Kari And Brett

A ROSE CALLED MIRACLE

BOOK #3, PART 1

Author's Note: This is the third book of 'A Rose Called Miracle'. This is fiction. All characters in intimate situations are over 18. Any resemblance to real people, organizations, or businesses is purely coincidence.

If you are uncomfortable with the subjects of control, restraint, discipline, and mild corporal punishment, please go no further. Likewise, this story is peopled with hetero, interracial, and LGBTQ+ characters and couples. If you can't deal with that, leave now--you'll only be offended. Also, I apologize to BDSM aficionados--in this story I pretty much ignore proper BDSM safety measures as the characters develop their relationship. Please do not use these writings as a 'how to' guide. Lastly, if anyone reading 'A Rose Called Miracle' has enjoyed my characters, feel free to take them on new adventures--but please don't alter the canon.

KARI AND BRETT--A Master/slave story of Love and Loss

There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle. Albert Einstein

For those who are willing to make an effort, great miracles and wonderful treasures are in store. Isaac Bashevis Singer

PROLOGUE

I Know. You're wondering how did I, a respected businessman and retired U.S. Air Force Senior NCO approaching middle-age, become a modern-day slave owner? I don't have a simple answer...it certainly wasn't on my life's bucket list. The best I can do is relate the coincidences and events that led to my relationship with the beautiful Kari, whom I called 'Slave'; sometimes 'It' if I happened to be particularly upset with her; most often 'Pet'--as we navigated our way through the unusual journey that is our relationship.

I had noticed the unkempt woman loitering around the area near where I work, off and on, for a couple years. Never met her; never really gave her much thought. She appeared to be in her mid-to-late twenties, maybe 5'4", and skinny bordering on malnourished. She dressed plain and maybe a step up from homeless; obviously not trying to show off her figure. She always had her mousy brown hair up in a bun. The features I did notice were her eyes; large and almond-shaped. She never wore makeup but her eyes were still amazing. They'd have been even prettier if she didn't look so damned scared all the time.

We 'met' for the first time when we bumped into each other, literally, one day in the bustling business-district deli just down the street from where I worked. I used to go there a couple times a week for lunch. That particular day it was raining cats and dogs and I almost skipped the deli in favor of our cafeteria's vending machines; but I wasn't that brave. At the deli, customers were packed inside rather than taking their lunches outside to one of the many tree-shaded benches. She had just picked up her food from the counter, and I was trying to get into the line. She zigged, I zagged, she bumped into some guy who angrily shoved her away and straight into me. Crash! She managed to keep hold of her drink, but the sandwich flew out of her hand. Possessing fairly good reflexes, I managed to catch the flying sandwich before it landed on the floor. I grinned as the folks around us--except the angry pusher--applauded. I bowed to her as I handed it back to her, "Your lunch, Mademoiselle."

Her face flushed red, but she played along and curtsied, "Thank you kind sir." That was the first time I'd seen her smile or heard her speak. Her voice was a soft soprano and rang like a bell. Then she turned away and went looking for a place to sit and I got back in line to get my corned beef on rye. I thought that was the end of it. Fun. Everyone had a good laugh. No big deal.

Since I'd hit the deli's rush hour, it took me nearly 15 minutes to navigate through the line and get my food. Then I looked for a spot to sit--yeah, right--the place was still packed because of the weather. I headed for the door, preparing to run back to the office and eat at my desk, when I spotted the woman waving at me and pointing to the empty seat at her table. I joined her.

"Hi, I'm Kari. I thought you might need a place to sit." She offered without meeting my eyes.

I sat down and set out my food, "Thanks Kari. I'm Brett. What kind of sandwich are you having?"

"Today I think they gave me..." She flipped open her sandwich and looked, "...yeah, its bologna."

"Just bologna?"

"Yeah." She blushed bright red again and stared down at the table, "When there are a lot of people around, I get...overwhelmed...and can't decide. The guys on the counter know me...so they just wave me along and throw something together. I eat what they give me. My favorite is turkey and Swiss--but I have a hard time asking for it."

"Do you work around here?" I asked.

She immediately lost her smile, and her eyes dropped, "Yeah." That's all she said. She obviously didn't want to talk about it. She finished her sandwich and took off without another word, not even goodbye.

