The Dum Casta Mortgage - Part III: No turning back

Gwyneth and Robert spent some time reading the small print of the agreement Mrs. MacPherson had given them to look over. It looked fairly watertight, but neither of them was a expert in interpreting legal documents, so they made an appointment with Mersons, a large and well-established firm of solicitors, who had a head office near Temple Bar and a large number of branches world wide. This was the firm Gwyneth had instructed before, as they'd handled her grandfather's estate after he died in 2011. They'd done a good job, and the solicitor concerned, a Sarah Gonzzalez, had since become a partner in the firm. It was the same Sarah Gonzzalez they were going to see this time.

As the matter was quite urgent they were accorded an interview the following day, Tuesday, at 6 p.m. after normal hours. This was not unusual nowadays. Most solicitors now stayed open into the evenings on a shift system to meet demand.

Sarah Gonzzalez was charm itself.

"Tell me about it. All the facts please, from the beginning."

Gwyneth explained.

"I've got a copy of the documentation here. We didn't like to email it, even encrypted, or even post it, as it's so personal. And we haven't yet decided for sure whether to go through with it. Robert isn't keen, and I'm not too sure either, but it seems it's the only way we can get our feet on the housing ladder. So we'd like your advice."

Sarah read the paperwork. She was very sympathetic.

"I see what you mean," she said. I shouldn't like this sort of agreement either. And what you want to know is whether, in my opinion, it would be valid and enforceable."

"Yes."

"Well, twenty years ago, when I qualified, I'd have said definitely not. It would have been contrary to public policy. But the law on these matters has changed a lot since then. People are now much more free to make personal agreements to suit themselves and these are generally upheld, provided of course that they've been made freely and with no undue influence or duress or anything like that. I'd need to do some research, of course, but I have to say that to me it looks, at first reading at any rate, like a binding agreement. But I'll have it properly checked out, with your names deleted of course, and let you know in a few days. I'll tell you this though. It's not exactly to the point, but last week there was a decision in another case which hasn't been reported, as it's subject to appeal. A man agreed to wear a belt after his wife had caught him having an affair, and that agreement was held to be enforceable."

"I see."

"But there is one way out I can envisage. It's actually written in. If at any time you can raise the d.c. money elsewhere, there's nothing to stop you being free of it at a stroke. You could even borrow elsewhere if anyone will lend to you."

"We know. Well, that's something, at any rate."

"Look. I'm under a lot of pressure at the moment, but for a day or two I can still give this top priority if I work late. I'll be back to you in two days at latest."

"Thank you. We really are very grateful."

When they got home they had another Vietnamese takeaway, this time without the black bean sauce, and another bottle of the same wine. And this time they both slept well, and without incident. But Robert was now beginning to feel the effects of his deprivation. It had been eight days since he'd first done into his belt and his inner urges were now beginning to reach a peak. Gwyneth looked at him sympathetically.

"I'll tell you what. I've just received these cuffs I ordered on the net as a surprise for you. Put them on and I'll unlock your belt and see how you like me releasing you manually. It'll be the best you'll be able to get if we go ahead. See if you like how it feels. You've done it to yourself loads of times, I've no doubt. I think I can do it to you just as well."

"All right then."

"Now, I want you to hold my remote in your right hand. As soon as you feel satisfied, but not before, point it at me and press that green button, and hold it down for as long as you like. Then we'll be satisfying each other at the same time. It'll be the best we can do in future, so let's try it out now."

When the cuffs were in place she unlocked him and then handled him slowly, and gently. His hardness was apparent in no time, but she kept him like that for what seemed eternity before finally bringing him to one of the most satisfying climaxes he'd ever had. When he'd done it to himself, he reflected, his object had been to do it as quickly as possible. With Gwyneth doing it to him, he had to wait an eternity. But it was worth it. Well worth it. He pressed the button on the remote which he gripped hard with his right hand. After a while she wanted no more, but Robert wouldn't let go. Gwyneth knew she couldn't break his hand grip so took hold of his balls instead.

They both laughed.

"Quits then," she said.

"Quits," he replied.

"Now, as they say, how was it for you?"

"It was absolutely fantastic. You are brilliant. You haven't been practicing on anyone else, have you?" he joked.

"Would you worry if I had? Yes of course you would. But no. I just sensed that I wanted to make you last as long as I could."

Robert sighed.

"One thing, though," she went on. "If we do go ahead we'll be bang opposite that new Securitas complex under construction. And we'll be able to go there whenever we want."

"I suppose so. I wonder who'll be holding our keys."

"What do you mean? They will: Securitas, of course."

"No. I meant: which person in the company? I think we ought to know. Don't you?"

Gwyneth suddenly realized that she'd not thought of this before. I was a slight shock to her. So far it had just been the Company. But in practice it would need to be an actual person. Another man, or another woman, or possibly even both, being keyholder to both her and to Robert. She looked at the agreement. It didn't help much. It just said: 'The Company, by its servants or agents or otherwise...', which was not much more than legal jargon. She decided to talk again to Mrs. MacPherson.

Next morning Gwyneth telephoned Securitas and spoke to Mrs. MacPherson, who invited her again to the office. Unfortunately Robert couldn't make it: he had an urgent assignment in Cambridge for two days.

