A Change Of Perspective

Nancy Rote’s Great Secret

Written by Mr. David Reese Dorrycott for Mr. Simon Barber

Nancy Rote is Copyright Mr. Simon Barber, used with permission.

WARNING MATURE THEMES, VIOLENCE & RAPE

Young Nancy Rote, as was her habit at this time of day, was sitting in the Parlor. She was curled up in her favorite overstuffed chair with the watery sun behind her. It was an afternoon sun that was gently warming her soft blond fur as she read her favorite book, ‘The Three Musketeers.’ This was her third reading of that story, and each time she found herself more and more identifying with one of the stories characters. It was simple escapism of course, for the pretty young squirrel had never in her life held anything more dangerous than a carving knife. Still reading was better than wandering the streets of her home town of Creekside on such a day. Especially with the humidity as high as it currently was and rain threatening. There would be rain by evening she knew, perhaps that would remove some of this oppressive fur wilting humidity. With her father again out of town on one of his political trips (she was certain he was aiming for the Governors mansion this time, at least from his latest hints) and the housekeeper out with her husband shopping, Nancy was alone. This wasn’t really all that unusual though, as it happened more often as she grew older.

Though only a teenager, being alone didn’t bother the girl. After all, she was already almost a legal adult. She had her own car, a drivers license and a key to the house. She could buy and use tobacco if she wanted, and had done so, though her father had been much upset about the smell in her fur. If something went wrong, why all she had to do was call on the telephone for help, or better yet simply drive off. Besides, her home was set well back from the main road. It was almost invisible to her neighbors. due to her grandfathers heavy planting of screening fir trees. Though visitors were not uncommon, more than three a week would be unusual in this neighborhood when her father was away. Thus it was with no concern that she ignored the sound of a car coming up the drive, not bothering to even look up until the sound of her doorbell came to her ears. Perhaps one of her chums had come to visit, and to covertly sample yet another of Nancy’s expensive tobacco finds.

Setting her book aside she stood, taking a moment to push her fur back into place and check her tail for will-o-the-wisp fur strands. After all, being the daughter of one of Creekside’s richest and most successful business men carried more than a bit of social weight with it. Unlike her older brother, the well known college football player, she might get away with being unkempt after an adventure once in a while. Certainly after working her way through ages old tunnels as she had just a month ago, while searching for clues. But at home she must appear always the Lady. Not only her social position would be affected, her fathers position and reputation would be affected as well.

Opening the front door Nancy found herself facing a tall, well built zebra wearing a very black suit. He currently stood politely a few steps back from the door, holding his black boller hat in his paws. She easily noted a salesman’s case sitting ready on the porch next to him. Everything about the man screamed professional door to door salesman. “Pardon my intrusion young lady” he said in greeting, his voice very deep, yet so soft as to be calming. “Is Mr. William Rote available? My name is Phillip Albert Simmons. I have an appointment to meet him at this time today.”

Oddly finding herself strongly attracted to the zebra, though he really wasn’t her favorite type, Nancy returned his politeness with a beaming smile of her own. “I’m sorry Mr. Simmons” the young squirrel answered. “Father was called away to the capital for an important meeting yesterday morning. If you would leave your card, I will be certain to see that it is placed in his paws upon his return.”

“Oh dear, I had so hoped” the older male not quite complained. “Still, one can not control unexpected events. Yes of course, my card.” He reached into his coat, withdrawing a beautiful black leather case chased with silver, its style in the just passed Art Nouveau tradition. Carefully opening it he withdrew a heavy card made of obviously expensive stock.

Nancy noted his name and occupation printed in embossed letters upon the card. “Encyclopedias?” she asked upon reading the pale ivory card. “But, we already have a very good set.”

“Oh no Miss Rote. I am here to show him the latest Britannica.” He dragged a legal letter sized envelope from his jacket, offering it to Nancy. “I was informed by his letter that he will be one of those responsible for buying new sets for the towns schools, and as Britannica has been published since 1768, I feel this it is the best purchase he could make. And not simply because I work for them, but because I have made a point of comparing Britannica against all other publications of its style. ”

Accepting the envelope Nancy easily deduced by the paw writing style that it was from her father, as was the letter asking Mr,. Simmons to drop by. “Oh. Yes. Father did accept that position on the school board” she admitted as she returned both letter and envelope. “Please, are they really better than the ones we have now? I mean, they were published just in 1929 after all.”

“Well..” Simmons coughed as he replaced the letter into his jacket’s inner pocket. “Might I have some water. Please?”

Nancy felt mollified. Here she had stood in the cool shade of her home while this very polite salesman had been standing in the direct sun, what sun there was. Why, with his worker class rough black suit on the poor stallion must be melting. “Please come in. I will be delighted to get you a glass of cool water. It is from our own well of course.” She made way for the salesman to enter, and though he tried hard not to show it, Nancy’s amateur trained sleuth’s eye told him he was grateful for the kindness. “Please take any chair in the parlor. I will be right back.” She rushed off to the kitchen, forgetting to close the main door so intent was she upon returning with water for her handsome guest.

When she returned, having taken a moment to place the salesman’s card on a silver dish placed on her fathers desk meant for such things, Nancy carried a large glass of fresh cool well water in her paws. She took only a moment to close the front door before returning to the Parlor, where she found Mr. Simmons sitting quietly, his case open beside him and two brownish-red volumes in his lap. “Thank you” he said as he accepted the glass, almost immediately drinking half of it in one swallow. “It has been a long day I am afraid, and I have had very few sales. If you would be so kind, as you had asked about this, I would like to show you one of my favorite differences in our newest edition.”

Nancy decided to that this opportunity to practice being the perfect hostess. After all, with her mother long buried it was now up to her to act as hostess, and the more practice she had, the better that she would be. “Of course Mr. Simmons” she agreed. “I would be delighted to listen to you. You see, I’m alone until Judith and George return from shopping later this evening. It will be a delightful break from my reading to listen to you.”

Smiling openly the stallion reached for both books. “Very well Miss, if you are truly interested.”

Simmons laid both books on the table before him as Nancy sat across from him, as was socially acceptable. She couldn’t help but notice his scent. Strong, still sweet even after a long hot morning. Nancy pushed a very unladylike thought from her mind as she leaned forward to see. Unladylike, but at her age quite normal. For the squirrel had barely kissed her boyfriend twice. Certainly nothing more. Not until she was married, but nature had her own rules and the stallion was so darn... Interesting.

Opening each book to tabbed pages Simmons pointed out each difference. Between new additions and corrections she discovered that many things had changed. “I have selected a small Pacific Island nation for my example. Mainly because the three differences I wish to point out are all in one volume. As you can see, in our 1929 edition there was no mention of the Schneider Trophy races annually held there. This nation, called the Spontoon Island Independencies, was barely of any interest in 1929. Why, as you can see there is barely two paragraphs about it in the ‘29 edition. In our 1934 edition there is over a page of material.”

“Schneider Trophy” Nancy asked, for she had almost no knowledge of aviation. She had only seen an aircraft twice in fact.

“Yes Mam.” Selecting another tabbed page the zebra opened the older book to that page. “I often am asked about that” he admitted. “It is an annual international competition between nations. It is designed to determine whom has the fastest, most reliable and maneuverable amphibian aircraft. That is an aircraft that is able to land on both water or land. The Schneider Trophy Race was originally held in Great Britain, until as many Frenchman have claimed, they stole the trophy. Now, as you see here...” He returned to the newer edition. “Each years statistics are listed regarding that race. Also involving aviation.” He returned to the Spontoon page. “We find that one of the three already premier boarding schools for young adventuress women interested in flying is located on Spontoon. In fact it could be claimed that Songmark was the first, as its papers were filed a full four months before the Spanish school. Though they officially opened several months later than that school. ”

Tapping the older volume he shook his head negatively. “You see Miss Rote, in 1929 Songmark did not exist. In truth, the other two are in South Africa and Spain. Though with the civil war expanding there, I much doubt that Spain’s school will be open for some time. Along with expanding upon the basic information, that being Government, imports, export, population and gross national income for example, detail upon the unique mixture of peoples, their rituals, religion and such have been added.”

“I see” Nancy agreed. “I simply must tell father about this. Why, how could anyone expect to know what the world is like. When they are using outdated resources. Our schools simply must have these new books, and I intend to see that they have them.” She was breathing out of h mouth now, for the stallions scent had filled the room and her young body was reacting to it. It was a small challenge not to swoon right then and there.

“Thank you Miss Rote” the zebra exclaimed, though not so loudly as to be crass. “Your enthusiasm is a wonderful change to what I have experienced on average. You see, most of the people I meet seem to believe that what was good enough for their grand-fathers is good enough for their children.” As he spoke he began carefully packing away his books.

