The Story That BSK earned for his review

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Tina Tempest
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The Story That BSK earned for his review

Post by Tina Tempest » Wed Mar 31, 2021 3:07 am

Hello, shrink fiction fans. A while back, I offered short stories to the reviewers of one of my collections. This is the second promised story to bask25456. I hope that you enjoy it as well. If you like this story please visit my Amazon page for plenty more just like this!
https://www.amazon.com/Tina-Tempest/e/B ... scns_share


A Rather Elite Service

“I would not consent to be your wife, Reginald if you were the last man or earth!”
“If I can’t have you, Penelope, no one will!”
“You have the terrific gall to be so presumptuous, Reginald! I will ask you to see yourself out. If you call upon me anew, I warn you in advance that my servants are armed!”
“I WILL have you, Penelope!”
“Good day, sir!”
The rather plain-looking Englishman reluctantly allowed the slim, beautiful, blonde woman turn and walk away. Did she not realize this was a new era? he thought. The industrial revolution had made him an enormously wealthy man. He knew by the way most women responded to him that he was attractive enough, or at least possessed enough wealth for any woman. Lady Penelope Cavendish clung to her aristocratic birth. In her eyes, only and old-moneyed, lord or peer were worthy candidates for her hand. Did she not understand that he could buy her estate a dozen times over? But because he was not a blueblood with all the proper social and political connections, the country house with the portrait gallery along one wall of pompous forebears, the conceited wench had cast him aside. Oh, he was a fine enough companion for afternoon tea or an amusing companion to that horse races, but beyond that… And when they DID attend the derby, she was practically fawning over Chadwick, the Duke’s grandson! Chadwick was an empty-headed, fool, who only graduated from Oxford because his grandfather bribed the deans. What did he really have to offer aside from a pretty face, some height, and breadth? Could she seriously be considering that worthless sot over himself? Reginald had earned his wealth! He was no silver spoon!
True, Reginald was obsessing about Penelope, but her fair countenance, long golden hair, sapphire blue eyes, and enchanting figure was everything he not only wanted in life but deserved! He’d be damned if he let her soil that spectacular body on a man as undeserving as Lord Chadwick. As he mused, his mind drifted back to a conversation. Had the man been serious? If he was, the means of making Lady Penelope his unalterably and forever was easily in his means! She would no longer be suitable as a wife, of course, but in many ways, this was so much better. Dismiss him? She would regret that! In time, she might even come to love Reginald. “Even if she never does,” he mumbled to himself as he strode back to his carriage, “She would never be Chadwick’s!” The idea of her as his permanently would be a perfect blow with which to strike back at her whole damned aristocracy class. His brother tycoons from the United States had the right idea. No aristocrat had a clue as to how the world was really run. Like them Reginald had no title, nor would he stoop to buying one. Also, Reginald reminded himself, unlike those American bores, HE had class! “This isn’t over sweet Penelope, not by a longshot!” he crowed triumphantly as he stroked the horse to a gallop.
**
Inspector Carlton examined the evidence. One did not have to be the “consulting detective” in one of those clever stories by A. Conan Doyle to deduce this case. Lady Cavendish’s clothes were arranged neatly on a pile or the bank of a swift-moving stream in a wooded section of her estate. Despite the fact that it was a blistering hot day, Lady Penelope did not seem the type to engage in a bit of impromptu skinny dipping. Her driver had an unexplainable gap in his story. According to him, he was driving his mistress on her usual constitutional when he felt incredibly drowsy and pulled the carriage to a stop. When he came to, Lady Penelope’s clothes were there but the woman herself was absent. The driver had an exemplary record and owned no known criminal ties. There were no signs of violence or any trace of blood. Though not in her character, the obvious explanation seemed the only answer. Lady Cavendish’s absence must be chalked up to “death by misadventure.” He turned to the bobby or his left and stated, “That lovely creature must have been overcome by the current and swept away before she even had a chance to cry out. Her body must already have been swept out to sea. Struck down in her prime. Such an utter pity.”
**
“Votes for women!”
“Equality for all!”
“Virtue, liberty, and equality”
“We demand the vote”
