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Married just 1½ months, Isabel's sex life had taken stellar leaps forward in quality, duration and frequency since she arrived home in early June with her ankles chained following an alien encounter on a dark country road just two miles from her door.(See Afraid and anxious at first about her strange, new shackles and the effects they would have on her physically, sexually and emotionally, she confronted her doubt and committed herself to live with – and accept – her bondage when it became known they were made of a metal harder than any known on Earth. Then, days later, she was kidnapped and transported, hogtied, to an East African country where she effected escape, in chains, and returned to Scotland relatively unscathed.Moira chose a new linen business suit she had just purchased for her new office job and Isabel picked her favourite white translucent silk blouse and straight grey skirt that showed her braless, 38-26-39 figure to best effect.She, like Moira, was comfortable going braless – Isabel wore an African-style loincloth under her skirt while Moira's loins were bare – and their breasts, as well as their chains, became the subject of the men's water-cooler talk and quiet, curious glances and envious stares from female staff at the mill, at Edinburgh U and pubs, offices, buildings and homes across town and throughout western Scotland.She and husband, Graham, also had a glorious, sexy long weekend that culminated in her agreement to have leg shackles welded on her trim ankles for 52 weeks.Tonight, she was practising walking about the living room to get ready to start her new position as administrative assistant in the offices of the local woolen mill in the small western Scotland town five miles away from their country homes.
And most, if not all, of it could be done by someone with far-less experience than his.He chuckled grimly at the incentives to get this job done, quickly, safely and efficiently, and committed himself to keep uppermost the health and well-being of the slaves-to-be that would soon come under his demented attentions. Lord's twisted code of medical ethics had not deserted him.But what happened to their safety and well-being after he finished and turned over to the post-op people and the couriers were none of his affair.Isabel walked easily into the kitchen, her ankle chains clattering noisily on the vinyl tiles, and saw the registered letter Peter had left for her on the kitchen table when he arrived home before her.Isabel ripped the envelope open and read the watermarked, classy blue stationery: Isabel thought: Well, that's very generous of them; I wonder if Moira wants to go. Call Moira and see if she wants to go." Isabel did so and Moira was agreeable, as along as Isabel would go with Peter's approval.