Tara 6 CrossroadsChapter 12
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It took Alex a short time to find the vacuum sweeper and the feather duster. She figured she'd get that out of the way first, then search for the sensors, then do her hair. It seemed a simple enough plan.
By her third shattering orgasm, Alex was having severe doubts as to the simplicity of her plan. Sure, she had found the utility closet but after that, it was a blur. As soon as she started sweeping, the rubbery suit had started to vibrate and shock her. Tiny little shocks that swept though her and numbed her reasoning powers. Soon it was all she could do to drag the machine around. After her third climax left her gasping on the floor, it dawned on her. Mr. Smith had put one of the sensors in the handle of the vacuum sweeper.
Armed with this theory, she rushed to the kitchen to find something to take apart the handle. She found the junk drawer and extracted a 6-in-one tool. Every kitchen should have one! She wasn't daunted by the task of taking the appliance apart. If she could fix a tractor, she could disassemble a puny sweeper.
She lowered the handle of the sweeper so that it lay flat on the floor. Then, lying on the floor herself and extending her lower body away from the handle she pulled it toward her. She found she could reach the screws without activating the panties, although her boobies were getting a workout. But she could live with it.
Carefully extracting the plastic switch from the handle, she saw a small transistor taped to the switch. She assumed it was feeding off the power cord and that way it could be so small, yet so powerful. She loosened the tape and experimentally moved the tiny chip towards her waist. At about three feet the electrodes and vibrators in the panties kicked in. Oh, well. So much for needing a power cord.
Because she was expecting it this time, the shock and vibrations were less effective. Make no mistake, they were still a thrill, but now she knew what to look for and what the range of that little sucker was. Now it was a game and she was back in control. Mr. Smith would be so proud of her.
Methodically Alex swept the living quarters and the other rooms on that floor, just like Mr. Smith has asked. Every inch of it. She found 25 of the little transmitters, though one of them had been really tricky. Satisfied she had them all, she was positive Mr. Smith would be very pleased with her.
She finished vacuuming and dusting the apartment. Then she showered and braided her hair like he liked. It was hard, as she wasn't used to doing it that way but after a couple of tries, the thick braid lay perfectly down the nape of her neck.
As she knelt in the dining room awaiting his return, Alex had time to reflect on what she had seen today. In one of the rooms next to Mr. Smith's, the one on the other side from the room she had been using the last two weeks, she had found her new clothes carefully folded or hung. Because of that, she paid particular attention to room.
The first thing she noticed was that it was small, being more the size of a large closet. Or a cage. She tried to push that thought from her mind, but it was there, and kept coming back, nagging her. It felt like a cage.
The door opened into Mr. Smith's room. There was no knob on the inside of the door and the lock was on the outside. Fortunately Alex had seen that just before the door shut behind her and she was able to jam the tool she was carrying into the crack and stop it. She briefly considered hiding the tool in the small room for later, just in case, but quickly decided against it. It might make things worse, rather than better if Mr. Smith found it. And he could be watching her even now. She hadn't seen any cameras, but she really didn't know what to look for, either.
There were two shelves on which were folded her new panties and bras and the hosiery. A short pole held the dress, the blouses and the tiny skirt hanging neatly on plastic hangers. There were three pairs of shoes on the floor. Two were her new spike heels that made her legs look so sexy. The third was a new pair of running shoes in her size that he must have gotten later.
Most of the rest of the room was taken up by the bed. More correctly, it was a sleeping pad. A thin, cloth covered mat just longer than she was tall and flat on the floor. It was only about three feet wide. At each corner was a shackle set into the floor, two for her wrists, two for her ankles. She would have very little movement when she was locked in them, but, trying it out, it didn't seem that uncomfortable. She would have to get used to sleeping on her back.
What caused her to reflect as she knelt waiting for Mr. Smith to come home was what she had seen while laying down. From the corner of her eye, she saw something that seemed out of place. Unless you were lying on the mat on your back and twisted your head back and up, you wouldn't see it. Certainly no one standing or kneeling would see it.
Alex scooted over and looked at the bottom of the lowest shelf, about nine inches off the floor. There were a list of names and dates. All women's names. Gouged with fingernails in the soft pinewood of the shelf. The oldest were dark, tinged with dirt and dust, darkened by the oils left by fingers as they traced over the impressions in the wood. As Alex' fingers were tracing them. It was automatic. She touched each name lightly, trying to bond with the ones who had stayed here before her. Alex had no doubt she would be staying here.
The dates were in rough columns and there were at most two dates by each name. Two names only had one date in the first column. The first column was titled "owned." The second was headed by the cryptic "1st dan." The last date entered had been over a year and a half ago.
Alex had lain there reading the names, memorizing them. The ones with only one date tantalized her. The first was almost eight years ago. The last one with a single date was the last one on the list. She wondered what had happed to those two women.
It finally occurred to her as she waited for Mr. Smith that the girls who had come before had felt the need to hide the list. Why did they need to hide their names? From whom? She was no closer to an answer when he came home. A shiver ran up her spine. Home. This felt like home now.
Alex looked up at him smiling. He seemed surprised to see her kneeling there, calm and clean, hair perfect, the apartment spotless. No, not surprised. Disappointed. Confused. Even a bit flustered.
He was even more flabbergasted to see, carefully lined up at his place at the table, a neat row of tiny transistors stuck to a piece of tape laying face upwards. Unbelievable.
"Well, Alex. I see you have had an interesting day. Your hair looks lovely."
"Thank you, Sir. Uh, it was fun, Sir. I enjoyed it a lot, Sir."
You weren't supposed to fucking enjoy it, you stupid bitch. You were supposed to be a quivering mass of throbbing cunt by now. "Really? So. How many of the sensors did you find?"
"Twenty-five, Sir. They're all there on the table. Sir."
Damon froze. It couldn't be.
"How many?" he asked carefully.
"Twenty-five, Sir."
"Please count them again, Alex."
"Yes, Sir. But, Sir?"
"Yes?"
"I, uh, it would be really helpful if you didn't talk while I was counting. If you could, Sir? Please?"
"Just go count them, Alex. Now!" He didn't know if she was being insolent or what, but he was getting pissed.
"Yes, Sir." She got up off her knees and move cautiously to the table. She was carefully moving her finger over one after another, silently counting. When she was done, she stood up to move away from the table.
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