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Joan was in her room at her desk working on her finances. It was early evening, but she wasn’t on duty. She was looking at what she would be receiving as part of her contract and what she would need for school. It was looking good. As she finished, her cell phone rang. She picked it up and looked at the caller ID display, hoping it was Jim. It wasn’t; she answered the call and said, “Hello.”

“Joan, this is your father. I’m in an alcohol rehab center.”

Joan was stunned. He had never admitted a problem with alcohol, and now he was in a rehab center? “Where are you?”

“It’s a local place. They don’t want us to give out the address right away because visits might not be good at first. I wanted you to know where I was and that I was finally getting some help. The company finally figured it out and gave me a choice — rehab or unemployment. I was nearly dead broke. I can’t pay the apartment rent, and most of my stuff is still in it. If you could swing it, I’d appreciate it if you would get as much stuff out of there as possible by the end of the month. The company told me that I can use an old garage on its property to store my stuff in. Call my boss — you know him — and he’ll tell you the details. More important, though, I’d like to find out about you being a slave.”

Joan took a deep breath and said, “I needed money for college. I got a spot as an asset slave with an asset contract that protects me, and I’ve done very well. It also protected me from being sold.”

Her father sighed and said, “I know the last time I saw you I told you I wanted to sell you. That shows how low I’d sunk. When I actually tried to do it, I found out I couldn’t because you were already a slave. That, plus remorse about trying to do it, and pressure at work, brought on the crisis that got me here. I hit bottom. I need to apologize for trying it and ask for your forgiveness.”

“Of course, Dad. I know it was the booze. You’ll get better now.”

“Yes, I think I will. I have to get off the phone now, so thank you.”

“Bye, Dad.”

Joan sat and cried for a while, then picked up the phone again and called Jim. “Jim, please come and pick me up. I need company.”

“I was going to call you. I’ll be right over.”

“Pull up in front of the bar. I’ll come out to you.”

After she hung up, she threw some clothes into a gym bag, her collar key and phone into her purse, and the purse into the gym bag. She locked her door and walked to the entrance of the bar, carrying the bag and wearing her work uniform — collar, shoes, belt. When she saw Jim pull up in front of the bar, she stepped out, opened the passenger door, and got in.

Jim stared at her. She said, “I think you’ve seen me like this before.”

“Yes, but only in private or in the bar.”

“It’s legal.”

“Yes, but you wanted to keep it from the others at the college, and some of them live in my building.”

“You are right, but it seems like a waste of time to dress.” She grinned at him, then reached into her gym bag for a short cotton dress. She pulled it over her head and down to her waist. “I’ll pull it down as I get out. This way you get to look at me until then.”

“I’d better not, or we’ll crash. You sounded a little odd when you called me. What’s up?”

Joan told him about her father’s call. He responded, “So you’re depressed about his situation, happy that he got help, and concerned about moving his stuff?”

“That’s it, in a nutshell.”

“You were already upset about his condition, you should be happy that he’s getting help, and I have buddies with pickups that will help us out this weekend if I ask them to. How’s that for problem solving?”

Joan laughed and said, “I knew that you would make me feel better.”

“I hope to make you feel a lot better. That dress comes off as soon as the apartment door closes.”

“You should shut it fast.”

He parked outside the apartment building and they both ran up the stairs. He fumbled the door unlocked and open and she ran in, dropped the gym bag, and pulled the dress over her head. He had taken her at her word and closed the door quickly. He caught her nude body in his arms and held her tight, then kissed her. She relaxed in his arms and let him hold her up. When he broke the kiss, she said, “Are you going to carry me to your bed?”

He picked her up and moved her to his bed, placing her gently on it. He stripped off his clothes as fast as he could and joined her. He was going to fondle her and do a grand job of foreplay, but she grabbed his cock and pulled him to her. “I’m wet. I’m ready. I need it.”

He immediately positioned himself above her and she guided him in. She started the motion herself by thrusting her pelvis up at him. He took the hint and started a hammering motion, not fast and not slow, with long strokes. She matched his motion and pressed against him. It was a magnificent lovemaking. He lasted five minutes, then came. He had felt several orgasms on her part, but his unleashed another one of hers. She held him tight, not wanting him to rise from her. He remained inside her, slowly losing firmness, but not falling out.

“Is that what you wanted?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s what I needed. I needed closeness and the feeling of love and being wanted. You do want me, don’t you?”

“I want you in all ways, body and soul. I’d love owning you. I live to be inside you.”

She was silent for a while, then spoke again. “What would you do if you owned me?”

“I’d love you.”

“What would you do with me? Would you chain me to your bed permanently? Lock me in a chastity belt? Rent me out?”

“I’d love you. My goal is your happiness — and a lot of sex. The things you mentioned would not make you happy.”

“You wouldn’t make me your total subservient slave?”

“I didn’t say that, I said I would love you. Loving someone means trying to make them happy. I’d fuck you daily, more than that. I’d probably chain you up a lot. I would be inside you as much as I possibly could. I would not stop you from doing what you want — getting an education, caring for your father, working at the bar, being with your current owner. I know you love him too. That’s fine by me; he’s a good guy that loves you too. We both want the best for you, for you to be happy, and to be inside you as much as possible. I would take my pleasure with you, because I think that makes you happy. But most of all, I would love you. How do I show that? By chaining you to me? By restricting you? I don’t think so. You became a slave to protect yourself, and you made sure the conditions were to your liking. You are smart. You would never submit to something that would make you unhappy. I wouldn’t want you to.” He felt his penis getting hard again, so he thrust into her, and started a slow, rhythmic thrusting that made him feel on top of the world and so happy he couldn’t believe it. “Would you submit to slavery to me and me alone if you had any doubts? I wouldn’t want you to. All I want is guaranteed sexual access. Set up your slavery anyway you want. I know you are planning on remaining a slave, with some kind of protection. Good. I want you protected. I also want to be with you and to fuck you silly. For years and years. What do you say to that?”

She held him even tighter. “I say, fuck me. Fuck me like there is no tomorrow. Keep fucking me for the rest of your life. Love me and fuck me. Fuck me and love me. I will always submit to you for sex regardless of the legal arrangements. Please fuck me. Fuck me as hard as you can as often as you can. I love you. I know you love me. I believe you want to love me. I won’t let any man own me completely, and I do love both you and George, but you first. Fuck me!!!!!!!”