Chris turned his back on her and perfectly executed one of those neat bows he was so good at. “Welcome back, sir, ma’am. I wasn’t informed that you were arriving today.”
“No, it’s a surprise,” Alex Selador said, touching him lightly on the arm. “I told Rachel not to tell you. We were going to come back a little early anyway.”
“And how could we miss seeing the merchandise you’re preparing on the side?” Grendel added, looking at Robin over Chris’s shoulder. “Let’s have a quick look before the sale starts.”
They approached her from two sides, and Robin gasped at the touch of their hands. They had really just arrived, and their fingers were cold against the heat of her skin. But they smiled and ignored her, and under Chris’s steady gaze, she responded as she had been taught, with all of her heart and with all due restraint. Alex read her papers while Grendel brought her eyes up to meet his.
The romance seemed ready to overwhelm her. My Master’s Master, she thought dizzily. “She seems like a fine piece of work,” Alex said encouragingly. “I’m sorry we missed her.”
“Very cute,” Grendel added. “But I wouldn’t think she was your type, Mr. Parker.”
Was Chris actually blushing? No, it must have been the light in the room, the heat of her own body. Robin lowered her eyes again, for once grateful for the opportunity.
“Thank you,” Chris said. “She was more than adequate.” There was no special inflection in his voice.
“Last call, all buyers to the bidding room, please!”
“All right, let’s go,” Grendel directed. “I’m glad we got here in time. You’ll come home with us, Chris. See you in the other room.”
Alex crossed over to Robin and touched her shoulder. “Good luck,” she whispered. “And welcome.”
Robin’s “Thank you, ma’am,” was barely out before Alex turned to leave.
And then she was alone again with Chris. On one side of her, a trainer was stroking the slave with the tension-filled body. Someone else was sobbing.
Chris sighed and his mouth curled up into a little smile. “You have just been approved of,” he said softly. Robin nodded.
“Then there’s nothing else to say. Be a good girl.” And he leaned forward, took her hair in one hand, and kissed her, hard, like the kiss of a long-lost lover.
And then he let her go, and walked away without another word.
* * * *
The slaves would not be present for the bidding upon them. For the time during the auction, the man who managed the slaves of the auction house came in and told them that they could stretch out. Other slaves hurried in with little cups of water, and warm, wet cloths to wipe the “merchandise” off. Robin felt tearfully grateful, but she did not break her instructions to remain silent.
It was another one of those inhumanly long and impossibly short periods of time. When the manager came back and ordered them to get back into their proper positions, Robin could swear that the sense of anxiety and anticipation had actually become a light mist, permeating the entire room.
When the doors opened, they could all hear the sounds of light applause, and the strong voice of the regional director thanking people for coming.
The first person in the room was the television newsman. With a wide grin on his face, he almost ran to the stand with the twins.
The white-haired man stopped in front of Robin and she felt a wave of panicked nausea, but he merely shook his head and continued walking.
People continued to fill the room, and more congratulations and good wishes were filling the air. On her right, the businessman with all of the rings and markings was locked into a collar by a black man with long dreads and a lilting accent. Robin saw the slave clamber down from the stand and prostrate himself before his new master while others reached in to shake the owner’s hand.
Across the room, it sounded like someone was getting another taste of the paddle.
Some owners, Chris had told her, will want to do something to demonstrate their mastery of you right away. Be prepared for anything. Do not hesitate.
But as more people came in, few stopped by her and no one came to claim her. Oh dear, she thought wildly. No one bought me! No one wanted me! I’m a failure! Chris will kill me!
And then, into her line of sight came a pair of long legs clothed in Brooks Brothers splendor. A hand gesture appeared before her eyes, and she snapped her head up to look into a pair of bright blue eyes. Wavy, two-toned hair was expertly cut so that it fell across a distinguished forehead, and a square jaw set off a firm but sensual mouth. He was about 6’2”, slender and graceful.
Gently, he took the sales chain from around her throat, and replaced it with a gold chain not unlike the one that Leon wore. He took a lock out of his pocket and locked the ends together and smiled, showing a mouthful of straight white teeth, practically gleaming against his tanned face.
I’ve been sold to Prince Charming, Robin thought. I’m swooning.
And then another man entered her vision. He was slightly shorter, heavier, and had long straight brown hair, which was gathered at the back of his neck into a ponytail. He was also elegantly dressed, although in a more flamboyant manner; he too had a tan. He was sporting a pink triangle tie-clip, and two gold hoops in one ear.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, Eric,” he said, touching Robin’s chin and shaking his head. “Of all the things! What the hell are we going to do with a woman?”
“You’ll see,” Eric said, patting Robin on the head. “She’ll fit in just fine, sweetheart. You have to trust me on this one.” And then he leaned over to kiss the brown-haired man.
I’ve been sold to Prince Charming, Robin thought again. And he’s gay.
Chapter Sixteen
“I don’t care if they charge you double, just get it in the air tonight and in my hands tomorrow,” Robin demanded, slamming her hand down on the desk for emphasis. “This is the age of technology! Express it! Messenger it! But get it here, or my ass is in a sling, do you understand me?”
