“Did you want to tell me something, Robert?”
“Yes, ma’am! Please, I’m about to, ah... please, I’m almost there, ma’am!”
“Do you mean you want to come, Robert?”
He squirmed and his hips bucked forward, but his hand didn’t stop. “Yes, ma’am, please ma’am!”
“No, I don’t think so. Just keep yourself on the edge. It’s very presumptuous for you to just announce that you’re about to come, Robert.” She smiled, lesson delivered, and Robert’s gasp of pleasure and frustration was very rewarding. There was something to this potential slave after all. “In fact, I think you should stop right now.”
Robert gave a high, sharp cry, almost a yelp, but took his hand away. His cock stood away from his body, engorged and curving upward.
“Now let’s see how long you can keep it that way without touching it,” Alexandra said, sitting down. “Keep your eyes open, and put your hands behind your back.”
He struggled to put himself in that position, his chest expanding outward, his groin area shamelessly exposed. His breath came in short gasps.
“We’re going to work you hard if you stay,” Alexandra said softly, stroking the length of the crop. “That body of yours needs schooling. Your attitude and behavior needs shaping. But I’m inclined to believe that you have some real potential. The first step in realizing it is to understand that the training you have had before coming here is not relevant. To hammer this home, you will not be permitted to wear the garments you brought with you, the teddies and the costumes and bows.”
To her dismay, his cock began to lower. Was it so deeply ingrained, this fetish? Well, she might as well find out this week, before he was accepted.
“You will wear male-identified work clothes. You will do real, meaningful work.”
The cock drooped and lowered further. What a shame.
“You will remember to address me as ma’am, and never as mistress, and you will serve an equal time with Grendel and with Chris as your studies increase.”
Robert whimpered as his erection faded away. Alexandra sighed.
“Very disappointing. By the end of the week, I want you able to hold onto that for longer than,” she checked her watch, “two minutes.” She jotted down a note. “You may dress and go now, Robert.”
He practically crawled out of the room. He felt like he was in hell.
* * * *
After spending an hour in silent study in the library, far across the room from Robert, Claudia was almost grateful to find herself in Chris’s company again. The silence, after that wretched luncheon, was unbearable. She found that she couldn’t concentrate on anything, and ended up aimlessly turning the pages of a randomly selected book, never really reading what was printed there. To be assigned a household task was so wonderfully familiar! She followed the little majordomo back through the formal dining room and kitchen, and he showed her where the cleaning supplies were.
“Your records show that you have limited housekeeping skills,” Chris noted, taking her to a sunny alcove off the west side of the kitchen. “However, polishing silver seemed to be one of your strong points.”
Claudia nodded eagerly. “Mistress has some fine silver,” she said proudly.
“I didn’t ask for that information, Claudia.” Chris’s eyes bored into her and she shrunk back. “It’s not like you to volunteer such useless information. Control your anxiety in silence, please.” He continued as though he hadn’t just scolded her and humiliated her to the core of her being.
“Without making judgments on the quality of the silver you’re going to be given, you will proceed to clean and polish it. The time you have is just over three hours. If you don’t finish it all today, you’ll be disciplined, and then you will continue the task tomorrow, and the next day until you are finished. Place the cleaned pieces on towels on that shelf. Ah, here’s the first box.”
Claudia looked up to see Brian enter the alcove, a large box cradled in his arms. As he lowered it carefully to the floor, it made a loud clanking sound.
“Ms. Rachel says there’s two more like this, Chris. Should I get them now?” Brian asked. His shirt was gone, and the nipple rings glinted in the afternoon sun.
“Yes. Better to let Claudia know what she’s in for, so she can pace herself properly. Deliver them here, you can fit them under the table.” Chris pointed, Brian nodded. Then Chris turned back to Claudia, who was eying the box with a growing sense of trepidation.
“Are your instructions clear, Claudia?”
“Um. Yes, I mean yes, Chris.”
“Then go to it, girl.”
