In James’ manor, they had machines to clean floors and chop vegetables. She had assumed that everyone had the same and was surprised that the Dodges scrubbed their floors on their hands and knees with a brush. Surely they weren’t that poor.
When she opened a closet in the service hallway to clean the tile inside, she found the floor-cleaning machine. Mrs. Dodge didn’t scrub her floors on their hands and knees. Only Flame deserved that special treat.
When Mr. Dodge came home and found Flame scrubbing the bathroom floor, he said nothing about it. Housework was his wife’s business.
But he did reach down and fondle Flame’s cunt for a minute while she continued to scrub. That was his business.
When he went to the kitchen to greet his wife, Flame had to go back down the hallway and clean up his dirty boot prints.
She could hear the Dodges speaking in the kitchen but their voices were too low for her to make out the words.
A few minutes later, Mrs. Dodge told her to get cleaned up and serve them in the dining room.
Flame’s back and knees were stiff but she forced herself to get moving as quickly as she could. She had never served dinner before but she knew exactly how it was done because she had been served her whole life.
It took her a few minutes to find a tablecloth, dishes, and cutlery because she didn’t want to bother the Dodges with her incompetence any more than absolutely necessary. She set the dining room table for two and then announced dinner.
She served the wine and then returned to the kitchen.
She was hungry – lunch had been her only meal in more than twenty-four hours – and working with the food made her mouth water. But she dared not sample even a bite. There could be hidden cameras and the punishment for stealing food would be severe.
She plated two salads as neatly as her own staff would have done and carried them to the dining room. Serving from the left was automatic.
While the Dodges were eating their salad, she carved the chicken and put the potatoes and asparagus in serving dishes. As soon as the Dodges had finished their salad, she cleared the salad plates from the right and then served each of the main dishes in the proper order.
She stood in attendance until the dinner was done. Watching the Dodges eat was a torture in itself. When they were finished, she cleared the dinner service and returned to the kitchen to fetch the crème caramel. She found them in the refrigerator. She knew that she wasn’t supposed to serve them in the ramekins in which they’d been baked.
Turning them upside down on a dessert plate accomplished nothing. The crème caramel remained stubbornly in the ramekins. Casting about in desperation, she saw the recipes stacked on the counter. The crème caramel recipe was on the bottom. It said to loosen the custard from the side of the ramekin by running a knife around the edge.
Flame cursed herself for not thinking of the obvious.
Again, she stood in attendance while the Dodges ate. When she was clearing the dessert plates, she asked, “Would sir and madam like coffee, tea, or an aperitif?”
Both wanted coffee. Decaf.
Flame lowered her eyes. “I beg your indulgence, ma’am, but if you would be so kind as to show me how to make coffee this once, I promise that I’ll never have to ask again.”
Mrs. Dodge glared at her husband. He grinned and shrugged. “Just this once, dear, if you would be so kind.”
She rose and marched into the kitchen.
Flame scurried to keep up.
While she was filling the pot with water, Mrs. Dodge said, “I should scourge every inch of skin from your back for this.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Flame said. “I deserve no less and will endure any punishment that you wish to inflict upon me.”
“You certainly will.”
Flame was afraid of what Mrs. Dodge would do to her, but forced a brave face.
When the coffee was ready, Mrs. Dodge said, “Serve us,” and returned to the dining room.
Flame served the coffee with cream and sugar on a silver tray that she found in a cupboard.
Mr. Dodge instructed Flame to stand before him while he sipped his coffee. “Tell us how this dinner differed from the way dinner is prepared and served in a lord’s home.”
“Obviously, the lord’s wife would not have to cook the meal,” Flame said. “That was my failing. I will learn to cook as quickly as I can and Mrs. Dodge will not have to cook again. Your food was not served as hot as it should have been. Again that was because Mrs. Dodge had to do the cooking. With experience, I will be able to time the dishes so that they finish cooking just before they are served and you will have more enjoyable meals.”
“Anything else.”
Flame shook her head.
“That’s not good enough,” Mr. Dodge said. “Do you know why I paid so much money for you?”
At the mention of money, Mrs. Dodge’s head snapped around to glare at her husband.
“No, sir.”
“Because you grew up as a lady. Your experience will be invaluable to me, but only if you share it. Listen to me very carefully. You must tell me exactly how our behavior differs from that of a lord and lady. Exactly. Do not fear offending us. You will not be punished for correcting our table manners or deportment.” He glared back at Mrs. Dodge. “But if we do not learn to behave correctly, if we entertain guests from the peerage and make any errors of etiquette, however minor, we will blame you and you will be disciplined swiftly and terribly. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Your job – your real job – is to make sure that Mrs. Dodge and I behave exactly as a lord and lady would behave. So do your job. Tell us, in detail, what we did wrong during the dinner.”
Flame licked her lips and summoned her courage. “There were a few minor things. Barely noticeable. Not at all serious. But some things that would be done a little differently at a lord’s table.”
“Tell me.”
