by Robin Roseau
Then the slaves cleaned, setting the dining room and kitchen back to perfection before we were led into “the game room”. That began with after-dinner drinks. The slaves were given free access to water. And then a woman named Lizzie, our host, clapped her hands and said, “Who has a game?”
I would have expected Bess to speak up, but she didn’t. She didn’t offer any suggestions all night, although she would joyfully play any games agreed to by the others.
“We can gamble for slaves,” one of the women said.
“You don’t have one to gamble.”
“Wells owes me a favor. She can be my slave.”
“That isn’t happening,” said Wells.
“Can’t we just relax?” Dest asked. “I wouldn’t mind having a little to drink and maybe having Arr pamper me a little.”
“You’ve lost practice challenges,” Lizzie said. “Is that how you wanted to spend your evenings?”
“Bess has had her slave for days,” Dest replied. “If I know her, Cee is entirely worn to the bone. Insatiable beast.”
The women laughed. I wasn’t sure if she was talking about Bess or me. I suppose the comment was accurate about either of us.
“And the other three?” Lizzie asked once the laughter settled. “We’re supposed to give them a complete experience. A night of debauchery seems like almost a legal requirement.”
That brought more laughter and a few expressions of general agreement. Then Wells said, “Are they here for our pleasure? Well, I don’t have one, but you know what I mean. Or are we supposed to let them have pleasure?”
“Both,” Bess said, the first thing she’d said since the conversation began. She stroked my hair. “Wells, why don’t you ever do Practice Challenges anymore?”
“You know why.”
“I’m not sure everyone does.”
“Because I tend to lose.”
“So? Does Cee look unhappy she lost?”
“She lost to you, Bess,” Wells said. “And before that, to Olivia.”
“So?”
“So, you know who beat me the last time. I’m done with that.”
“Tell them.”
“She’s a bitch,” Wells said, “And I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Then why don’t you accept Practice Challenges with me?” Bess asked.
“Because you would win, and you play games with your slaves I don’t like.”
“I wouldn’t if you asked me not to ahead of time. I do the things I like, and I always talk about it with her ahead of time.”
Wells looked away. “I don’t like losing all the time.”
“You’d have fun.”
“That’s not it, Bess,” she said, turning back. “It’s not about what happens after. Okay, it is, but I could find someone who might be fun. But it’s the act of losing. And besides, even if everyone here is really nice most of the time, all of you like teasing your slaves, and I bet they get teased tonight.”
“I have never abused a slave,” Bess said. “And to the best of my knowledge, no one else here has, either, or I wouldn’t have brought Cee.”
“I didn’t say abuse. I said tease. I don’t like being teased.”
“You’d like it while wearing red.”
“Maybe, but I’d remember afterwards, and then I’d lose a friend.” She turned to Pahlsa, the women who had suggested Wells be her slave tonight. “You’re a generous lover, and I’d adore winning, but I wouldn’t, and everyone here knows it.”
“It’s okay, Wells,” Pahlsa replied. “Why did you come tonight?”
“Why did you?”
“I came because I love these nights. Why did you come?”
“Because Lizzie practically begged me.”
“I didn’t beg.”
Wells put on a voice. “Please, Wells. It wouldn’t be the same without you. I promise you’ll have a good time.”
“Okay, I did say that,” Lizzie said with a laugh. “That’s hardly begging. I can show you begging if you want to see it.”
“I know what begging looks like,” Wells said. “I’ve done my share. Why are we talking about this?”
“Because everyone is being a poop,” Lizzie said. “And no one is suggesting a game. Wells, the reason I asked you to come is because you come up with the best games. Please.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously,” Lizzie said. “Get us started, something we’ll all enjoy.”
“I want to enjoy my drink,” Wells said. “We should play Would You Rather with the slaves. We put their names in a hat and then pass it around. When it’s your turn, you ask the slave whose name you have Would You Rather do this to Lizzie or that to Dest, except you shouldn’t use her owner, because she’ll always pick that one, and the game is a bust. And then she has to do it.”
“We could offer something nasty with the owner,” Dest said.
“And that’s why I hate losing,” Wells said. “Play it how you want, but I’ll be offering fun choices. Oh, and you shouldn’t use yourself, either.”
“There are only four of them and six of us.”
“I can count,” Wells replied. “It goes in a circle. We do four, then put the names back and do four. We’ll play as long as we’re having fun.”
“That sounds like a good game,” Lizzie said. “See? Wells comes up with good games.” She looked down at her slave. “Em, run to my bedroom. In the closet there are hats. Find the straw hat and bring it back.”
Em jumped to her feet and ran. Lizzie also stepped from the room, and when she came back, she was carrying a spelling game. She opened it and sorted through it, pulling out four lettered tiles, holding them up.
“We could have used that pouch,” Dest said.
“I suppose,” Lizzie said. “But she said a hat, so I thought about a hat.” She laughed. “Do you see how well-trained I am, Wells?”
“Right,” Wells said. “Trained. Funny.”
“Why are you such a poop tonight?”
“I’m not a poop,” she said.