Claudia waited until Chris had actually left to open the box. Silver polishing in the home of her Mistress was a task utilizing pristine beige polishing cloths, small amounts of creamy pink fluid and loving gentle wipes. The silver was never allowed to become truly tarnished.
The box was full of ancient looking, heavy pieces of silver blackened with old tarnish, stained and scratched. It looked like a box of burnt junk salvaged from some basement of family castoffs. And it was full to the top, with goblets, trays, serving pieces, and a tangle of eating utensils.
Claudia sat down heavily. She looked at the box and felt a touch of nausea. She could never finish all this work in one day. She couldn’t finish it all in a year! And it was so, so dirty! Filthy! Despite Alexandra’s warning, tears sprang to her eyes. How could she do such work?
And what had Brian said? There were two more boxes of this... this mess. She was in hell.
* * * *
As Brian went hunting for the second box of old silver pieces, his mind was on the walk he had shared with the majordomo.
He had originally decided to take the walk in order to get to know the mysterious little man better. It was also, he reflected, a good chance to get away from his fellow slaves. He had gone to the store room and found his own clothing neatly on a shelf marked with his name. Pulling his boots on, after only half a day of wearing these soft, loose garments, had been a startlingly pleasurable experience. It had also given him his second thorough beating of the day.
Chris had been waiting for him at the paddock adjoining the stable. The strap on his belt was missing, but he held a short riding crop, a style Brian knew was called a bat. As Brian stepped forward, a smile on his face, Chris’s expression went from acknowledgement to disgust.
“What? What did I do?” Brian asked, pausing.
“What did I tell you to do, Brian?” Chris questioned.
“Meet you here in my boots,” Brian said, puzzled.
“No. I told you to meet me here and to fetch a pair of boots. You have to learn to listen when someone speaks to you, Brian.” Chris turned as a young man with long blond hair led a chestnut mare out of the stable. The mare was saddled with an English-style cross country saddle, stirrups run up.
“Jack, would you please bring me a dressage whip?” Chris asked, taking the reins.
“Yessir, Mr. Parker.” His voice rolled and dipped, a slight accent emphasizing a tone of amusement.
Chris looped the horse’s reins around the top rail of the paddock and pointed toward a sunny spot some 20 feet away. “Trousers down, shirt off and bent so that your arms are braced on the top rail, Brian.”
Such an amazing experience, being so naked in the sun. The boots seemed to emphasize his vulnerability. Brian had waited, his arms braced, for several interminable minutes, reveling in the sensations. The sun was hot against his back, the wind sensuous against his thighs and belly. His cock rose and trembled. By the time Chris came to him with the whip, a drop of moisture had formed at the tip, and sweat had appeared at the back of his neck. It all felt so good, so right!
Until the whipping started. The dressage whip stung, a sharp, annoying, cutting pain that made him yelp. Chris laid it on with steadily increasing force and rhythm, from the backs of Brian’s thighs to his shoulders.
This was not like a beating with a strap, or a belt or a heavy flogger. Those were manly instr
uments, meant to cause impact and bruising. In the right hands, whips and straps had coaxed monstrously pleasurable orgasms from Brian’s body.
But this whip hurt in an entirely different way. Without causing the thudding repercussive effect that made his cock stand at attention, it hurt him lighting fast, with terrible accuracy.
Brian tried to control himself after the first surprising bite of the whip. But the swiftly flying single tress kept catching him in one sensitive spot after another, until all the discipline he could muster just faded away to nothing. Clenching his hands tightly around the smooth wood of the fence, he lowered his head and tried to keep as quiet as possible. Whimpers and gasps soon began to break through. Sharp, whistling breaths between clenched teeth gave way to actual cries as his body began to accumulate long reddish lines of stinging intensity.
And then, it stopped. Brian gasped and shook, but did not break his position.
“Good,” Chris said. “Now, put your clothing back on and wait for me.”
