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CHAPTER 1: HOUSE OF SAPPHO

(page 4)

A year later, on a Sunday morning, Peter woke late. He drew on his pajama pants and went looking for Ellen. He found her on the veranda, drinking coffee and reading the Sunday Times.

Their relationship had flourished, and both were in love. Domination, Peter learned, did not preclude a loving relationship. Oh, Ellen did take charge after all, but her domination was more a combination of erotic orders and matronly discipline than the harsh sternness of a sadistic overseer.

Mostly, she would deliver orders in a soft tone: "Peter, I want your lovely ass in my shower immediately. We simply must get out of this bed and on our way to Tavern on the Green." This while fondling his growing penis, her manicured nails digging lightly into the soft flesh underneath.

For her part, Peter was the perfect doll. He was able to fit in socially. He was quick witted and knowledgeable. And he was interested in her acting career, although he was concerned about a new offer she'd received of a role overseas, one where he would not be able to accompany her.

He sat across from her and poured himself coffee. The morning was warm with a fragrant breeze blowing in from the Park.

"Any orange juice?" he asked.

"You'll have to get it yourself, my slave," she responded smiling. "Carmelita is off today."

He came back with a container of juice, poured himself a glass and, like the kid still in him, drank it down top to bottom. She smiled.

"I have to tell you something, Peter, and I am afraid you will take it badly."

Immediately, he looked as if the air had been taken out of him. He did not handle bad news well. He had become accustomed to the status quo, and did not want any changes. But he knew that the acting business was volatile, a life of feast or famine, and although Ellen Brubaker had a long and steady stint on her soap opera, she was offered many roles in movies.

"Peter, there's a picture they want me for. It's to be shot in Egypt, of all places. And maybe Morocco. My season on the soap is ended and I am open for this."

"And I can't go. Is that it?" He said, an unintentional edge to his tone.

"Peter, please understand. I have to accept this offer. My God, it's almost two million dollars."

"You want me to move out while you're gone?"

"Heavens no! How dare you even think of such a thing. No, I want you to remain here. You are a part of my life and will remain that way. I own you now. And I have not released you."

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