When the doorbell rang, Wendy knew who it was. She checked herself in the foyer mirror, made a slight adjustment to her hair, and answered the door with a smile. "Ms. Price, so good to see you again."
Angela's stern expression softened with the warm welcome. "It's unusual for OPB agents to be greeted so cheerfully. Be careful, it might raise suspicions," she said with a playful wink and stepped in. Her hair was once again pulled back in a harsh bun, but this time her lips were a glossy crimson. Wendy had to wonder if that was just for her. Angela had on a shapeless, dark pantsuit like the last time she visited - maybe even the same one. And, of course, her ever-present tablet computer was clutched close to her chest.
"He's in the kitchen," Wendy explained, suddenly feeling nervous for some reason. "Shall I call him out?"
"Before you do, let me ask you first how things have been going, Miss Ward?"
"Oh, it's Mrs. Cisero now."
Angela blinked, and she consulted her tablet. "Ah, I see, you married since my last visit. Odd."
"Odd? How so?"
"Nothing really...it's just unusual for masters to marry their slaves...um, owned person."
"I'm not crazy about referring to my husband as my slave, but that's pretty much how it is. You don't have to bend over backwards to be politically correct with me."
Angela visibly relaxed at that. "I'm glad to see you're adapting to your new role. But, as I was saying, in the few cases I know of marriages taking place, no one has ever adopted their slave's surname."
"I guess I'm just an old-fashioned girl," Wendy chirped with a smile.
"Not too old-fashioned, I hope."
Wendy wasn't sure what she meant by that. Instead of worrying about it, she took Angela by the elbow and led her into the living room. "What did you want to ask me?"
"Nothing tricky. Just curious about how things are going. Is he giving you any trouble?"
"We've had a few...challenges, but nothing I couldn't handle."
"That's good to hear. I like your attitude. I think you've got a really good chance."
"Chance of what?"
"Of making it through this. Believe it or not, a lot of women can't handle being masters...or mistresses, if you prefer."
"If it has to be something, then I'd rather it just be owner," Wendy said, resigning herself to the idea that her role needed to be defined one way or another.
"Most female owners can't handle the stress and give up within the first few months. But I can tell you're one of the strong ones. You'll stick in there and do just fine."
"I hope so," Wendy responded, worrying that maybe she shouldn't take that as a compliment.
Angela checked her tablet. "And...I see you upgraded his chip."
Wendy put a finger to her lips, and whispered, "He doesn't know about that, and I'd like to keep it that way." Angela nodded knowingly and locked her lips then mimed throwing away the key. "We can talk more about that another time. There are a lot of added functions that make life so much easier."
"Tom!" Wendy called, "Time for inspection."
They heard some movement in the kitchen, then Tom came into the living room. He was naked, his cock limp, and his head hung low like a humbled dog.
"Oh! Have you adopted the nudity rule, or is this just for me?"
"He's not allowed clothes while in the house unless we have guests."
"Then I'm glad I don't qualify as a guest," Angela said with a lustful look at Tom. Wendy revised her earlier assumption that her OPB agent was a lesbian and recalibrated her assessment to her possibly being bisexual...like most people these days.