“I am well able to understand that” Nancy agreed as she stood. “How will father be able to contact you again?”

“That depends Miss, upon when he will return. I must leave for Jefferson City on Sunday. I have an appointment with the school board Monday morning, and prefer to be refreshed at such gatherings. They always have many questions. Do you know if he will return before then?”

“I honestly do not know” the young girl admitted. “Usually he is home after three days. That would be tomorrow. But he has been away for a week on occasion. Is it possible for you to leave your contract information with me, so that I may give it to him when he returns? I am certain that he will want to buy your product Mr. Simmons. I will admit that he will haggle, yet father is an honest man. I am certain that he would never try to cheat you. And I do want to own such a collection myself. It is so difficult to keep up with the rapid pace of changes in our world I find.”

“Certainly Miss Rote. I would be delighted by your kind assistance.” Placing the last book into his case the zebra started hunting within it, finally giving up to look apologetically at Nancy. “I must apologize. I forgot to refill my case at my last sale. All I have here are completed contracts. If you would be so kind, I will take my case back to the car and bring you a blank copy. I have hundreds in the trunk of course.”

“Certainly sir” Nancy agreed. “Please finish your water. I will return the glass to our kitchen while you retrieve your contract. Oh father will be so thrilled.” Thus she soon walked Mr. Simmons to the front door, his empty glass in her paw, its warmth sending an odd tingle through her arm. As he walked towards his car, a 1931 Viking she noted, Nancy returned the glass to her kitchen. Judith would clean it later, though Nancy often did dishes herself. But her book was waiting and she so much wanted to finish at least one more chapter before the Wrights returned from their weekly shopping trip. Yet, standing alone within the kitchen she felt a warmth flowing through her body. A warmth she had not felt since Thomas had kissed her the first time. ‘Oh’ she thought. ‘If I were not expected to be the proper lady, I would kiss him. Right now.’

So long did she take that when she returned to her front door she found Mr. Simmons was already there, a large manila envelope in his paws. Opening the door again she smiled up at the handsome zebra, finding it difficult not to just step into his arm for a chaste kiss. Or not so chase, for he was a tremendous example of a healthy stallion. A very healthy stallion she admitted to herself.

“I have a presentation I leave when adults are not at home” Mr. Simmons explained as Nancy approached. “It has a contract, some advertisements and a small booklet of example changes. Perhaps it will help you when you next speak to your father.” He held out the envelope in his left paw, waiting for Nancy to accept it.

“Why thank you. It will be perfect. And you will call here when you return from Jefferson City?” She reached for the envelope, her eyes unconsciously flickering down to watch her paw grasp its surface. Doing so, she never saw the blow coming.

Phillip Albert Simmons, Door to Door Encyclopedia salesman, and hunter of pretty young women, reached beside the doorway after Nancy had fallen. He picked up what looked to be a small first aid case that he had placed there, just out of the young squirrels sight. Stepping into the home he first roughly dragged Nancy’s body clear, then shut and locked its front door. Sitting his bag down beside the unconscious girl he boldly walked further in. William Rote’s office was easy for him to find. It being on the first floor, with its door still open. Noting his card artfully displayed on a silver dish Simmons smiled to himself. Someone had trained Nancy Rote well in the social graces. That she had so well remembered her original training would be helpful in her new life, for the ones who had hired him had an entirely new training ready for his prize. Taking out his own fountain pen he wrote a message to the absent father upon the envelope, signed it, then returned to the crumpled body lying within the foyer.

Kneeling next to Nancy’s unconscious body the zebra opened his bag. Reaching within he removed a glass bottle, its rose colored contents seeming to glow under the fading sunlight. Opening the bottle he first forced the squirrels mouth open, then poured a small measure of the liquid onto her tongue. Reflex caused the girl to swallow that sweet tasting liquid. A short time later her breathing slowed further, becoming soft, measured. Closing his bottle the zebra reached down, opening his victims blouse. A few seconds work with a pocket knife and Nancy’s ripe young chest was open to his view. Simmons smiled an ugly smile, then taking one pale pink nipple between two fingers he twisted brutally. Nancy hardly moaned in response to his brutal action. “Very good” he whispered, pulling her skirt up with one paw. What he found after a short examination made him lick his lips in anticipation. “A truly good girl” he laughed, throwing the skirt back down. “All nice and neatly packaged. Why, in truth you haven’t yet found a boy. How wonderful. I am so going to enjoy you. Quite a bit.”

Reaching back into his bag he withdrew several adjustable leather straps. Moving quickly, yet with obvious practice, he soon had the young girl packaged how he wanted her. Had Nancy been aware, she would have been screaming in pain so tightly was she bound. Satisfied with his work Simmons closed his bag, then reached down and grabbed Nancy’s tail, now looped under her bound arms. Without even a grunt of effort he lifted her, carrying her by her tail as he carried his sample case. In fact, from a distance one might even think that was what he was carrying so tightly had the young girl been bound. For outside it had begun to mist ever so lightly, a mist that would make competent observation from the nearest neighbors home impossible. So competent was he in his drugs effectiveness that Simmons didn’t even bother with a gag. He simply dropped his prize into the boot of his vehicle onto a waiting traveling blanket, a very cheap blanket. Then he threw its excess over her body, placing special case beside the no invisible squirrel. A few minutes later he had pulled up to the next neighbors house, pausing before exiting his vehicle in order to update his salesman’s log, adding a star next to Nancy’s address. After all, her father might be shattered by his missing daughter, he though still had to act as if everything was aboveboard. However the dot in that stars center would always remind him that he had taken a souvenir from that home. It was one of many, many such dots.

Four hours latter Judith and her husband, the Rote’s long time housemaid and gardener, returned from their shopping trip. A soft mist had been falling for some time now, one that would soon become a light rain. Immediately Judith started preparing a small supper, expecting that Nancy was taking a nap as she sometimes did at this time. It wasn’t until over an hour later, when she went to Nancy’s bedroom to wake her that Judith discovered she wasn’t there. It was another half hour before she and her husband were certain that the girl was no where in the house, or working on her beloved car. Another half hour was thrown away making fruitless calls to Nancy’s chums. No, they hadn’t seen her since last Saturday. When everyone went to the movies. Perhaps she should call the police? Judith though was used to Nancy wandering off. Instead of taking their advice, she and her husband foolishly waited calmly until nearly ten in the evening before accepting that something was desperately wrong. Another twenty minutes passed before the police themselves arrived. By then the rain was a soft, steady downpour. By midnight it would be a storm.

Simmons though had long before parked in a secluded place he had been directed to a week before. A farmhouse that had burned down long ago, the properties for sale sign old, apparently forgotten. Here he would turn his prize over to the middlefur, who would herself insure its safe delivery to those who had commissioned this hunt. Walking to the drives entrance he reached into the brush, pulling out several old boards that had been a rotting fence when he first found his new playground. Rebuilding the gate as best as he could remember, the zebra returned to his car and his new toy. Nancy wasn’t the first young girl he had gathered in for an employer. In truth, dozens of schools had received unexpected gifts of new encyclopedias ‘from a friend.’ That money having come from his pay for such hunting.

This girl though somewhat bothered him. Nancy Rote had been very polite with him, unlike most of the others. She had shown real interest in his product, and true kindness in her heart. Even more so she appeared very intelligent. He was certain that he had noticed interest for him in her eyes. Her tail had twice started to lock sideways, until she had discretely arranged it in such a position that it could not. And it was such a delicious looking tail as well. Turning her over to his employers now insured her life would be destroyed. Even if they some day released her, she would be lucky if her family even acknowledged her existence. She would be no more than a battered creature, barely able to survive without a strong owner. He’d seen it too many times in his fifteen years of gathering in such girls. This young woman he realized was a prize, one he should take for himself. Still he had been paid and he was, if anything, an honest man. In his own way.

Throwing aside the blanket he checked his prizes condition. Still heavily drugged, still breathing. A very healthy girl he decided. That was good, as she was going to need all her strength in the years to come. That pleased him also as twice now this very year the girls he had collected had ended up dead before he could deliver them. That had cost him money, and money was the only thing he truly cared for at the moment. Money and his long ago subjugated sister. For money was needed to pay his ranch mortgage, and his sister was only worth keeping because she was a good business manager. Lifting Nancy out of his car as he had placed her into it, by her tail, he laid her on the now wet ground. A few minutes work removed all the straps, then another few minutes work with his razor sharp jackknife removed all her clothing. Finished he stood, closing his jackknife carefully even while studying the beauty before him. Lying on her own ruined clothing Nancy Rote, even unconscious, was heartbreakingly attractive. Again he felt pain in his heat for her future. For in truth, upon meeting her he had been struck by her beauty. Exactly, he suddenly realized, as he had been struck by his long dead wife upon their first meeting. It was too late though, for he had accepted the money, had already sent it to the bank that held his ranch’s paper. Not to turn over this prize would, in the end cost him much more than simple money. It would cost him his reputation, and what was a man without a good reputation in his chosen field after all.

