The Slave

by Laura Antoniou

  “Yes!” It was followed by his laughter, and then a whole string of “Yes, yes, yes!” until Eric shushed him.

  Well, whatever it was, it was good. Robin went into her office sure that she’d find out what it was all about later.

  She began to find out during her first call to New York. Everyone was talking about it. It was going to be a major problem for the president, because prominent members of his own party were involved. It had also hit the market badly, with money shifting around like mad to remove it from the spheres surrounding the implicated fiduciary institutions. It was another Iran/Contra, another BCCI scandal.

  Robin knew at once how it affected her owners. Jimmy had done extensive business with some of the banks in the middle of the mess. She didn’t find out until later how much he had pulled back in the past year, all based on Monica’s suggestions. And then, three nights ago, she had done him a final, invaluable service by giving him the ultimate insider information, that the scandal would break sometime this week.

  “That is so illegal,” Robin gasped, when Carl filled her in.

  “In a way, yes, but in another way, no,” Carl shrugged. “If she were a member of some justice department, and she got the information during the investigation, yes, it would be. But she was just making an educated guess. Her sources told her about the time. All they knew was that something big and nasty was brewing. She already knew that these idiots were gliding on thin currents. She was the one who guessed that it was probably the sound of their crash.”

  “What if she had been wrong?”

  “We would have lost a little chunk of money and a lot of good will with the bad guys. Jimmy figured, what the hell. If Monica was right, they’d take a fall anyway.”

  “How did he do it?”

  “Hey, he’s the genius, not me. I know he made lots of calls. And you know what the best thing about this is? Jimmy’s clients don’t know about Monica. All they’re gonna know is that he advised pulling out months ago, gradually cut down on his connections with these people, and then pulled out just in time. They’re gonna think he’s a god.” Carl was exhausted, but happy for his master. “Saved again, by the brilliant talents of a financial wizard.”

  “And the information of a good friend,” Robin added.

  “Oh yeah, that too.” But he winked to show he was just pulling her leg, and they went back to their work.

  It was true that Jimmy basked in the compliments and increased business that followed. Robin half expected Federal agents to arrive and arrest him, but nothing of that sort ever happened. Either the money wasn’t big enough, the incident wasn’t important enough, or Carl was right and the action wasn’t technically illegal.

  Robin wasn’t much surprised when Jimmy told her to get “something nice” as a gift for Monica. “Something nice” in the price range of seventeen to twenty thousand dollars.

  “That’s what I call a nice gift,” she giggled to the boys that night. Muscledog whistled and looked impressed.

  “Well, get this, girl,” Carl replied. “Jimmy figured that Monica’s advice saved him and his clients over five million dollars in the short run. And the new clients he’s picked up since then, and the new accounts from the old ones? We’re talking huge, huge numbers here. He’s just taking some of the cream off the sides of the bottle for this gift.”

  Robin blinked. Somehow, she had never given much thought to how much money Jimmy handled. And although in her old life she knew many people who would consider such amounts the mark of a small business (hell, she’d been at auctions where minimum bids started in the millions), she was still impressed.

  That night, she tried to estimate how much money her owners had invested in their slaves. Even though she still had no idea how much money she had gone for, she knew that she was due a specific amount when her new contract ended―should she decide not to continue.

  Adding percentages onto that amount to figure out the value of Raul and estimating that Muscledog was worth more because of his build, she started coming up with big numbers. And granted that Carl was purchased six years ago, his experience added to his value. Now, add room and board and medical care, and the fact that only two of the slaves really replaced people who would be paid a full time salary, given the amount of work really needed to run the house and take care of the two men.

  It was definitely not the picture that Chris had painted for her, of a family slave whose work was necessary to keep a business running. But it was sure nice to belong to rich people, she reflected. It just adds to the security. I have a good life. I do.

  The next day, Jimmy told her to cancel the search for the gift. “She says she doesn’t want anything that’ll sit in her house and catch dust while she’s away,” he said to Robin, who was not used to getting explanations. “Can you imagine? I decided to send ten thousand dollars to this little AIDS clinic in Washington and tell ’em it’s in her name. What do you think? She’ll like it?”

  Robin blinked, thought fast, and said, “Sir, would you consider a different type of donation?”

  “More money? Do they need it that badly? Or does it sound cheap?”

  “Well, no sir, it’s very generous. But Ms. Monica once told me that, um, her mother died of breast cancer, sir. And that she was thinking of endowing a new research chair in her name, but she hadn’t raised all the money yet.”

  “How the hell do you know that?” Jimmy grinned. “Pillow talk?”

  Robin blushed, but nodded.

  Jimmy nodded. “Good thinking, Robin. I’ll take care of it.”

  And Robin basked in the warm feelings that ran through her. Monica might be a little annoyed at the presumption, but she would have to be pleased when Jimmy and Eric’s donation came through.

  Eric scoffed a little, although not seriously. “Now, wait a minute, doesn’t this seem a little unnatural to you? Fags raising money to fight breast cancer! I mean, what’s next? Lesbians doing their thing for prostate cancer?”

