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jeriendhalThis is what I write instead of doing something useful with my time...
* * *
Tam missed doing the Renfaire every year, but her scooter wasn't exactly suited for hilly, wooded section of Sterling where it was held, and stomping around with her cane tended to leave her gasping for breath and with spiky pain warnings running up her knee. So it was with extreme reluctance that she accepted Gwen's invitation to visit her shop at the Faire, even if her old friend had agreed to pay her way in.
Gwen smiled and greeted her when she stepped into the shop, the heady aroma of oiled leather filling the air. Bodices both practical and fanciful hung from the racks, along with purses, vests, belt, and the cheapass tourist cuffs and collars for the teenagers who were less into the Scene than into freaking out their parents. Tam's old friend was in her early sixties, and had helped guide the younger woman when she came to the edges of the local kink community almost twenty years ago, when she'd just gotten out of college.
"Tam, hey! I'm so glad you were able to come," she said, guiding her over to a chair, the seat made of woven leather straps. She dropped into it gratefully. "It's been a while."
"A while, yeah," Tam agreed, settling back gratefully. "How are you?"
"Getting by," she said. "Actually, I'm getting out too."
"Eh?"
Gwen shrugged, and gestured to the "All Items 50% Off!" sign hand caligraphed on the wall behind the counter. "I'm selling off my business. It's been ten years since Dan died, and I'm moving to North Carolina to be near my daughter so I can spoil my grandkids."
"Well damn," Tam said, feeling her face heat up slightly. She wished she'd made more of an effort to talk to the older woman in the years since Tam's car accident. It had been too easy for her to just stay inside the house instead of going outside to be with people. "The Scene is going to miss your work."
Gwen flexed her hand and winced. "I'm going to miss my work, but my arthritis is getting too bad to ignore."
"Well thanks for letting me know. I guess I'd better buy what I can from you before you close up shop this season."
"You can have whatever you want, free. I'm not going to make a friend pay. But that's not why I'm here. I've got something that I think, um, could be helpful to you." Gwen looked uncharacteristically hesitant as she said this.
Tam leaned forward in the chair, resting her hands on her cane. "What do you mean?"
"Let me show you." Gwen led her behind the shop, where she'd set up a large tent, likely to sleep in on the weekends the faire was open. She unzipped the flap and let Tam enter first. The younger woman sucked in a surprised breath when she saw was waiting for her inside.
Kneeling on a foam pad on the floor of the tent was a man, shirtless but wearing a pair of brown deer hide pants and Roman style sandals that were probably Gwen's work. His arms were bound behind him in leather cuffs padded with lambswool, and his ankles bound with a similar set, all locked by brass padlocks, the two pairs of cuffs connected by a leather lead knotted between them, ensuring he remained on his knees. A leather blindfold, also padded, covered his eyes. His skin was smooth, shaded olive, and he had an aquiline nose that seemed vaguely Mediterranean. The muscles of his chests, stomach and arms seemed well formed, and as she watched he strained slightly at his bonds, causing the leather cords to creak. His hair, she noted, was enticingly long, straight and light brown, running down to the waistband of his pants, gathered into a simple ponytail with more leather cord.
Around his neck was a black iron collar, rolled into a smooth rounded and seamless shape, an inch thick, looking like it had to weigh ten pounds easily, though there was no sign it was digging into his skin. On the front of collar were etched some symbols that looked like they were Arabic, highlighted in red rust. Or at least what she hoped was rust.
“What. The. Hell?” Tam breathed softly.
“This is Dog,” Gwen said simply,entering the tent behind her “He's yours for a dollar.”
“I’m sorry?”
Gwen sighed, pulling out a rolled up piece of flat plastic from a pouch at her belt and handing it over. “I’ll let you read the FAQ first.”
Tam took it, her eyebrows rising. It was a piece of yellowed parchment, looking as if it had been written with a fountain pen, or possibly a quill, obviously having been folded and unfolded many time by the creases, before being preserved in plastic laminate.
The Rules of the Dog
The Dog’s name is Dog. It will answer to no other.
The Dog, like all animals, does not Speak.
The Dog is Collared, so it knows its duty is to Serve.
The Dog’s Collar shall not be Removed except at its Death.
The Dog may not venture forth from its Home, except on its Leash.
The Dog shall kneel when at Rest.
The Dog, when not Serving or Kneeling, shall otherwise be Bound.
The Dog shall be fed at least once a day. Such feedings will be compensated
The Dog may not Given, only Sold.
The Dog MUST Serve.
Tam lowered the parchment FAQ, taking in a deep breath before stating flatly, “What kind of fucked up TPE RP is this?”
“It’s not a roleplay,” Gwen answered, her voice dead serious as far as Tam could tell. “It’s not Total Power Exchange. It’s just… Dog.”
“Where did you get him?”
“You know Taylor? I told you about her. Taught me everything I know about leatherworking and the Scene. She sold me Dog for a dollar seven years ago, just before she went into hospice. She told me she had been sold Dog by her old teacher, Miss Black.”
