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The training of Ophelia

By´╝ÜSuzanne Steele

Prologue: I eyed the man sitting across the table from me—was this really what I wanted for my life; the rest of my life?

Suddenly I felt as if I needed to escape—just bolt.

You know, get up and run from the restaurant, as I screamed, “noooooooooo!”

“Olivia, are you even listening to me? I just don’t understand why in the world that you would want to go and do a story on a bunch of freaks. You know that they have studies that prove that those people have issues, mental and emotional issues.

I mean really Olivia, what are people going to think if they run across that little article of yours and read about a mansion that houses slaves. That is just weird, Olivia.”

“Well Bob, since you are convinced that no one reads my ‘little article’ about ‘those people’ anyway, then it shouldn’t make a bit of difference if I write it. None of the important people that you associate with would bother to read anything that I wrote, right Bob?”

“Now you’re offended Olivia, I can tell.”

“What do you expect Bob, or maybe I should ask myself, what do I expect? What do I expect from a pompous, uptight, narcissistic, judgmental, and egotistical man, such as you?”

I think that the cloth napkin hit him in the face when I threw it, I didn’t bother to turn around and look.

To tell the truth up until now, I wasn’t going to do the story. I think that Bob would have done much better keeping his mouth shut.

Now all that he had done was convince me that I didn’t want to be like him.

I didn’t want to be the uptight, rich socialite who considered anyone that didn’t run in my circles, to be beneath me. All of the people that Bob associated with; acted just like him.

I had no intentions of spending the rest of my life trying to measure up to Bob and his cronies.

I would go and do one interview and if I liked it and felt comfortable, I would stay, and if I didn’t; then I would leave. How hard could that be?





Chapter One


Master Richard Baron

I sat with my fingers interlocked behind my neck and let my mind wander. I had everything that a man could want, but to put it simply—I was bored.

I had money, power, and all the right friends.

I had women who would die just to be with me—trained women, some of the most beautiful women in the world, and yet I was bored.

Maybe this reporter that was coming in would stir things up. I had no doubt, that she already had me stirred up. She had no idea who I was, and she most certainly had no idea that I had become intrigued with her.

I was sure that she would be mad when she found out that she had been manipulated, but she would get over it. After all, I held her job in my hands, and these were trying times to be unemployed. She really didn’t want to displease me. She would find out soon enough that I was a man who was accustomed to getting, having, and keeping his way.





The Beginning



I entered the abode that could only be described as what it was—a mansion.

I was here to do a story for the magazine that I write for. So much of the arrangement had been a veiled mystery. In fact, if it weren’t for the fact that I had a popular column in the magazine, I doubt that I would have ever been privy to even the knowledge that such a place existed.

When I had been called in to do the story, I had simply been directed to show up on this evening—at this time, and so my story begins…

I was greeted in the foyer by a nude woman who donned nothing but black stripper heels, a mask, and wrist and ankle black leather cuffs; with o rings on each of them. I was then led into what appeared to be a sitting parlor.

I was mesmerized by the opulence which surrounded me. The attention to detail was incredible to say the least. Every piece of furniture was a high end antique. They were large and grand pieces, each one boasting of more prestige and wealth than its predecessor.

It was evident that many of them had come from Europe; pieces like these were not available in the states.

I purposely made my way to a corner and made myself as inconspicuous as possible.

It did not take long for curious looks and whispers to ensue; directed towards my presence. I’m sure that I was an unfamiliar face, and as ‘cloak and dagger’ as this establishment was, it was cause for people’s curiosity to be piqued.

The patrons all wore masks—as I am sure that discretion was a must for the rich and powerful that graced this occasion. It did not take long for the events of the evening to get started.

The woman who had greeted me was brought in and strapped to a table; by the cuffs that she adorned. In a matter of seconds, individuals in the crowd began to accost her strapped down body as onlookers watched.

I sat with pen in hand taking notes and already making plans in my mind on my escape route.

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