“You’re kind of a poop,” Dest said. “That’s not like you. Where’s the fun Wells?”
“I’m sorry,” Wells said. “Let me drink my drink for a minute, and I’ll try to carry the poop outside.”
The girls snorted, but they left her alone. Em returned with the hat and gave it to Lizzie. Lizzie dropped the tiles into the hat and handed it Pahlsa, seated on her left. “You start.”
“We should pass the hat and pull out the tiles,” Wells said. “Then Pahlsa goes.”
“All right.” Pahlsa dug around and pulled out a title before passing the hat. Four women drew tiles, and then Pahlsa held hers up. “Em. Are you listening to me?”
Em didn’t respond, so Lizzie bent down and said, “We’re playing a game, Em. You should pay attention to what is happening. Pahlsa is talking to you.”
Em turned and smiled. “Em, did you hear the rules to the game?” The slave nodded. “Good. Did the rest of you?”
I nodded. It took a little prompting to get responses from Arr and We. “Em,” said Pahlsa, “Would you rather massage Wells’ feet or climb across Bess’s lap and get your bottom spanked?”
There were snorts. Both of those sounded really good to me, and I wasn’t sure which I would have picked. Em looked back and forth between both women and then crawled over to Bess, then across her lap, her bottom in the air.
The woman laughed. Bess gave Em four good swats and then said, “Cee, kiss her bottom.”
So I did that to more laughter. Em smiled and crawled back to Lizzie.
* * * *
We played that game. Some of the choices were simple. Some were really fun. And they grew increasingly debauched.
I had a lot of fun, although I wished they would let me pick Bess for some of them.
We played that game and several more. Wells did, indeed, put the poop outside, so to speak, and I decided I really liked her. Several times I found myself doing nice things for her, sometimes at her instigation,
sometimes as a course of the rules, and other than Bess, she was my favorite.
I had fun undressing her, but was disappointed that it was We who got to pleasure her.
But later, before Bess took me home, I hugged Wells. I found my voice. “My mother owns the Baby Blanket Inn. Come find me in a few months.”
Did she? I guess we’ll wait and see.
A Real Chance
Olivia arranged for me to be invited to a dinner party, although she wasn’t in attendance. The host was a woman named Captain Marda; she was one of Olivia’s security guards, and while I hadn’t talked much to her, I knew and trusted her as much as I trusted any of the Ressalines.
There were eight of us in total, and no slaves. In addition to Marda, there were two other women in leather. The rest of us were longtime residents of Charth. All of us had been through our first time. Through a series of letters, Olivia had guided me what she wanted me to do.
At first, it was a normal dinner party. We met. We had a drink. I asked for tea. Then there was dinner followed by after-dinner conversation.
It was Verla, in her leather, who asked, “Who has had Practice Challenges?” The three in leather had, of course, as had I and Rondi Silvertwig. She’d had one and said, “I almost won.” I saw two smiles, quickly smothered, and decided her challenger had let her believe that.
“How about you, Claary?”
“Two, and mine weren’t even close, but they were a lot of fun.”
Olivia had written to me, “Let other people manage the conversation, and don’t offer yourself to a challenge. But if one of the Charthan’s is available after the others have picked, make an offer to her. You might not win, but it will be a good challenge.”
The women all had questions. The three that hadn’t done it were unsure. I smiled and simply said, “I had fun, and I’m going to do more.”
“I don’t know,” said Lassa Bluebloom. “Shouldn’t we, I don’t know. Find someone easy and just go for it?”
“If you want to become a permanent slave,” Rondi said, “that sounds like an excellent plan.”
“I can be pretty stubborn,” Lassa said.
“Fifty-fifty,” Rondi said. “But if you want to do it that way, sure. I tell you what. I’ll get a little more practice at losing, and then I’ll be so cowed, I’ll be easy for you.”
“I don’t think so,” Lassa said. “You don’t even like me.”
“I’d love to put that tongue of yours to work, and think about how much practice I’ll have had with mine by then.”
Lassa didn’t respond to her.
The conversation went around. When asked, I said, “I either need one more soon, or wait several months.”
“You shouldn’t wait,” Verla replied. “You and I can do it tomorrow.”
“That seems greedy,” said Marda. “She’s gone twice. You should offer to someone who hasn’t gone yet.”
“You know what I like to do?” said the third Ressaline, Cerelle. “I love group events. They’re chaotic, but a blast, and anyone can win.”
“I haven’t done one of those in years,” Marda said. “As you say: anyone can win, which means anyone can lose.”
“What’s a group event?” Lassa asked.
“Any time there are four or more participants,” Cerelle said.
“Then I had one of those.” I talked about mine with Olivia.
“Oh. I don’t think that counts,” Cerelle said. “Four or more people who can win. Yours was two participants with two… props.”
“Dee and Bee were hardly props.”
“Well you know what I mean,” she said. “Was it fun?”
“Totally,” I said. “I went into it knowing I would lose, and I did, but I gave her a good challenge. And I had fun, both during and after.” I didn’t have to mention how it had ended.
