A Day at the Races
- 2 -


by E. A. Applebaum
- as edited by SirJeff
- do not use without the author's permission.

# 11 -- Ruth – A young married woman --

They walked along slowly, Arthur trailing several feet behind Alicia, guiding her. Off to Alicia’s right, a tall, stunning woman with long legs and tight mass of curly, black hair was just emerging from one of the corrals. The young man walking behind her was stiff with fierce concentration, grasping the reins so tightly that his knuckles showed white. Alicia didn’t know whether she was comforted or appalled by seeing someone else in the same situation as she was, a naked woman, fitted out with bridle and bit, hands tethered, fully harnessed and controlled by the man just behind her.

For her part, the other woman looked astonished. On her face there was only amazement, her round, dark eyes wide with fear and confusion. The incredible journey that brought her here began only a few days ago as compared to Alicia who by now had more than three years to become accustomed to submission.

Up to the last moment there had been nothing to indicate the momentousness of what was about to happen. The woman’s husband, Louis, often went on business trips and she was used to being left alone for a day or two. Ruth Waterman was sitting quietly at home, watching television, waiting for her husband’s phone call, so they could say “goodnight” to one another and she could go to sleep. Except for taking off her shoes, she hadn’t bothered to change clothes after work. When the phone rang, she turned off the TV. But it wasn’t her husband. It was the boy next door, a strange young man, seemingly brilliant, but withdrawn and often silent. From what everyone said, he was great with electronics and computers. Nevertheless she often felt uncomfortable in his presence.

“Mrs. Waterman,” he began uncertainly. “Mrs. Waterman. I think I need your help.”

“What is it Kenneth?” She was genuinely concerned.

“Please come over right away.”

She found her shoes and, a few moments later, rang the bell to his house. When no one answered, she pushed through the already half open door. The netting fell over her with a series of resounding thumps as the weights slammed to the floor. She spun around in a panic, looking for a way out. The heavy mesh was closing around her, hindering her movements, weighing her down. Ruth grabbed at the web, trying to pull it open. When that failed she reached out to push it from her. Nothing succeeded. She felt as though she was drowning, struggling against a powerful wave, a tidal force that was pulling her further and further down into deep water.

She saw Kenneth standing in the archway between the living room and the dining room. “Kenneth,” she shouted, “please help me.” But he rushed past her to shut the front door to the house. There was a buzzing sound that she couldn’t understand. It seemed to be connected to the webbing that was pulling her down. The motor that Kenneth had rigged to the drawstring at the bottom of the net and it was steadily closing the web tighter and tighter. Her hands were already tight against her side; her legs were being folded back tighter and tighter against her body. Still the motor whirred on, enclosing her more and more tightly. When she started to scream, Kenneth stretched a piece of tape over her mouth and Ruth Waterman was immediately silenced. The netting continued to tighten about her immobilized body until finally she heard the motor grind to a stop.

He bustled around, dismantling the machinery, unhooking the motor, erasing the traces of his evening’s activity. When everything else was packed into the car, he tipped her up on to the wheeled garden cart. It was easier than he expected. It was all easier than he expected. Everything had gone so well. It was a bit of a struggle to lift her up and into the trunk of the car. He was not, after all, a very strong boy. But he managed it and, when he was finished, sat down exhausted. He was pleased that there hadn’t been time to think, not a moment to reconsider. Now he was fully committed. There was no turning back. With Mrs. Waterman tucked safely into the trunk of his mother’s car, he returned to the house to be sure that there was nothing to show what he had done with her or even that she had been there. As far as his parents were concerned, Kenneth spent the evening at the movies. They knew he was taking his mother’s car to visit friends for the weekend and wouldn’t be at all surprised to see him already gone when they awoke the next morning. All he had to do now was to wait until they returned home and went to bed. Then he would be off with his prize. No, he rehearsed his lines, he hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary at the Waterman’s. No, there didn’t seem to be any problems. Nothing that he noticed.

