Joe took his time preparing for the night when he would show the world that Abbey was his submissive slave, willing and available to obey any command ...o matter how degrading or abnormal. First, he had to make sure that he could find the right costume for Abbey to wear. In fact, Joe had a wish to see her dressed as he imagined a slave girl or concubine in an Eastern harem might have dressed in order to win the favor of the Sultan. Searching online, Joe found a website selling a bra and thong. This place has scratchy blankets, polyester with polyester thread, clear and plasticky, poking up through the tufting where the threads have broken after being washed hundreds of times. I can’t help but wonder about what this room’s seen, and how it still manages to be so blank. Blank eyes on a dead world. I guess it’s paranoid, since I already look pretty different with it short, but I can’t take any chances, so I’m dyeing my hair. The dye burns my scalp—it still hasn’t healed, and the fact. As they talked he said his mother worked long hours andhe could work any hours as long as he let her know.Once he even stayed over at the people’s house sincethey were always out of town like she was.They agreed on his wages and that he could stay thereand he went to the kitchen counter to use the phone andcall his mother. She pretended not to notice the cockbulge in his little shorts. She marveled at the back ofhis slender hairless legs and beautiful butt. Fuck butshe was hot.He came. Counting to 10, she watched the readout vanish again.Other than the slightly unnerving presence of her cardigan on the pole by the door, her bedroom appeared as it had at 10:45 pm. Checking her pockets for the leather-bound journal and her cell phone, and tapping the bill of her ball cap for good luck, she stepped down from the dais. Five seconds later, she stood in her empty bedroom again.Quietly as possible, nauseous, she gathered clean clothing, including her black leather boots, and her.