“That is enough, you degenerates in female form!” barked the chief of the London Constabulary. I am arresting you under orders of His Majesty the King for disturbing the peace and dignity of the public.”
“We will gladly go to prison to demonstrate the sincerity and commitment to our goal of women’s suffrage!” exclaimed the apparent leader of the half dozen young, pretty, and vivacious demonstrators.
“Enough of that rot!” came the gruff reply. “I order you to come along quietly, or I and my officers shall compel you by force.”
“We’ll give you no trouble, officers,” came the reply from a second of the six women in a pronounced cockney accent. The women allowed their signs and placards to be taken from them as they entered the horse-drawn police wagon. Singing a hymn, they settled themselves into the hard bench seats as the door closed behind them. The carriage rolled off through the London traffic. The ride over the cobblestones was most uncomfortable for the women, clad as they were in their Sunday best, including the mandatory bustles, the wireframes of which greatly increased the sensation of the impact of the wheels against stone. In the close confinement of the wagon, unaccountable drowsiness overcame them all and they tumbled into mutual slumber.
**
“My daughter and I are grateful for this opportunity, sir.”
“Think nothing of it, Mrs. Baker. My own mother was a widow, I know how hard things are for a woman in that predicament.”
He surveyed the mother and adult daughter. Both bore enchanting red locks and trim figures. Their faces were positively angelic. Even the light dusting of freckles across their noses was enchanting! Such a shame left penniless by their husband and father’s failure to purchase insurance.
“Someone really should look after them,” thought the gentleman avidly.
“Where should we begin cleaning, sir.”
“Right here in my study. I shall check-in on you in a bit.”
“Very good sir,”
Lord Michael’s turned a concealed knob under his desk just before he exited the room. He stayed in the hallway, a few inches from the door. Once he discerned the soft thud of the women’s bodies impacting on his imported rug. He marched over to his private telegraph line. Despite his wealth, Lord Michael’s was never too proud to pocket the rather extravagant finder’s fees from the “Elite Service.” Some of that money he would dissipate in London’s finest brothels, the rest went into his investments in India. He and the service had a wonderful relationship.
**
“These are the ones. Procure them for the rajah.”
The businessman took a gander at the picture, a pair of striking, raven-haired identical twins in their identical Sunday best, snapped on their way to church.
“Very good sir, names, ages, address, and exactly what you are looking for.”
“Certainly. The rajah is a man of quite discerning tastes…” continued the native of the subcontinent.
**
Lady Penelope Cavendish woke up with a start. To her horror, she discovered that she was stark naked and lying on a bare mattress in what seemed to be a small wood-lined room. There were a basin and a pitcher and a chamber pot, but nothing else. Lady Penelope sought in vain for something with which to conceal her nudity. To say she was chagrined and embarrassed is a vast understatement. Dim light filtered in through the curtains that covered what Penelope gathered was the window. When she approached it, however, she realized that the curtains opened from the other side of the window.
“Am I in a sanitarium?” she asked herself. She certainly did not recall an accident. One moment, Jeeves was driving her carriage while she studied some paperwork, the next, she was here, wherever here was.
Suddenly, the curtains opened, and Penelope screamed and screamed.
**
The suffragettes awoke almost simultaneously. Although they had been prepared, if necessary, to endure the humiliation of a strip search while in police custody, to discover themselves stark naked in some sort of cell certainly was not cricket, as the blokes were wont to say.
“I’ll have those officers’ badges!” spat one of them.
“When my husband finds out about this, it will be discussed on the floor of the Commons. The very idea! Treating us like this! And I believed that most policemen were gentlemen!”
The curtains parted in the forepart of their cell. The already animated conversation became even more lively.
**
Dorothy and Ruth Baker awoke to find themselves sans clothes and jewelry in what they assumed was a room in Lord Michaels’ mansion.
“He’s no. gentleman, mother!” offered Ruth in her thick Cockney accent.
“He even absconded with my wedding ring! The bastard! Seethed Dorothy.
And then both mother and daughter realized that wherever they were, it was not Lord Michaels’ manse. Both immediately began questioning their sanity.
**
Chloe and Cynthia awoke from a very refreshing night’s sleep to find …
“My goodness, Chloe. Where are our nightclothes? This isn’t home! Where in blazes are we?”
