Marketplace

by Laura Antoniou

  “That’s what it says about your life. But do you understand about the fee?”

  Sharon nodded. “You get it all.”

  Grendel nodded. “And you understand that this isn’t the usual way we do things.”

  “Yeah. It’s like that book about the resort hotel, isn’t it? Usually the slaves get the money after the contract is over.”

  A long sigh. “You really got all your information about us from these fantasy books, didn’t you? My God, I don’t know if they do ten times more harm then good.” He shook his head and pulled the contract excerpt out to read it again.

  She just gazed at him, a confused look on her face. “I just wanna get trained and sold,“ she finally said. “And I know I can be worth a lot. Come on, Mr. Elliott, look at me! Guys fight over me.”

  “We will have to alter your gender preference in the contract,” Grendel noted. “Slaves out of this house may not negotiate the sexual preference or gender of their future owners; it’s a house rule. If it’s that important to you, come back in six months with some real training and I’ll refer you to a trainer who will accept that limitation with the rest of them.”

  She shook her head. “As long as they’re single, I don’t care. I’ve had my share of women, too. I can do it.”

  Grendel considered. She was hot. Very attractive, with an edge of feral rut around her, and that always went over well. She was young enough so that the lack of real records wouldn’t hurt her that much. And the way the contract was written wasn’t so difficult that they’d have trouble placing her. It was just her attitude! Was she submissive at all, underneath her play-acting? He wanted Alex’s opinion on this one.

  “We’ll accept you for one week of observation and testing,” he declared. “After which, if you look promising, another four to six weeks of training. But under this agreement, if we feel you need more training, we may keep you as long as we like. And you understand that you will receive absolutely no part of whatever we arrange as a selling price for you.”

  She nodded, her eyes sharp with anticipation.

  He leaned over, hit the intercom again. “Chris, please put Sharon with the others.”

  “What about the cab?” she asked, helpfully.

  “Chris will take care of it,” Grendel said, as the door opened. “You will find that Chris takes care of a lot of things here.”

  As they left, Grendel picked up the phone and punched in a long number. As he waited to be connected, he read the piece of contract that Sharon had given him, shaking his head. It was very neat. It was very good.

  “Hello, this is Grendel Elliott, from New York. I just accepted an applicant with a contract drawn up for her by Joseph Manelli, from Forest Hills.” He spelled the last name. “No, the writing is fine, in fact, it’s constructed to give the maximum benefit to the house. But the merchandise is incredibly shoddy. I’m talking barely, barely acceptable, and even then, I’m taking a gamble on it. I think this is the third time I’ve heard that he’s working with unsuitable clients, isn’t it? Yes, I thought so. Well, I just wanted to let you know. Thank you.”

  The beauty queen princess and the Christopher Street clone, he thought as he put the phone down. Alex always gets the interesting ones.

  Chapter Two

  Claudia woke to a frightening, unfamiliar sound. For a second, the image of a snarling lion invaded her already confusing dream. Then, she was awake, in darkness, the vicious snarling noise unabated. She gasped and clutched at the firm pillow, her naked skin cool against the soft, light bed coverings. It took her a minute to realize that the noise she heard was snoring.

  What am I doing here, she wondered for the thousandth time. She had sobbed last night, her neat, gentle tears a contrast to the comic blubbering of the man who was undoubtably filling the dorm with such a racket. Whispers and sobs were the only sounds they had been permitted to make yesterday. The awful sight of the other man being forced to wear what looked like a very uncomfortable gag for hours was a concise object lesson for the other three. They had avoided each other’s eyes for most of the time they had been together. Or at least, they tried to.

  Claudia had fallen to her knees and begged her Mistress not to leave her. It had been an awful scene. Mistress Madeleine had to actually raise her voice to stop Claudia’s first cascade of tears and restore her to obedience. Afterward, when Chris brought Claudia to this bare, functional dormitory room, she had resolved not to embarrass her Mistress any more, to be even more perfect then she had ever been. Then surely, Mistress Madeleine would be pleased and take her home swiftly.

