Clara's Story

My thanks, as usual, goes to FGB for his time and energy editing my works, and teaching me how to be a better writer. Considering how long it has been since I've updated Clara's Story, I thought a synopsis of events leading up to this point in the story was appropriate.

Clara is a young woman from "our" universe who was taken to an alternate universe to live out the life of her doppelganger, Clara-Jane. Clara now finds herself a sexual slave owned by a man named Ian, the creator of a device that can carry him through the multiverse.

--

"You remember your cover story?" Ian asked Clara as the elevator carried them up from the laboratory in the cavern to the lobby of his business, Kline Industries. He had invited a few business associates and their spouses over for a small gathering in his private home in the mountains of Vandalia. By now, people were starting to hear about Clara and wanted to meet her. He would have been content to keep her hidden until her contract expired, but he had to be up-front with his staff about keeping an unwilling slave on the property. She needed to see that it was an all-hands on deck operation keeping her safe and secure.

"I'm from Saskatchewan," Clara repeated. "I was born here, but raised out west. My parents ran a tourist operation and we lived on a reservation which is why I'm so unfamiliar with local culture and customs." Clara-Jane, the girl that Clara replaced in Ian's universe, actually did spend some of her childhood in Saskatchewan, although not to the extent that Clara would be claiming. This would answer questions without arousing suspicion.

"And Saskatchewan is..."

"Not in the nation of Canada, because there is no nation of Canada. It's in the Native lands west of the Mississippi and Lake Winnipeg. We live in North America, which is an independent nation that extends from Florida to the Mississippi River, up to Ontario and Quebec."

Ian nodded approvingly. "When did you move to North America?" Ian asked her, testing her knowledge.

"We came off and on for medical treatments for my mother but I didn't move here full time until I was 20, and I began university. I was sold into sexual slavery as a child because we needed the money, and you are my first posting."

"I'm very proud of you, pet. You're such a good girl for memorizing your backstory."

She hated to admit it, but she liked it when he called her a good girl. He was stingy with high praise, and reserved 'good girl' for when he was truly impressed.

He led her to the entrance of the skybridge, gripping her harness tightly for fear that she'd bolt. She'd made no effort to run in the two months she'd been with him, but he wasn't sure she was ready to behave without controls in place. And she was still uncollared, a fact that he was ready to remedy whether she wanted it or not. But he would much rather see her collar herself: to accept his ownership and her place in the dynamic between them.

For now, he placed security officers nearby to keep an eye on his pet to make sure she didn't do anything stupid.

It was only a 20-meter "commute" on the skybridge over a rambling brook, but the mountains were coated with white and Ian was glad for the cover as he brought his pet over to meet his associates.

"There she is!" Ian's fiancée, Brooke, exclaimed with joy. Clara knew Brooke was not enthusiastic about her, but about the status and wealth she represented.

The "small gathering" Ian had described to her was at least 10 people, and all of them wanted to see her. They were dressed sharply with ladies in cocktail dresses and gentlemen in suits and ties. Clara's typical clothing made her look childish compared to Brooke and the other elegantly dressed ladies. Their makeup was done well, their hair was perfect, and Brooke, as always, looked like a million dollars. Brooke was a Barbie doll, and Clara was the Skipper doll.

Clara glanced down at herself. She was dressed in a tailored, dark blue velvet dress with short sleeves and a knee-length skirt. The dress itself looked suitable for an older teenager, except the bustline was lower, exposing a little cleavage. Her red hair was held off of her face with a powder blue headband, and she wore a pair of kitten heels in a similar powder blue. Though she wore no collar, the golden cuffs affixed to her wrists and ankles signified her status and promised quick control should she act up.

Ian released the handle that poked through the back of Clara's dress and Brooke quickly grabbed her by the shoulders and took her around to meet the others.

Brooke was in her element showing off her fiancé's sexual slave to the other ladies. Clara was a status symbol, signaling to everyone that Brooke did not have to engage in such distasteful tasks as having sex with her man. They had a girl for that.

"Your Mistress picked a beautiful dress for you!" one of the ladies announced, asking Clara to spin around for her. When she did, the lady asked Brooke about the flexible mesh handle on Clara's back.

