After The Bighorn, Chapter Eleven, Patrick in San Francisco

 
After the Bighorn Chapter 11 Patrick in San Francisco

Patrick Master’s Narrative

It is so good to be back in San Francisco. Away for a wilderness vacation is one thing; to be away on business is another. As I left the plane, my assessment of the two Business Class flight attendants was confirmed. Leigh was modest and helpful; Scarlett was a tease, and lazy to boot. The type of girl who would benefit from a collar and a trip to Gor. Leigh, even though a earth girl, gave off modest Free Woman vibes. Perhaps the modesty campaign of Myrna Reiss and the New Feminists had a point.

When I got to Drysdale House, I went in the Front Door, unlocking it with my code. Juli, now my slave, does not have a code, a chip in her collar opens the door to let her in; the chip only lets her out at programmed times. A useful little device. The same chip lets her out of her kennel in the morning.

I had expected to find her kneeling by the door, waiting for me. I looked down the entrance hall, and there she was, my beloved possession, kneeling where the two main hallways met. I motioned for her to remain where she was and strode to the central point where the two corridors crossed.

I looked down on her and around the lovely big house. She had picked the right place to wait, at the central point of the main floor where the curving staircases rose to the levels above. 

The wide shorter corridor lead from the front entrance running right through the house to the balcony and back terrace overlooking the gardens. The longer corridor ran from the side entrance under the porch roof where visitors could disembark from their vehicles without being in the rain or wind. This corridor runs from the Side entrance past the Large Salon on one side and the Large Dining room on the other. The ballroom is reached through the Dining room and is in a wing which projects into the garden.

Juli broke position and started licking and kissing my feet, her arms around my ankles so that I could barely move.

I did not rebuke her. Even after enjoying the charms of several of the house kajirae of the Fricks, it felt splendid to own such a creature as Juli.

I took her then and there, on the marble floor of the rotunda, under the eyes of the Grecian statues. I led her to the kitchen, had her prepare me a meal, simple pasta and some wine. After feeding her from my fingers, I watched her clean up and tidy, as a good slave should do, while I read my mail.

Most was unexceptional, some required attention, one I did not yet open. This was a larger than usual envelope, of superior paper and with foreign stamps. I decided to open that one alone later.

Juli heeled me, as I walked to the Library. It is my favourite room in the house, to the left of the Front Entrance. The main part of the library is a big room, with a large fireplace, shelves for books, high ceilings. It has a large desk, a couple of other library tables and many comfortable chairs. It is part of a suite, because there is a smaller office, a toilet room and a small separate sitting room. It also includes hidden doors and rooms, including a staircase to my bedroom from the small office.

It was also in disorder. Juli had not yet finished shelving all the books. She explained that she had been practicing her sewing, keeping up with her exercises and classes, and trying to keep Drysdale House clean, she had run out of time. She was in tears because she had failed in her tasks.

Her tasks were impossible to complete, but for a kajira, that is not an excuse for failing to fulfill a master’s commands. Because the commands were impossible, I only switched her twice before taking her over the big desk in the library. I allowed her to sleep that night in the basket at the foot of my bed rather than in a kennel. We both slept satisfied and well.

When I awoke Saturday morning, I was a little discontented with Juli’s progress as a slave. After viewing the training and the deportment of the slaves at Frick house in Pittsburgh, and the Lazy F ranch in Montana, I felt she should be making greater progress. Progress in her submission and slave fires, and in the way she carried herself and adapted to a new role.  Part of this of course was that I was new to being a Master, to owning someone like Juli. Perhaps also, I was restrained due to my love for Juli, love which seemed to grow, the more she became immersed in being a slave. Without role models and without instruction, mostly Juli and I on our own, we were guided only by instinct and biological memory. I resolved to be a better, stricter Master. I hoped to forge stronger ties with the Fricks and other families.

I am a lawyer. I like things to be absolutely legal. For that I needed to own Juli absolutely, outright and legally. I hoped that there was good news in the foreign envelope. I would open it tonight after all my meetings.

I pulled off the blanket covering Juli’s basket. The one that signaled to her as a slave that she was to remain still and silent. She knelt in the basket.

“You may stand and stretch.”

“Yes master, thank you master.”

Watching a naked woman, an owned woman, stretch and move is such a delight. It is why, I think, that we keep cats; their movements remind us of the beauty of women.

Her collar was attached to a chain at the bottom of the bed, the links made small rustling sounds as she moved, stretched, touched her toes, extended her legs and arms. A good performance, but still some stiffness, not fully embracing the slave she now was. The kajirae at Frick House had learned and the captives in the slave pens under the house would learn as well.

So would Juli; perhaps it was because she was still just a slave by contract, but not by law? The sooner that was handled the better.

“Start the shower, then you can wash me for the day and prepare yourself as well.”

“Yes, Master.  Maybe some other things in the shower as well.”

