Part Four: A Visit to Selfridge's

It had been four years since Abigail Taylor had been to Selfridge's department store in London, and as she browsed the aisles of clothing her mind was focused more on the past than it was on the present. When she was last in the store she was known as Abigail Stewart, and was accompanied by her lover, and Mistress, Jessica Smythe. What a wonderful day it had been!

It seemed as though 'Life' had been getting in the way of their life together at that time, and there was nothing they could do about it. So they made the most of what time they had together, whether it was an hour, or four hours, or an entire day.

Their time together was simply limited by their professions. Abigail was an intelligence agent. When she had first met Jessica, Abby owned a travel agency in Leicester Square. That business would later serve as a cover for her foreign travels. Jessica had recruited her into the Service and had been her Handler before she was promoted to run the entire Special Actions Unit. While Jessica put in long hours running the SAU, Abigail was frequently out of town for weeks at a time, all the while serving Her Majesty's Secret Service; not in the way of a female James Bond, but in her own professional and highly efficient manner. Because of their schedules, the two women were happy to spend any amount of time together, no matter how brief.

"How about this? I think it would look great on you."

Abigail looked across the rack of dresses to her husband, Peter. He was holding up a sun dress with a flowery print which she was prepared to dismiss just on the principle that he had picked it out, but it actually did look very nice.

"I'll try it on, thank you dear."

She often wondered if her terms of endearment were believable to the man or not. They were two former spies married to each other; two people whose lives had once depended on being able to lie convincingly and to detect lies when they heard them. Her entire life was a lie now. Did he suspect? She didn't think so. As far as she could tell, the Major believed she was the perfect, Regenerated, wife.

It was hard work keeping up the facade of the loving wife, but it was well worth the effort. She knew things could've been so much worse for her had the Major not plucked her out of that Regeneration Unit when he did. The reprogramming was becoming harder and harder for her to resist, and she had begun to worry she would wake up one morning and feel the urge to vacuum a carpet, or look pretty for her trainer, or...or want to suck his cock. She had pulled it off, though, and had not succumbed to the drug fueled electro-brainwashing the Moral Regeneration Unit inflicted upon 'degenerate lezzbo's' like herself.

The science behind their methods was sound, and possibly more advanced than SAU's, but Abby had been trained to withstand similar behaviour modification techniques. To her, the rewards stimuli for "proper" thought process versus the punishment stimuli for "deviant" thoughts and actions were so transparent, it was easy for her to see them for what they were. The difficult part was acting as if the Regeneration process was working on her. To be that convincing she had to play the part, but not too quickly or too slowly. This is where the program failed. By not isolating the women she was able to see how the reprogramming was affecting the others, allowing her to mimic their responses. She felt badly for the other women, trapped in the misogynistic nightmare with her, but she had been taught to save herself first and then see what she could do to help others.

Thumbing through the clothes rack, Abigail came across two more dresses that she thought might look good on her small frame.

"I'll try these on, if that's okay," she announced, as she held up her choices and reached over to take the sun dress from Peter.

Peter gave an approving nod, and moved towards the end of the rack where the dressing rooms were located. "I'll be over in Men's, hun."

Abby gave him a smile and then stood up on her toes to give him a peck on the cheek. The perfect, loving, wife...that was her. She entered the small cubicle and exhaled. Is this my life? How the hell can I live like this for the rest of my life?

She could make a run for it, maybe try to get to Scotland, but with the fucking tracker chip in her head the MRU would be on to her in no time. Maybe she could get help from the Kink Support Network, but in the past two years she had not figured out how that might be done. What kind of spy was she if she couldn't figure out how to make contact with the underground organization? Damn it!

Slipping out of the short dress she was wearing, Abigail looked at herself in the mirror. Her hands went down to the shiny silver plated chastity belt that the Major had bought for her, and ran her fingers along the finely machined edges. I trust you not to stray, hun, but this will be a deterrent to other men who might try something with you. Right. Like someone would even think to try something with her.