  But it was so hard to concentrate on being correct and brave when that large man was making such an awful noise! Shivering under the covers, Claudia pulled them tighter around her and tried to snuggle down. But the mattress was hard, the pillow thin. She was too long used to the softness of her own bed back home, with its pristine white cotton sheets and the thick comforter and the oh, so big soft pillows...

  Just as she was beginning to doze off again, the lights came on.

  “Good morning, applicants.”

  Claudia blinked and squinted, knowing that it screwed her face up horribly and hating it. But the lights were a cold, white fluorescent, allowing no relief. The other three stirred in their own beds, making various sounds of waking.

  “You have exactly one minute to meet me in the hallway. Tardiness is not permitted.”

  It was Chris, the majordomo. Through her now wide open eyes, Claudia could see that today, he was dressed in dark jeans and heavy boots, and a white shirt and a tie. He looked like a common laborer dressed for a job interview. His hair was still wet. As soon as he finished speaking, he turned and left the room, the door ajar.

  Claudia and Robert immediately jumped out of their beds, shivering. They looked across the room at each other, and then looked away in simultaneous embarrassment.

  Brian groaned and stretched and scratched between his legs. It took him a moment to notice what was going on, but he was no fool. He got up and followed Robert, trying to remember exactly what the little guy had said. The three of them were out in the hall, rubbing their eyes, well before the minute was up.

  “Tomorrow, you will have thirty seconds,” Chris said as a welcome. He wasn’t alone. A woman in a conservative maid’s uniform stood next to him, with a laundry tray at her feet. “By the end of the week, I will expect that you will be awake before I arrive. This,“ he said, indicating the maid, “is Ms. Rachel. She is in charge of the second and third floors. As with any house servant, she is to be obeyed immediately and with all respect.”

  Claudia tried to keep her eyes focused on the majordomo, but they flickered back to the dorm. Where was the other woman, that beautiful woman she couldn’t help but sigh over last night? The one who tossed and turned so much. The door was still open, but there was no sign of her.

  “Eyes front!” Chris snapped suddenly. Claudia turned her eyes back to him in anguish. But she maintained silence. She had not been given permission to speak. For the first time, she noticed that a short, doubled strap hung from one of his belt loops.

  “Each of you will take one bundle from Rachel, and proceed to the showers at the end of the hall. This morning, I would like to see you trot. Wait for me inside the room, with your bundles in your arms. Go!”

  The three of them collided as they all tried to turn toward the maid. But Robert stepped back to allow Claudia to take the first bundle. I don’t know how to trot, his mind screamed. Oh, please, you lovely, sad little thing, show me what I’m supposed to do!

  Claudia took the neat bundle (something wrapped in a towel), and turned up the hall. Immediately, she began a high-stepping fast walk, almost a run, her legs jerking up like a Tennessee Walking Horse, her head high.

  I can’t do this shit, Brian thought. But he took his bundle with a nod and tried to follow. The stupidity of the gait got to him though, and halfway down the hallway, he changed to a loping jog. Robert followed, trying desperately to create the proper mov
ements. His pounding feet seemed to make an exceptional amount of noise, and he whimpered all the way.

  Chris watched them go, and then dismissed Rachel. She took the tray, with the last bundle still in it. Chris casually unhooked the strap from his belt and walked into the dorm.

  Sharon was still asleep. She was curled up on one side, her arm clutching the thin covers around her head and her knees drawn up.

  Down the hall and in the bathroom, Brian heard the sharp whacking sounds and identified them even before Sharon started screaming. He turned to the other two, standing naked beside him, and grinned. “Someone’s in trouble,” he said.

  “Oh, my goodness, that poor girl!” Robert said. He was trying to cover his genitals by holding his bundle very low. “We should have gotten her up!”

  “Shh!” Claudia lifted a finger to her lips.

  Brian sneered at her. “Oh, please. Listen to miss goody-two-shoes. Or better yet, listen to Miss Thing, down the hall.” They all did.

