“You are the worst cocksucker in the house,” Jimmy said, pulling her back so that just his round cock head lay in her mouth. “Get down on the floor, we’ll start you back at the beginning.”
From her knees, she followed his directions. She seduced his cock, kissed it with the shyness of a virgin and then with the passion of a penitent. She took him in one inch at a time, and licked him up and down like candy. He pushed her lower, to lick, kiss and then finally take his low-hanging balls in her mouth. One at a time.
“Carl can handle both,” he sneered. “I knew you’d be a waste of time. Get back to sucking. But first, lick that cock shaft. Kiss the head, the whole thing! Now get it back down in your throat, and keep it there!”
But she could never keep from choking around it for a long enough time. And Jimmy never let her forget that he was in control. He always shoved that one inch further, and held her in place for ten seconds longer, or, when he finally just clamped down on her head and fucked her face the way that she had fantasized about for so many years, she gagged and nearly lost control.
But dammit, even as she cursed him, and herself, and the cheap porn that had fed her fantasy life, every minute was an awful delight, a thrilling reminder of what she was, and what he was, and how damn good it was underneath all the anguish and disappointment. When he pulled her away from him, she whimpered to get him back. When he barked some new command, she rushed to obey.
It was still a stinging rebuke when he sent her for Carl and made her watch as Carl effortlessly took the entire length of Jimmy’s cock in one smooth motion, or as he stayed perfectly still for Jimmy’s ruthless battery of Carl’s mouth and throat.
And it was still wonderful when Jimmy ordered Carl to fuck Robin for Jimmy’s amusement, and the two slaves scrambled and positioned themselves for their master’s pleasure, stopping and starting again at his whim.
“I understand that the two of you got something going,” Jimmy said once, standing over them while Carl was holding Robin’s reddened and shaking ass cheeks far apart, exposing her tight asshole. Robin held her breath, and then moaned it out as she felt Jimmy’s finger penetrate her.
“That’s cute,” the master continued. “Real cute. But you never forget who fucks who around here, boy.”
“No, sir,” Carl replied.
“So get her up here and get ready for the ride of your life.”
Robin ended up over the edge of the bed. Before she realized what was happening, Carl was in her, slamming down into her anal channel with a strong urgency. But instead of starting to bugger her energetically, which was his usual custom, he stayed inside of her, and she could swear she felt the pulsating of his warm cock as it nestled deep inside of her.
And what Robin felt next was a compression of weight from above, and then Carl’s whoosh of released breath in her ear. His cock in her ass jerked suddenly, and she heard Jimmy’s grunt of satisfaction way above her.
Jimmy fucked Carl in and out of her by making Carl follow Jimmy’s thrusts.
She could hear the rhythmic breathing of the two men above and behind her, the shift in pressure as Jimmy pulled back and Carl followed. The dragging of Carl’s thickness through her body made her begin to grind back into him, with him, so that the three of them seemed one writing mass of sexual frenzy, back and forth, pushing into each other and wrestling back for another thrust.
Robin panted and pressed her palms against the bed, forcing her upper body up, and Carl reached around her and took her breasts into his hands. The brushing of his fingers against her nipples was all the stimulation she could take before what little restraint she had left wrestled and clawed its way from her. Her voice rose in a series of wails that seemed to encourage Jimmy to speed up. Carl grunted as he was forced to slam into her again and again at his master’s rhythm, and when Jimmy snarled out a command to hold still, both Carl and Robin moaned.
But they obeyed, feeling the steady pounding of Jimmy’s final thrusts, until he spurted his pleasure deep inside of Carl’s body. Robin could feel the answering rush that Carl felt as he clutched her even harder, bruising her with his fingertips.
“Finish up,” Jimmy said, his voice tight but calm in the tense moments after he drew his cock out of Carl’s ass and walked around the bed to look at them again.
Carl didn’t hesitate one second. Relaxing his hold on Robin’s tits, he pushed himself back for a better angle and slammed into her just as his master had so recently violated him. Robin mewed and whimpered, and pushed her hips back at him. She wanted him all, every inch, and Jimmy, too. She wanted the two of them to use her, fuck her in every cavity she had, until she screamed with pleasure, until she cried with agony and exhaustion. Carl’s movements into her reached a steady and tumultuous series of waves that triggered her own pleasure, and she threw her head back to look at Jimmy.
“Please!” Her voice drew the whole word out, made it a wavering song of entreaty, like a hymn. “Oh please, please, master, let me come, sir, please!”
“Sure,” Jimmy said. “Do it.”
Robin reached under herself, and bowed her head. In a second, she had her hand right where it should be. In three, Carl had begun those movements that she knew signaled his own approaching orgasm. Robin didn’t wait for him. One quick pinch, and her own pleasure rose up and took her, sweeping through her body from that little point between her legs and through her entire delta and up past her breastbone. It rushed through her in wave after wave. Her inner muscles constricted and flexed with every pulse, and Carl gasped and came himself, startled by the powerful contractions. He leaned over her while he came, moving his hips in short jerks, emptying himself out, and sighing in the release.