They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but since Abigail lost her one true love she just didn't feel pretty anymore. She didn’t want to be desired by anyone. Argghh!  Those thoughts had to stop! She couldn’t allow herself to dwell on her misery, or the resulting depression would give away her unhappiness. Everyone knew a Regenerated woman was a happy woman. Keep it together Abbs, you can do this!

Wiping away a tear, Abby went to work trying on the dresses. Surprisingly, the only one that looked halfway decent was the one Peter had found for her. That actually made her smile, but that slight feeling of happiness disturbed her. Was it the Regeneration programming that initiated that response from her? Did the thought of pleasing her 'husband' make her feel good and smile? Or was it a natural feeling of happiness that her friend had made a good choice? Sometimes she just felt like she was losing her mind!

Even though she was a lesbian, forced into a hetero relationship, it didn't negate the fact that she and the Major were close friends before her whole world spiraled down the toilet. She would've felt the same happiness before her incarceration had Peter been the one to find a nice dress for her.

These thoughts helped to put her mind at ease as she stripped out of the dress and slipped back into her own clothing. She made her purchase and then went in search of Peter. When she found him he was talking to a tall lanky bald man, and an equally tall, slim, and very attractive woman. The man looked very familiar, but Abby couldn't put a name to the face. When Peter spotted her his face lit up and he waved her over.

"There she is now," he said to the man. "Honey, this is Sir Nigel Green, and his wife Patricia. My wife, Abigail." Abby shook their hands and then stood close to Peter, looping her arm through his. "Sir Nigel is the Director of State Security."

Now the face and the name merged. State Security! Abigail hugged against Peter just a little bit closer, and felt his free hand hold onto her arm in a very comforting manner. She looked up at him, and saw that look of absolute confidence that always made her feel safe. At that moment she knew that all she had to do was to stay calm and sink into her role as Peter's wife; he would do the rest. After all, that was one of the foundations of the Regeneration programming: men are more intelligent so it's only fitting that they should make the decisions. A woman's place is by her man's side, to support him, to love him, to give him whatever he wants and desires. Doesn't it make you so happy to provide these things for your man? VOMIT!

Abby took a deep breath and let her lips form into her most genuine smile as she looked up at Peter. As her concentration returned to the conversation she realized they were being invited to join the Greens for dinner at Selfridge's premier restaurant, Aubaine. It turned out to be a fabulous meal of Filet de Beouf for Peter, and Poulet Paillard for her. Sir Nigel was certainly an entertaining dinner companion, and his stories were wild and vividly told. Abigail took a special interest in an intriguing tale of heroism by a young Lieutenant Taylor in Colonel Green's battalion in the Middle East. It was a day that made a Captain out of the young officer.

It was obvious that Peter had made a favorable impression on Sir Nigel, and after the desserts were consumed the two men ordered brandies and began talking about the positive changes the Prime Minister and his government had been making, and what new laws might be enacted in 2028. At this point, Patricia looked over at Abigail and said, "Come, girl. Shopping would be much more fun than listening to these two ramble on about politics."

Come girl? Just like that? It was more of a command than an invitation - a command given by the wife of the Director of State Security. As much as she did not want to leave with this woman, she already knew she really had no choice.

"Yes, yes, you gals go shopping for a bit while the Major and I catch up," Sir Nigel said with a raised brandy snifter.

Abigail looked at Peter and received half a shrug as if to say he was helpless to intercede, and then blew her a kiss.

Patricia was already at full pace, and Abby had to run to catch up. The woman had much longer legs and she used them to propel herself quickly out of the restaurant. With Abigail in tow, they visited the leather shop where Patricia bought two new purses, the cosmetics counter where she sat Abby down in the sales chair and had one of the counter girls freshen up her drab makeup, and then finally the shoe store.