“That’s what matters,” Cerelle declared. “And the experience.” She looked around. “Eight of us. Two teams of four. Five of you definitely need experience. Marda needs to let her hair down and let me catch her.”
“If anyone is getting caught, it would be you,” Marda replied.
“I’d do a group event,” Lassa said.
It went downhill from there, and seven of them looked at me. “I don’t know,” I said.
“What are you afraid of?” Lassa asked. “You’re the one who has said how much fun you had.”
“I’d like a chance my next time. You three are suckering us. You’re going to propose the three of you on one team, and the five of us on the other. Then you’ll win five to zero.”
“She said two teams of four.”
“Uh huh. They’re sneaky. What teams, Cerelle?”
“Well, three to five sounds fair to me.”
“I told you!” I said to Lassa.
“Marda is older and wiser and all that,” Verla said. “She can be captain of one team. Cerelle and I will be co-captains of the other team. And you can pick which team you’re on.”
“Why does she get to pick a team?” Lassa asked.
“You can all pick,” Verla said. “But she’s the hold out, so we’re bribing her.”
“What would the event be?” I asked.
“I like letting the judge pick,” Cerelle said.
“In fairness,” Marda added. “In group events, there is usually some form of grappling involved.”
“What does that mean?”
“Grabbing,” she said. “But no hitting or kicking. I’ve never seen any challenges that have weapons.”
“Except rope.”
“Rope is a restraint, and if someone tried to use it as a weapon, that would be a significant penalty,” she said.
“So what’s the difference in something like this?”
“If you use it to try to hurt someone, or to choke her out,” Marda said. “The judge might call a penalty. If you’re using it to subdue her, that would be fair.”
“What happens if the judge calls a penalty?”
“It depends on how mad she is. She might just tell you to stop it. But I’ve also seen her send in four guards to grab the woman and pacify her, then leave her there.”
“Really?”
“It was egregious,” Marda said. “If I’d been the judge, I would also have altered the terms. There are reasons I’m not a judge.”
The rest of us laughed. “All right,” I said. “I’ll play subject to a few conditions.”
“Now you want additional conditions?” Rondi asked.
“One. I want to be on Marda’s team. Two. The teams are even. We have three ringers. You don’t add more. Three. The judge picks the event, and none of us find out what it is until we arrive, but then we get time to talk it over within our teams. Three, we agree on a duration for the losers, if any. And four, all this has to happen in time for me to be done, win or lose, free, and completely recovered no later than one month from tomorrow.” That would give Lisbon one more month until her birthday.
“I agree to all of that,” Cerelle said immediately, followed by nods from the others. “Teams first, then date and duration. Lassa, you complained. You can pick next.”
“I want a chance to win Rondi,” she said.
“You don’t even like me,” Rondi said with a laugh.
“I want to see that tongue of yours doing some good for once,” Lassa said. “She picks, and I’ll be on the opposite team.”
“All right, Rondi. Pick a team,” Cerelle said.
“You and Verla.”
“Then Lassa is with Marda,” Cerelle said. “And Claary. One slot left on each team. Who is picking?”
Gigi and Sareet looked at each other. Gigi shrugged. “We’re on opposite teams,” Sareet said. “That means we can catch each other.”
“So it does,” Gigi said. “What are the chances those three will let us?”
“They might help us, if we suck up to them,” Sareet said.
“What are the chances?” I asked.
“That might actually be good strategy,” Marda said
. “It’s not like I dare turn my back on those two.” She gestured to Cerelle and Verla. “Well, assuming grappling is involved.”
“I’d enjoy catching Gigi,” Sareet said. “I’ll be on whichever team will give me that chance.”
Cerelle glanced at Verla then said, “We’d give you a chance.”
“All right,” Gigi said. “Sure. Team Marda!”
“Date,” Cerelle said. “We can do it some time next week. Two weeks duration. That should give you about a week to recover.”
“We can’t promise the court will move that fast,” Marda countered. “Due to Claary’s reasonable requirements, let’s do one week, with a hard limit exactly one week from her limit, whichever duration is shorter.”
“Ten days with that limit.”
“If it’s ten days, she needs three more to recover.”
“So if we can do it soon, we can do ten days, but we have a longer window for a week.”
“All right,” Marda said. “That works for me.”
“That works for me,” I agreed.
* * * *
Bess delivered a note to me the next day. “Someone is displeased with you.”
“It wasn’t my fault,” I said. “I’m not the one who started talking about group events.” But I opened the note.
Claary,
We had a simple plan. A simple plan. But instead you entered into this extreme chaos, and then you even declared a blind event, so I can’t coach you ahead. I filled that room with four women ready to submit to someone. I basically handed them to you. And what do you do? A group event. What is wrong with you?
All right. It’s not horrible. It will be chaotic, but surprises come out of chaos. You might come out of this a winner. I guess we’ll see, but I am almost certain Cerelle and Verla will be after you first.
Foolish woman.
She didn’t even sign it. I tossed it on the table for Bess to read. “Tell her this for me.” And then I made a rude gesture.