Silently wishing that he had met Nancy before taking this job, Simmons carefully began removing his own clothing. Part of his price was first dibs, in that at least he could take some pleasure. He was a very fertile stallion, so many of the girls he had collected ended up pregnant from him. But an unconscious maiden wasn’t going to be easy, so he opened his first aidl bag again. From it he withdrew a bottle of his favorite multi-use wonder chemical. Vaseline was such a wonderful product, useful in so very many ways. Thus, when he was ready, a touch of his finger to Nancy’s lips as though to warn her to remain silent, a sudden thrust and the zebra was within his own version of Heaven. It would not be his only use of the girls body, for Albert Simmons found himself filled with the need to insure that Nancy carried his child. Thus, by the time her second mode of transportation arrived the zebra had quite exhausted himself, though Nancy’s unconscious body seemed willing to continue. At least to him it appeared that her body desired to hold him yet a bit longer. Nor was she a maiden anymore, in any sense of the word.

Though she would never in her life know it, the zebra stallion that she had found herself so attracted too had been her first customer. An energetic yet nonpaying one yes, soon enough though. If her new owners had their way she would have others. Many others. Perhaps thousands before her body either was no longer attractive, or could no longer accept the abuse. Within the hour, and a second dose of Simmons drug her well used body was again hidden away, this time in a battered old delivery truck. Now she was packed away inside a crate marked potatoes that was headed for the low income side of Creekside.

Not quite at eleven pm Phillip Simmons looked up from his rooms desk at a sharp knock on his door. A quick glance at his watch surprised him, it had taken this long for the girls housemaid to call the police and them to find him? He had expected the police to be waiting when he returned to his rented room, Nancy’s scent still strong upon him. By now though he had bathed and re-scented himself. A cold bath to be certain, yet it was his habit to bathe daily. “One moment” he called, setting his pen aside. Standing, he picked his jacket up from the chair he’d been sitting in, walking unhurriedly to his door. He was a suspect, but he was certain that they had already looked within his vehicle. That no evidence of Miss Rote was observable within it, in fact to his knowledge existed, meant that they hadn’t broken down his door. Even the blanket she had been wrapped in had vanished, taking her scent and any loose fur with it. It had been left behind with her ruined clothing, to later rot in the now heavy rain. Opening his door he noticed three rather rough looking officers, with a cigar smoking tabbycat in front of them.

“Phillip Albert Simmons” the tabby asked, holding his badge up to the zebra’s face.

“Of course. Is there a problem sir?” he answered in his most cultured tone. It was the same tone that had so fooled Nancy earlier that day.

Slipping his badge holding wallet back into the heavy tan overcoat the tabby nodded yes. “Were you up at the Rote house today?”

“Yes officer. I spent nearly half an hour there today. Discussing my encyclopedia with a remarkably pleasant young lady. I believe her name was Nancy. Quite an intelligent young lady. If you will come in I will show you my ledger.” He stepped back, surprised when the three officers remained outside the door.

“Miss Rote is missing. You have anything to do with it” the tabby asked as he closed the door behind him.

“Missing sir? Certainly not. This must be a jest. I was quite impressed by her. I felt that she was quite capable of handling any problem.” He opened the second book on his desk, turning to today’s page. “As you can see sir, I arrived at Miss Rotes house precisely at 2 pm. I had an appointment with her father of course.”

“And you just walked right in?”

“No sir” the zebra protested. “That simply isn’t allowed by my company. Why, if I entered a home without an invitation I would be summarily dismissed. Miss Rote was kind enough to offer me a chair in her parlor and a glass of cool well water.”

“I see. And just what did you do while you were there?”

“What I always do” Albert admitted. “Displayed my encyclopedia. Volume twenty-one from the 1929 and 1936 editions to be exact. Miss Rote seemed very interested. Why sir, she took my card and promised to speak to her father about them.”

“It takes twenty minutes to show these books?” the tabby asked.

“On average yes. Were it her father and he decided to buy, why with all the paperwork it could have been an hour or more.”

“I see. You have a car?”

“Yes sir. A 1931 Viking. It is parked in the garage out back. Please, allow me to show it to you.”

“I’d like that a lot” the tabby admitted. “You might want to bring your books. I’m afraid that you’ll be wanted downtown.”

“Oh dear. Well yes, but please understand should I fall asleep. Why, I’ve driven over a hundred miles just today. But certainly sir, one must simply assist the police if one desires to be a good citizen.” Closing the book that lay open Simmons gathered both in his arms and followed the tabby outside, noting without comment the two officers that entered his room as he left. When they arrived at his vehicle he quickly unlocked it, stepping back out of the way while the other two officers quickly, and none too carefully unloaded the vehicle.

“Awful ritzy car for a salesman” the tabby detective noted.

“Well yes sir, had I purchased it new it would be well beyond my means. After all, almost nine hundred dollars? Why that is a third of what I make in a year. Charlene though I purchased second hand. A costumer contacted me about it. His wife owned it and passed away. Thus he wanted nothing to remind him of his great loss. The influenza took her I am afraid. As I had expressed interest in it, he was happy to part with her for only three hundred dollars. Quite a deal I must admit, though I was forced to draw in my belt for several weeks.”

“No back seats” the tabby noted, glancing around in the garage.

“Um, no. I traded them to a garage that made the conversion” Albert explained. “I had been driving a panel truck before. You see I do need the cargo space. Sir. Do you think it will be all right if I reload Charlene before we leave? That is a great deal of money your men have placed in the open. I just came from the train depot, and there are seven complete sets there that I am delivering tomorrow. At nearly sixty dollars a set, it is quite more than I have in the bank right now.”

“Boys, find anything” the tabby asked.

“Not a single thing” one of his men admitted. “Not even no scent o’then his. Unless you want to count back issues of Whiz Bang.”

“A weakness of mine” the zebra admitted softly.

“And mine” the tabby agreed just as softly. “All right boys, pack it back up. Carefully, then after Mr. Simmons here has locked up his Charlene its downtown for all of us. Louis, get everyone else will yah? And make certain they lock his room up, or I’ll have their pelts.”

“Yes sir” a voice from the darkness agreed.

Simmons hid his smile. It wasn’t often that he was a suspect, at least not in the last ten years. Yet as he had been warned Nancy Rote was well liked, so he’d be lucky to get out of town in a week as he had planned. Part of his success lay in remaining within the town or city where he had taken a prize. Continuing his legal work, appearing completely innocent of any possible charges. Nancy had been worth the extra danger he admitted to himself, remembering her tight soft warmth. Her scent, her beauty. Perhaps he might even buy her when the Browns were done with her. Used, she would be cheap enough. Though her own spirit would be shattered, her intelligence and beauty would still pass on to children. Ending her days as a breeding mare, even if she was a squirrel, would be easier on the girl than being ground up for pig feed as her current owners had let slip was her planned future. Eventually locking his beloved car he followed the tabby back to a patrol car. It was going to be a long night, but one with a very worthwhile prize down the line.

Nancy Rote woke up cold and stiff. Her right cheek felt like a mule had kicked it and her face was swollen. Try as she might the teenager couldn’t open her right eye. What had happened she wondered. Had a tree limb fallen? Was Mr. Simmons all right? Or had he already left? She wasn’t certain, the very last thing she could remember was putting his water glass in the kitchen. Had she been attacked there? It made more sense. Certainly the zebra would never have attacked her. He was obviously too kind. Oh why couldn’t she remember. But the memory never came. It would never come to her, for it didn’t exist within her battered brain. Simmons blow had short circuited her brain, her short term memory had failed to move information into long term storage. In all her long life, the very last thing that she would ever remember would be putting his used glass by her kitchen sink.

Nancy’s first attempts to move both sent waves of pain through her head and told her she was restrained. But how, why? Opening her good eye she saw nothing but darkness. Darkness with a soft sound of dripping water somewhere. Her bladder was screaming, her back complained from the rough boards she was laying on and her tail felt strange. Somewhat numb in fact. There was something else wrong with her body. Pains in places she could not understand. She could feel a deep pain in her belly, a pain of a kind that she had never felt before. Added to that, her mouth was dry as chalk and tasted oddly. Not too unpleasant she thought, but odd.