And that was it. When Chris returned, he was leading the mare. Chris mounted and rode, and signaled Brian to walk beside him, and Brian did. His trousers and shirt felt hot, confining and irritating against the marks on his skin. The sun seemed glaringly hot all of a sudden, and if Brian had ever intended to start a conversation with Chris, the intent fled with his confidence. The mental gag he felt was as efficient as the physical one Chris had pushed into his mouth the day before. He kept his pace with the horse and took deep breaths and tried to figure out what the hell he had to do to make it here.
This was nothing like he had expected. Ruefully remembering Sharon’s outburst of the morning, he found that he was in agreement with her. This was not what he signed up for. He figured that the house was going to be heaven.
The fiery condition of the back of his body was a testament to his error.
When they got back to the house, Chris examined him and told him to leave the shirt off for the rest of the afternoon. Ms. Rachel was brisk and efficient and very cold, and there was amusement in her eyes as she ordered him about. Although Brian felt a moment of sympathy for little Claudia, stuck rubbing smelly chemicals over the most disgusting pieces of silverware he had ever seen in his life, he spent most of the afternoon feeling enormously sorry for himself.
* * * *
Sharon waited. And waited. And waited. Spending an hour dozing on that sorry excuse for a bed was hard enough. Being stuck in this totally boring library without even a radio to listen to was excruciating! How could people have so many books that were so totally boring? Back home, she had three shelves of books, famous ones and cheap, dirty ones, all about slaves and masters and kinky sex. She even had some books of photos, and one really hot version of The Story of O done up in drawings. These people, supposedly ‘real’ masters, didn’t even have one hot book in their entire stupid library.
She looked at the binder containing the stuff she was supposed to be studying, flipped through it again, and put it back. She had seen all that shit this morning! How many times did they expect her to read it? Or maybe they thought she was slow or something.
She tried to sleep again, but was too tense. First, I get awakened like I’m in the army or something. Then, some bitch of a maid, for crying out loud, gets her jollies stuffing soap in my mouth while I crawl around doing her job. Then, they leave me all alone in this stupid boring so-called library, feed me dull, boring food for lunch with no coffee, and then wham, I’m back in this room. Maybe they’re gonna train me to be a slave by boring me to death.
She did manage to doze, thinking of a beautiful castle full of gorgeous, California-blond, deeply tanned and muscular young masters who wore soft, tight leather pants. And I would wear a jeweled thong, dipping low and arching high, with a sparkling collar around my neck, and maybe gold rings on my nipples, and everyone would just die when I walked by, but they couldn’t touch because they know I belong to the king, who loves only me, and they’re all jealous...
“Are you ill, Sharon?”
She came out of her reverie with a snap. Grendel was standing by the couch she had been dozing on, his hands in his pockets, a thoughtfully concerned look on his face.
“Huh? No, no, I’m all right, I’m awake.” She sat up, trying not to yawn, forcing a small, slightly embarrassed, slightly shy smile. “I’m sorry, ma— sir. I guess I didn’t get enough sleep last night.”
He nodded. “And you’re not used to studying this much?” he offered.
Her smile broadened, and she bowed her head in the way that all the men she’d ever played with found so charming and submissive. She knew what would come next. He’d smile back and stroke her hair. She arched her neck to give him a better angle.
“We can begin with you explaining to me how to present yourself for examination,” Grendel said. She looked up and found that instead of moving closer to caress her, he had actually turned away. He took a seat in a large, comfortable armchair and crossed his legs.
She looked at him in utter confusion. “How to present yourself for examination, Sharon,“ he repeated patiently. “For example, by a prospective buyer.”
Oh! Shit, how was she supposed to know that? Wait, it was in that binder, wasn’t it? Something about kneeling? She tried to remember, but the very concept was vague. But there was something about it in one of her books, wasn’t there? Stalling for time, she stood and smoothed that shapeless jumper over her legs. An image came to her from the book she had at home, and she gracefully sank to her knees and placed her hands on her thighs with the palms turned up. She tilted her head down in humility.