“Cool,” came Jimmy’s voice. “Do it again.”
* * * *
And after that, Robin became a more integrated part of the household’s sexual doings as well as the professional aspect. Eric was so happy that Jimmy had taken an active interest in making some use of the girl that he even tried her out himself. It was not particularly memorable for either of them, but it marked Robin’s transition from utility slave to personal one. It also truly established her at an equal level with Carl, despite his seniority. In time, Carl and Robin got tired of their more or less vanilla relationship, and began to see each other as mutually helpful and available friends.
But before they had entirely cooled down, Carl began to let her know that he was on her side in more ways than just friendship. He told her that as soon as he realized she had no intention of trying to elbow in on his special relationship with Jimmy, he began to really like her. Then, one night, when he came over to her bunk and she pushed back the sheets to make herself available to him, he just kissed her and held her hands together and called Jeff.
She froze, wondering what she had done to piss him off. But when Jeff arrived, a smirk on his face, Carl merely jerked his head toward Robin’s body and said, “Suck her.”
“What?” Jeff exclaimed.
“You heard me, shitface. Get your mouth down there and eat her. Lick her pussy.”
“No way, man! I don’t eat cunts!”
Carl let her go and sprang on Jeff, grabbing him by the back of his neck and forcing him down onto his knees. “And you don’t talk to me that way, you snotty little punk. You’re dead meat if you don’t do what I say, asshole.”
Robin watched, eyes wide. Jeff sniveled; it was clear that he really believed that he had to do what Carl told him to. She wondered what his instructions must be.
“But I never did that,” he complained, trying one last time. “I don’t know how!”
“Now’s the time to learn, shit-for-brains. Get your mouth down there and start licking. I’ll tell you what to do next.” Carl returned to Robin’s head while Jeff reluctantly got into position. As Jeff stuck his tongue out and began to lick, Robin giggled; it was almost like being attacked by a perverted dog.
“Relax,” Carl said, beginning to kiss her throat and flick at her nipples. “When he gets
going good, you’ll suck my cock, OK?”
“OK.” Robin reached up and gave Carl’s nipple a tweak, and when he grinned, they started to play with each other’s bodies with obvious delight.
* * * *
It was over two weeks from that incident when Eric stopped Robin during her work day. When she raised her head from her bow, he shot her a stern look. “Is it true that Carl has been making Jeff go down on you after lights out?”
Robin pursed her lips. But there was no question about how she would answer. “Yes, master.”
“And how is he? He’s not a bad cocksucker.”
“He’s... learning, master. He’s still... reluctant.” Inwardly, she cringed. Chris would have smacked her for not answering the question.
But Eric merely nodded thoughtfully. “Well, we’ll have to do something about that.”
And that night, for the masters’ amusement, Jeff ended up servicing everyone with his mouth, one after the other, going back and forth between the other slaves while the owners laughed and threw rolled condoms for him to fetch.
Robin had been firmly established in the household. And the only person who didn’t like her was a boy she could use at will. Life was good.
* * * *
At the one year anniversary of her sale, she was supposed to contact her trainer for an update. It was in her contract. So she called Chris at the number she had been given, and spoke to him for about an hour. It was so good to hear his light, sardonic voice, and so good to hear the pleasure he got in knowing that she was working out in her new position.
“You told me that I should expect the unexpected,” she said once, when the conversation seemed to drag. “Well, I got it.”
“We all do,” he replied. “The survivors always seem to be able to make the best of it. And how shall I hear from you in another year?”
He meant, will you be renegotiating your contract with your new masters, or will you want to re-enter the Marketplace through another sale?
Robin sighed, and looked out her window. She was healthier now than she’d ever been in her life. She certainly got her SM play, in abundance, from people who took it seriously and never relaxed it because of affection or love or a bad day at the office. She was doing work she was trained for, and achieving some small rate of success. She even got off regularly.
Could she gamble all of that for something better?
Was there something better?
“I don’t know,” she finally said.
“Ah.” There was silence on the line for a moment. “I do know what you mean. Be good, Robin. And give my respects to your owners.”
“Yes, sir,” she answered. And then she put the phone down and gazed out the window some more.
It sure was a nice view.
Chapter Eighteen
If there was one thing that saved life in California from becoming too monotonous, it was the fact that Eric and Jimmy threw lots of parties.
Different kinds of parties to be sure. Jimmy entertained his clients and the slaves got dressed up and became somber and nearly invisible house-staff. Eric partied with fellow beautiful people and their various agents, lovers, photographers, and friends, and the slaves became hip, charming waiters in designer outfits who flirted and laughed at everyone’s jokes.
Robin was fitted with three exquisite serving outfits, including one maid-style black dress complete with apron and cap, and a lovely tuxedo with silver-gray trim. She liked doing the servant routine; it was almost like acting in a movie. And the guests were almost always impressed and almost never showed it. If anyone ever wondered why two men needed a live-in staff of four to take care of them, the thought was never uttered out loud. One night, Robin overheard one of Jimmy’s guests remarking to another that the servants were all probably hired for the occasion just to impress them, but that was the worst anyone said.