“Hello” she croaked, surprised by the roughness of her voice. For several minutes nothing happened, then a single electric light came on. Compared to the absolute darkness from before its light was blinding. Hoofsteps of someone approaching sounded from behind her, meanwhile her single good eye adjusted to the light. She was in a small paw carved cavern of some kind, one that had odd devices in it. Odd, frightening devices.

“Woke finally did’ja” a male voice laughed. “Maybe it’ll be better. Wid yah awake dis time. Then ah sen in mah woman fer yah.”

A mountain of a stallion walked into Nancy’s view. A very mature stallion she noted, black furred, rough looking, lower class and... She suppressed a scream of horror. He was completely undressed, and very... “No” she gasped. “I’m a maiden.”

“Not fer hors yeh ain’t been” the stallion laughed. “Why, ah had yah twice alred. Mah woman, she liks yer taste.”

“No, please. Please...” She tried to turn her face away as the stallion knelt between her legs, only to have another set of paws twist her head savagely.

“Watch mah man take yah whitiefur” a woman’s heavy voice ordered. “Watch.”

Terrified Nancy could only watch as her body was violated, watch as her body eventually betrayed her, rising up eagerly to greet the massive intruder. Then she felt a sharp pain. Stunned she realized the woman had shoved a long hat pin through her right breast. “”Bet yah lik’d that” the stallion laughed. “Tha whole box woman.”

Nancy screamed in pain as another needle slid slowly though her flesh. Pain was something that she certainly did not like. Some seconds later her screams truly took life. They rose from pain to a new note, a higher note, a note of pure horror, mixed with unbearable pain. Only laughter answered her screams, only threats and further pain answered her please to be released. It was only the start.

William Rote sat across from the salesman whom everyone had decided was the last to see his daughter. Though he had originally had his suspicions, the zebra had gone well out of his way trying to help. Even now he was again writing down everything that he and Nancy had spoken together, trying to find in his mind any hint that someone else might have been there. That he might have any clue that would be helpful. Why, the man had even admitted to having stopped at Polly’s Bar, a small place just outside the city limits that sold cheap, still made whiskey. No one had known that, and only when an officer had taken a picture of the man to Polly’s had it been discovered he had spoken the truth. Not exactly a high class establishment, Albert Simmons had admitted a liking for a late night drink, though he admitted that he had struck out when looking for suitably companionship.

“You are certain she was fine when you left” William asked yet again.

Albert looked up from his writing. “Mr. Rote sir. As I said in the note that I left you. Your daughter never returned from the kitchen. She had mentioned feeling ill, so I simply thought that she had been called by nature. I have noted in my life that there are times for all of us when nature brokes no denial in her demands. I admitted, and do admit entering your office to leave my package. I meant to keep from embarrassing her upon her return. Please sir, believe me in this. Your daughter impressed me to no end. I have already admitted having been attracted to her, though I remained a gentleman. Our social classes sir, I am simply not acceptable to you or her. Still, if I had any inkling that she was in danger I would have done my best to protect her. I lost my own wife to childbirth, and the son she tried to grant me. To allow a young woman to be harmed simply is not in my nature.”

“I understand. Please Mr. Simmons...”

“Albert, please.”

“Albert then. Please call me William then” the squirrel decided. “Please understand that I am simply a worried father who has no lead as to where his daughter might be, and fears the worst for her safety.”

“Believe me sir, there is no such thing as simply a worried father. I have promised to remain until this thing is found out. Remain I shall.”

“You have been here four days now Albert. Even I must admit that I find no reason to suspect you. Please, rest tonight, then continue on your journey. I will call the Jefferson City school board myself to explain your delay. Trust that I will contact you when Nancy is found.”

Albert sighed, laying his pen aside. “As you wish William. I pray that your daughter is found unharmed, and that all involved in this dastardly business feel your greatest wrath. Should you need me, Britannica’s offices will always have my schedule. I always prefer segregated boarding houses such as Mrs. Parkers, even though they are more expensive. I will most certainly come as quickly as I may when you need me.” He stood, picked up his jacket and slipped it on. “There must be something, there has to be some clue. If I think of anything, anything at all be certain I shall call you instantly. William” He held out his paw, taking the older mans and shaking it warmly. “Until this thing is over.”

William Rote silently watched the salesman leave. He had come to like the zebra, who had spent the last two days almost constantly with him. A Great War veteran, an officer at that, he had fallen into hard times when his wife had died. William understood that, having survived such a fall himself only because he had two children to provide for. Albert had even let slip that Nancy had interested him, that he had thought of asking Rote himself if he could speak with her more often, until he remembered their different social positions. “My poor daughter” he sighed. “Finally someone comes around that I might accept, and you vanish.”

The next morning, now three hours outside of Creekside Albert Phillip Simmons pulled over at a small diner. Soon somewhere in Creekside a phone rang. “You are satisfied?” he asked the muffled voice. Getting an agreement from that voice he smiled. “You paid a thousand. When your done, what are your intentions.” He listened, noting the hate in that voice. “I have a counter offer” he continued. “I own a ranch in Nevada. I need a breeding mare. Would five hundred satisfy you?” He listened some more, nodding as he did so. “Very well, when you are satisfied I will take delivery. I have a herd I want to improve and your mare seems to be of good stock. As long of course as it is still capable of breeding. I will have the money delivered to you tomorrow evening, by the same messenger. Until next time.” He hung up, made a second and much briefer call, then walked to the counter to order a meal. Whomever he had spoken to had a great hate for Nancy Rote, but had found amusement at her being used as a breeding mare. Of course neither knew each other, only a single phone number and a shared middleman. No one knew he really did own a ranch, but that it was in Montana, not Nevada. Nor did anyone know that three other ‘mares’ already called that place home. With that phone call Nancy Rote’s future had apparently been sealed forever.

Two days after that call Nancy found herself hanging upside down by her ankles, her legs spread so wide that the narrow flesh between them was ivory white. Over the last hour her captors had been shaving her, very carefully making certain that they removed every last strand of fur upon her body. As to the why, she moaned in shame at their reasoning. She was to be tattooed. Tattooed in certain places that would not normally show. Especially once her fur grew back out, but anyone who knew the symbols would know that she was bought and paid for. That she was no longer a free woman, but an escaped slave. These tattoos she had been informed came from before the Civil War. That she would the rest of her life wear those owners marks that blackfurs had once worn. Worse, she had been informed of her possible futures. Should she learn her lessons quickly and prove to be a willing student, she would be sold to an Arabic man who dealt in women for dozens of Sheiks. She would be shipped off to Arabia. To spend the rest of her life in a Harem. Her other choice, should she fail, was to become feed for a cousins pig farm outside of Creekside, as had already happened to several local white furred girls who had crossed her captors path. Her future then depended upon her. She had no idea that her future was already bought and paid for. Her fur though, her fur was being shaved away simply to stuff a pillow for someone these two knew. As nothing more than a birthday gift. When the woman began to paint the soles of her feet with ink Nancy couldn’t help but giggle. When the stallion began to tattoo those same symbols into her pads, she couldn’t help but scream. Even with the heavy lead casting strapped in her mouth.

Two weeks later a haggard, defeated William Rote sat dumbly in his home office while the Chief of Police gave his final report. “I am very sorry sir. My people have followed every lead, searched every dive. There just are no more leads. Nothing since those cut up clothes of her’s showed up. It’s just like... Well sir, did she have a boy? One who might have wanted revenge for being jilted?”

“No... Not lately” Rote answered, his voice a hollow shell of what it had been just two short weeks ago. “She was so wrapped up in her adventures. They worried me of course, still Nancy is a growing girl. I had to give her some freedom. I watched her of course. But who would come to my home. Take my daughter. Why? There wasn’t even a sign of struggle. Even her car, all her things are still here.”

Nodding in agreement the heavyset tabby tried not to look into those haunted eyes. “Sir. I have to get back to my office. There are other cases. But if we find out anything. Well sir, I will inform you myself.” He stood, hat in paw. “If you hear anything. Remember anything. Call me. At the office or home. Nancy is well liked in Creekside. She’s helped crack cases that had us stumped, and for that I’m eternally grateful. If anything has happened to her, be certain there will never be a trial.”

“Thank you sheriff. But the law is the law. Don’t take it into your own paws.”

“I understand sir. Good day.” Walking out he allowed Judith to come to the front door with him. “What he forgets” the sheriff whispered to the housekeeper. “Is that I have two teenage daughters of my own. There won’t be any trial, my word on that.” Putting his hat back on he stepped out to his car, a feeling of dread coming upon him as he walked. A feeling as though some great evil was in his town, and he couldn’t find it.