"Bye Kari," I said to her disappearing back.

I took the final bite of my sandwich, "Excuse me, is this seat taken?" A beautiful, tall, statuesque woman with close cropped white-blonde hair, wearing a tailored scarlet-red business suit stood by the chair Kari had vacated.

I finished chewing and swallowed, "Huh? No, have a seat. I'm just finishing." I stood up and gathered my trash and started back to my office.

I have always had a 'thing', darn near a fetish, for platinum blondes; especially when their hair is very short. I was half-way back to my office before I realized I hadn't even tried to chat up the buzz cut blonde goddess of my fantasies that had sat across from me after Kari left; didn't even say hello. Instead, I was thinking about plain-Jane Kari. I must be crazy.

CHAPTER 1

A couple of months had passed. Kari and I met at the deli several more times--at least once a week. She knew pretty much everything about me. I still knew little to nothing about her. And, I'd discovered, that asking about her job or life history always brought an immediate end to the conversation. But that day I sat stunned, my lunch forgotten, "Kari, you can't really mean that? What you're saying is you'd gladly be...a...a...slave; a sex slave? I don't understand. Why?"

"That's it exactly Brett." She leaned forward and grabbed my hands--it was the first time we'd touched, "I'm tired of being scared all the time. I'm sick of decisions and responsibility. I need someone else to do that. The stress and strain of even the simplest decisions are killing me. And if it means having sex...I'm okay with that." She paused and sipped from her soda, then a tiny bite of the liverwurst sandwich she'd been given. I don't think she cared for it.

"You know...I haven't told you this," she continued without making eye contact, "But last week, I got so desperate I stole a bottle of sleeping pills and a nearly full bottle of liquor from one of my roommates. I went into my bedroom Brett, and I was this close to swallowing all that crap and ending things." She held her thumb and index finger about a millimeter apart. "Do you know what stopped me?" Kari at last looked up and into my eyes.

I shook my head 'no'.

"I couldn't decide what to do first: take the pills or drink the whiskey." She shook her head, "I couldn't even kill myself right. How pathetic is that?"

She released my hands and continued, eyes down now, once again refusing to look at me, "Brett I know this is sudden, but I've been thinking about it a lot--really, since that time you bowed to me. I need someone...Would you...no...I want you to make my decisions--become my master. Yes, I'm willing to be your slave--to totally submit to you--if you'll have me. I know it's a huge imposition...but please, can't you help me?"

At that moment I wondered which of us was more frightened. "Kari I'm flattered you feel that way about me...but you don't need a master. You need to talk to a professional and tell them what you're feeling."

"Yeah, right." She snorted as she let go of my hands. "Do you know how much that sort of thing costs? My crap job pays minimum wage. At least that's what they say. I'm lucky if I get paid at all and forget health insurance. This is the real-world Brett. I've already looked on-line; have you ever heard of the dark web? There are lots of Dominants out there searching for people like me. I've even received a couple anonymous e-mails--I have no idea how they tracked me down; I thought my searches were private.

I sat there, shocked and more than a little frightened by Kari's words. I had no idea how stressed and unhappy she'd become over the last few months. I couldn't imagine anyone being so desperate as to want to give all their freedom and decision-making powers to another, or worse, to consider suicide.

"Kari...Please." I had absolutely no idea what to say...or do. "What about your family?"

"I have no family!" She snapped. "Please Brett. If you won't help me, I'm going to respond to those two contacts and see what comes of it."

I wondered if I was being set up or if she was truly so desperate. "Kari, think about it. Yes, of course I've heard of the dark web. What's on there? Ugly and evil things that people want to hide. Kari, you know that if you meet these people you'll be putting your life in danger."

"I'm sorry Brett. I'm at the end of my rope. I need..." She stopped speaking and began to rise from our table.

"Kari...wait."

"What?" She snapped back at me. It was the first time she'd shown any fire.

"Give me 24 hours. Promise me that you won't do anything until then. I need to think and do some research--maybe I can help..."

"No Brett. I can't wait any..."

I took my final shot, "Kari!" I snapped--louder than I intended, "I told you to do nothing! Meet me here tomorrow at 1:00. And don't you dare be late. That's an order. Do you understand me?"

Kari stood straight and dropped her head, "Yes sir. I understand. Precisely 1:00 tomorrow."

