Chapter Four
The Dragon and The Mouse
Owen barely noticed the scenery passing by as he sat in the plush leather seat of the Mercedes that was speeding down the road to some unknown destination. He didn't notice much of anything that sunny Saturday. Owen's focus was consumed with his own thoughts on how he had ended up getting into the car of a stranger. Heather might have been a stranger to Owen but she not a stranger to his father and seemed to know much about his family. How much did she know and why was she seemingly undisturbed by what she knew? The most aggravating was what did she want with him? What was it that they needed to talk about that was so urgent? Why did Owen owe her any type of explanation on how he and his family chose to live their lives?
Owen felt his guilt twinge when he thought of how he chose to live his life. Owen was not stupid and guessed that Heather wanted to talk about Richard, and that was the last thing he wanted to talk about. Ironically, it was the major issue in his life and even he had to admit that he needed some perspective with regards to how things ended with his father. Had he really driven his father to do what he did? Was Owen really the monster his father made him out to be? Was he really so sick and twisted that he would corrupt and consume everyone around him? Owen didn't have the answer to these questions and a small part of him, hoped that Heather did.
Owen was so wrapped up in his own dark thoughts that he didn't notice the fact that they had turned into a back alley in an industrial section of town. Heather's swift hand movement to press the button on a remote that was clipped to the visor above her head, pulled Owen out of his thoughts. A large overhead door of a nearby warehouse started to open and when it was open enough Heather drove into the warehouse. They entered what looked to be a sectioned off portion of the building that was used for an indoor parking garage. Pulling into a parking spot closest to a large metal door, Heather turned off the engine and got out of the car.
Owen stared in disbelief as he watched Heather walk towards the metal door. Not one word had been spoken between the two of them since he had entered the car. It irked him that she had just left the car and expected him to follow her without so much as saying a single word to him. As Owen got out of the car he paused to breathe a deep breath and prepare him for the unknown destiny that lay beyond that metal door.
It was at that moment that the thought hit Owen that he had been given the time to calm down. By not talking to him during the car ride, Heather had given him the space he needed to relax, just a little bit. Owen started to see the seemingly cold woman in a different light, perhaps she was more than the scratchy exterior let on. Owen hoped that she had some wisdom to shed on his predicament, rather than just the grilling he expected.
Owen walked though the metal doorway and found himself in a small entryway. This room looked to be much cleaner and newer than the building itself and was only about ten feet by ten feet. A camera was mounted above a solid-looking door at the opposite end of the room. There was a small card-reader device mounted on the wall right next to the doorknob. Heather did not stop walking, nor did she produce a card to swipe through the card reader, she just walked up to the door. The door buzzed when she neared it and she opened up the door and walked through it. Owen had to run to catch the closing door, not sure if it would be opened up for him should he let it close.
A large, black man stood just inside the door wearing tight black leather pants, black shoes and what looked to be a spiked leather dog collar. Owen tried not to stare at the odd sight of the bare-chested man who stood there calmly and took both Heather and his coats, hanging them up nearby. While he was massive in dimensions, he was gentle and respectful in demeanour bowing to Heather as she walked by.
Owen was so taken in by the black man that he failed to notice that they were in a hallway that led down a fair distance. Along the wall to the right were two doors that were clearly labelled as men's and women's change rooms as well as a few other doors that were not marked. There was a door at the end of the hall which also had a camera mounted above it and a card-reader mounted beside the door. Heather was swiftly walking towards this door, still saying nothing to Owen. Once again, Heather did not stop walking or produce any credentials at all, she simply approached the door and it buzzed, allowing her to open it. By this time Owen was not far behind and easily caught the door before it closed. Owen stepped through the doorway immediately after Heather and was in for a great shock at the sight that greeted him.
The room was a stark difference to the white, plain hallway and anti-room that he had just walked through. The rich wood panelling of the fireside study seemed out of place in the warehouse that it was within. The floor was made of hardwood and was rich in colour and was obviously not mere laminate. An elegant leather couch and two wingback leather chairs were situated in a semi-circle centred on the wood fireplace in one wall. A large ornamental rug covered the area between both wingback chairs and the couch. Beautiful wood furniture and bookshelves filled with books filled out the room which looked like it belonged in an English manor rather than an American warehouse. There were three doors, one in each of the walls to the left and right of the wall with the fireplace, and the other immediately to the right of the fireplace. Owen and Heather had come through the door in the wall to the left of the fireplace.
Heather sat in one of the wingback chairs and pointed to the other wingback chair situated across from her, while looking at Owen confidently. Owen nodded and walked over to the vacant chair and sat down in it and felt the warmth of the fire that crackled in the fireplace beside him.
"As you know, I knew your father, for ten years, he was a Slave of mine and paid me well for the privilege," Heather said calmly, as if she were talking about the weather.
"I see," Owen said fidgeting in his seat a little bit. "He paid you to serve you?" he added with a look of morbid curiosity.
"Didn't he tell you? I thought you knew," Heather asked in a tone of voice that was flavoured with just a hint of curiosity, with a raised eyebrow on an otherwise expressionless face.
"He only told us that he was involved with you . . . as your Slave . . . and that he loved you very much," Owen said in a stammering and nervous manner, uncomfortable talking about personal family business to a stranger.
"You seem tense. Would you like a drink? Where are my manners, I haven't made you feel properly welcomed into my home," Heather said in a somewhat understanding and conciliatory manner before she pressed a button on a small intercom on a table beside her chair. "Send in some Sluts," Heather said dismissively into the small box, releasing the button after she finished speaking.
The door in the wall to the right of the wall with the fireplace opened up not a minute later and in walked six women. While each woman was unique in her own way, being of different races and body shapes, they all were dressed (or undressed rather) the same. Each woman wore fur-lined, leather cuffs on each ankle and wrist. Around her neck, each woman wore a thick, fur-lined leather collar in the style of a dog-collar, across the front of the collar in large, bright lettering was the word "SLUT" attached to the collar and each cuff was a single silver "D" ring. Apart from that, each woman was completely nude, and seemingly not bothered by that fact one bit. All of the women had their hair tied back in some manner, either in a pony tail or braid or up in a bun. They lined up in front of the couch and stood there with their feet shoulder width apart, their hands behind their backs grasping their opposite elbows, their heads up high and looking straight ahead. They didn't move or speak at all; it was as if they were soldiers lined up for inspection.