That same evening Nancy, or the creature that had been Nancy Rote, shuddered as she sat carefully upon the stallions erect member. Her body had never been built to take an object that size, not there. As she slid down the stallion moaned in pleasure. Her pads had healed, now sporting symbols she remembered from her history class. Those marks told a dead world that she was a slave now, at least until she could escape. Though she would go to her grave with those marks, and the iron rings now in her nipples, she would still find a way to regain her freedom. Her father was looking for her. God had turned his eyes from her, but her father never would. She was certain of that, that and the image of a bronze statue in his home office. A statue of a blindfolded vixen holding a sword and scales. ‘Goddess Justice is blind’ she thought even as she began the special movement she had been trained to do. Movement that even now caused pain, but brought so much pleasure to the stallion. Goddess Justice cared not how her word was served, only that it was served. She moaned in pain as something inside her moved, making way for her intruder. ‘I will kill him myself’ she vowed.

A few days later Nancy stumbled across the most important thing she had found in her life so far. Lost in the dust, long forgotten was a rusted iron key. It looked exactly like the key used to open and lock her manacles. Could it be? Working as quickly as she could Nancy used the dirt she sat on to scrub away old rust. Even as she heard the sound of that hated door so far away she was testing it. A click of metal releasing sent a surge of pure joy through her battered, filthy body. Quickly re-locking the manacle Nancy dug a small hole, covering it again. She would have to wait until the right time, but now there was real hope. There was freedom in her future.

Discarding his pants as he walked into the chamber her male captor stopped, studying his toy. “Yah ben sold” he announced. “Pendin no bein fed tah that pigs at is. ‘E liks wha h saw. Think’s yah be good brood mare. Nah, more tah learn slave.”

‘What else could there be’ she wondered as she assumed the kneeling position the stallion so enjoyed seeing her in. A few minutes later she learned, as coil after coil of rope was wrapped around her bruised body, her breasts slowly swelling like great purple balloons. No longer able to move she was unsurprised when her manacles were removed. Though the mare felt Nancy was shattered, the stallion never took chances. “Lern this from chink frien’ the stallion explained as he carried her out of her filthy world. Soon she was sitting in a wooden chair, more ropes making any movement impossible. Reaching over her head the stallion did something. For a moment nothing happened. Then abruptly a drop of cold water hit her naked, hairless head. “See yah tah-morrow” he laughed as he walked off.

Nancy watched him walk off, ignoring the next few drops. After three hours she knew she was in serious trouble. Five hours later and she was near the edge, until she remembered Songmark. What would Songmark be like she wondered. Or a Pacific Island nation. Letting her imagination free she retreated from the dripping water, building a world up from the few bits of information she had, a nation from a single sketched map. Soon every south seas movie she had ever watched flowed into her creation. Bare breasted women in grass skirts, strong bare chested men paddling fast canoes soon filled her mind. Although the water continued to drip, Nancy Rote no longer noticed it. She had found a way to escape madness.

Several long weeks later a seemingly furless creature lay on a rotting blanket, manacles locked loosely upon its bloody wrists and ankles. One looking at the thing would note that, other than being female and of a size, there was no apparent relationship between it and the missing girl Nancy Rote. Nor did there appear to be much, if any intelligence within those blank eyes. It slept, slept because sleep was rarely allowed. Slept because it could do nothing more. Not right now. But it planned. Oh did it plan. When unshod hoofsteps again came it woke, woke but remained as though it slept. It waited. Its captors had begun making mistakes. At first on purpose, to test her. Lately they had made critical mistakes, because they both now believed her mind shattered. After all, since the night of water torture no matter what new abuse they brought forward their newest toy accepted it, accepted almost eagerly.

Awake, Nancy Rote watched through slitted eyes. She had learned that when the blackfurred woman came down this early it was always for her own pleasure, but then she would leave Nancy alone for a long time. Her thought was that the two must have certain days when both had to be elsewhere. Once they had chained her by the neck to a ring in the wall. Lately though, since she had been accepting their new abuses without complaint, they had occasionally left the chain off. They had no idea that Nancy had found one of the keys to her shackles. Old shackles, shackles she had been informed had been last used in the 1800's slave trade. On her captors people. They had been so proud to inform her that she wore the same iron that their grandparents had worn. What she had hidden from her captors was something she herself was surprised to discover.

Nancy Rote liked the shackles feel, among some other things they had done to her. But not many. Certainly not the pain. She hated the pain.

“UP” the blackfur mare yelled, kicking Nancy in her hip. Almost instantly she opened her eyes, holding that blank look while quickly moving to the kneeling position they had taught her. “Lern’in. Darn whitefurs so stupid. So full themselves. You tho. Chil you got brains. You know we never let you leave ‘livin. No in Creekside. Yer owner, e’ don’t live in dis country. Tech yah tah put my momma in tha jail. So better you make us feel. Longer you keep from feedin tha pigs. You stops makin me feels good, I starts cuttin pieces off. Member that slave, cause I gonna start low, you gonna feed them pigs ah long time. Nah yah gonna make me feel good. Cause yah do good, next month we ships yah tah yer new owner.”

Looking up, but not coming near to making eye contact Nancy understood what was wanted, what she had initially fought against. Now apparently eagerly she leaned forward, doing that which months ago had horrified her. It had started out as survival. Now it had become an accepted act, and in its becoming accepted the future adventuress realized that there was a part of her that not even her father could ever suspect. That he could never accept. Nor could any of her friends or anyone in her social class. At that realization a pawful of tears fell down her freshly shaved cheeks. Not because she had changed. But because she had learned what she truly was. At least the woman wasn’t carrying that lead phallus cast from her husband’s own organ again. Not only was it cold, it was so heavy to hold without her paws.

‘I am so depraved, to find not only men so desirable in all ways, but women as well’ she thought even as she felt the mare press harder against her mouth. Right now she wasn’t certain that if forced to choose, that she would prefer a woman over a man. As all things now seemed so equal. Her mare bucked, fell to her knees while Nancy automatically followed, maintaining that tight contact. She had found the taste addicting, could at this moment imagine nothing more desirable. As the mare laid down, sated, the abused squirrel continued her work. First cleaning her, then licking the darkfurred mares entire body clean. It was what the mare always desired.

Not quite an hour later Nancy listened as her ‘Mistress’, nearly exhausted, stumbled out. More whip marks crossed her unprotected skin now, none deep enough to scar she thought, but deep enough that some bled softly. Pain Nancy certainly did not like, but the chaining. A shiver of pure pleasure the likes she had never known before her capture shook the squirrels body. Its passing left her limp with release. She still did not know what it was, but she knew she liked it. ‘I will escape’ she vowed. ‘But one day I will find someone I can trust. Trust to hold me like this, but never beat me. Never cause me pain.’

Another thought had come to her in her capture. Mr. Simmons Spontoon Island and Songmark. Though she had no real interest in aircraft, in her captivity Nancy had come to realize how much an advantage an aircraft could be. Both for the criminal and herself. As her imagination had become her escape valve, helping save her sanity, it had allowed her to investigate ideas she would never have had time for before. A school for adventurous girls, on a south sea island. There she would learn everything she needed. Though it could never be the sweet paradise of her mind, it could never be as dark as her present situation. Also, something inside her kept nagging her, telling her that there she would also find the one person who would accept her, would love her, would do to her what she needed done and want what she could do. Certainly she now believed, no one in Creekside could stomach her discovered perversions. As to why she felt this the squirrel had no idea, yet that nagging something inside her demanded that she go there.

Nancy understood of course that even once she escaped she would be a social outcast, her choices would be sharply limited. Either spinsterhood or a nunnery were her only choices should she remain in Creekside. No self respecting man would ever accept her as a wife, nor would any woman look once upon her. That thought had trickled into her mind in her dreams more and more often of late. A woman... How socially unacceptable. Yet the mare had brought pleasure as well as pain, and it felt so good to snuggle against her when she was allowed. She was softer than her husband, warmer, tasted so good. Yet... Either or, Nancy had come to understand that her own world view had changed dramatically. As had her options about what was right and wrong.

‘I will go to this Songmark’ she vowed silently. ‘I will find a way to be accepted. I will succeed. I will become the greatest female detective that ever lived. I will never let this happen to anyone else. No one will escape me, not even if I have to work outside the law.’ She calmed herself slowly and listened, finally hearing the far away sound of that now hated heavy wooden door being closed. She was alone now, and for many hours. But was it day or night? Monday or Sunday. She had no idea, she’d never had any idea. Since being turned on the single light had never been turned off except when it burned out. Even this it was replaced as soon as her captors noticed. Reaching under her ragged blanket, one that had once been a bed for a dog Nancy dug up her hidden key. It was only a matter of seconds to release herself, for the locks had been well oiled, well kept. For a few seconds she looked at the metal shackles, what they had done to her wrists, her ankles. ‘If only they wouldn’t damage me so, I would never remove them’ she thought. Wrapping her ragged blanket around herself she stood, swaying for a few moments until her body adjusted. Lack of food had taken its toil, but her spirit was stronger than her body. One bare pawed step at a time she made her way down the tunnel.