It was still dark outside when they arrived at the abandoned cabin. He found it one afternoon while wandering alone in the deep woods. It was the discovery of this dilapidated place that solved half of the equation needed to convince Kenneth that he could turn his fantasies into reality. Throughout the spring he worked on it. Tapping into a nearby electric line hadn’t been too difficult, although ensuring that the line would be stable needed good planning and even more work. But at last it was all done. The place still looked awful from the outside with boarded up windows and broken boards on the porch, but the doors worked and floor was stable enough to walk on.

Getting her out of the trunk and into the cabin was strenuous. The wheeled cart was of no use out here. He hauled her, a few feet at a time, across the rough, unpaved ground. At last, Kenneth managed to get her inside finally dumping the woman on the bare wood floor.

Squinting against the bright morning light, she was desperately confused. When she began to struggle inside the mesh, Kenneth knelt beside her. “Just relax. Stay very calm and relaxed.” In spite of his high excitement, Kenneth managed to keep his voice soft. The hundreds of times he rehearsed the scene in his mind, the dozens of times he had mimed these actions alone in his bedroom, were paying off. Even though it was the real Mrs. Waterman beside him now, it was all similar enough to his fantasies that he managed to keep control of his emotions and, what was more important, to keep control of her. He began undoing the closure at her feet. After several minutes he had loosened the drawstrings sufficiently to pull them open just a little. He checked the bolt that held the chain to the wall, pulled the links on the chain before examining the leg iron at the other end of the chain. Satisfied, he snapped the shackle around her left ankle. When it closed the sound was sharp and grating. They both flinched. Kenneth took a deep breath. So far, so good. It was all just as he had planned, had been planning, ever since he first became aware of Mrs. Waterman as a sexual creature.

It was only a few years ago, at that party for her younger brother, that she had danced with Kenneth and he had felt the pressure of her breasts against his chest, had looked at her pink lips and wanted desperately to kiss them. The Watermans were Jewish. After they moved in Kenneth sometimes played with Mrs. Waterman’s brother, a few years younger than Kenneth, whenever he stayed at his sister’s house. It was at the boy’s Bar Mitzvah that Ruth danced with him. She was obviously a little drunk and at one point she stumbled, her cheek rubbing against Kenneth, her breasts squeezing marvelously against his chest.

Now, toward the end of his senior year, she was almost a constant presence in his mind and Kenneth determined that Mrs. Ruth Waterman would be his birthday present to himself. She was to be his special gift on his eighteenth birthday, the thing he most desired. Once he had worked out the other part of the puzzle, it became just a matter of time. Kenneth loosened the mesh netting that held her, finally pulling it free with a flourish.

With a jerky, uncoordinated motion, her arm rose and her fingers explored the iron that enclosed her ankle. Pushing a finger under the metal ring she tried to pull it away from her skin. Twisting around, she stroked the chain that attached the shackle wall. Ruth looked around, and back at Kenneth. Suddenly realizing her situation, Ruth began to panic. She pulled the tape from her mouth, twisted her body violently and yanked at the chain. “Be still!” Kenneth said sharply. “You’re not going anywhere, so just be still.” But that didn’t stop her trying to free herself. She continued to jerk on the chain at the same time as she attempted to undo the leg iron. After a prolonged effort, she gave up. Her shoulders sagged in resignation. He had been right, a single shackle on a short chain was all that was needed.

He searched for a half eaten cookie in his pocket, found it and slowly ate around the edges. Finishing the last bite, he licked the crumbs from his lips. “Take off your blouse,” he ordered. When she didn’t respond immediately, Kenneth looked around, found what he was looking for and, without a further word snapped the riding crop across the back of her legs just above the knee. Ruth tried to scream but only managed a strangled croak. He hit her again, this time through her skirt, ripping across the fleshy part of her backside.