What was ironic about those affairs was that when an occasional guest got out of hand and touched her inappropriately or made a lewd comment, Robin always managed to react the way that any real servant would, with polite but firm refusal and a calm sense of offense. One man even had Eric call Robin aside so that he could formally apologize to her. Afterward, Eric and Jimmy got a big laugh out of it, and speculated that the man had loved the opportunity to relish such humiliation as apologizing to a mere servant before her employer. And Jimmy was especially amused by it, and made mock apologies to Robin for the next week, every time he punished her.
It was more fun to be trendy with Eric’s crowd. It was also intimidating as hell. If Robin had felt plain next to other slaves, Eric’s friends made her feel like the original Ugly Duckling. But it worked in her favor, because she could be dismissed as a possible distraction; no one would compare her with the absolutely stunning professionals who strutted and lounged their way around the house the same way they did through life. It was at several such parties that Robin actually did meet some famous people, models, directors, actors, photographers, writers, and designers.
There, when someone made a move on her, she had to check with Eric or Raul, and let them make a quick decision. Occasionally, to add spice to the event or just to make a friend happy, she was told to allow herself to be seduced, and to take the guest to some out of the way place for a quick screw. When a television actor whose clean-cut good looks made him the cover boy of countless teen magazines slipped into the office he had no idea was really hers and fucked her on the desk, she almost broke into laughter. But he was better than she could have guessed, and despite the tackiness of the situation, she found that looking up into his oh-so-famous soft brown eyes was very pleasant. Afterwards, he gave her his card, and actually told her to contact him if she was ever in Hollywood. Before he left, he had his driver run back up to the house and give her an autographed picture.
Jimmy insisted on framing it and hanging it in her office where she could see it every day. It never failed to make her laugh.
And then there were the more intimate events. Occasionally, either master would bring home a special guest or guests who would be granted the use of one or several of the slaves. Sometimes this was a reward for past services, and sometimes it was a gesture of friendship. Sometimes, especially with Jimmy, it was part of a bribe. These people were never aware of the Marketplace, only of their extraordinary luck in having such an interesting pair of friends.
The slaves were united in hating those events. Raul turned up one lip in distaste whenever one was mentioned (providing there wasn’t a master around to see him). “This is surely a case of pearls before swine,” he opined with his own brand of self-pity. “Let’s not kid ourselves. Humiliation and degradation goes with the job. But even a slave has limits.”
When Robin cracked up, he only shook his head. “You’ll see, girl. Wait until you actually end up doing the funky chicken with a feed store magnate from Idaho. They may be millionaires, but they still have all the charm and sexual expertise they had as a seventeen-year-old prom date in a rented blue velvet tux, driving their polished pick-up truck into town to pick up Mary Sue-Ellen.”
“Not to mention the same BO,” Carl had added.
“Come on, guys, it can’t be that bad,” Robin had laughed. “You’re scaring me!”
It was that bad.
Robin’s first experience taking care of one of Jimmy’s customers started as elegantly as any evening of lust; after serving brandy out by the deck, she had gone up to change into the lacy outfit Raul had tossed to her that morning, telling her that she was up at bat for the visiting pitcher later that night. It was a classic ensemble, Merry Widow in black lace with stiff ribs caressing her body, G-string, garters and lace stockings, a velvet choker, lacy gloves, and even a matching hairbow. She looked in the mirror and sighed.
Frederick’s of Hollywood. Except that she wasn’t tall enough. She pulled her breasts up a little more, hoping to make more cleavage. It didn’t work. Oh well. At least she looked good otherwise.
She checked the guest bedroom to make sure t
hat the usual supply of sex toys was present, and nodded at the fresh flowers and the chilled bottles of mineral water and champagne that Raul had no doubt placed there. And she waited there, nervously, for the guest to come up. Carl had coached her, “You won’t have to say anything. Jimmy will let them know what’s going on. All you have to do is look cute and be ready for anything. Don’t tell them nothing about real life, but lie your ass off about what they wanna hear. Then fuck ’em, and leave ’em, and forget ’em. But whatever you do, make the fuckers happy. That’s what you’re there for.”
So Robin prepared herself for an evening of making a stranger sexually happy.
What actually happened was that he staggered into the room dead drunk, made astonished and pleased noises at her, opened the champagne and drank some out of the bottle, and told her to dance. After some inspired shaking and wiggling, she watched helplessly while he lurched into the bathroom and threw up, noisily.
He slept for three hours, and she was still too nervous to leave.
When he woke up, he looked around the room, saw her sitting on the floor by the bed, and started tugging at his clothing. She helped him get undressed, and without either of them saying one word, they had a strange, fumbling kind of sex.
Neither one of them came, although Robin put on one of her best orgasm performances. He fell back to sleep, and she finally left, feeling that her job was done.
He had ripped the stockings and dislodged two garter straps. But in the morning, he was fresh and chipper and Robin stayed discreetly out of sight while he loudly proclaimed his visit to be “the best ever!” and shook Jimmy’s hand and lumbered back to Chicago.
The Slave Page 28