Finding the wooden door was easy, but it was locked from the other side. Through it she could hear muted singing. As though some odd church was on the other side (Nancy had never been to a blackfur church, or any church other than the one her father took her too.) Her luck though was with her, as the door was old and filled with dry rot. Though it looked sturdy enough, her intelligence awoke again, noting the damage. She needed something to dig at the wood with though. Several minutes of search had her holding a large shard of rotted iron in her paws. Attacking the door she was delighted to find how easily it surrendered to her weakened efforts. To escape, no longer to be fed old foods, to be treated as a slave. ‘I’ll miss some of that’ she found herself thinking as the wood tore away in her now bloody paws. Another quarter hour of work and the lock fell at her feet, narrowly missing hitting her bare foot. Holding her splinter of iron tightly, for it was the only weapon she had, Nancy opened the door and found herself in a basement. Above her an unknown voice was speaking. It was a loud voice, a deep voice, a powerful voice. She abruptly realized that she was in a church.

“So God” she whispered. “You not only close your eyes to me, you keep me prisoner and torture me within your own home? What have I done to so anger you.” She took several steps forward before a well known scent struck her. Her captors were here. Wary, she moved around in the grey light, until she stumbled across a small apartment built into the basement. Not were here she realized. Lived here. No wonder they were always around. But where.. The congregation. Of course. They would have to appear each Sunday or mouths would talk. If this were a church, and they were in its congregation then she was in the darkie park of Creekside. If she was still in Creekside. There was no way out, no escape. She would be captured the moment anyone saw her furless skin. She would be returned to her prison the moment her tattoos were seen. Yet she couldn’t stay, it was the pigs for her, and probably still alive when the mare discovered that door. She needed a plan.

In her search she had discovered a door out of the basement, one that seemed to go outside. Returning to it she unlocked it, pulling it open. Brilliant sunlight struck her, blinding her for a moment. When she could see again she found that the door opened into an alley. Stepping out she saw that escape this way would be impossible. One end went to a busy street, the other vanished into a jumble of.. She wasn’t certain. Still she could try to fool those two. Dropping her blanket half way down the alley towards that darkness she returned to the basement. There were large barrels, boxes and broken crates all around. Finding a barrel barely her size she crawled in, pulling its top down over her. ‘I would never have been able to hide in here with my fur’ she realized. It was difficult enough to breath, as apparently the barrel had once held a cheap whiskey. Only a single bunghole that she pressed her nose against allowed her to breath without being overcome by the fumes. Pain lanced through her body as the alcohol fumes found her still open wounds. Exhausted from her exertions she soon fell asleep. Unknown to the squirrel, those same fumes covered her scent, hiding her perfectly when her captors eventually returned to their basement home.

When she woke again it was silent. Her nose had slipped away from the bunghole during her sleep so now she felt woozy. Carefully Nancy looked out the bunghole, hoping to see something. Only darkness greeted her eye. Listening she only heard only silence. Taking a chance the young adventuress lifted her barrels lid, looking out. It was dark, very dark. Her alcohol filled senses made it impossible to smell anything, but her ears were unaffected. Moving carefully, for she was almost as drunk as if she had swallowed three goblets of sherry, the young girl eased out of her hiding place. To her right the shattered door to her prison gaped open, she knew that she had left it closed. At the same time the one door she had left open was now closed. Obviously her captors had been here, but where were they now? Moving with the extreme care of those who knew that they had drunk too much Nancy made her way to the tiny apartment. It was empty. Everything had been cleared away. ‘They left’ she realized. But they hadn’t even left a rag for her to cover her nakedness.

Since it was dark it had to be night her alcohol fogged brain informed her. It was silent upstairs, so the evening services must be long over. It was her chance to escape for real. If only she could find a telephone. Finding the stairs that lead from basement to upper floor was somewhat easy, they were in one of the few areas Nancy had not yet searched. She found the door above to be unlocked. Opening it she sniffed, the alcohol having cleared enough from her nose to allow her use of that sense again. A heavy odor of cheap perfumes assaulted her now oversensitive nose. Peeking through the door she found herself looking into a small cloakroom, though only a single item still hung from wooden pegs. Slipping into the room she examined her find, a long black shawl seemed best suited for her needs. Wrapping it around her as tightly as she could the squirrel went to the next door.

This door opened into the church proper. Easing in she looked around carefully. By now she was very hungry and thirst was assaulting her as it had been a full day since her morning drink. ‘There must be an office’ she told herself. ‘An office means a phone. If I can contact the police they will be able to trace the call.’ Keeping to a far wall and the deep shadows it held Nancy made her way slowly towards the buildings rear, avoiding the altar which now disgusted her. Her alcohol fogged brain seeing its pure surface now defiled with the bloody remains of her own innocence. Looking up at the cross, and its crucified figure she held back an oath. “Not the body” she whispered to that figure. “God demands our innocence. Maybe we have the wrong book. He was called the great deceiver for a reason.” Turning her naked back on the figure she moved to a doorway that should lead to the baptismal, and offices behind. Quietly opening the door she made her first mistake, slipping in before looking.

What she found was an old grey furred wolf sitting at a desk, a candle lighting his work. He looked up tiredly. “Yes” he asked in that same voice she had heard earlier, though exhaustion now flavored its timber..

“Nothing” Nancy croaked, trying to open the door to escape. It refused to open, for in her fear she had leaned against it, her own weight holding it closed.

“Daughter?” he asked, turning to face his visitor. “Holy mother” he gasped as he realized what his visitor was, though not quite whom.

Shattered Nancy fell to her knees. So close, she had been so close to freedom only to throw it all away. It was more than she could take. Tears fell, her body shook. A sob came from deep within her, soon followed by others. So broken were her emotions she never heard the priest make a phone call. It wasn’t until she was surrounded by police officers that Nancy realized that her nightmare was over. At least for the moment.

William Rote sat quietly in the hospital waiting room. Two police officers also sat with him ‘for his protection.’ Somewhere in the older part of Creekside the Police Chief and his men were examining the place his daughter had been held. There they had discovered an old midnight express tunnel from the Civil War days. One hidden by the building of a church, a church who’s members had never suspected its existence. Except for two members, the caretakers. Those caretakers bodies now lay in the morgue, insuring that his daughter was safe. They had ‘resisted arrest’ he had been told, the older officers faces unreadable. That was probably a lie, but it was a lie he was more than willing to accept right now. But no one had yet let him see or talk to his daughter. Relief at news of her recovery, still alive, had turned to worry, then despair as doctors hurried past, nurses pausing only to look sadly at him, then leave without a word. At least he had remembered to send a wire to his son before the telegraph closed.

Finally a old and very large owl stepped in, his clothing telling William that he was a priest. In fact he was Father Brighton, who served the church the Rotes attended regularly. Sitting quietly the owl seemed to think for a few minutes before looking up. “Gentlemen. May we have some time alone?”

Both officers stood immediately, walking out without a word. One carefully shut the door behind them. “William, if I may call you that?”

“You may Father. My daughter?”

“Is alive. She has suffered greatly. Yet though her mortal body is damaged her spirit is intact. Nor is her body so harmed that it will not heal. Yet she needs you now. Needs you in such a way that she has not needed since her mother passed on some six years ago. There was much evil done to her I am afraid..” He swallowed. “I have heard her confession, and her withdrawal from the Holy Church. It is hard for me to dwell upon these things. I have no. No... I have no way of understanding the why. My son, will you be able to take your daughter back into your home, knowing that she might never allow you to touch her again?”

“She was.. My daughter was raped?”

“William. Much more than that. Nancy was enslaved. You will see the raw scars on her wrists, her ankles. She was made to do such things no woman should even know exists, made to do things even I did not know existed. Yet William. Though she admits to having lost her faith in God, her faith in you never wavered. Her love for you kept her alive. Kept her enduring. Kept her believing that she would escape, and escape she did.”

William sat stunned, hearing but having difficulty finding a way to understand. His daughter, his bright eyed cheerful adventurous daughter. She had been... He just managed to find a waste basket before his stomach revolted. When he could again think he found Father Brighton kneeling beside him, the old man ignoring that foul mess. “Come. Will you see her? Will you accept her back into your home. Accept her, knowing?”