“You ate your food in larger bites than a lord would. A lord would never fill a spoon more than half full. He would never put a piece of meat larger than a thumbnail in his mouth.”
“I see. What else?”
“A lord would never put a bite into his mouth until he had finished chewing and swallowing the previous bite. In fact, he would clear his mouth and make a few words of conversation before taking the next bite. At a lord’s table, the conversation is considered more important than the food. Or, at least, that’s the impression that the lord tries to give.”
“Is there more?”
“The most important thing is that a lord or lady would never open his mouth when there is food in it. He chews with his lips closed and swallows before opening them again. Every time.”
“And we don’t?”
“You have to be careful not to slip.”
“What else?”
Mrs. Dodge was staring daggers at her. She decided that she’d walked far enough on the edge of a knife for one night.
“No, sir. Like I said, only minor things. Nothing that would embarrass you.” She was lying about that. Mrs. Dodge was a horror to watch when she was eating. Flame had never before seen half-chewed food being masticated into mush. It had been nauseating. If the Dodges were ever invited to a formal dinner, it would be their last invitation.
If they aspired to be polite company, they needed her help desperately. She could help them, but only if one or the other didn’t lose his or her temper and kill the messenger on the spot.
Suddenly, Mrs. Dodge smiled sweetly. “My dear, you haven’t eaten yet. You must be starving. Come with me and let me serve your dinner.”
Flame followed her into the kitchen.
Mrs. Dodge scraped half eaten chicken bones from Mr. Dodge’s dirty plate onto hers, threw a spoonful of salad, asparagus, and potatoes on top of it, and said, “Come with me.”
Flame followed her into the bathroom.
Mrs. Dodge dumped the food onto the floor in front of the toilet. Then she deliberately mashed it into the tiles
with her foot. “Oh dear, I seem to have soiled my slipper. Would you be a dear and get down on your knees and lick it clean for me?” She leaned against the vanity and raised her foot delicately.
Flame fell to her knees and licked every morsel of food from the sole of the slipper.
“When you finish eating your dinner, you be sure to lick the floor clean. If I find so much as a speck of grease left, I’ll make you rue the day you were born.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for the food.”
Mrs. Dodge watched while Flame bent her face to the floor and began eating like a dog.
“Don’t forget to keep your mouth closed when you’re chewing. And feel free to make conversation with yourself between bites.” She kicked Flame in the side to punctuate her point. “When you’re finished that, clean the kitchen and dining room and then go back to your kennel where you belong.”
* * *
Later that evening, Dodge came to the kennel to make use of Flame. The big bed in the pleasure room had attachment points around the frame. He had her lie on her back and stretch her arms and legs akimbo. When her ankles and wrists were chained to the four corners of the bed, he took his time fondling her body before lying on top of her and penetrating her.
He liked taking her when she was restrained.
To her surprise, she didn’t mind – once again she climaxed with him.
Afterward, he sat in the easy chair and watched her for a long time.
Her legs were pulled wide, giving him an unobstructed view of her hairless sex. She felt acutely self-conscious but she had no choice but to endure his gaze because he left her chained to the bed until his eyes had taken their fill.
When he finally released her, she asked, “Do you wish to discipline me for my shortcomings at dinner tonight?”
“Do you like being whipped?”
“No, sir. The prospect frightens me. But I failed you and it is your right to do whatever you wish to me. It is my duty to endure whatever discipline you choose to inflict.”
“I do not wish to inflict any suffering on you tonight. Maybe tomorrow night.”
“Thank you.” Her gratitude was sincere and heartfelt. Emboldened by his magnanimity, she asked, “Would it offend you if I dared ask a boon?”
“Ask and I’ll decide if it offends me.”
She looked at the floor. “I’m embarrassed that I can’t cook your meals for you. I would like a cookbook. Something for a beginner so that I can learn to cook.”
He raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Mrs. Dodge can teach you. She’s a good cook.”
“I don’t feel that it’s right for a slave to impose upon her.”
He laughed and pulled a twenty-plaq note from his wallet. “There’s a bookstore on Walkoon Street. You can go there tomorrow when I’m at work. Bring back the change and the receipt.” He unfastened a disk from his keychain. “Carry this with you and you’ll be able to get through the back gate.”
“Thank you, sir.” She knew the bookstore; she had shopped there when she was a lady. It would be a long walk down Norbit Hill and longer walk back up. She hoped that it wouldn’t be raining; she had no coat.
When Dodge left, he didn’t lock her cell door, nor did her lock the door to the kennel. She would be free to come and go tomorrow. But she would have to be careful not to abuse the privilege. The gate was operated by an automatic mechanism. Undoubtedly it would keep a record of the time of her comings and goings for Dodge to review.
The day had been exhausting and she slept soundly.
Barry, the kennelman, woke her at seven, as before.
While she was showering, she wondered if she would be required to service him orally again. She wouldn’t volunteer, not today, but if he asked, she would do it without complaint.
He didn’t ask. Instead, he had a gift for her.
She examined the heavy piece of molded black rubber. It was six inches long and an inch and a half in diameter. One end formed a blunt point and the other flared out into a wide oval.