“Whenever you’re ready, Sharon.”
Her head jerked up. “Um, this is it, sir.”
“First of all, I didn’t tell you to do it, Sharon, I told you to explain it. In words. And if that is how you think it should be done, you’re incorrect. Let’s try another one. Tell me how you would stand if told to be at attention. That one is a little easier.” Sarcasm dripped from his words.
“I... I’d stand up straight,” Sharon said. “And...? Uh. With my head up?”
“Are you asking me, or telling me?”
Sharon bit her lip. “With, with my head up and, and my hands straight at my sides.”
“Sharon,” Grendel said softly. He uncrossed his legs, leaned forward slightly. and beckoned to her, and she moved toward him on her knees. “You didn’t really study today, did you? In fact, you’ve probably wasted every minute that you’ve been here, haven’t you?” He kept his voice very soft.
“I looked at it, sir,” Sharon said, bowing her head again. “But I’m not real good at studying. I forget. I’m sorry.” Her voice lilted upward in supplication. “Please don’t punish me.”
“All right,” Grendel said easily. “I won’t.”
Sharon’s head snapped back up. “What?”
“I’m granting your request. I won’t punish you. In fact, after we conclude this interview, I won’t even see you privately again until you’ve memorized the first two pages of this manual.” He swept the binder up and tossed it on the floor between them. It fell with an unnerving clatter. “Don’t you forget that I know you, missy. You’re a spoiled little princess who’s gotten men to do precisely what she wanted them to do while deluding them into believing that they had some power over her. I said it yesterday, and I’m reminding you today. That shit doesn’t work with me!”
She gasped as he raised his voice.
“You were given hours alone today and one simple task. And not only didn’t you do it, but you lied to me, directly and indirectly. Let me tell you one thing, girl, and listen to me very carefully.” He kicked the binder so it landed against her knee. “If you lie to me one more time, Chris will have your bags packed and your sorry ass in a cab so fast you’ll think this place was a hallucination. Am I making myself clear to you?”
“Yes, yessir!”
“You seem to think that the phrase ‘pleasure slave’ means you are exempt from responsibilities and duties. Th
e truth is, my girl, the route you’ve chosen is harder than you think. Not only will you have to memorize every position and style in this manual, but you’ll have to execute them, perfectly, with no regard to the nature of your owner, whether you love or hate them. You have to learn to endure discomfort and pain and still manage to look exquisite and inviting. You have to be ready to serve at every moment of your life, waking and sleeping. Do you really think you’re ready for that?”
“Yes,” Sharon whimpered. “I want it so bad!”
“You want? You want? Your wants don’t matter, Sharon! That’s part and parcel of the whole scene, and you don’t get it. Do you think that you really want what I’ve described? Well then, study when you’re told to. Act when you’re told to. Stop bitching and sulking every time you think we’re not watching.” He leaned back again. “This stuff is only the beginning, missy. In addition to all the behavior and language that turns you on, you’re also going to have to learn how to dance. And play games. Do you play tennis? Golf? Do you swim? Can you dive? Do you ride? Can you play poker? Backgammon? Bridge? Mah Jongg?”
Each question was met with a frantic nod or shake of her head. There were many more no’s than yes’s.
“And then there are your social skills, what little there is of them. You have to work on your atrocious accent, and learn to stop centering every conversation about yourself. You’ll have to learn how to address people naturally, so that everyone who hears you knows that you belong to someone. On top of that, you’ll have to learn how to converse, from the basics of communication to how to welcome, flatter, and otherwise receive guests. You’re going to have to know about topics ranging from opera and theater to current events and politics.”
Sharon’s back began to stiffen. “But, why?” she asked.
“Because pleasure, Sharon, doesn’t begin and end between a person’s legs.” Grendel stood up. “If you have any hope of getting a situation like you described in your contract, you need to be educated. And believe me, Eliza Doolittle was a Rhodes scholar compared to you.”
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