"It's for control," Brooke said, giving the handle a firm tug. "Her collar is still on order. It's a top of the line model and it needs to be custom made."

Clara knew that wasn't true. The collar that was destined to end up around her neck was dangling from a cord above the cage where she lived. It lowered, and occasionally raised, based on her behavior until she could earn the "privilege" of reaching it to put it on.

Brooke continued to explain the merits of the harness with the strong magnetic hold on Clara's body, and then to Clara's utter mortification, lifted her skirt to display the network of straps that hugged the younger woman's hips. Clara's hands immediately pushed down on the front of the dress to conceal the chastity cup, but it was too late. "What on earth is that?" someone asked, pointing to the golden cup that covered Clara's mons.

Brooke feigned confusion, but Clara realized quickly that she'd meant the women to notice the cup. "This?" she said, pushing Clara's hands away and lifting the dress in the front. "It's a chastity device. Ian won't let anyone touch her. He's very protective of her and keeps her locked up constantly. Only he can remove it." The women looked confused and Brooke leaned in and let them in on the secret she just couldn't wait to spill. "She's fertile."

Gasps came from every woman present including the catering staff who were preparing dinner. "You're kidding me!" one said. "How did you manage that?" "You're going to be a mother, Brooke?"

Over my dead body,

Clara thought, burning with humiliation and pushing the dress back down. It was an adults-only party, which according to the contract that bound her to Ian meant she could be naked or even engaged in sexual relations with others if Ian deemed it so.

During dinner, Clara was seated on the floor atop a soft cushion between Ian and Brooke's chairs at the head of the table, the customary place for a slave. Ian and Brooke engaged in polite talk that Clara mostly ignored until one of the men spoke up asking, "She may not have a collar yet, but does she have a red tail? That's all that she really needs. A good red-tail keeps them all in line." The men around the table had a good laugh as they described the red-tails each of their wives had, waiting for them in a drawer or box in the closet in case they were needed. The women squirmed uncomfortably in their seats at the mention of the most feared punishment that could be applied by the men who headed their households.

As WERT had explained to Clara, in the 1950s, the First Lady of North America was forced to wear a red tail, crafted from her own hair, to a public event to punish her for having embarrassed the president and the nation. This created a tradition of using red-tails for severe, public correction. The punishment itself lived in the wearer's head as her shame was put on display for everyone to view. The First Lady from the original story had had her beautiful long blonde hair cut short, but tails today were made of long horse hair that was bleached and dyed an eye-catching shade of red. Worn in the woman's ass, it was meant to be displayed. She would never be permitted to remove it herself and part of the punishment was in forcing her to go about her daily routine with the tail in full view.

"Be assured, friends, that both of my girls have red tails waiting for them, should the need arise," Ian said. He gave Brooke a stern look and she instantly demurred.

"You did very well tonight," Ian told Clara as he returned her to the cold, damp cavern after the guests had left. She had knelt on the floor for the entire dinner as the 'adults' sat at the table. Not a single one of them was under 40, she learned, and some were in their 60's. But all of them still appeared to be in their thirties. Clara had to marvel at how youthful they all appeared. "You made Brooke and me look good, and you'll be rewarded for that."

"Rewarded how?" Clara asked.

"I'll give you some time out of the belt and some toys to use as you please. And of course, I'll lower the collar over your cage. It's getting close now. I'm so proud of your progress, pet. For tonight, I want you to get a good night's rest."

Ian opened the cage door, and handed Clara some warm pajamas. She changed in front of him and washed her face in the sink in her cage. The collar descended further than she was expecting. "You recited your backstory so well when Mr. Townsend asked you about yourself. You really did an amazing job tonight, pet. You were such a good girl."

Clara felt her body respond to the praise he was giving her, but nothing she could do would alleviate her need. Her fingers might as well have been 10 feet away from her pussy. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close, pressing his lips to hers for a warm kiss.