Tam just stared at her, “Miss Black died in ‘86.” She glanced at Dog, who had been listening without apparent reaction, impassive save for the occasional flexing of those beautiful muscles. It was hard to judge his exact age with the blindfold covering his face, but from what she could see he looked to be in his late twenties, early thirties at worst. And she couldn’t believe he’d been in the Scene since he was toddler.
“Yeah, she did.”
“And how long has he been wearing that bitch of a collar? It’s got to be at least ten pounds, and there’s no padding.”
“Since I got him at the very least.”
“Bullshit. Something like around his neck for so long should have killed him from sepsis when it rubbed his skin raw.”
“Yeah, it should have. But there he is.”
Tam took in another, careful, measured breath. It had been a thing she’d been taught to do by Gwen early into her first days in the Scene, when her Domme tendencies had been identified. It helped her focus, to act in thought and not in anger. “So your telling me this very pretty boy has been owned for almost thirty years, wearing a collar that should have killed him, looking the age he looks.”
“Yeah.”
“I do not believe in Magical Bondage Fairies.”
Gwen grinned slightly, “Believe me, he’s no Fairy.”
“Straight?”
“Flexible. He doesn’t initiate, but he’ll do whatever you tell him do. I’ve never even caught him jerking off without orders.” She shrugged. “Honestly, I never used him that way after the first year or so. It seemed…. not wrong. Just not what he’s there for.”
Tam looked him over again. “I really can’t afford to have a dependent in my house, and he can’t get a Vanilla job with that piece of iron around his neck.”
“That’ll be taken care of when you buy him.”
“How?”
“It’s…. hard to explain.”
“Try.”
“You get a payment. There’s no schedule, but it’ll show up, and it’ll cover whatever expenses you’ve paid to feed him, house him, or clothe him. Even for toothpaste. Sometimes it’s gold coins, Roman or from other times, never less than a hundred years old. Sometimes it’s dollar bills, or anonymous checks or bank deposits. Lately its been payments to my PayPal account.”
“From who?”
“I don’t know, there’s never any address, and the email is just a series of random numbers and letters.”
“Gwen, what the hell are you trying to drag me into?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been wondering for seven years and I don’t know. All I know is I can’t keep him anymore, and he needs a home. And you’re the one that needs him most right now.”
Tam looked her, then looked down at Dog. Then she let out a long sigh. “All I’ve got on me is a fiver.”
“Fair enough. Like I said, anything else you want to drag home from my shop is yours, just so long as you take Dog with you.”
“Done.”
* * *
Tam missed doing the Renfaire every year, but her scooter wasn't exactly suited for hilly, wooded section of Sterling where it was held, and stomping around with her cane tended to leave her gasping for breath and with spiky pain warnings running up her knee. So it was with extreme reluctance that she accepted Gwen's invitation to visit her shop at the Faire, even if her old friend had agreed to pay her way in.
Gwen smiled and greeted her when she stepped into the shop, the heady aroma of oiled leather filling the air. Bodices both practical and fanciful hung from the racks, along with purses, vests, belt, and the cheapass tourist cuffs and collars for the teenagers who were less into the Scene than into freaking out their parents. Tam's old friend was in her early sixties, and had helped guide the younger woman when she came to the edges of the local kink community almost twenty years ago, when she'd just gotten out of college.
"Tam, hey! I'm so glad you were able to come," she said, guiding her over to a chair, the seat made of woven leather straps. She dropped into it gratefully. "It's been a while."
"A while, yeah," Tam agreed, settling back gratefully. "How are you?"
"Getting by," she said. "Actually, I'm getting out too."
"Eh?"
Gwen shrugged, and gestured to the "All Items 50% Off!" sign hand caligraphed on the wall behind the counter. "I'm selling off my business. It's been ten years since Dan died, and I'm moving to North Carolina to be near my daughter so I can spoil my grandkids."
"Well damn," Tam said, feeling her face heat up slightly. She wished she'd made more of an effort to talk to the older woman in the years since Tam's car accident. It had been too easy for her to just stay inside the house instead of going outside to be with people. "The Scene is going to miss your work."
Gwen flexed her hand and winced. "I'm going to miss my work, but my arthritis is getting too bad to ignore."
"Well thanks for letting me know. I guess I'd better buy what I can from you before you close up shop this season."
"You can have whatever you want, free. I'm not going to make a friend pay. But that's not why I'm here. I've got something that I think, um, could be helpful to you." Gwen looked uncharacteristically hesitant as she said this.
Tam leaned forward in the chair, resting her hands on her cane. "What do you mean?"
"Let me show you." Gwen led her behind the shop, where she'd set up a large tent, likely to sleep in on the weekends the faire was open. She unzipped the flap and let Tam enter first. The younger woman sucked in a surprised breath when she saw was waiting for her inside.