“I have no idea, sister, but it does not portend good news.”
“I fear you are correct, my dear consanguinary.”
A few moments later, it was very clear that Cynthia was far more correct than even she had dared fear.
**
All the women realized that they were in cages! Beyond them, strode immaculately clad male giants! Enormous faces appeared before the window of all their cells and lit up when they discerned that all of the now tiny women were awake and mobile.
One distinguished-looking gentleman seemed to be in charge. Upon an agreed-upon signal from the other giants the man began speaking.
“SETTLE DOWN, LADIES! ALL OF YOUR QUESTIONS SHALL BE ANSWERED!” he bellowed.
Reluctantly, the diverse set of women managed to get ahold of themselves.
“Is everyone calm? We shall begin,” stated the man with a professorial air.
“I am Doctor Richard Hawthorne and all of you have been diverted for a purpose.”
The women emitted a torrent of questions and epithets.
“Silence, Ladies! I detest speaking over all of you!”
A hostile silence descended.
“That’s more like it. A decade or so ago when I was or assignment for the Royal Geographical Society, I discovered a flowering herb, previously unknown to science, in the foothills of the Himalayas. Having heard of its properties by the local monks and shaman, I chose to keep my discovery secret. Over the next few years, I found ways to transplant it and boost its yield. I even gave it a Latin name, but that, of course, is of no interest to you. In any event, the properties and side effects of the herb, when properly distilled, should be quite self-evident top all of you.”
The professor paused for effect.
“Now, I could have passed my days in academia, quite peacefully and anonymously. However, I wanted much more out of life. Not fame, although I DO have that in certain circles; but in material wealth and adulation amongst the elite. And thus, “The Elite Service” was birthed. You ladies may find it hard to believe, but I have a quite secret B.O.E. granted to me by His Majesty himself! In any event. The Elite Service, which serves only the wealthiest and most aristocratic men, deals in a particular commodity. Tiny women such as yourselves.”
The doctor waited a moment for the expected outrage of the tiny women to subside.
“Now, ladies, this is no time for tears. This is a time of rejoicing! You have passed from your mundane lives into a new existence, that of pampered, treasured property. Some of you came to our attention via parties interested in a particular product; or though opportunity made possible by our agents and scouts in. all parts of the Empire. I assure you that our enterprise extends into and is protected by the most powerful men in the Empire and beyond. Some of you may be destined for the paneled parlors of American magnates or South American executives. Wherever you end up, you shall be treasured and adored. No doubt, some of you will be using your feminine wiles to wrap your giant owners around your pinky. Others of you may never accept their fates. That will not matter. From this day or, you shall be powerless Lilliputians living at the whim of an all-powerful Gulliver. Tears and resentments, are you enemy and they shall do nothing to alter your fates.”
Another stream of protest and invective emanated from the cells.
“You will be delivered to my company’s clients in your current au natural state. No man likes to buy a pig in a poke, as they say. The Elite service does manufacture miniature clothing and everything you could possibly need and desire. Our clients have found however that making you bargain for things as simple as a robe or combs for your hair, has a corresponding effect on your deportment and obedience. The rest, you will find out as you go. Now, I shall give you little ladies an hour of rest and reconciliation, then you shall be introduced to your respective Gullivers.”
The curtains were simultaneously drawn back over the windows to the cages.
**
“He can’t be serious can he, mother?” asked Ruth in a horror-tinged voice.
“Your eyes are as good as mine, child,” returned Dorothy. “I have no doubt that man was speaking the absolute truth. It’s not like anyone would miss us. I’m a penniless widow and you are just another very pretty but poverty-stricken young woman. Even if a man were to show interest in you, who could provide a dowery? Your choices would be the same as mine; a low wage-earning tradesman or clerk who drinks too much and beats you when his is angry if the dinner is late or even if you smile at the wrong time. I’ll never find your father again, but if a well-heeled man actually wants to pay a king’s ransom to own me…”
“Mother!” squealed Ruth in indignation.
**
In their cell, the twins could only embrace each other and cry copious tears.
**
The suffragettes gazed at the closed curtain for a moment before they began to converse amongst themselves.
