Barney checked the news feed on his tablet for the tenth time in the hour. No sign of the girls being reported missing. It had been less than twenty four hours. But with pretty white girls disappearing, you never knew. There was mention of the charred remains of the Douchebags being discovered. Not a peep about Charlie and Portia being connected with them. There had been no knock on the door from the people he worked for in the city about him keeping witnesses alive. The payment for the job had arrived on time in a padded envelope left at the strip club. So they seemed satisfied. Might be that he had gotten away with it. Or it might be that they were watching to see what he was doing with the girls. The only way for sure he would find out was when someone better than him punched his ticket.
He checked the oatmeal simmering in the pot on the stovetop. They were steel-cut bought in bulk from a co-op. A bowl a day in the morning kept a man regular. It was still early enough in the morning to count as brunch if you squinted. He drizzled some brown sugar and honey on top. Girls liked sweet things, didn't they? Well, they'd eat what he served them. He poured the oatmeal into two stainless steel pet bowls he had picked up at a Walmart on the drive home. He filled two more bowls with orange juice from a jug from the fridge. All four went onto a plastic cutting board that served as a tray. He headed for the steep wooden stairs at the back of the kitchen.
The A-frame cabin he had built when he had moved here was simple: two slanting walls and a floor. He had walled up the front except for a triangular window up top for light. TheThe plans he had been working from had the front being mostly window. He liked his privacy. So there was a wall around the front door except for a triangular window up top to let in light. living room was in front. The tiny kitchen and bathroom were in the back beneath the sleeping loft.and the walled off bathroom were beneath a loft that occupied the back half of the cabin. A screw up with measurements had the loft with not enough headroom for him to use it comfortably as a bedroom. He slept downstairs on a futon bed that doubled as a couch when folded up. But the loft could be used as a guest bedroom in a pinch. He never had guests save for the girls from the club. They usually slept in the futon with him. Well, when they had a chance to sleep. Now he had two permanent guests to house.
A round bulls-eye window in the back wall let in enough light to see that his two guests were awake. Well, that is if the muffled crying and the rattling chains didn't clue a man in. In the center of the cramped loft were two more dog beds picked up at Walmart along with the bowls. They had been pushed together to make one big bed for his pets. Charlie and Portia froze when they saw him looming over them. The cable ties and strips of dress had been swapped out for leather restraints. Barney enjoyed working with his hands. Why bother buying toys when he could make his own? He had gotten pretty darn good at leatherworking over the years. His slaves lay on their bellies with arms behind their backs. Leather cuffs on their wrists with locking buckles were padlocked together. A short chain joined the second pair of cuffs buckled on their arms above the elbow. A third pair on their ankles had enough chain between them to shuffle along. Thick panel gags with rubber cocks behind them to stuff their mouths kept them quite. Wide leather collars at their necks were locked to chains running to eyebolts screwed into the floor in front of their beds. The leather and chains were all they wore.
The two girls scrambled to kneel before him. He had taught them first thing bringing them inside last night how he liked it: backs straight, thighs wide, heads bowed. He laid out the bowls before them. Stepping behind them, he tied up their hair in high ponytails with lengths of paracord from the pockets of his bathrobe. A handcuff key on a chain about his right wrist unlocked the padlock on the buckle at the nape of her neck. Charlie worked her jaw when he took out the gag. The blonde shivered when she saw the bowls. But she bent over at the waist to fill her belly. Portia sniffled when she looked down at her meal. Barney grabbed her hair to force her head into the bowl. Girl blubbered a bit before she dug in. Charlie tensed as if she was going to try something. A sharp smack to each asscheek told her that it was a terrible idea. Soon, they were slurping the oatmeal and juice with something close to pleasure. Barney figured that--aside from his seed on the gags last night--this was the first real food they had had in a while.
Barney nodded in approval when he saw they had licked both bowls clean. Faces were all sorts of messy, though. On a table in one corner were some things that he had picked at that Walmart. Self check out and prepaid debit cards were useful for a man who didn't want attention. He dampened a washcloth from a camping cooler filled with water. He wiped Charlie's face with one side, Portia's with another. Then came the toothbrushes with teeth whitening paste, and then the floss. Barney stared into each girl's eyes daring them to bite. A capful each of mouthwash spit into one of the bowls finished off their breakfast. Then the bedpan went between Charlie's legs. She went beet red before tinkling. Portia bit her lip in shame when it was her turn. He wiped them with a freshly dampened washcloth.
"There now, see?" Barney grinned. "I bet your own mammas don't take care of you so good."
Portia burst into tears. Charlie clenched her jaw.
"My condolences." Barney patted the redhead's shoulder. "I know how it feels to lose a momma. Yours ain't no prize, Charlie?"
"Neither of us have been to school since we were fifteen, master." Charlie spat into a bowl. "We're her fucking maids and daycare for the rugrats she keeps popping out."