  * * * *

  Sharon screamed again, and cursed, even as her butt hit the floor next to the bed. “Jesus fucking Christ!” she managed to get out, before the strap caught her on one thigh. Chris immediately reached down and took a handful of her hair, jerking her head back. She screamed again, the cold and the pain and the fear overwhelming her.

  “Be silent,” the majordomo hissed. He bared his teeth for a moment. “This kind of behavior is unacceptable.”

  “What the fuck...”

  He slapped her. Heavily and slowly, across the mouth, her head firmly held by his hand in her hair. “And your language is also unacceptable. Get up and present.”

  She started to get up, fully awake, trembling and confused. It’s starting, she told herself. It’s just the first day. They want to scare me. I can handle this.

  “Today, Sharon, today!”

  She stood, taller than him, trying to get into a humble posture. From the corner of her eye, she could see a broad scarlet mark on her thigh. She looked down at it and her hand naturally floated over to gingerly touch it.

  In an instant, she was turned around and pushed firmly down, until she rested with her elbows on the surface of the bed. “Ow!” she complained.

  “I told you to present, Sharon. Ten for lateness. Five for discourtesy. Five more for ineptitude. Try to control your hysterics.”

  She did. The first blows of the strap were light, but as Chris counted them out loud for her, she realized that they were getting heavier. They all caught her on her rounded, soft buttocks, expertly aimed, and each new one was an explosion of heat, the impact driving her forward. This was nothing like the wonderful, loving spankings she had gotten from some of her previous lovers. And although she was always able to go along with a scene that rose in intensity and take a pretty good butt-warming, it was never like this! This was sudden and hard and relentless. She tried to muffle herself at first, but it only took three strikes to get her to cry out. Before the first ten were finished, she started to beg.

  * * * *

  “The poor girl,” Robert repeated. He was shivering, shifting his bare feet against the cool tile floor.

  “Lucky bitch,” Brian muttered. “I’m sleeping in tomorrow, if that’s the wake up call. I mean, she’s getting all the attention while we’re standing here getting chilled. And you don’t even have your fur, Babette.” He aimed that at Robert, who blushed and lowered his head again.

  “Shh!” Claudia insisted.

  “Oh, suck my dick!” Brian turned his attention toward the sounds coming from down the hall again. Claudia shrank back in horror.

  * * * *

  “Please! Oh God, please stop! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Sharon was on the floor again. She had tried to stay bent over, but the pain was just too much! No one had ever hit her like that, ever! She had tried to turn, tried to get away, but instead, she just slid down, bending her body to try and cover her vulnerable areas.

  “You have six remaining, Sharon. Get up.” He pulled her up, the strength in his arm surprising. She fell against him, giving him her best utterly defeated slave girl look, but his eyes were still cold behind his glasses. “Out into the hall. The others are waiting.”

  She sniffed and nodded, wiping tears from her eyes. The glow from her beating was beginning to rise, and she craned her head to catch sight of the redness on her cheeks. She failed to notice that Chris had never put the strap back. He aimed and swung as soon as her bare feet touched the hall carpet.

  “Trot, girl! That way! Move!”

  She yelped and started to run. “Not that way, you idiot! Knees up! Head back! Shoulders straight!” All the way down the hall, Chris followed her with the strap. She tried to do as he commanded, throwing her shoulders back, pumping her arms and bringing her legs up smartly. Hadn’t one of the books mentioned something like this? But every time she thought she had it right, that damn strap hit her across her ass, and she faltered. Her cries became steady and wailing, until the last strike caught her neatly across the backs of her thighs and she collapsed in front of the bathroom.

  Brian, Claudia and Robert all shrank back at the sight of her falling almost through the doorway. Chris stepped in behind her, clipping the strap onto his belt. He took a fistful of her hair and propelled her into the room, her knees banging against the floor.

