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Chapter Twenty-three: Cally’s Little Conundrum
“Let me get this straight. You’re going to let me go?” Cally spoke slowly and carefully, was tasting the words in her mouth like candy.
Keith smiled. “Yes, I’m willing to let that happen. If you so decide.”
“You mean, after all I’ve seen, all I know about you and Cain and everything? Your demented sex games, the torture, the humiliation?”
Keith seemed a little taken aback at her vehemence. “Isn’t that a bit hard? None of the girls are really hurt—just re-educated. But, well, yes, I’d return you in the state in which you were brought in. Of course, all memories of your experiences here would be wiped out.”
“And these?” Cally frowned down at her breasts.
He shrugged. “I won’t do anything about them. You should have some memento of your time here. But you could say you had them done on the spur of the moment. I could implant that idea as your cover story and have you believe it. I could have you think that you’d always wanted bigger breasts and were saving up for implants. I don’t imagine your boyfriend would complain.”
Cally frowned. He was right about that. “Too true. Franciose will love them, I’m sure,” she observed cynically. “And I admit, I am getting used to them. But I suppose anyone who ever sleeps with me will think I’m a total slut when they feel my pussy. You’ve changed me and now you’re willing to let me go. But why? Why would you let me go? Don’t you get off on having me as your love slave any more?”
Keith shook his head. “You’re my ideal woman: smart, sexy, self-assured with a killer body to boot. Making you submit to me on a daily basis is the most exciting prospect in my life—it’s a fantasy come true. But I’d let you choose to leave because you had a life before. Even though I can Condition, I haven’t done it to change anyone’s life who hasn’t been Conditioned already. You were a present. And though I’ve done some very, uh, questionable things lately, I don’t want to spend more time in Hell than I have to.”
“Getting religious in your old age, Keith?” Cally was amused. “The intellectual I knew in high school was more into Nietchze than Christ. But fine—I’ll take any break I can get. But you’re saying I have a choice. What choice? What would make me stay?”
Keith’s knowing shrug said he might have an answer to that question. “Ah-the fine print! Well, if I was willing to let you go, you would have to pay for your freedom. If it is a price you’re willing to pay, you’re free to go.”
“Price? What price?” Cally demanded. “Just tell me. I’m sick of the guessing game already.”
The sharp intake of breath was Cally’s, the expression of complete condescension Keith’s.
“W-wh-what do you mean? What are you saying?” Her voice was trembling.
“Last night WAS good, wasn’t it? I’ve noticed you’ve even managed to be pleasant today, despite all that’s happened. You heard me, Cally. If you choose to leave, you can. But I’ll Condition you never to have another orgasm again. If you can live with that reality, you’re free to go.”
Cally flushed. Damn him! Before last night, she might have even considered saying yes to his sadistic proposition. But last night, he had given her the best orgasm of her life. It had been more than an orgasm. Francoise had done that for her a few times. No, this orgasm was... sublime. It had racked her from within in a way she had never experienced before. For a crystalline moment she had known just how accurate the term ‘tripping the light fantastic’ truly was. How had he done it?
She had been Conditioned. Of course. The bastard had found her switches and readjusted her to react that way. But only to him. Damn, damn, damn, damn—
“I’m waiting for an answer,” Keith coolly insisted.
There was a second when she actually opened her mouth to say ‘yes.’ But she didn’t. And it wasn’t because she was being Conditioned. In her soul, she knew for that second, she had free will.
“If I say that I’ll stay, what will you do with me? Turn me into some bimbo secretary?” She bit her lower lip apprehensively.
“Oh, no. I already have a bimbo secretary. What I need is a wife.”
Her nails stopped a nervous tattoo they had been beating on the table and looked at him. “A WHAT?”
“A wife.” The answer was simple, straight-forward. “A trophy wife to show off. One I’d pamper and keep in style. It wouldn’t be a bad life.”
Cally pouted. “I suppose you’d keep fucking that Chloe girl.”
Keith nodded. “Yes, I would—or whoever I replaced her with, once I get tired of her. My rules would be clear—I do what I like, you do what I tell you to. Just like an old fashioned wife. But as long as you behaved, " he pointed out, “I’d have no reason to make your life particularly difficult.”
“But you wouldn’t let me be with other men.”
“And no career or job.”
“Except for keeping me happy.”
“And you’d pick out my friends for me, I suppose.”
Keith nodded. “Other Cain executives have spouses—I don’t think you’d be lonely, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Cally considered the vapid life of a pampered wife. And sighed. “What would I be expected to do—other than screw when you wanted to?”
“Keep the house clean, cook for me—in general, serve me like a loving wife. But most importantly, keep yourself as physically fit, attractive and sexy as possible. You’d be given a generous allowance for clothing, cosmetics, and so forth and you’d be expected to use it.”
“And if I didn’t do these things to your satisfaction?” She bit her nail, concentrating on all this.
Keith smirked. “I’d have to take you over my knee. I expect it will be necessary occasionally. You’re a willful girl, one used to having your own way. I won’t turn you into the kind of zombie you were when Klaw gave you to me, but I won’t tolerate disrespect, either. It is safe to say you can expect... correction... from a stern but fair husband.”
Her blue eyes glared at him. “The thing is, you don’t even love me, do you? You just want me as a possession—some sort of bauble to use when you want to.”
Keith nodded, his own eyes registering respect for her analysis. “True. As a possession—but a favorite one. Besides, you do love me. I’m the only man who is capable of making you feel totally like a woman. Like I did last night.”
She nibbled her bottom lip. It wasn’t fair!
“But I still leave the decision to you. Go ahead Cally—make your choice.”
It wasn’t much of a choice. Cally could go back to her life, back to Francoise, to the job she loved at the U.N.—but never again experience an orgasm. Or she could live at least a comfortable life with Keith—he didn’t seem as bad as some of the other jerks at Cain—and enjoy mindshattering orgasms.
“When we...do IT in the future—will it be like last night?”
“If I want it to be.”
Damn! He was so arrogant!
“One last thing.”
Keith’s eyebrows bunch in exasperation. “More? I’m already giving you a choice no other Conditioned female has ever had—and you’re still giving ME conditions?”
Cally pouted. Now that she knew what she was going to answer, she didn’t want to aggravate him too much! “Well, its just that I don’t do windows. Really—I won’t.”
Keith laughed. “How about a domestic to do the housework for you?”
Cally nodded. “Yes, promise me a maid and I’ll agree to marry you.”
“Done.” And with that he handed her a ring. She gawked at it—it was a diamond that demanded gawking, easily three carats.
“I convinced a girl at Tiffany’s to ring it up at no charge for me. Very generous of her, wouldn’t you say?”
Cally slipped it on, hypnotized by it. “I love it!”
Keith nodded. “Of course you do.”