  “Well, they’re sure working their butts off for AIDS,” Jimmy countered. “Let’s set a trend for a change. Look―you even get to wear a pink ribbon.”

  Eric naturally didn’t fight for long, and Monica was overwhelmed by the surprise donation to her fund. She thanked them with flowers and kisses over the phone, but told them that she couldn’t make it back to California for several weeks; she was busy in DC.

  And when she did make it, they gave her a real hero’s welcome, with Raul outdoing himself in the kitchen and a houseful of friends who didn’t quite know the whole story but were glad of another opportunity to party and listen to all the insider news of the nation’s capital.

  And Robin found herself soundly spanked and thoroughly ravished that night, as though Monica was trying to make up for the last aborted evening they should have had.

  With her bottom still sore, and her thighs still wet, she lay cuddled in Monica’s arms, breathing together with her, until the sweat began to dry from their bodies. Then, she pulled away, went to the bathroom, and came back with a warm, damp washcloth and wiped Monica’s body down until she purred. It had become a regular event, this after-sex wipe-down, and they both enjoyed it.

  When she came back, she knelt on the floor and laid her cheek against the mattress so that Monica could easily touch her. Monica instantly did, running one manicured hand over Robin’s head and stroking her hair.

  “You told them about the research thing,” she said quietly. “That was very sweet of you.”

  Robin blushed. “They wanted to give you a meaningful gift,” she answered. “I had very little to do with it.”

  “You know, they still want to give me stuff,” Monica stretched out and relaxed. “They want me to tell them what ‘thing’ I want tomorrow, before I leave. What do you think I should ask for? Half the kingdom? The prince’s hand in marriage?”

  Robin giggled. “The BMW coach-and-four? Freedom for your people?”

  “Hm, good ones. But there’s no place in DC I can park a damn coach, an
d my people seem to be quite capable of getting their own damn selves free without any help from me.” She sighed and turned over onto her side. “Actually, I figured out what to ask for when Eric swore that I could have anything I wanted except for that piece of graffiti and that illuminated butt fucking you found him.”

  Both women giggled. Robin slid down onto her pallet. Monica turning onto her side was a prelude to sleep. She thought of asking what Monica was going to ask for, but shrugged it off and settled comfortably against the bed.

  I’ll find out tomorrow, she thought.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Monica was brief and to the point. “I want Robin.”

  Eric’s mouth dropped open. Jimmy grinned.

  “That’s what you get for being vague,” he drawled. “Tell her to ask for anything, and she takes you seriously. I knew we should have qualified that offer.”

  Robin, who was helping Muscledog clear away the breakfast dishes, almost dropped her handful. Luckily, he was there to steady her. She did gasp, though, and colored deeply when it was clear that everyone heard her. Burning with curiosity, humiliation and excitement, she had to be pulled into the kitchen. She could still hear the incredulous reactions of her owners, dimly now, as Raul stepped in to tap her on the top of the head and stare down into her eyes.

  “It doesn’t concern you,” he lectured firmly. He took the dishes from her, and directed Muscledog to keep working.

  “But it does!” she answered in a whisper.

  “No it doesn’t,” he cautioned her. “When it does, you’ll be informed. Now get your ass upstairs and stay in your work room until you’re sent for. And don’t try to stall!” He gave her a rough push, and she scurried. Passing through the dining room and heading towards the hall and the stairs, she felt the eyes of the two men and one woman upon her, silent for every step she took through the room. As soon as she mounted the stairs, she could hear them resume.

  “I assume you would want us to fulfill the contract, too? I mean, she only signed up, what―a month ago? Come on, Monica, have a heart. You got us in a vulnerable moment, and you’re taking advantage of it.” That was still Jimmy.

  Robin’s throat tightened. She moved slowly, carefully placing her foot lightly on each step, fully aware of her disobedience.

  “Listen, if it’s that much of an imposition, I withdraw the request,” Monica said lightly. Robin felt an awful weight settle in her chest, and without warning, tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. She forced her legs to move, even though she could hear Eric saying something else, something about how valuable she was. By the time she reached the room she called her office and sank down into her chair, she was crying hot and terrible tears.

  I didn’t realize how unhappy I was, she thought, laying her head down on her folded arms. Until now. Until I thought that I could go with Monica. Oh, God, how did I get into this? Am I in love with her? Do I hate it here that much?

  I don’t care how valuable I am, she cursed, sniffing and trying to control the sobs that were shaking their way through her body. I don’t care how much I cost or how long my contract is for! I don’t care about honor or service or anything! I just want to be with someone who loves me!

  And that one clear thought hurt more than any of the others. With a curse, she stood up and threw herself out the door and down the hall to the small bathroom that the slaves shared. There, with the door shut and cold water running from the tap into the sink, she slammed her fists down against the tiles and rocked back and forth, a torrent of tears flowing through strangled cries and choked coughs.

  How pathetic, she railed at herself. Spend your whole fucking life wanting something spectacular and special, give up everything every normal person wants and gets, and then come down to the simple answer that all you want is someone to love. What a fucking mess! She pulled a white towel from the rack and thrust it under the cold water and applied it to her face and her pounding forehead.