Kneeling on a foam pad on the floor of the tent was a man, shirtless but wearing a pair of brown deer hide pants and Roman style sandals that were probably Gwen's work. His arms were bound behind him in leather cuffs padded with lambswool, and his ankles bound with a similar set, all locked by brass padlocks, the two pairs of cuffs connected by a leather lead knotted between them, ensuring he remained on his knees. A leather blindfold, also padded, covered his eyes. His skin was smooth, shaded olive, and he had an aquiline nose that seemed vaguely Mediterranean. The muscles of his chests, stomach and arms seemed well formed, and as she watched he strained slightly at his bonds, causing the leather cords to creak. His hair, she noted, was enticingly long, straight and light brown, running down to the waistband of his pants, gathered into a simple ponytail with more leather cord.
Around his neck was a black iron collar, rolled into a smooth rounded and seamless shape, an inch thick, looking like it had to weigh ten pounds easily, though there was no sign it was digging into his skin. On the front of collar were etched some symbols that looked like they were Arabic, highlighted in red rust. Or at least what she hoped was rust.
“What. The. Hell?” Tam breathed softly.
“This is Dog,” Gwen said simply,entering the tent behind her “He's yours for a dollar.”
“I’m sorry?”
Gwen sighed, pulling out a rolled up piece of flat plastic from a pouch at her belt and handing it over. “I’ll let you read the FAQ first.”
Tam took it, her eyebrows rising. It was a piece of yellowed parchment, looking as if it had been written with a fountain pen, or possibly a quill, obviously having been folded and unfolded many time by the creases, before being preserved in plastic laminate.
The Rules of the Dog
The Dog’s name is Dog. It will answer to no other.
The Dog, like all animals, does not Speak.
The Dog is Collared, so it knows its duty is to Serve.
The Dog’s Collar shall not be Removed except at its Death.
The Dog may not venture forth from its Home, except on its Leash.
The Dog shall kneel when at Rest.
The Dog, when not Serving or Kneeling, shall otherwise be Bound.
The Dog shall be fed at least once a day. Such feedings will be compensated
The Dog may not Given, only Sold.
The Dog MUST Serve.
Tam lowered the parchment FAQ, taking in a deep breath before stating flatly, “What kind of fucked up TPE RP is this?”
“It’s not a roleplay,” Gwen answered, her voice dead serious as far as Tam could tell. “It’s not Total Power Exchange. It’s just… Dog.”
“Where did you get him?”
“You know Taylor? I told you about her. Taught me everything I know about leatherworking and the Scene. She sold me Dog for a dollar seven years ago, just before she went into hospice. She told me she had been sold Dog by her old teacher, Miss Black.”
Tam just stared at her, “Miss Black died in ‘86.” She glanced at Dog, who had been listening without apparent reaction, impassive save for the occasional flexing of those beautiful muscles. It was hard to judge his exact age with the blindfold covering his face, but from what she could see he looked to be in his late twenties, early thirties at worst. And she couldn’t believe he’d been in the Scene since he was toddler.
“Yeah, she did.”
“And how long has he been wearing that bitch of a collar? It’s got to be at least ten pounds, and there’s no padding.”
“Since I got him at the very least.”
“Bullshit. Something like around his neck for so long should have killed him from sepsis when it rubbed his skin raw.”
“Yeah, it should have. But there he is.”
Tam took in another, careful, measured breath. It had been a thing she’d been taught to do by Gwen early into her first days in the Scene, when her Domme tendencies had been identified. It helped her focus, to act in thought and not in anger. “So your telling me this very pretty boy has been owned for almost thirty years, wearing a collar that should have killed him, looking the age he looks.”
“Yeah.”
“I do not believe in Magical Bondage Fairies.”
Gwen grinned slightly, “Believe me, he’s no Fairy.”
“Straight?”
“Flexible. He doesn’t initiate, but he’ll do whatever you tell him do. I’ve never even caught him jerking off without orders.” She shrugged. “Honestly, I never used him that way after the first year or so. It seemed…. not wrong. Just not what he’s there for.”
Tam looked him over again. “I really can’t afford to have a dependent in my house, and he can’t get a Vanilla job with that piece of iron around his neck.”
“That’ll be taken care of when you buy him.”
“How?”
“It’s…. hard to explain.”
“Try.”
“You get a payment. There’s no schedule, but it’ll show up, and it’ll cover whatever expenses you’ve paid to feed him, house him, or clothe him. Even for toothpaste. Sometimes it’s gold coins, Roman or from other times, never less than a hundred years old. Sometimes it’s dollar bills, or anonymous checks or bank deposits. Lately its been payments to my PayPal account.”
“From who?”
“I don’t know, there’s never any address, and the email is just a series of random numbers and letters.”
“Gwen, what the hell are you trying to drag me into?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been wondering for seven years and I don’t know. All I know is I can’t keep him anymore, and he needs a home. And you’re the one that needs him most right now.”
Tam looked her, then looked down at Dog. Then she let out a long sigh. “All I’ve got on me is a fiver.”
“Fair enough. Like I said, anything else you want to drag home from my shop is yours, just so long as you take Dog with you.”
“Done.”