“Perhaps, there should be time.”

I dressed after the shower in a bespoke suit. Juli tied my tie and then tied my shoes. I picked out a short sleeveless dress for her.

“Master, that is my shortest dress.”

“I could put you in a camisk, or nothing at all. It is only a two block walk to the office.”

A camisk is a short garment for slaves, it has no sleeves, no sides and is very revealing.

“The dress, please Master, the dress.”

It was still early Saturday morning when we stepped out the front door of Drysdale House onto Drysdale Avenue. The trees in Fremont Park across the street were still touched with dew; there was still a wisp of fog. I was in my suit, with pressed shirt and polished shoes. Juli was barefoot, in a short cotton dress of thin weave and her collar. She was allowed leather sandals, but I reminded her, that, like her clothing, the sandals were a privilege that could be withdrawn at any time.

From Drysdale Avenue we walked the two blocks downhill on McMurtry Street to Hathaway Avenue. On our right were the high brick walls of the gardens of Drysdale House; Juli heeled me on my left. We turned on to Hathway Avenue, The Hathaway Building, where my offices were, was a recently renovated 150 year old office and warehouse building. It stretched for an entire block. There was a Starbucks on the corner. Kitty corner, there was another Starbucks, and at the far corner of building, there was a tea-shop.

We entered the lobby of the building, the entrance next to the Starbucks. There was a bank of elevators. I pressed the button for the sixth floor, where my offices are. Juli hung back.

“Master, Mrs Hernandez has said I shouldn’t use the elevator anymore. She said that it was a disgrace to the clients and visitors that someone dressed like me should share the elevator with them.”

I considered.

“Mrs Hernandez is correct. You will always use the back stairs. In this case, you can proceed me. I want to watch your bottom as you climb the stairs.”

“Yes Master.”

I wanted to be more Gorean as a Master, so that Juli would be more Gorean as a kajira, and it was no hardship to watch her climb the stairs in front of me.

We were the first ones in, at the reception area there was a stack of papers to be placed into information packets. There was a note from one of the associates, Jane Bennet saying she did not have time to finish collating the packets before a date she had planned, and that she was sure that Dana Winter, another associate, would finish the job in the morning. Those two had a rivalry.

I had Juli bring all the materials to my office.

“You can finish collating all this information for my staff meeting later today. I will be meeting my friend Jerry Reece for breakfast. Do you understand?”

“Yes Master. When will I have breakfast? We left the house before I ate?”

She dropped her eyes, she knew that she should not have said anything. She knelt in contrition. I removed her sandals and her dress, leaving her wearing only her collar. I secured the ring in the collar by a chain to a ring in the floor, then left her to get on with her task. If the meetings did not run long, she might get lunch.

 

Jerry and I met for breakfast in an independent bagel shop. The bagels were San Francisco sour dough and, in my opinion, better than any New York could offer. A minority opinion to be sure. The coffee was certainly better than Starbucks.

“Thank you for considering handling the Frick patent case from this end, Jerry. It would make me very happy if you did so. And it should raise your value in the eyes of the firms that you are considering joining.”

“Myrna won’t like it, though, she would want something a little higher profile. And couldn’t Billy Purden handle it; he is the Administrative Partner? I don’t want to step on any toes.”

“Bill will need to oversee all our other routine work, and I am taking a significant number of the firm’s resources for this one case.”

“Why so many lawyers and so many resources? Usually, these patent cases go on for years.”

“The client, Frick Steel, has decided to be aggressive, to smack this attempt down. So they are going on the attack. In addition to legal resources, we will need lots of clerks to mark and file the exhibits, and to docket all the exhibits.”

“That will be a problem. Most of the agencies dealing with temporary help of this kind are overwhelmed, and VanRijn’s lawyer here has hired two of the biggest,  I believe just so that you can’t hire them.”

“Damn” I was not happy.

Jerry was grinning. “But I know of a small, very discreet agency. We used them in the investigation into the missing, supposedly kidnapped women.”

“The one that came up empty, when you couldn’t find where on earth the women were disappearing too?” Someday I would have to tell Jerry that I had found out where the acquired women were going, and that it was no where on Earth.

“Yes, that one. The agency is very good and very discreet. The problem is that they have lost their lease and one of the partners wants to sell his share. The old man and woman who own the rest don’t know what to do.”

I knew immediately what to do.

“Jerry, there is a storefront, several actually, but the one I am thinking of is the one in the Hathaway Building, over by the Tea Shop. I want you, as my agent, to buy out the discontented partner, and have the other owners, move into the Hathaway Building.”

I was pleased with this idea. It would, in the future, give Masters Patent Law LLP, preferential access to a trained pool of temporary evidence clerks. Just as importantly, it would provide me with a database of young women who were transient in their employment. It would provide addresses and contact information for these women. It could develop into an Acquisition Referral Service. But that was the future, the important thing was that we could fight VanRijn in this patent fight over the Frick patents.