Mrs MacPherson explained.

"We can of course appoint anyone," she said, "but our policy is generally to keep the keys in our safe deposit boxes. For temporary removal at a complex, the system is that when you go there you decide which of you will be unlocked (the system ensures it is impossble to be both at once of course). To unlock you we almost invariably appoint long-standing company employees, normally couples who work at the complex concerned. Some are in our conventional securities department. We prefer such holders to be rather older than their dum castas. It's not uncommon for us to appoint couples who are themselves belted with their keys held by someone else again. It can work quite well. We do of course have a strict monitoring policy and all holders are thoroughly vetted. If there should be a genuine conflict or whatever, then the holders can be changed. If any holder should act improperly this is a serious disciplinary offence and can warrant summary dismissal. This situation is very rare indeed, so I don't think you need worry on that score. Everything is kept on video which is given to you to keep afterwards."

"I'm grateful. But I didn't see any of this in the agreement."

"No. But if that's a problem it can easily be rectified. I hadn't included because I hadn't yet anyone in mind. In fact I'm still in the process of shortlisting potential holders for you should you go ahead. If you like I can show you the profiles. No names or any way you can identify them, of course, but their backgrounds and so on are all there."

"Thank you."

Gwyneth looked through them. There were six couples in all. There were no photos or details of height, build etc., and Gwyneth wondered what they looked like. Two were described as belted and had mortgages with Securitas themselves. She thought one of these would be best: safest, anyway. Both were in their mid-thirties. One was based in Windsor, Berkshire. The other couple was in Ealing, West London, and had been offered a posting in the new complex under construction just next to Robert and Gwyneth's intended new home. They looked ideal.

"What about this couple?" she asked.

"Ah. Mr and Ms W. Yes, they're certainly a possibility. I'll tell you what. If you like, and they agree too, I'll see if I can arrange for you and Robert to meet them informally before you decide to sign on the dotted line, so to speak."

"Yes. I'd like that very much."

Gwyneth went home that evening a little more reassured. She explained the situation to Robert the next day when he was back from Cambridge and Robert said he'd like to meet them if possible too. They were still talking about it whan the telephone rang. Gwyneth answered it. It was Sarah Gonzzalez.

"I've now had everything checked," she said. "It's as I expected. It's absolutely water-tight."

"I see," said Gwyneth. "I can't say I'm surprised. But thank you anyway. Is there anything else we should know that wasn't mentioned."

"Not really. It covers pretty well everything. There's even a clause, in case you didn't notice it, allowing Securitas in certain circumstances to change the model of belt from time to time at their discretion."

"Yes, I noticed that. I assumed that that was so that they could substitute the latest model or whatever."

"Maybe. I'll give you a written opinion setting everything out, naturally. I assume you won't want it e-mailed, but you can collect it lunchtime tomorrow from reception. It'll be in a tamperproof sealed envelope, of course."

"Thank you. I'll do just that."

"Take care, now. Bye."

"Bye."

Robert hadn't spoken but he'd heard the whole conversation. He and Gwyneth fell silent for several minutes.

"Well," he said. "I guess that's that then."

"I guess so."

"Next step I think is to meet this Mr. and Mrs. W."

"Absolutely."

In a few days they heard from Mrs. MacPherson that she'd fixed up an informal meeting between them and Mr. and Mrs. W. in the bar of a conference centre near Heathrow Airport. Mrs. MacPherson herself wasn't going to be there. Why should she?

At the appointed time the four of them met up as arranged. They got on very well. Mr. and Mrs. W. introduced themselves as Simon and Claire. They looked young for mid-thirties. They were vibrant, friendly, and to all intents and purposes a normal couple. Simon wore a smart grey business suit, Claire a beige trouser suit of the type currently in fashion among executives. Gwyneth and Robert eyed them a little apprehensively.

"It's all right," said Claire. "We won't bite."

"Glad to hear it," said Robert. "But what we'd first like to know, before we decide, is what it's like over time."

"Tough," said Simon, "at least at the beginning. But after a while we got used to it. What we'll find strange is probably being free again."

"When's that to be?" asked Robert.

"Maybe fifteen months or so. Maybe eighteen. About the same time as you'll be out, if all goes well with you."

"And how long have you been wearing yours?"

"Nearly four years now we signed up. At that stage the scheme was in its infancy and only available to Securitas employees. Like you we wanted to settle down in a home of our own. I don't mind telling you, we were terrified. But we never regretted it. You're lucky. You shouldn't have anything like as long as we had. Now, how about a beer?"

The four of them continued to have an enjoyable evening, and Robert and Gwyneth went away much relieved.

By the next morning, their mind was made up. They were going ahead.

And so it was that on Saturday week Gwyneth and Robert were married, and became the owner of their new maisonette, and finally committed to their dum casta mortgage all on the same day. They combined the three events into one ceremony, with Simon and Claire as witnesses. Both of their belt had new locks fitted, and they felt the finality as they clicked into place.

From now on there was now no going back.

To be continued.

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Page last updated 04-Jun-04 by: Altairboy@aol.com