--

Ian left Clara in her cage the following morning before he left for work. She hated being left for so many hours alone, but at least she had WERT to talk to. She passed the time studying the subjects that Clara-Jane had a degree in. She needed to know the content well enough to impress Ian, who quizzed her informally. He also had her working on the math curriculum she left behind on her home world.

Clara's focus turned to the golden collar that was suspended over the top of the cage. If she jumped high enough, her fingers could just barely graze it. She needed something to stand on, but the furniture in her cage was secured to the floor with Ian's ubiquitous use of magnets everywhere, including her body.

"WERT, can you bring me something that can slip through the bars to help me reach the collar?"

The little robot beeped in compliance and provided Clara with a step-stool from the kitchen "Finally!" Clara called out when her fingers wrapped around the smooth golden metal and pulled it down. She held the collar in her hands, wondering what she should do with it. She'd worked hard, behaving and demonstrating her trustworthiness to Ian and complying with his rules enough that the collar had been within reach. She was beginning to accept that her future would be in Ian's world, so she really wanted the freedom the collar would buy her. She could access the entire cavern apartment, use the TV, get her own food and even take walks outside and talk to Ian's employees.

But not until she put the collar on. It wouldn't work to just approach the door to her cage and expect it to swing open at her command just because she had the collar in her hands. Clara approached the door to her cage to check whether it would open if the collar wasn't on, and the door remained closed. Of course. Ian would not fail to code the lock correctly on the first barrier containing his valuable possession.

Clara laid down and thought about locking the collar around her neck. She had warmed toward Ian, and staying here in Vandalia for a bit--perhaps with more freedom--had a certain appeal. Ian had unlocked more channels on the television, and she'd gotten a good glimpse of North American society. The people also lived much longer, so she would not be sacrificing her youth to enslavement.

"Pet, you did it!" she heard Ian call from the top of the staircase. She was so deep in thought that she hadn't heard the transporter activate. His position at the university where they had met had ended, but he still visited other worlds to coordinate his mining operations. Clara set the collar down and scrambled to take her position. She knelt on the cushion before the recliner in her cage and spread her knees wide to display the chastity cup secured to her pussy. She was wearing a short, pleated skirt, so Ian's view would be unobstructed. She put her arms behind her back, holding the opposite elbow with each hand, and straightened her spine the way he had taught her.

"Needed a little help to reach the collar, eh, pet?" Ian said, seeing the step stool. Ian picked it up, the magnets releasing for him, and returned it to the kitchen. "WERT, did you bring the stepstool to the cage?"

"Yes, Mr. Kline. There was no protocol to disallow such an action."

"It's all right this time, WERT. But don't do it again."

WERT beeped in compliance. Ian picked up the collar from the bed and handed it to Clara. "I hope that you have come to accept your position here in my world, pet. I hope you see that you will be cherished, and loved, cared for, and honored for your submission to me." He gathered Clara up into his arms. A soft kiss was planted on her head, and he beamed at her with pride. "You did so well, pet," he crooned to her.

Clara was ready to accept one truth; Ian had developed an authentic affection for her. He was going to take care of her and meet her every need. If she behaved, he'd meet her wants as well. She was also not going to return to her homeworld without his approval and assistance. A few weeks before, to demonstrate this, he permitted her to tinker in the transportation room. He even told her how to make the machine work. It never once responded to her. His presence alone was insufficient to activate the transporter; it required his active control. Clara sighed. Things could be much worse for her. Life was similar here and if she never returned home, she could be happy in this world. It would mean learning history from the point just before the American Revolutionary War, and she was bound to mix things up and make a few social faux pas, but she could adjust to life here on Ian's world. At least for the next ten years, and maybe more.

He was waiting for her to collar herself, signifying that she had accepted her position. Clara closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she held the open collar up against her throat. It was solidly built and inflexible. Ian wound her hair into his hand as she opened the hinge and placed it around her neck. He watched with eager anticipation as she joined the two open ends together behind her neck. He pressed his thumb to a plate and the locking mechanism activated. She looked at him, seeing the pride and affection in his dark eyes. Her hand went to the metal and explored it. It was perfectly smooth except for two seams at the back. The weight was unfamiliar to her, and she understood it was crammed with technology she couldn't even fathom. She gave it a tug to confirm what she already understood. It wasn't going to open for her.