“Mr. Dodge may not be interested in your asshole,” Barry said, “but he’s going to expect you to entertain at parties and some of his guests are sure to want to use you that way. If you’re not prepared, you will find it an unpleasant experience. It will be painful at the least and, at the worst, may cause serious damage. I’ve seen some slaves whose assholes were torn up pretty badly. It’s an awkward place to get stitches. You’ll always have lube in your supplies. That’s standard. I recommend that you lube the plug, insert it up your asshole, and wear it there for at least an hour a day to keep yourself stretched. I also recommend that you pack your asshole with plenty of lube before you are taken to entertain guests. You won’t be given an opportunity to lube up after the action starts. It’s better to be prepared than to be injured.”
The idea appalled her but Barry was trying to protect her. It was his way of returning the favor that she had done for him yesterday and she appreciated it.
She never would have thought to prepare herself to be raped anally. Never.
The slaver woman was right. It paid for a slave to be on good terms with her kennelman.
“I can’t pay you for it. Not with money,” she said.
He waved the thought away. “It will be charged to your owner’s account. It’s a legitimate expense.”
She looked at him shyly. “After I’ve had a few days to prepare myself, maybe you can give me some practical experience that way, too. If that would please you.”
Barry flushed and his eyes flashed. “Don’t you ever say that again. Ever. A kennelman who is found to have penetrated a slave below her waist is automatically castrated. Automatically. And after they do that, the authorities decide on a suitable punishment. Something worse than the castration.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’ll never let you penetrate me below the waist. Not even if you beg me. I’ll fight you off with all my strength.”
“Don’t even joke about it. Mistakes have been made in the past.”
The math was pretty simple. It would cost a hundred thousand plaqs to replace her. It would cost nothing to replace the kennelman. He would be vulnerable to a false accusation.
She put her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll never cause a problem for you. That’s a promise.”
He nodded. “I’ve been here too long. I have to get going.”
After he left, she stared at the rubber plug for a while. I better start preparing myself today, she said to herself. Dodge likes to bend me over and take me from behind. He might decide to use the other hole today. What’s the difference between regular sex and anal sex? About two inches.
She had seen the tube of lubricant in the wardrobe. She knew what that it was used for sex but she’d never had a need for it before.
She uncapped the tube and squeezed some out on her hand. It was clear and odorless. It made her fingers slippery.
She lubed the plug from tip to base with a thick coat. Then she squatted, put her hand between her legs, and rubbed lube around her asshole and then inside as far as her fingers could reach.
It felt strange. She had never had her fingers in her own asshole before. Or anyone else’s, for that matter. Certainly not her husband’s.
With a start, she wondered if James had ever put his fingers in a slave’s asshole. Or put his cock in there. Was that his preference? If she had offered her asshole to her husband, would they have had sex more than once or twice a year?
She would never know now.
She tried pushing the blunt tip of the plug into herself.
It wouldn’t go. It slipped around and slipped out but wouldn’t slip in further than a half inch.
Instead of crouching, she tried kneeling so that she could put the base of the plug on the floor to impale herself.
That worked a little better but it still wouldn’t go in. She tried bouncing up and down a little and managed to penetrate herself with most of the point but not more than that.
There was a wooden
chair in the kitchen.
She carried the plug out there, put it on the chair, and then sat on it.
She had to force it with her body weight. She slid up and down slowly while holding it with her hand. She could feel that she was stretching a little more and sliding a little lower on every penetration.
Suddenly her body revolted and reflexively tried to shit the object out.
The opposite happened. When the body shits, the sphincter muscles relax to allow the bolus to pass. This time, when her sphincters relaxed, the plug slid home.
Flame was sitting on the chair, both cheeks pressed against the wooden seat, with the plug was inserted into her as far as it would go.
The sensation was peculiar. She felt like she was frozen halfway through taking a shit. She was stretched but the plug wasn’t passing so she had to remain stretched.
It wasn’t exactly painful but it was definitely unpleasant.
She badly wanted to stand up and expel the invader but she forced herself to remain seated.
She thought about what would have happened if the invader had not been a rubber plug but a lusty man’s cock; if she had not used lube but had been entered dry; if the invader had been rammed home in one thrust rather than being coaxed inside; if, rather than simply sitting passively in her ass, the invader were being thrust in and out while she squirmed in agony.
Barry had done her a great service.
Flame had no watch – slaves owned nothing – and there was no clock in the kennel so she could not tell when an hour had passed. The kennel didn’t even have a window so she could see how high the sun had risen. There are three thousand and sixty seconds in an hour so she passed the time on the chair by counting slowly to three thousand and sixty.
When she stood up, the plug immediately slid out of her ass. When she wasn’t sitting on it, she would only be able to keep it in place if she used her hand to hold it.
She washed it in the bathroom and then put it in the wardrobe, hidden behind the cosmetics, lube, and other toiletries.
Slave of the Aristocracy: Book One – On the Auction Block Page 6