It was six months later, that our little household changed again. Allie came into the study, and I saw that today was "latex maid day." It wasn't my fetish, but she always seemed extra juicy after a "latex day," so I didn't mind. The chain hobble between her ankles didn't slow her down all that much, except on the stairs. And the impressively- sized ballgag hanging loosely around her neck was like a bright red pendant on a necklace. The woman dressed kinkier every day. Yesterday had been "Catholic schoolgirl day," though I doubt the good Sisters would have approved Allie's alterations to their uniform. She raised her hand. A handcuff was closed around her wrist, the other cuff dangling and open, ready. "Yes?" "Mr. Kennedy, your birthday is coming up in a couple of months, and I was hoping to do something special to surprise you. But...it will take money." "How much?" She named a figure, and I raised an eyebrow. "That's some surprise." I thought for a moment. Business had been good, recently, and I had a fair amount of money laid away. What the hell, it's only money. "Very well, go ahead." "Thank you, Mr. Kennedy. You won't be disappointed." She knew what would happen if I were. I wrote out the check, blank as to payee (wouldn't be much of a surprise otherwise, would it?) and forgot about it. In the spirit of the thing, I was careful not to look for the cancelled check after it cleared. A couple of months later, on the day before my birthday, and right at the end of Allie's freshman year, I received a thin envelope in the mail, with a return address of the Psych department at the University she was attending. Allie was downstairs, somewhere. Upon opening it, I found the following letter, on University letterhead: * * * Dear Mr. Kennedy, Allow me to introduce myself. I am Dr. ____, Professor of Psychology, in the Department of Psychology and Psychiatry at State University. I am writing you at the request of Miss Allie Kennedy. My particular research interest is the human memory, and specifically how it is distorted. I have almost accidentally become an authority on the phenomenon of 'false memory,' by which people are induced to 'remember,' quite vividly, things that simply never happened. There have been multiple court cases recently in which this has been an important element. People have fully and honestly confessed to crimes they couldn't possibly have committed, truly believing themselves guilty. Young women have, in the belief that they are telling the truth, accused their fathers of rape, of fathering children upon them, young women who passed lie detector tests to support the accusation--young women whom subsequent medical examination shows still to be virgins. There are other cases that I won't bore you with. Suffice it that the phenomenon of 'false memory' is now tolerably well understood, to the point of having made the pages of 'Scientific American.' Now to the present. Miss Kennedy has spoken to me at length about your relationship with her. It is not my place to judge either of you. I will only note that you have a remarkable woman here, and I hope you deserve her. She came to me a couple of months ago with an extraordinary request: she wanted me to create in her a false memory. After considerable soul- searching, and after cross-examining her at length to ensure that this is what she really wanted, I agreed to do so, and have done so. (I worked it out and thought, yeah, and the size of my check didn't hurt, either.) I have videotapes of all sessions between us under lock and key, to protect all the parties involved. You will find in Attachment A a manuscript in Miss Kennedy's hand giving you her rationale for this action. Attachment B is a manuscript, also in Miss Kennedy's hand, of the 'memory' she asked me to create, which I have done. You should be aware that one of the characteristics of 'false memory' is that, once the core images have been introduced, the subject often unconsciously elaborates them, fills them in, with details that will be every bit as vivid as the core images, and which they will believe to be true with absolute certainty. At her request, Miss Kennedy currently has no memory of having visited me, nor is she aware of the 'memory' which lies latent in her mind. Attachment C contains the trigger phrase that will bring the latent 'memory' forth. Attachment C also contains a trigger phrase that will enable her to remember that 'memory' is false, and how it came to be in her mind. The second trigger phrase exists in case you decide that, to speak bluntly, the whole thing was a mistake. Please understand that each trigger phrase can be used only once. This is because the transition will be almost violent, at the psychological level, and I felt I needed to prevent the psychological damage that multiple transitions could cause to her mind, rather as repeated concussions do to the brain. Finally, in the event of your death, she will recall visiting me, and will understand that the memory, if activated, is false. This is a precaution to avoid potential emotional, or even legal, problems that