“She is my daughter. My home will always be open to her. I will always hold her dear in my heart Father. For what has happened was not of her doing. No shame for her exists within me, only love. Please Father, allow me to wash up first. Then I must see her.”

Nancy opened her eyes when the nurse squeezed her arm, turning slowly to face the doorway. Her father stood there, his face ashen, his mannerism that of one shattered almost beyond recovery. Through the pain medication she managed a smile. “Still have all my teeth” she managed weakly.

William Rote moved quickly to his daughters bed, comprehension finally coming as he saw the bandages, saw the shaved furless flesh, saw the look in his daughters eyes. “I love you” he whispered softly, afraid to lay his paw upon hers. Afraid of her reaction if he did.

“Look a sight, do I?” Nancy asked. “Furs growing back. Itches.”

“You.. Yes” he admitted. “You looked much like this when you were born. Without the bandages. I mean..” he hunted for words, stunned when he felt pressure on his left paw. It was Nancy’s paw. “I thought... I mean... After...”

“Shhhh” Nancy whispered. “I will have nightmares all my life. But I will have you to lean on. You and Lady Justice. Both to give me guidance.”

“Father Brighton...”

“I am sorry father. I lost my faith. I had too, to survive. Perhaps I will regain it. Perhaps I will find another path. Perhaps I will always walk alone. But as long as you live father. I will never truly be alone. It was you who stood between my giving up and fighting. I knew you wouldn’t ever give up. If I wanted to be your daughter, I couldn’t give up either. I knew you would be looking, that you would never give up. If that isn’t love father, what is?”

“Sir” the nurse said, breaking in. “She needs rest now. Doctor Arlenson will explain everything.. Please?”

“She’s right daddy. I’m tired. You need your sleep too, you look a wreak. You’ll never get elected Governor looking like that.”

“I’m not running. Not after this” William corrected.

“Yes you are. Especially after this. You have to make certain it never happens to someone else’s daughter. I have to make sure. Father. I want to go to a school called Songmark. Will you find out what I need to do?”

“Songmark? Is that in Missouri?”

“Kind Mr. Simmons was telling me about it. It is based upon an island named Spontoon. Father, is Mr. Simmons all right? Was he hurt?”

“You don’t remember?”

“I can’t remember anything after I put that glass down in the kitchen. They attacked me there. I never saw who, though I suspect the stallion. Poor Mr. Simmons, I know he would have tried to protect me. He’s such a kind man. He would never have to know, would he?”

“No. No I will not tell him how he was unaware of your need. This does explain his note, that you had not returned to the front door so he left his material. He thought perhaps you had been struck by your monthly.”

Nancy smiled. “That started this afternoon. In that at least I am blessed. Now go father. I want to see you tomorrow. For lunch?”

“For lunch, and I’ll have that information with me.”

Nancy closed her eyes, keeping a smile on her face. “Lunch. That sounds so... normal.” Before her father could say another word she had slipped into sleep, her paw holding his for several minutes longer before he finally tucked it under her blanket. Looking up at the nurse he grimaced. “How bad” he demanded.

“I have never seen a case this bad” she admitted. “Please. Doctor Arlenson is waiting.”

Long after William Rote left his daughter woke. Her heart ached. It had been so hard to be strong for her father. Now all her hopes laid upon a dream, a dream she realized she just might kill to make true. Her emotions were still a disaster, though for the first time in months her stomach held real food in it, she had tasted pure water again. Strangely, it had been unfiling. Something was missing. Something she knew she could never ask the doctor to supply. Food though, the taste of real butter again had been a luxury she had not expected to ever have again. Nancy was still working through her thoughts when the door opened and a nurse came in. Beyond her she saw the shadows of two police officers waiting. Her security was confirmed, she relaxed for the first time since poor Mr. Simmons had arrived.

“I brought you your medication and some water” the young mink announced.

“What time is it” Nancy asked.

“Two AM. If you need anything, push that button there” she indicated a egg shaped device hanging beside Nancy’s bed. “There is only one nurse on each wing at night, that’s me this week.”

“You are?”

“Georgia. Mom was in a geographic mood when she named me. Just ask for Georgine if you want me. Now, let me help you with your pills. Then I’ll wait until you fall asleep before I leave. I promise.”

Allowing her head to be lifted Nancy opened her mouth. Georgine dropped a single pill on her tongue. “Water now” she whispered gently, easing the glass to Nancy’s bruised lips. Nancy’s reaction to the water surprised the nurse, reactively she tasted it. “Its just water” she explained.

“That’s just it” Nancy admitted, ashamed. “I have become used to something else. It will take me some time to forget that.”

“I read your case file. I’m supposed to, so I know what you might miss. I know that they made you drink...” She couldn’t finish.

“Yes” Nancy admitted. “I fought, but when it’s the only water you are offered. After a week, after a week it isn’t an option any more. I believe that I will always prefer clean water.”

“Well don’t worry dear, no ones going to force you to do such things here. Not with those two big handsome men waiting outside.” Leaning over Nancy the nurse tucked her in gently. “Now sleep. If you need anything just call.”

Several days passed before Nancy felt strong enough to try walk around. Her father came by every day, spending so many hours with her she began to worry about his political career. “Father, you must return to your campaign” she argued. “I won’t hear of you giving up.”

Her father leaned back in his chair, studying the still strong willed, if physically weaker figure of his daughter. “I have a daughter to protect. We have found records that horrify us. That explain many disappearances. There is still someone out there who thinks they had purchased you, that they own you. I will not allow you to be hurt again. In the least we have recovered three girls, though they were as ill treated as yourself.”

Nancy laughed weakly, waving to her open door where two police officers waited. “What are you going to do they can’t? Call up the military? Father, those two people are dead. D-E-A-D. Whomever paid them is in hiding. Yes father, I worry. I worry every night. I will worry every night, but more importantly are the other girls those two abused. You found three. How many other girls are still missing. Girls who’s fathers haven’t the resources to find them. Please father, take the governorship. Make certain those girls are found, or if not found then avenged. Stop this madness. You have already agreed that I may travel to Spontoon at the end of next month. I have already sent my application to Songmark.” She stopped talking, biting her lower lip. “Father, I did not obey you in one thing. I explained what happened to me and my escape. Not in detail, yet that questionnaire fairly begged that I have experienced some kind of adventure. One that I had to escape on my own. Besides, I am not ashamed of what happened to me. Not anymore. Let others be ashamed, I refuse to be. Now please, go out and do what my father would do. Fight a fight you will win, then use that new power to help others.”

Mr. Rote studied his daughter. Her intelligence he knew had come from him, but her beauty, her strength had come from her mother. Beauty certainly, even now with nothing but a short soft fuzz of fur on her body. A short fuzz that was already covering those horrible tattoos she was forced now to wear. Soon they would be all but invisible, as were the scars on her mind and soul. Still there but.. “Your certain of this?”

“No father” Nancy admitted. “Not at all. Right now all I want to do is crawl into your arms and stay there for the rest of my life. But that won’t work. Besides, people would talk and it would absolutely ruin your social life.”

Standing William Rote held out his arms, his happiness that his daughter moved into his embrace without hesitation more than she could ever suspect. “And you will do what? Become a great flying adventuress?”

“I will become a great flying detective father. I will hunt out evil and I will destroy it, where ever it hides.” Her suddenly iron hard, ice cold voice sent a shiver of fear down her fathers spine. Only now did he truly understand what madness now dwelled within his daughters soul. His daughter, whom he cared for, loved, protected so long was now gone. Gone, replaced by what. Only time would tell.

Nancy was reading when the night nurse came in. “Sponge bath” the mink Georgine announced, pushing a cart into the room. Turning to the two ever present police officers she smiled. “I have to lock this door now gentlemen. No peeking.” A gruff laughter answered her, but one officer did step in, checking every corner of the room, and the complete cart before letting himself be locked out.

“Paranoid” Nancy observed, setting her book aside. Her fur had grown out, though not as long as it should be she no longer felt like a baby. She no longer itched either. “I thought sponge baths were taken care of by the day nurse.”

“They are” Georgine agreed. “Did you have yours today?”

“Actually, no” Nancy admitted. “There were so many visitors. I’m leaving for home in the morning and well, I guess it was so busy.”

Picking up a chart from her cart the mink opened it, turning the page so Nancy could read it. “Which is why I have been ordered to do it tonight. Unless you don’t want one.”

“I do not” Nancy admitted. “It would be crass though, to appear to the press tomorrow with a days stink for their delicate noses. Very well, where shall I stand?”

Laying a towel on the floor Georgine pointed. “Right here. Your taller than me by half a head, so don’t give me any problems. I’ve two very strong officers outside I would not hesitate to have hold you down.”