All of the activity, with the fast pace, the bending, sitting, and standing was causing the chastity belt to work in unwanted ways against Abigail's crotch. Whether the Major had done it on purpose or not she couldn't know, but he had purchased a crotch strap that had bumpy protrusions along the inside surface, and those protrusions had been rubbing against her in the the most sensitive of spots. By the time they made it to the shoe store Abby was becoming quite horny. But it wasn't just the nubby crotch strap that was arousing her; Patricia's dominant demeanor was also having its affect on her. She was sure the woman hadn't a clue what her take-charge attitude could do to a person who was so naturally submissive, but it was most definitely taking its toll.

When Patricia sat down in one of the plush chairs, a saleswoman quickly came to her assistance.

"May I help you with anything?"

Patricia waved her off. "No thank you, dear. We'll be fine on our own."

Just as Abby set the bag containing Patricia's new hand bags on the floor and was about to sit down, the woman pointed at some high heels on the neighboring table and said, "Be a dear, and find those in a size four for me."

She'd been carrying Patricia's bags, following her around the shops like a loyal puppy dog, and now she was fetching her shoes to try on? She had some nerve! But she was probably used to people fawning all over her and jumping when she said "Jump!" Her husband was most likely one of the most powerful men in all of England, so she wasn't someone who was often told "no". Abigail was certainly not going to say no to her! She just wanted this day over as quickly as possible. Thoughts of returning home and having the belt removed was beginning to consume her thoughts. A quick trip to the bathroom to relieve her pent up urges, and then into the welcome envelope of her bed sheets.

"Are those the right size, girl?" Patricia sat up a little straighter and crossed her leg to extend her foot forwards.

"Yes, ma'am," Abigail replied instinctively, and then immediately blushed. She hadn't called anyone ma'am since...Jessica. She knelt down on the floor and busied herself with taking one of the heels out of the box and removing the tissue from the toe. Patricia's foot was still hovering in mid-air so Abby leaned forward to remove her heel, and replace it with the new one. The woman tilted her foot one way and then the other and then placed her foot on the floor.

"Might as well try them both on, do you mind?" She moved her other foot forward and Abby understood her implied instruction. After quickly removing the wad of tissue from the toe of the other shoe, she switched it with the old shoe on Patricia's foot. Patricia looked at the shoe, stood up, and walked around to look at other displays. Pointing at one, she asked Abby to find her size.

This went on for nearly an hour, all the while Abby was stewing in her chastity belt, and in her mind. The sensations down below were fueling the arousal she began to feel from serving this woman. Mixed in with that was the uneasy feeling of danger that came with knowing who this woman was married to. Just as when she was working abroad, picking up dead drop messages from deep cover operatives, the adrenaline rush from the activity was real. She knew any misstep might result in a call to the MRU, and she would be back in the Program. If that were to happen...well she didn't want to think about it!

At last, Patricia found a pair of shoes that even Abigail thought looked nice on her. Together, they made their way back to the lounge just outside the restaurant where they had left their men, and reconnected. After saying their good-bye's Peter and Abigail  headed off to their car.

Once they arrived home, Peter unlocked Abigail's chastity belt, and asked her to take care of her bathroom needs so he could go in. Feeling somewhat pressured to get out quickly, Abby reluctantly relented to not masturbate as she had so feverishly wanted to do. What's another disappointment, she thought as she finished her business and came out to climb, naked, into their large bed. She reached over and clicked off the table lamp on her side of the bed, and pulled the sheet up over her, facing away from the Major's side of the bed.

When Peter came out of the bathroom, he stripped down and sat on the bed next to her. "Roll over, hun, let me put some of this on you."

"Huh?" Abigail looked over her shoulder and saw he was holding the moisturizer cream. She rolled onto her back and watched as he squirted some cream onto his hand and then massaged it in where the belt had gone around her waist. A little more was applied, and he rubbed it around on her belly and lower, towards her crotch. Gay or not, that felt damn good.