“It seems that gaining the vote is the least of our problems, girl,” offered one.
“How can you be so cavalier about this, Jennifer! I know my husband won’t stand for this; he is a member of parliament!”
“Ah, cantankerous old George! And how did he feel about your campaigning for the vote, Mabel?”
“He was opposed to it, of course, but once we gain the vote…” Mabel’s voice dropped off sharply.
“Exactly, Mabel, how do you know he is not behind our current misadventure?”
“Oh, God,” said Mabel softly.
“Men are swine!” expectorated Emily.
“Unquestionably! But at least a giant won’t expect us to cook and clean all day.”
“Then why would they want a tiny woman?” asked another.
“What does ANY man want with a woman?” asked Julie.
“But that would be impossible!” stated Claire.
“Use your imagination, girl.”
“OH, that’s disgusting, you are disgusting, Jennifer!”
“Unquestionably, but that is what we are now, little toys, beautiful canaries to sing and preen on cue.”
“We should beseech the Lord to intervein or our behalf,” offered up Constance, to which Jenny laughed and laughed.
**
Lady Penelope had a very unsettling sensation creep its way along her spine. “Surely, NOT THAT!” she bellowed at the emptiness about her. She spent the next hour or the mattress weeping as she had never wept before. She was still weeping when a giant hand entered her cell and swept her up. This brought Penelope out of herself. She gazed at the outsized world with terror and awe as she was taken from the room of cells into what resembled a business office.
Observing events as though they were happening to a stranger, Penelope was too stunned to protest as she was affixed spreadeagle to a sheet of glass by dabs of spirit gum upon her wrists, ankles, and buttocks. The pane of glass was then placed in a rotating frame. Penelope’s stunned mind had just about processed this indignity when her every fear was realized as she spied her nemesis Reginald Drake entering the room, a positively wicked leer across his face.
“Reginald!” came her dispirited cry.
“I told you that I would have you, bitch!” hissed Reginald. “You should have consented to be my wife when you had the chance.”
His eyes roved hungrily over her glorious nudity. He spun the pane of glass and savored Lady Penelope’s astounding derriere and exhilarating back as well. The tiny woman turned red all over.
“Reginald, dear sweet, Reginald. If you have undone to me what has been done, I shall certainly marry you. Name the date.”
“Your days of bargaining are over, wench! You shall live solely for my pleasure now. You shall swallow my seed without complaint and endure every indignity with a smile, or so help me I will thrash you to within an inch of your life. My desire for you as a mate was killed by your arrogance and condescension. All I want now is a satisfactory revenge!”
“Reginald, Please!”
“Silence, wench! I am not through examining you yet.
Penelope hung her head in defeat as the pane of glass slowly rotated once more.
“What a spectacular physique!” opined Reginald after several long moments. “Fortunately, I know just how to use it, small one.”
All at once, the glass frame was in Reginald’s hands. Lady Penelope tried to pull away, but she was held too tightly by the spirit gum. The giant inhaled deeply of the Lilliputian’s intoxicating aroma, and then his huge tongue, lips and teeth, began exploring every part of Penelope’s exposed anatomy. He suckled each of her prominent breast in turn, licked each of her fine legs and lovely, dainty feet in turn, before circling the darling navel in her flat, toned belly, before plunging into her wispy-haired blonde box.
“Reginald!” cried Penelope at Reginald’s impudence and presumption. Her words only seemed to spur him on. He redoubled his efforts. The sheltered Lady Penelope began to feel a very strange sensation working its way out of her groin to every part of her body. It was reminiscent, somehow of a watch spring being tightened. And then the flywheel of the watch released itself at once and Lady Penelope felt a divine sensation, unlike any other in her young life release itself at once through every part of her. “Reginald!” she gasped, in a tone quite unlike any other she had uttered in his presence. The giant holding her laughed and laughed. Penelope, realizing that she had just given her enemy something very private and personal, flushed with embarrassment once more and hung her head in shame.
**
Mable fought mightily but ended up spreadeagle or a pane of glass anyway. She thought about her husband. Could George really have been behind the abduction of herself and others? Though he was old-fashioned and quite stubborn, Mable felt sure that such barbarity was beyond him. “No,” she tried to convince herself, “At this very moment, he is moving heaven and earth to locate me!”