Throwing off her covers Nancy slid her long legs off the bed, leaving her book behind. “I think I’ve had enough of that for a while” she admitted. Pulling off her sleeping gown she laid it on the bed, taking her place on the towel. “Be gentle, this is not my first time” she joked.

Georgine was gentle, taking care to clean even between Nancy’s toes and fingers. “These marks” she asked while drying Nancy’s feet.

“Old slave marks, from before the Civil War” the squirrel explained. Her tone though warned the mink to change subjects.

“I’ve been thinking. About what you said the first time we spoke.”

Nancy sat on her bed, grateful to feel clean again. In truth she had come to accept the feel of dirt, of filth. Something that would have bothered her before. Now, after her captivity, she no longer minded. Being clean was now a luxury she could enjoy, not simply a daily routine. “That was” she asked warily.

“We were speaking of women.. With women” the mink explained. “And how you felt about it.”

“Oh. Yes. I am sorry if I embarrassed you Georgine. It was not something I meant to do.”

“Oh no Miss Rote. Between us, only we two. It simply got me to thinking. I did some reading, it is amazing what some cultures ascribe to.” She busied herself putting everything away. “I even dreamed about it” she admitted in a small voice.

“Dreamed? You have a boyfriend that would let you do such a thing?”

“Oh no Miss Rote. Billy would explode if I even mentioned such a thing. After all, such things are against the rule of nature he would say. It was my own curiosity that had me taste myself. It is an odd taste, though one I think I would like to know the better.”

“I see” Nancy admitted. “But that is the past now. I doubt I will ever experience that again.”

“You could” Georgine continued, softly. “If you wanted too. At least one last time. If...”

Intrigued, for it was easy to see where the mink was headed, Nancy leaned forward, aware she was still naked. “If what Georgine.”

“I want to try...”

Nancy leaned back, away from the barely older mink. There was no window in this room, it had been selected just for that reason. She knew from experience that it took a rather loud voice to be heard through her door, and her room was at the end of this wings ventilation. Air entered from a vent in the bath and exited from a vent just above her bed. It was possible, and she did so miss the taste. “Take off your clothes” she ordered softly.

Quickly the mink undressed, even to removing her shoes and stockings. “I’ve never been naked with another woman” Georgine admitted, an obvious shiver running down her tail.

“But Billy?”

“We don’t undress” Georgine admitted. “We just move the important parts out of our way.”

“Come here. He is going to marry you I hope.”

“I hope so. He hasn’t asked but I am almost certain that I love him. I really hope so. Now what.”

Moving her book and shift aside Nancy laid one pay upon the beds surface. “Come onto the bed, it is much easier than a hard floor. I will show you how it has to be done. Then, when I’m done it will be your turn. If you want. Is that all right?”

“Oh yes” Georgine agreed as she followed Nancy’s instructions. “I do understand the basics but not...” Her gasp of surprise as Nancy’s lips suddenly closed about her sex stopped all talk. She shuddered in excitement as Nancy explored her, tasted her, pleased her as only one who truly wished to do so could. After only a very few short moment the mink shuddered even more violently as her release came. Leaning forward she placed her paws on the bed, holding herself up. Nancy lowered her head further, still looking up.

“Now” she whispered. “I will give you that which you so desire.” Then her lips closed over the mink again.

Georgine tried to control herself but it was so new. Only when she heard Nancy’s mewl of frustration was she able to wrap her legs over the squirrels shoulders, opening herself fully to the tongue probing her. Nancy’s obvious delight surprised the mink. She gasped, feeling another wave build with her. A wave of feeling her Billy had only once given her. Never in her life had she released herself to pleasure so freely. When Nancy started cleaning her after her release finished it again caught Georgine by surprise. Her following two shattering orgasm’s left her limp, barely able to remain conscious. “That was.. Oh my God I’ve never felt... Wonderful.”

Nancy sat up, a nearly angelic smile on her face. “Thank you, I so missed that. You have a delightful taste.”

“Its my turn” the mink reminded her patient.

“Are you certain” Nancy asked. “I mean, really certain.”

Quicky changing positions Nancy reached down to place her paws on the minks breasts. “So sweet” she whispered. “I would love to taste them.” Her answer was Georgine’s lips on her own sex. Hesitantly at first the young nurse explored, then reached up and pressed lightly on Nancy’s sex with one paw. Carefully Nancy opened her legs, allowing her nurse freer access to her secret places. As she expected Georgine hesitated, then continued. Her tongue exploring, touching, its rough surface sliding across the small pearl that gave such wonderful feelings. It was a strange feeling the squirrel realized. As many times as she had done this to that mare, it had never been done to her. Releasing her own inhibitions she let Georgine send her to heights of pleasure she had never felt, even with the stallions best efforts. Then she too was swamped by a crashing wave of pleasure that she had no ability to control. Following Nancy’s lead the mink explored, cleaned and finally attacked her patient with more energy than Nancy had expected. Soon after she too was feeling the explosions within her she had only so recently realized were available.

A little later, now dressed Georgine again tucked Nancy back into her bed. “I think I will need to visit you before you leave for your island” she whispered.

“I will most certainly look forward to your visits” Nancy agreed. “And Billy?”

“Can go hang himself if he doesn’t like me to do this. There are more boys in the sea than one.”

“And girls” Nancy sighed, relaxing.

“I don’t think I would like a girl, not for life. I must have a man in my life. But occasionally. Oh yes occasionally. Your different Miss Rote. So strong, so powerful. I am off Tuesday, may I come see you then?”

“You had better” Nancy ordered. “Or I shall surely track you down and spank you most severely.”

Not quite a month later a much stronger, still determined Nancy Rote stepped aboard her first flight to Spontoon. Though Songmark had not as yet accepted her application she felt that she simply must get to the islands as quickly as possible. Every night that thing calling to her had become stronger. Songmark or not, she now knew that her future lay waiting in those islands. As she settled into her seat Nancy could see her father waving to her from the gate. Beside him stood her brother and his newest girlfriend. To her fathers right, in full nurse’s uniform stood Georgine. Poor Billy, whomever he was. Once Georgine had met William Rote in a social setting the boy had lost any chance with the mink. She waved back to her family, then relaxed in her chair.

It was a long flight from Jefferson City to San Francisco, then a longer trip by boat to Spontoon. Her father had offered to send her by aircraft to the islands, but Georgine had warned that too quick a change in environment might hurt the squirrel’s still somewhat delicate health. Besides, two weeks aboard a tourist boat would give her the rest she needed, allow her to regain the last of her lost strength. Most importantly for Nancy’s self esteem, allow her fur to complete its recovery. Nancy smiled at the memories she would always have of Georgine and their short time together. They would always be pleasurable memories for her. One night the nurse had bluntly asked Nancy “Do you like men or women more.” It had taken a day of thought to answer that truthfully.

“I like a man” she had answered finally. “I feel protected in his arms, and I want babies. But I like a woman as much. Her taste is indescribable, as you know. Her warmth, her softness, how she is able to make me feel loved with simply a look. So Georgine, I believe that I am attracted to both equally. Yet when it comes to which I would prefer to live my life with...” She remembered smiling, reaching out to run her fingers over the minks soft belly fur. “I will leave that to mother nature to decide. Care for my father, and give me many brothers and sisters to love.”

“Or you will spank me again?”

Nancy remembered laughing. “No silly. I will simply never let you share my bed with me again.”

“Oh my no. I could never live without that possibility. I promise you Nancy Rote, the day your father marries me is the day I will start a family. After all, I could never disobey you, could I?” They had broken up in giggles, for neither ruled the other, or desired to.

Two days later William Rote, his fiancee Georgine standing beside him, announced his candidacy for Governor. His platform an unyielding iron anvil against crime. At Nancy’s own request no attempt was made to hide the truth of her captivity, or what she had experienced. Though a great deal was left out of course. During the campaign William Rote’s main opponent made the mistake of commenting badly about Nancy Rote, and her sudden departure for a hardly known island nation. It was his major mistake. When all the votes were counted it was a landslide against him. His own party turned their backs on him. Even his wife would eventually leave him.

The day before his swearing in he married his sweet little mink. Behind him, sitting in the grooms section, Albert Simmons watched silently. He knew where his property was. Eventually she would return. It was too dangerous now for him to take her as a breeding mare, but he had learned just how many people wished to own a Songmark graduate. It would be enough for him to retire on. As a close friend of the Rote family no one would suspect him when Nancy again vanished. Besides, three years was nothing. Why in the months since his meeting Nancy he had already captured three other girls. In his book were two other names, names he would deal with before the months end. Business was good, and with a future jackpot in paw he was most happy.