Jerry agreed to contact the owners of the Temp agency that afternoon. He also agreed to run the San Francisco end of the case. Full, and in perfect amity we walked the two blocks back to the Hathaway Building and my office.

Jerry went to the conference room, to meet with the assembled members and associates of the firm. I collected the collated folders from my office. Juli knelt as I entered. It was clear she wanted to say something, to beg for clothes or food, and also she knew she was a slave under discipline so that had to remain silent. The sensation of being under discipline seemed to give her a feeling of excitement as well.

Leaving her there, alone in my office, on her knees, naked, chained to the floor, I went to the meeting.

In the meeting, I explained that the case would be difficult and a lot of work. Some of the staff would have to relocate to Pittsburgh, I hoped for only a short time; others would work exclusively on the Frick case here in San Francisco.

“It is a patent case, usually if these go to court, it is a long, drawn-out process. We are not fighting this case in that manner. We are going on the attack, throwing resources at it to shut down this patent squatter immediately.”

There was no rush of volunteers. I could understand why. To take on this case meant giving up their seniority on other cases for other clients. Many of these attorneys were risk-adverse. They thought the client, The Fricks, might fold, leaving them looking foolish. A defensive attitude is not all bad in a patent attorney, but I made special note of the most timid ones.

Dana Winter, one of the associates, raised her hand.

“I want to join the team; I will even go to Pittsburgh with you.”

That broke the logjam. Some of the lawyers had not put it together that I would be leading things in Pittsburgh personally. Now lots of people wanted to work directly with me in Pittsburgh. Still some held back. Giving up their current cases, but having to stay in San Francisco would be the worst of both worlds.

Jane Bennet volunteered as well. She did not want Dana Winter to get ahead of her. In the end, I selected eight for the team, four to go to Pittsburgh and four to work in San Francisco. The Bennet girl sulked when she was chosen to stay in San Francisco, and Dana Winter was selected to go to Pittsburgh.

The Pittsburgh team would be staying at the Marriott across from the Frick building, only I would be staying at the Frick Mansion. Dana, Richard Thornton, and I would fly out Sunday evening, two others on Monday.  Jane Bennet and three others would work with Gerry Reece at the Masters offices.

I went back to my office as most of the rest left to get on with their Saturdays.  Juli was still kneeling on the carpet, as I packed up my briefcase.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in” I said.

Jerry Reece walked in, saw Juli and stopped.

“What’s this?” He was shocked, both looking at Juli and trying not to look, and then trying to make it look like he wasn’t looking.

“Jerry, since we came back from the Bighorn, Juli, no longer Juliet Chen, just Juli have entered on a new relationship. She wears my collar, she is to all intents and purposes, my property, my slave.”

“You can’t own people, Patrick, it is against the law.”

“Juli has signed a contract, a contract acknowledging that she is now my slave, with restrictions or restraints.”

“Patrick, you of all people, should know that that contract is not valid. It is not valid anywhere on earth.”

“Come on Jerry, from your work looking for those allegedly missing women, you know that there are places on this planet where slavery is legal. Especially female slavery; women condemned for crime or debt. And such slavery has been the foundation of many ancient civilizations; some even believe it is encoded in our DNA. Besides the contract can only be invalidated if Juli challenges it.”

I turned to Juli, “Are you unhappy with your state Juli, do you beg to be free, to have my collar removed?”

“No Master, I love you, I want to wear your collar, if you took it off, I would beg to be collared again.”

“Stand up Juli, stand in the position, hands behind you.”

She rose, gracefully as a slave rises, she stood facing Jerry directly, eyes lowered, legs apart about the width of the shoulders, the right hand grasping the left elbow and the left hand grasping the right. Her shoulders were back, making her breasts more prominent.

“Look at her Jerry, does she not look magnificent. She looks healthy, happy, content. Look at the glow of her skin, the flush of excitement as men look upon her as a slave. Can you deny that she seems happy, Would you deny her that choice?”

Jerry seemed less shocked now. He gazed openly on Juli, no longer Juliet Chen, just a slave named Juli, a plaything, a piece of property. His view of her seemed to me to be changing by the second.

“Is this what you want Juli, are you content to be slave, to be owned?

 I noticed he didn’t address her as Juliet, but only as Juli.

“Yes Master Reece, I am a slave. I admit it.  I feel it inside me. It started as a game, but now I am a slave.”

Jerry addressed me, but still looking hungrily at Juli.

“Well that is I guess your business Patrick, yours and Juli’s. We were to have dinner this evening, You and Juli, and Myrna and I, but I think it best if Juli does not attend. It would be an insult to Myrna to have a person who does not think herself free eating with us.”

“I entirely understand.”

We shook hands, he left after one more long look at Juli’s naked form. She was well worth looking at.