Literally, she thought, pausing as the exasperated clerk rattled off air shipment numbers at her. Very literally.
When she hung up, she sighed and checked the bill of lading again. Somehow, those jerks back in New York had managed to ship the entire set of Hopi household pottery except for the all-important mortar and pestle assembly that had made the set so noteworthy. And it wasn’t just any ordinary acquisition here, but a gift, from her masters to Jimmy’s parents, whose wedding anniversary was tomorrow night. Eric had spent hours going through catalogs with her, trying to find the right thing. Jimmy didn’t much care. His parents would love anything, he had sighed from time to time. But Eric was ever so conscious about appearances. He wanted everything perfect.
Like he was, for example.
Down girl. Behave.
If I can get it here in the morning, she figured, I can get it messengered to San Diego, or take it there myself. God knows the folks would be happy to see me. She giggled out loud as she flipped through her battered old Rolodex for her travel agent’s number.
The last time she had made the short flight into San Diego, the old man had greeted her like a daughter and insisted that she stay for barbecue and Sangria. Jimmy’s parents were old California and old money. They were both bilingual and Berkeley educated, and considered themselves very hip. Certainly they loved their gay son and his fabulous lover. But they didn’t know that the young and good-looking staff that their son and son-in-law maintained to run their business and keep their handsome house in order were all slaves. When mom and dad came to visit, everyone got to get dressed for the weekend.
Dad had even mentioned to Robin that “he never found such polite young men as those who worked for his kids.”
“They’re not like I was when I was their age,” he chuckled. “Why, I was quite the bohemian, disrespected my parents and teachers, smoked dope, and ran amok. Couldn’t tell, could you?”
“No, sir, I guess I couldn’t,
” Robin had agreed.
“Well there you go! Just like those boys! Sir!” He shook his head. “Now why don’t you just call me Jack?”
Because your son would take my hide off if he found out, Robin thought cheerfully. “It must have been the way I was raised, sir.”
The pottery would look wonderful in their wide living room, with the wall of windows overlooking a wooded hill. Robin decided to let the messenger pick up the whole set and bring it down. She still didn’t know if Eric or Jimmy had any plans for her tomorrow, and it was always better to be cautious with them.
Raul came in, his bare feet slapping against the stone tiles. He put a stack of mail on her desk and winked at her. “New books from those auction houses in London and something in Japanese. Did you get the missing piece?”
“Yes.” Robin grabbed at the catalogs and grinned with delight. “Oh great! Here’s that sword collection that Jimmy wanted to look at. Maybe now we can match that piece he got last year and make some money.”
Raul shook his head in wonderment. “I dunno how they had the time to do all this stuff before.” He bent over her desk to look at the photos of Japanese and assorted eastern weaponry. His body was fluid and graceful, a swimmer and a dancer, done in cream-heavy coffee. He often wore Speedos when doing his housework, especially brightly colored ones. They suited him much more then nakedness, emphasizing his long legs and tight stomach and cupping the cheeks of his ass. Today, it was orange, with black racing stripes.
“They didn’t,” Robin muttered. And it was true. Before they had purchased her, their acquisition of the various artwork and collectibles that they, their friends, family, and clients all wanted were obtained in the catch-as-catch-can method. Eric was the primary collector in the house. He loved sculpture, and three-dimensional pieces of artwork that he could touch. He also loved ancient erotic art and literature that mentioned or depicted homosexuality. One of his oldest pieces was a section of plastered wall from an archeology dig that had Greek graffiti on it saying, essentially, “Priscus fucked Lucanus here.”
Jimmy, the securities genius, didn’t have any special love, although he did like to be aware of some items for their investment value. What he liked to do, now that he had a full time buyer to do his bidding, was use her to pick up special gifts for his clients. They were constantly showering him with things he couldn’t use or didn’t want, and Robin got the job of discreetly getting rid of those as well. Or at least putting them away, cataloging them, and knowing when to pull them out just in time for the client to see them when invited over to dinner.
It had been a very interesting year.
* * * *
Jimmy and Eric did not stage any special use of her before leaving the auction. In fact, they were very low key, accepting complimentary comments and best wishes from several people before getting Robin’s clothes and telling her to wait in their car. While she sat alone in the limousine, she watched people streaming out of the great old house, and even saw Grendel, Alex, and Chris leaving together. She was still somewhat shell-shocked. Luckily, she did have enough presence of mind to curl her legs under her on the floor just before her new masters reached the car. They slid into seats without making any comment about her position, so she assumed that she did the right thing.
“I’m Eric Parese and this is my lover James Appleton,” her “Prince” said to her as the car began to move. “You belong to the two of us now. Have you a professional wardrobe?”
Robin opened her eyes wide in astonishment. That was the last question she had expected. “Um yes, master, I do. It’s in storage.”
“You’ll have to get it out. There’s no reason for me to duplicate it.” He looked at his watch and then back at her. “We were going to leave tomorrow. Will you be able to get your things packed by tomorrow evening?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.”