"You've done so well, pet!" Ian told her. He tipped her chin up and placed an affectionate and possessive kiss on her lips. "Let me show you how your collar works." Ian stood up and held his hand out to Clara. "Your cage door has a green light on the lock. You can go anywhere on the property that has a green light. Red lights are off limits, and yellow lights indicate that it's time to return to your cage." Ian pointed to the cage door. "Open it."

Clara grabbed the handle and pushed on the door. It opened right away. She smiled and stepped out of the cage. The base of the staircase leading up to the elevator landing was illuminated in green. She grinned happily and ran up to the second floor; an activity that had been strictly forbidden.

Ian got her leash and climbed the stairs to join her. "If you approach a red-zone, your collar will buzz to let you know. That's a signal to turn around. If you ignore the buzz, you'll get a painful shock right on the front of your throat. The shocks will increase in intensity until you turn around." Ian sensed her concern and he wrapped his arms around her. "Don't worry my sweet pet. You'll never be shocked without a warning."

"Oh good," Clara said in a deadpan tone of voice. "Now you can shock my pussy and my throat."

Ian pulled her in closer, holding her firmly. "I have to keep you safe and in line, pet." He clipped the magnetic end of her leash onto the collar and wrapped it around his wrist, holding the cord firmly in his hand. "You can lead the way. Take me somewhere, pet."

Clara grinned. "Why do you need the leash if I can't run away?"

"Aesthetics, mostly." Ian rubbed a hand through his hair. "I'm just being careful," he admitted. "We tested the system before you arrived, but now you're here, and..." His voice trailed off and then he plucked the leash from Clara's collar and slipped its coiled length into his pocket. "You're right. The system works fine, and I have confidence in it. You are fully secure."

With a broad smile on her face, Clara mashed the elevator call button, which for the first time, she noticed was illuminated in green. The elevator only went between the main floor and the cavern laboratory. There were other elevators to carry workers to the office floors above.

Clara guided them into the lobby and Ian let her lead without holding her harness. She followed one of four trails outlined by discreet green lights, leading outside. "They light up only when you are present to tell you where you may go," Ian said. The ones leading you back to the cavern are always green. You will never suffer consequences from a malfunctioning system as long as you return to your cage.

Clara headed down a hiking trail. She wasn't dressed for hiking, but she wouldn't be taking them too far. She asked how far she could go and he explained that she had 50 meters in every direction from the complex. The collar would be unforgiving once she crossed the perimeter that had been established for her, so she was to mind its warning buzz.

When she'd tested the collar and had her fill of nature, Clara led Ian back to the building and across the skybridge to his home. She poked around in the kitchen and wandered around the house. It was no larger than a typical family home, but the decor was top of the line. Ian's bedroom was closed off to her, but he disabled the boundary temporarily for her to explore. There was nothing exceptional. Clara felt a twinge of jealousy seeing Brooke's clothing in the walk-in closet..

Clara steered them to the suite that he had assigned to her. "Can I sleep here if I want to?" Clara asked.

"Not while Brooke is in residence, but otherwise, as long as the lights are green, you're welcome to be here. I reserve the right to join you in bed."

Clara nodded her head. She might have expected that, considering the bedroom she was given had a king-sized bed.

Ian guided her to the bed and sat her down at the foot of it. "Sweet pet," he murmured at her, ordering her to strip and watching her with lust. Clara pulled off her blouse, letting it slide off her creamy white shoulders. Her bra came next followed by her socks, shoes, and then her skirt. She stood before him wearing only the golden devices that secured her both for his peace of mind, and his personal satisfaction.

He unclipped the mesh harness that hugged her hips and wrapped around her thighs. The handle at the back poked through every outfit she wore, serving as an extra measure of control. But here she was, fully compliant, standing in a pool of the clothes he'd picked for her. She had cuffs on her wrists and ankles he'd placed there, she wore the chastity cup he'd designed for her, and the plug he selected was buried in her ass, removable only by him. Now she also wore his collar; she'd accepted her fate and submitted to him of her own volition.