"I won't insist you wear the belt very often, Abby. You can wear it when ever you want, of course, but sometimes I'll want you to be in it. It might be important at times."

Abigail wondered what he meant by that, but accepted that he was "the man" of the house, and expected her to obey.

"Okay, darling," she replied, looking at his muscled torso. Scars from some distant war, maybe from the Middle East where Sir Nigel had been his commanding officer, crossed his flesh in several places. One round scar on his upper chest was from a bullet. That one she was well aware of its source.

With Abby's skin moisturized, Peter put the lotion on his nightstand and turned off the light, leaving the room in semi-darkness, lit now only by the lights from the city outside.

"I'm sorry about all that today, Abby."

"All of what?"

"You know, Sir Nigel," he said the name in a sing-song manner. "He sort of cornered me, and there was no getting away from him, and then it was dinner, and then it was drinks." Peter's warm hand came up and held onto Abby's bare shoulder and then caressed down her arm. "I'm sorry you had to go with Patricia. I wasn't planning on staying out that long with you in your new belt."

"It was okay," Abigail whispered.

"I admire your strength, hun," Peter said as he continued to gently stroke her arm. His body pressed up against her backside and Abigail could feel his arousal against her bare rear.

"You do?" she asked, leaning back against him and feeling his hand come down to cup her breast. His hand felt good on her as he gently massaged her tit, and she could feel how his fingers were quickly arousing her nipples. 

"Of course, and I loved what you did with your makeup while you were out with Patricia. You looked so pretty when you came back, did you like that look?"

She definitely didn't like the attention she was getting as the sales staff hovered around her, or Patricia standing there controlling the entire scene, but she had to admit she felt prettier afterwards than she had in a long time.

"I did," she whispered back and then began turning over onto her back.

Peter began to move his leg over her body, but she continued her roll, pushing him back onto the bed. When she came to a stop she was laying on top of him. His arms came around her to hold her in his embrace, and she leaned down to kiss him.

There had been many times in the past two years when she had been forced to endure his sexual advances, all in the name of preserving the pretense of her role as his Regenerated wife. At that moment, though, it was she who desired that closeness. Was it the left over effects of the chastity belt, or the way he cared about her, or was she still succumbing to the lingering effects of the Regeneration programming?

She wasted no time on trying to psycho-analyze her emotions as she pressed herself onto his manhood and felt him enter her. She raised herself up slightly so that her breasts were free to brush against his chest. The thin silver chain around her neck dragged along with her as she moved.

Peter had given her the chain on the day he appeared at the MRU to pick her up. It had a small silver retangular pendant on it that had 'Property of Peter Taylor' neatly inscribed on it. He said the chain was in lieu of a collar, and told her to never take it off. It was a command she had obeyed.

If she was to be sentenced to be any man's property she was glad she was Peter's. He had been very good to her, and, for all intents and purposes, was a loving husband. She failed to understand why he had chosen her, but he had.

With Abby in control for once, their love making began slowly. She imagined his hard member was a dildo, being used on her by her Mistress. It felt good as she rocked back and forth on it. As her arousal grew, her tempo increased as well. Peter raised his hips to further his penetration and Abigail dug her fingers into his chest as she rode him.

Eyes closed, Abby soaked in the pleasure of the moment, letting all of her worries dissapate around her. In her mind she was using him for sex, a thought that made it much more acceptable than the other way around. Still, the feeling of his male hardness inside of her created a repulsion that nearly prevented her orgasm. Nearly, but not successfully.

When it finally came, her orgasm made her cry out. She hadn't expected anything of that magnitude, and she instantly hated herself for her unfaithfulness to her Mistress. What had she done?!

Still quivering from the after-shocks of her lust, Abby felt Peter wrap her in his arms and roll her sideways to the bed. He pulled the sheet up over her and tucked it down between them before snuggling up against her.

"Shhh," Peter whispered as he heard his wife's quiet crying. "Everything will be okay, I promise."

Through her tears, Abby knew everything would never be okay.