"I will tell you then what I have decided."

"Yes sir. Thank you sir. May I leave sir."

"You are dismissed." Jesus Christ what had just happened? I couldn't believe I was even considering this. Neither could I believe just how easily I'd slipped back into my 'senior NCO' persona, giving orders, expecting compliance, and worrying about the welfare of my people. And damn, I'd missed it.

I went back to my office (think mid-sized, windowless closet) at Western Allegheny Mutual Assurance (WAMA). After struggling to put Kari out of my mind, I got down to work and read through a couple risk assessment evaluations from the client acquisition department. I approved coverage for a local, nationally recognized, hospital. I conditionally approved the application of a local manufacturer with a not-so-great safety record; provided they agreed to the extremely high premiums we'd demand and follow our recommendations on improved safety protocols.

As the day dragged on, I found myself thinking more and more about Kari. I stayed off my office computer though. I absolutely did not want to risk anyone else getting a glimpse of the research topics I needed to look at. I examined my options: as Mr. Nice Guy, my instinct was to hug Kari and say everything would be okay. But I didn't believe that. I worried that the next time she got ahold of some pills and a bottle she wouldn't freeze up; or, worse, she'd succumb to the advances of some anonymous deviant and end up murdered. I hoped desperately that if I confronted her as an in-your-face, abusive, military DI wannabe, I could shock her and make her understand the consequences of what she seemed determined to do with her life.

After work, I stopped and bought a few groceries. At the liquor store next to the grocery store, I picked up a bottle of bourbon to sip on while I relaxed in front of my computer. I got home about 6:30 and threw a package of frozen lasagna into the oven. While it heated I stowed away the rest of my purchases. I put the bourbon over behind my bar and checked the freezer to make sure I had ice.

I finished dinner, cleaned up, and walked to my office at the back of the house. The wide windows gave me a nice view of the tree-covered rolling foothills that rose from the back of my property--I repeated my nightly prayer that the land would stay undeveloped.

I sat down at my computer and logged onto my VPN. I searched carefully: regular web and, God help me, the dark web. Some of the things I saw made my skin crawl; the slavery fetish crowd...wow. I jotted down a list of the foulest, most demeaning rules and demands I could find. I read about Master/slave contracts; bondage; punishments. If these things didn't scare Kari, I didn't know what would, because they sure as hell scared me.

I organized and printed out my proposed 'contract' with Kari. I was ashamed of myself, but hoped I could help my friend.

The next day I left work and headed for the deli. I checked my watch five or six times as I walked over; it was 12:58. I glanced inside...didn't see Kari. I feared she'd decided not to wait; I needn't have worried. She paced up the sidewalk at precisely 1:00 and we got in the sandwich line.

The deli was only a little busy so the line moved pretty fast. We got to the order window and Kari stood staring, "What do you want Kari?" The counter guy asked. She shuffled her feet and looked down at the floor without answering, "Kari's here! He shouted down the line, "We've got liverwurst left over--put it on white bread--put on some mustard.".

"Hold It." I spoke up, "Make Kari's sandwich a turkey and swiss on rye, with lettuce, mayo, and tomato."

"You got it." He called the amended order down the line. I ordered my own roast beef and horseradish on a wheat roll and paid for both of us.

"Thank you sir." Kari said. She waited for me to choose a table and we sat down. She ate her sandwich quietly, not really looking at me.

"Thank you for lunch sir. You should know, though, that last night I was contacted by someone calling themselves Master Damien. They have ordered me to meet them in Oak Grove a week from tomorrow. He paid for my bus ticket."

"I ordered you to wait."

"I am sorry sir. I did not contact him. I believe he's one of the anonymous people that tracked my dark web search."

"Kari...Look at me damn it! If you truly want to go to this Damien character I can't stop you. At least for now, you're still a free person. I should tell you that last night I decided to take possession of you. But I have a condition."

"Sir?" She looked at me with hope for the first time.

"I have prepared an agreement. I want you to take it home, read it, and decide if you can accept the conditions I'll demand."

"You want me as your slave?"

'No! No! No!' I silently screamed. "That's right Kari." I answered.

"Oh! Thank you sir. Please, sir, may I see the contract."