“You will do as you are told, when you are told,” he said when she had quieted down. “Do you understand? Whatever I say, when I say. Do you understand?”

“Kenneth, please.”

The whip struck again, now at her calves. “Do you understand?”

She gasped for breath. Her knees buckled, her body sagged. She pulled herself up. “Yes, Kenneth. I understand,” she said at last. “I understand.”

“Good,” he said, “but under the circumstances, I don’t think you can call me Kenneth any longer. It’s not fitting. Don’t you see? I think you should say,” he paused in thought. “I think that `Yes, Mister K’ would be more fitting, don’t you think.” He took a step toward her, wrist bent, the whip poised.

“Yes, Mister K,” she gasped, managing to subdue the stinging pain, fearing a new assault.

“I like the sound of it. Say it again.” he urged. Mr. K. That’s what he called himself when he dreamed himself invincible, Mr. K.

“Yes, Mister K.”

“Now, Ruth, if you recall, I asked you to remove your blouse. I’m sure you won’t mind if I call you Ruth.”

“Yes. I mean no. I don’t mind” she replied, the fear making her voice tremble. “Call me Ruth. Please, Kenneth,” she began.

He shook his head. “What?” He tapped her chest with the riding crop.

“Please do, Mister K.”

That was just right, he thought, as she began unbuttoning the cream colored blouse. A sharp demonstration, right at the outset, demonstrating his willingness to use the whip, was the way to start. Later he would demonstrate the subtlety and power of the wand, but that was for a later time. “Just drop it on the floor next to you,” he ordered and she let it fall. He reached out, pointing the riding crop, just touching the end to her chest directly between her breasts. Their eyes met. He nodded. She reached behind to unfasten her bra. In a moment it opened. She slipped the nylon straps over her shoulders and let the bra fall at her feet.

“Do you know how long I’ve been thinking about those beauties?” He put the riding crop in his pocket and started fondling her full breasts with both hands. “God, yes,” he

mumbled, pressing his face between her puffy mounds. She screamed and tried to pull away when he sunk his teeth into the flesh surrounding one of her nipples.

He had her undress until at last she stood naked before him. It was a glorious, stimulating sight. Except for a necklace and earrings, she wore absolutely nothing. So moved that he was unable to speak, Kenneth was trembling with excitement. Instead of speaking, he found the wand, a silver and black cattle prod. “My magic wand,” he said, touching it to her bare stomach and giving her just a little jolt. She jumped away in terror. “Do what I tell you and I won’t have to use it. Okay?”

”Kenneth” she began. “If you don’t go any further, this can all be forgotten.”

He pressed the wand against the fleshy bottom of her backside and pressed the button. The noise she made was somewhere between a scream and a gasp. “First, it’s Mr.K to you,” he said when she quieted. “And second, I thought I told you that you had to do whatever I said.”

She nodded.

“In that case, lie down on your back and let’s get started.” He turned out the lights; the cabin now only illuminated by slats of morning sunlight, undressed, knelt between Ruth Waterman’s legs and slipped himself inside her.

It was an exhilarating few days of exploration and sexual satisfaction. Just knowing she was there and available was often enough to stimulate Kenneth. He tried every position he remembered from the books and pictures and he had studied. When he was tired he used her mouth.

Getting her to the Pony Races had been easy. He pretended to believe that she would never say anything if he let her go. She seemed to believe that he was taking her back home. Back there in the cabin, having her at his command, taking her at will, Kenneth felt supremely confident. Having brought her to the races, with all these other people around, the last comfortable moment he had was covering Ruth with sun block. Putting the gel all over her naked body, he could think to himself that the two of them were alone. But now his mind was alive with questions. What if nobody bought her? What would he do? What if somebody recognized her? He hadn’t thought about that. He guided her just behind the guy driving the blond. At least Kenneth didn’t have to think about where they were going. The pair in front stopped. Kenneth brought Ruth to a halt.