are unforeseeable at this time, but which would otherwise be very difficult to reverse if no one knew to notify me to intervene. I hope that you and Miss Kennedy find pleasure in what she has asked me to do. Remember that it can be undone. Sincerely yours, Dr. ______ * * * I turned the page, and was confronted with a page of Allie's handwriting on lined legal paper. At the top was overtyped "Attachment A. Page 1 of 1." In the lower corner, I could make out what must be Dr. ____'s initials. Careful fellow. * * * Dear Mr. Kennedy, my lord and my love, These pages I write are the only physical existence of my gift to you. Please bear with me while I justify my actions. You have made for me a comfortable and protecting home, for which I love you. You are a demanding owner, for which I am grateful. You know I want only to please you. You know that I try to meet your demands before you know that you will make them. I work on my skills to be good for you. I know of only one thing I have left to offer for your greater pleasure, but it's something you've never wanted, and that is my pain. I could do more, give more, but the things I could do and give would not bring you pleasure today, because you'd have to hurt me to get them, and you have been too decent an owner to demand that, though I'd give my pain freely and gladly for your pleasure. Do you remember what I put in my love letter not so long ago? "The more that O suffered for him, the more Renee was pleased, and /therefore/ the more pleasure O got from pleasing him." You could wring more pleasure from me, more pleasure for both of us, but only if hurting me would please you. My gift, if you will have it, is to make it possible for me to 'remember' that I have gotten pleasure from being hurt, not only indirectly by pleasing you, but also somehow directly, in the pain itself. I will be able to 'remember' that you have gotten pleasure from my pain, AND SO HAVE I. I want to give you greater pleasure by making it easier for you to hurt me, to demand my pain, because you will know that I now believe myself capable of finding, and will expect to find, pleasure in the pain. You hold the keys in your hands. Please understand that, at the time you read this letter, I will have no remembrance of having written it. All my obedience, devotion, and love, Allie * * * My first reaction was, "Oh, really!", which is what I say when I've got nothing to say. The woman had, indeed, astonished me. I turned to the brief "Attachment B" and read carefully the things she'd asked to "remember," things that never happened. She wanted to believe that, when I spanked her that first time, she'd become very aroused, and tried to hump the wall while I was out of the room. To "remember" that, during one of her private masturbation sessions, she'd experimented with clothespins on her nipples and it got her off (her note said that she had tried clothespins, but they just hurt). To think that, while I was caning her at the ceremony, she had orgasmed from the pain in front of everyone. There was more, but that was the tone of all of it. The girl wanted to please me, and if it took her pain, she was ready to deliver it. I sat at my desk for a long time after I finished reading. The sunlight outside began to fade into dusk. It took a long time for me to put my finger on what was bothering me. There was an assumption here: Allie was assuming that if, under the influence of her false memory, she 'remembered' having gotten pleasure from pain, her belief that it had happened to her before would mean that she would in fact feel real masochistic pleasure when experiencing real pain, something that, as far as I knew, she never had done. She was betting that the expectation would cause the reality. That was an assumption, and a risk she was apparently willing to take. Did I want to take that risk with her? The problem was that, if I took her up on this offer, an offer that at this point she didn't even know she'd made, and I began hurting her, and it didn't work out, what then? Sure, I could back the worm out of her mind, it said here, but after doing so, she'd still remember that, at some time in the real world, I had actually been willing to hurt her for my pleasure, not for punishment. What would that do to our relationship? What would she think of me, then? I flipped back to her letter, and re-read "...though I'd give my pain freely and gladly for your pleasure." While I was reading, Allie came silently into the room, carrying my evening drink. She was wearing only a Very Short red tunic. It was not sheer, but had the perfect quality of translucence such that, if you'd looked at it as you walked past her on the street, you'd be fifty feet beyond her before your brain said, "Did I see what I think I saw?" She knelt gracefully in front of my desk, and reached up to put the drink on the desk's surface in front of me, meeting my eyes. She pulled the hem of the tunic down to cover her slit, and blushed. Without further thought, I turned to Attachment C. A day early, perhaps, but it was time to unwrap my birthday present.