  “That,” Chris said, keeping his eyes on the assembled party, “was inexcusable. The next time one of you is late getting out of your room, all of you will share in the punishment. Because you have not been informed of the rules, let this sechrve as a lesson. There are no exquisite punishments here, only uncomfortable, painful and inconvenient ones. Do you all understand?”

  Claudia nodded.

  Brian snapped back, “Yes sir!”

  Robert whimpered, “Yes, yes, I understand.”

  They looked down at Sharon, who was still on the floor, her eyes narrow with shock and anger. She nodded, but by the time she did, Chris was already speaking again.

  “My name is Chris,” he said. “Not Sir, not Master, not Mister. I am the majordomo of this household and you are part of my responsibility.” He reached over to a counter and picked up a Lucite clipboard. “I have been given instructions for each of you, and I will be obeyed. In the future, if you do not understand an order, you will remain still and admit your ignorance. Part of the reason why you are here is to learn proper behavior. If you attempt to do something you have no skill in and your attempt is unsuccessful, you will be punished twice. Brian,” he looked up, “I noticed your pathetic attempt at trotting. You and Sharon will both join me this afternoon at 4:15 for a lesson in that skill.”

  No punishment? Brian thought. How disappointing.

  “For this week, you are applicants to this house. You will be tested in various ways and observations about you recorded. At the end of the week, we will inform you or your owners of our evaluation. If you are determined to have some value, you will stay here for a period of four to eight weeks, and we will improve you.” He stressed the word ‘improve.’

  “Standard rules of behavior will be posted in your sleeping area. You are expected to learn them and follow them in addition to any special orders given to you individually. This morning, you will be interviewed by Master Grendel or Mistress Alexandra. This afternoon, you will be assigned your goals for the week.” He looked at them, sweeping his gaze across the four. They were all shivering now.

  “Every morning, you will rise at five. You will assemble in the hallway and then proceed here. You will have thirty minutes to shower and clean yourselves... inside and out. There will be an alarm bell to notify you when your time is up.” He pointed at the bundles. “Your personal articles are here. When you are finished today, you may place them on these shelves. While you are in this room, you may speak to each other only in low tones. You may help each other maintain cleanliness, and you are each responsible for how the others appear. Is that understood?”

  More nods. Sharon looked up, her hair falling over her face. Caref
ully, she got her feet under her and rose. Her ass and upper thighs were cherry red. She crossed her arms over her body and hugged herself. Then, she raised one hand.

  Chris ignored her. “When you are finished here, return to your room. If there is any clothing on your bed, dress yourself. I will be back to retrieve you at that time.”

  Sharon spoke up as he turned to leave. “Please... I don’t have a towel.”

  Chris paused, his back to them. He turned back around and took a pen out of his back pocket. While the four would-be slaves watched and trembled, he wrote something down on his clipboard, and then put the pen away. He said, “Put your hands behind your back.”

  She did, and very nicely, too. Her back arched slightly, and her beautiful breasts rose gently. Her nipples were hard.

  “You will stay in that position until the others have finished bathing. Then and only then, you may ask them if they care to share their supplies with you.” He smiled suddenly, teeth flashing. “I would advise you to beg. Nicely. Because all four of you will be punished later on for your bad manners. You three,” he said as he turned to the door again, “are not in any way obligated to help her. Or,” he shrugged, “to deny such help. A bell will ring in exactly one half-hour. You may begin preparing yourselves now.” He left.

  “Welcome to boot camp,” Brian said. He unfolded the towel to look at what was inside. Robert shrank back to do the same, and Claudia looked around nervously. The square room had two shower heads in an open area with three drains, two plain, gleaming toilets, and two white sinks. There were no modifications for modesty. No place to hide.

  “Well, don’t just stand there, princess, we only have thirty minutes.” Brian picked up a specially designed tube and glanced over at the two shower heads on one side of the room. Silver coils ran alongside them. He hooted and walked over to one. The nozzle fit perfectly. “Talk about hygienic,” he said cheerfully. “We all have our own butt irrigators.”