would chalk that up against her, too. They drove, though the sections of Bellingham she knew, into a district she had never seen before. It was rich...oh god, was it rich! Winding streets, gated yards, large houses, until they slowed and turned into a driveway that led to a brick estate house. The lights on the driveway and walk came on without warning. The entire driveway and walk to the house were lit up. He stopped at least fifty yards from the door and released her hands, then her seat belt. He silently pulled the blouse from her skirt and stripped it from her, being careful not to tear it as it passed over the manacles. Then he fastened the manacles with the length of chain and reached into the glove compartment. From it, he produced a black leather dog collar with a d-ring on it. He fastened it around her neck and then ran the chain through the d-ring and back to the cuffs. He attached it there with a padlock.

He smiled and said, "You will exit the van and walk, very slowly, to the door. There you will kneel, facing the street and wait for me. If you don't do this, I will release you and drive you home and never see you again." He opened the door.

Rebecca almost stumbled as she slipped from the car, she was so nervous. She didn't hear the car move, knew he was watching her to see that she complied completely with the command. She didn't hesitate now, for her mind was made up. She walked, very slowly, up the driveway, aware that the whole neighborhood could see her. She approached the door and saw a soft carpet pad in front of it, far enough away that someone could step between it and the door. It was out in the open, with a pair of floodlights trained on it. She would be on display. She knelt.

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Tom sat in the van and watched Rebecca. "Perfect," he thought, as he struggled to calm his raging erection. She would be a marvelous toy for the weekend. What luck that she had the same schedule as he did. What luck that she wasn't utterly docile, but rather was forward and aggressive. She'd be that much more fun to make his.

He watched her walk, absolutely erect and properly, to the door, then watched her pirouette and kneel, shoulders back, breasts open and proud, her hands and neck manacled and chained. He slowly drove up the drive and parked the van in the garage. As he closed the doors, the driveway lights extinguished themselves, leaving just the spots on the porch. He knew that at least two neighbors were watching...they always watched him come home, especially on Tuesday nights, for that was when he "played rough". "Well," he thought, "eat your fucking hearts out. Rebecca is my slave, not yours!"

He entered the house through the garage door, leaving her kneeling on the porch, on display. He checked the game room, and then unlocked the Master's room. He chuckled, as he looked at the various toys he would introduce her to over the next 48 hours. He removed his ax and hung it in its usual place on the wall, next to the various Anglo-Saxon & Viking reproductions. He brushed his hair, then poured himself a drink. He relaxed, looking at the clock. Ten minutes...long enough.

Tom walked to the door and opened it silently. Rebecca was looking at house across the street...the one where the drapes had slid open as soon as she knelt. A man and woman were looking at her. She could see them clearly...see the man stroking the naked woman's breasts and pussy as she stared at Rebecca; see the woman lean forward at the waist, spreading her legs; see the man moving behind her, entering her, fucking her slowly as they both looked at Rebecca who knelt, wet, wild, open, legs spread, shoulders back, thoroughly on exhibition for anyone to see. Rebecca watched the woman's face go rigid with her orgasm and felt a tiny cum build in her own pussy as well. She wanted to be there with them, chained, offered to them as a plaything. She was so entranced by her fantasy that she didn't hear the door opening. It was the reaction of the man across the street...a wide smile and wave that told her she was not alone.

Tom chuckled and touched her shoulder. "Rise and stand very still," he commanded. She complied. His hands went to her skirt and unzipped it. As it fell, he whispered, "No panties...such a naughty girl we have here." He turned her to face him, ass to the street. She saw his gloved hands and shuddered. He took one step to the side so that he was perpendicular to her. Then he struck...three quick sharp spanks on her naked ass. He turned her again, to face the street. The man across the street was fucking in earnest now. "Watch them...be with them," Tom whispered to his naked toy. She watched them fuck for maybe two more minutes...Then both froze as they came together. Tom stood behind her, whispering, "They came for you, because of you, because they know what you are...my slavegirl, Rebecca."

He bound a cloth over her eyes, turned her again, and grasping the chain that led from her manacles, pulled her inside after him. The door swung shut, and the "weekend" truly began.