That conviction ended when she caught sight of who her purchaser was.
“Guillermo Navidad!” she gasped. He was a business associate of George’s. Her husband was one of the investors in Guillermo’s Argentine silver mine. A partnership that had made both wealthy men even wealthier.
“Hola, Mabel!” he said with a smile. “I’ve bought some traveling clothes for you to wear to South America with me. That is IF you are a good little girl.”
Mabel reacted to those words with silence.
“First let me look at you! Though it is not polite for a gentleman to admit, I have quite often imagined what you looked like under all your clothes. I must say that I am not disappointed in the least.”
“Oh, George! How could you!” cried Mabel disconsolately.
**
Cynthia and Chloe were started at first to discover that they were substantially taller than the other shrunken women. At least two-feet tall compared to the others one-foot in height. They were also surprised to learn that they had been sold as a set to the same buyer.
“At least we shall be together, sister,” stated Cynthia.
“Yes, that is something, at least we won’t be alone in our horror!”
“Buck up Chloe!”
“You were always the optimist between us, Cynthia,” stated Chloe with finality. In short order, the twins were lashed to matching mahogany frames. Despite themselves, both sisters were more than a little curious as to who had purchased them.
The question was resolved when a tall, regal man in a turban entered the room. The obsequious little man with him cleared his throat and stated, “His Majesty the celestial ruler of the Ganges, Rajah Mohamed Sarirki.” The little man then bowed.
“I will forgive the two of you for not bowing at present. Enlightenment shall come with your training.”
The obsequious man removed some items from a satchel he carried. A moment later, each twin’s neck bore matching spectacularly jeweled collars.
The man in the turban spoke evenly in English with almost no accent, “You shall be trained to the collar and the leash, like obedient thoroughbred spaniels. In my bed-chamber, you will be instructed in the arts of carnal love. In your lives, you shall want for nothing. I shall dress you, after you are both suitably trained, of course, in the finest of silks, Gold threads shall adorn your hair and you will be envied by all who enter my palace. Rejoice, both of you, for this is the day of your spiritual and personal liberation!”
Chloe looked at Cynthia. Cynthia looked at Chloe.
“I shall leash you now and free you from your frames. I have lovely robes for you to don as we make the way to my personal train car. By evening we will be on my yacht, disembarking for Bombay. Your instructors await you there.”
**
“Good for you, Henry!” cooed Dorothy after she had finished chasing down every last bit of her master’s seed.
“I owe it all to you, you little minx!” returned the older man as his manhood became flaccid.
“You have given me back my youth, Dorothy!” he continued.
“I’m almost as old as you are, Henry!”
“True, but you look at least a decade younger than the calendar claims while I look like my father.”
“How many times do I have to tell you how dashing you are, Henry.”
“As often as possible. Perhaps one day, I shall actually believe it.”
“I think we both need a bath, Henry. Have your man fill the tub. I’ll forego the lavender water for your sake, hot stuff.”
Dorothy wiped her mouth with her hand. The luminous diamond looked and felt so good on the third finger of her left hand.
“To think, there I was, a stuck in the mud, old-fuddy bachelor, who took a chance when his son suggested that a bit of novelty would do wonders for his soul.”
“Not to mention what it’s done for me, Henry!”
“Isn’t it funny how the universe sometimes aligns perfectly, Dorothy?”
“Very true, my man, very true!”
“The idea, falling in love again at MY age.”
“I can’t replace your late lamented Ruby, darling.”
“No, in so many ways, you are better. I’m as giddy as a schoolboy. The guys at the gentlemen’s club want to know what my secret is.”
“That would spoil a good thing, Henry.”
“THAT I know, doll!”
“Henry, I’m getting sticky!”
The retired millionaire reached for the bedside buzzer. A moment later, the butler had come and gone and the sound of water falling into the tub in the adjoining bathroom could be heard.
“I love you, Dorothy!”
“And I love you, Henry. With all my heart!

bask25456
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Re: The Story That BSK earned for his review

Post by bask25456 » Wed Mar 31, 2021 9:52 pm

Wonderful work on this!

Tina Tempest
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Re: The Story That BSK earned for his review

Post by Tina Tempest » Fri Apr 02, 2021 4:15 pm

bask25456 wrote:
Wed Mar 31, 2021 9:52 pm
Wonderful work on this!

I am so glad you liked it, bask. it was a fun assignment. Sorry, I took so long. -- Tina

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