And as if to deliberately frustrate her, he had leaned back into the leather seat and closed his eyes for the rest of the ride back into the city. Jimmy had just gazed out the window. Robin knew all the proper forms for asking if she could ask a question, but there was no way in heaven that she was going to start now. It had been a long day.
Back at the wonderful hotel they were staying in, she slept on the couch in the outer room instead of at the foot of their bed.
It wasn’t until she had lugged her suitcase and garment bag back to them and they all made it to the airport (where her collar did not set off the metal detector) that Eric finally told her where they were going. California.
To the hills north of Los Angeles to be exact. Not near the beaches, but where they could have a little bit of property and privacy. Jimmy had snorted―privacy and a one hour commute to the edges of the city. But between Eric’s work as a model and Jimmy’s mostly at-home financial work, they never made it into the city more than twice a week. They both stayed with friends or at hotels when they had to do extended projects, and tried to make it home as often as possible.
And who could blame them? Home was a paradise, with a spacious, sunlit designer main building, a Jacuzzi that sported a view of the rolling hills and the mountains in the distance, a small swimming pool, and three men who lived to fulfill their every need.
There was Raul, the house manager and general handyman; he was also the cook and the mechanic, and the preferred sexual partner for Eric when Eric wasn’t doing Jimmy. Then there was Carl, who at thirty-seven was the oldest member of this youthful household. He assisted Jimmy and acted as a secretary, bookkeeper, and social secretary, and had been Jimmy’s slave before Jimmy and Eric got together. And then there was Jeff, another easterner like Robin, who was the all-around houseboy and gofer and lowest on the household pecking order. Even Robin had a better standing then he did, although not at first. She had to earn her way up.
Despite their well-off backgrounds, or perhaps because of them, her masters were cautious consumers. Every member of their house did double or triple duty, and everyone was expected to be able to step in for someone else if a crisis occurred. The male slaves were as surprised to see Robin as she was surprised to be purchased. At first, she didn’t seem to fit in. There was no job that was left undone to anyone’s knowledge, and there was no way to slip her into the scheme of things erotically. The masters showed no interest in suddenly picking up girls; why buy one? She was an intruder in their all-boy atmosphere, a cog in their fantasy paradise. At the beginning, they seemed to do all they could to make her understand that she was unwanted and unwelcome.
First of all, despite Eric’s assurances, Jimmy remained sarcastic and unwilling to believe that they could or should incorporate Robin into their lives. It was in the context of explaining to Jimmy what he had in mind for the new acquisition that Robin finally learned what she had been purchased for.
“We just spent that kind of money on a personal antique shopper?” Jimmy had asked in exasperation.
“Not just antiques. My sculpture. Your investments. She could do the buying for the clients, and for the families. We can use her to agent our trading pieces.” Eric remained calm at almost every barb and every lilt of arrogance in his lover’s voice. Instead, he ticked off the advantages one at a time, seemingly unaware that Robin was listening to every word with a rising understanding and inner sense of irony. “Listen,” Eric had continued. “You hate to go to auctions. I hate to waste my time, too. Now, we have someone who can go to all these things, sit by the phone for who knows how many hours and handle all the stupid little details that are such a pain in the ass. I won’t need to borrow Carl from you to do all of the paperwork for me. And you won’t have to go out by yourself to get me something fabulous for my birthday.”
“You just got something fabulous for your birthday,” Jimmy sighed. “And she’s sitting right there.”
They both turned to Robin as though just noticing her presence. It was her first day in California, her first day in the house, and they hadn’t even showed her where to put her things or where she
was going to sleep.
“She doesn’t know anything about the things we like,” Jimmy added. “For crying out loud, she likes Italian paintings and Old Masters. We’re going to have to have her tutored to make her useful.”
“No we won’t.” Eric addressed her for the first time. “Are you familiar with Southwestern Native artwork? Navaho, Hopi? Mexican and Spanish Californian? Greek, Roman, or Aramaic antiquities? Modern sculpture? Hindu artwork and texts? Japanese swords and military collectibles?”
Robin thought quickly. “Master, I’m familiar with most of them, but I haven’t spent a lot of time in their markets. But a few weeks with the new catalogs and a few visits with some dealers and I could easily act as your agent in any field, sir.”
Eric smiled triumphantly. He was still princely when he smiled. “There, you see? Great investment.”
Jimmy snorted. “You don’t even know where she’s going to sleep.”
“No, I decided that on the ride from the airport. We’ll just put her in with the boys. There’s no need to make special arrangements here. She can use the second floor office as her workspace, and I’ll have Raul empty the closet for her things.”
It was amazing. After spending my lifetime wishing for enslavement, to become the object of the whims and will of a master or mistress who would reduce me to nothing but a useful toy, a sexual plaything, I have at last been sold to two masters who don’t have the slightest interest in me sexually, but who are going to put me to work doing precisely what I did before being trained and sold.
Suddenly, she looked up, and her quick movement attracted the immediate attention of both men. She blushed; Chris had hammered into her that slaves move with deliberation and speed, in order to fade into the background. But she cleared her throat and went forward anyway. “Master? May I use one of my personal contacts today?”
The Slave Page 25