"Not yet. Like I said, I want you to take it home and read it carefully as often as possible for the next six days. Memorize it. Then decide if you can accept my conditions and rules. If you accept, sign the document, and meet me here, one week from today at exactly 1:00; if you are as much as one minute late, our contract is voided. Do you understand?"

"I understand sir. May I have the document?"

"One more thing. If you accept my proposal, I will have other instructions to follow." I handed her the sealed envelope, "Do not open this until you are home tonight...and alone. Show it to no one else. And Kari...whether you choose me...or this Master Damien...make sure that you understand that you are giving up your freedom and will be subject to the whims of an owner. Please think about this carefully." I handed her the envelope, took a bite of my sandwich, waved her away, "You are dismissed."

So now, I suppose, you're wondering what kind of perversions I offered her? Here is my copy of our 'contract'.

CONTRACT OF ENSLAVEMENT

Pursuant to the below clauses, I, Brett J. Noonan, hereafter known as 'Master', accept ownership of, and responsibility for, Kari Mathilde Jensen. The signers of this document agree to the following rules of enslavement for Ms. Jensen, Hereafter to be known as 'Slave'.

SLAVE'S RULES:

1. From this moment on, your name is Slave. You will refer to yourself only as Slave or It. Slave is forbidden to use the words I, me, my, or any other personal pronoun that indicates individuality. It is nothing more than one of Master's possessions. It has no past to remember, no future to plan for. It has only the present--this moment of absolute submission and obedience to Master.

2. Slave will address its owner only as Master or Sir--there are no exceptions.

3. Master owns you. Master may sell you, trade you, barter your services, or otherwise dispose of you at any time for any reason. (Author's Note: I was trying to scare her with the word dispose.)

4. All that Slave owned now belongs to Master.

5. Slave will memorize subservient postures as demanded by Master; it will never make eye contact unless Master specifically commands "Slave--look at me."

6. Slave's only purpose in life is to serve Master. It will obey all orders from Master. Slave may not refuse an order.

7. As a mark of her enslavement, it will be fitted with Master's collar. The collar will be locked. It may not remove the collar for any reason.

8. Slave has no free will. Slave will not do anything without Master's permission. Its only privilege is to breathe--and Master will take that away if It misbehaves. It may not speak without permission--except to answer a direct question or to sound an alarm for an emergency.

9. Inside Master's home It will wear high heels, stockings, and Master's collar--nothing else. If there are guests, Master will decide what It wears--or doesn't wear.

10. Slave must maintain Immaculate personal appearance. Effective immediately after Slave signs this document, it will: 1. Undergo permanent removal of all body hair--except on your head; 2. It will immediately dye its hair and eyebrows platinum blonde. Once Master chooses Slave's salon and hairstyle, Slave will be expected to rigorously maintain Master's standards. If Slave's hair is messy or roots show--Slave will be severely punished.

11. It will sleep in the cage Master provides; that is Slave's space--It must keep the space neat and clean.

12. It will not leave the house except on a leash and accompanied by Master. (Again, I had absolutely no intention of walking around in public with a girl on a leash; but I wanted her to realize what she was getting into.)

13. It will be responsible for cooking, cleaning, laundry, and household chores as Master orders. Unsatisfactory meals, dirty clothes, or an unkempt house will be punished. Punishments include, but are not limited to: spanking, whipping, binding and/or suspending, sensory deprivation, choking, or public humiliation--whatever Master chooses.

14. Using Slave for sexual release is Master's privilege--Slave may not refuse. During sex, it may not orgasm without Master's permission.

15. It will treat Master's guests with absolute respect, subservience, and silence.

16. During Its first 30 days as Slave, at any time, It may use the phrase "Freedom Isn't Free". Its collar will be removed and it will be released. After the 30th day, the length of servitude is indefinite and at Master's pleasure.

MASTER'S RESPONSIBILITIES:

1. Master will provide for Slave's nutrition, shelter, and clothing. Master will provide for Its medical and dental needs.

2. Master will decide on appearance improvements and upkeep as well as body modifications to suit Master's desires.

3. Slave will be trained for the behaviors Master will demand.

4. Master will punish Slave harshly for laziness, carelessness, misbehavior, or insubordination.

5. Master's guests may use Slave as a sexual plaything; however, Master will not allow guests to humiliate or abuse It--that is Master's privilege.