  All this time, all this energy―and I could have stayed with Maria. Moved in with her, and had a lover and a girlfriend who tied me up and played SM games with me whenever I wanted. And I wouldn’t have to sleep with people I didn’t know, or wonder if she was going to get pissed and beat the shit out of me, and I could work and keep my own money and buy whatever I wanted and wear what I liked, and... and....

  “I’m such a whiner,” Robin said out loud. She looked up into the mirror, at her flushed face and reddened eyes, and lowered her head quickly. I didn’t get here by settling for less. I knew that I wasn’t going to end up in a perfect situation. I need to get a grip on things here. I’m an adult.

  Tears still gathered and spilled down her nose. Desperately, she dug into the medicine cabinet and swallowed three aspirins, and drank some more cold water. Deep breathing, and more chilling touches with her wet towel, and slowly they came under control. She combed her hair out and arranged it properly, and hung the towel to dry, moving carefully and concentrating on what she was doing.

  I have to be patient, she reminded herself. I’m not even thirty yet. This is only my first owner. Next time, I won’t re-up, and Chris will find me a new owner. Or I’ll take my money and give it all up. But this is what I have now. I’m not going to be the one who fucks it up.

  Back in her office, she turned her computer on, and sorted through her faxes. There was work to be done. And she got lost in it for about an hour, and then the intercom beeped on her phone.

  “Yes, sir?” she answered.

  “Pick up on line two, Robin.” It was Jimmy’s voice. She obediently switched lines. It was probably one of his parents; they always asked to speak to her when they called.

  “Hello?”

  “Robin.” Chris’s voice hit her right in the sternum, and she could feel the carefully corralled torrent of emotions swell against her new barrier.

  Ohmigod, she thought. A wave of dizziness passed, and she clamped one hand onto the edge of her desk. “Chris?”

  “Your owners would like me to negotiate a contract change with you,” he said. She could hear something in his voice that sounded vaguely like amusement. She could see his smile, tight and ironic. “They would like to transfer your accommodations, but retain your services.”

  “Wha-what?”

  “It’s not entirely unheard of, but an interesting situation. In effect, you would be physically present in someone else’s home, but your professional services, in this case, your art brokering skills, would still be available for them. As your trainer, I must caution you that your workload will, in effect, double.” He paused. “But I get the impression that you might not mind this.”

  Robin scratched the surface of her desk. She was staring ahead of her, and her heart was pounding so hard that it seemed to echo in the telephone receiver.

  “Why...” She swallowed and cleared her throat. “Why do you have to ask me? Don’t they have the right to, um, give me away?”

  “Your contract establishes them as responsible for your living expenses and requires them to maintain a proper environment for you, in part exchange for your services. Now, they are requesting that someone else be responsible for boarding and keeping you, while you still serve their purposes. They are not signing over your contract intact, but requesting a substantial alteration. Do you need time to consider this?”

  Robin closed her eyes. “No. No, sir, I don’t. I accept whatever changes are necessary.”

  “What a surprise. Well, enjoy Washington, my dear. I will speak to you next year, on your anniversary.”

  “Chris!” Robin clutched the phone. Words long unsaid wound themselves up, and she almost cried again. “Thank you.”

  “You are welcome, Robin. It has always been interesting dealing with you. Now pass me on back to your various owners and we’ll get you settled.”

  She hit the intercom button and connected him back with Jimmy’s line, and sat still, feeling shivers run their way through her. Her head still pounded, and her eyes were tight and aching. Shivers turne
d into full tremors of her flesh, and she hugged herself and stared at the wall for several long minutes, unable to either break or bear the silence. It all seemed unreal. Too fast. Too impossible to believe.

  But when Monica turned up in the doorway, dangling a ring that held one key on her index finger, her mouth turned up into a wry and satisfied grin, Robin couldn’t help but throw herself across the room, collapsing at the woman’s feet and clasping her around her knees. Monica laughed, and pulled Robin’s head into her, cradling it and stroking it, and finally pulling Robin up to kiss her.

  “I guess you’re coming home with me, kiddo,” Monica said, pulling Robin’s head back. They were both breathing a little hard, and Monica was barely controlling a broad grin. “And I guess you don’t mind.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Just a warning,” Monica had said, as preparations were made for the transfer of Eric and Jimmy’s only female slave. “It’s not going to be like you’re used to!”

  It was true. From an airy and sunny southwestern style house with a pool and a Jacuzzi, where the slaves had a room with a bath and Robin had her own office to work in, she was now moving into a narrow and shaded townhouse not far from Dupont Circle. It did boast three bedrooms, and Monica turned the small guest bedroom over to Robin both for living quarters and a working space. Her computer, fax and files were shipped from California, and a phone line hooked up, just so that she could continue being her masters’ broker.

  It had been the best solution they could come up with. After Monica had so casually given up, Jimmy and Eric exchanged guilty looks and tried to talk her into some ‘thing’ else. Surely she could take some other gift from them? But the friendlier she was and the more she objected to disturbing them, the more guilty they felt.