Razors and shaving gel were in everyone’s bundle except for Robert’s. He looked downcast when he realized that he had been left out. He ran a hand through the thick stubble on his chest and sighed.
Claudia sighed as she smelled the sweetness of the new soap and shampoo they had been issued, and eagerly dipped under a shower head to begin bathing. So far, training was proving to be better than being examined.
Brian asked Chris, “Should I shave all over?”
“Yes. Chest, legs, underarms, groin, and ass. You’re to be completely shorn below the neck. So are Claudia and Sharon. Oh yes, and your mustache will come off as well, Brian. Robert, Mistress Alexandra will decide if she wants you to shave your face by the end of the week.” Brian blanched and reached up to touch his thick black mustache. For a moment, his mouth worked, but no sound came out. Chris waited for more questions, and when none were forthcoming said, “You will all continue to practice your usual exercises in cleanliness, and keep yourselves clean inside and out.” He left them to bathe in what seemed like luxury.
By now, they had gotten used to helping each other. At least for the most part. As razors slid through hair and water swirled, Claudia and Brian spotted for each other. Robert almost offered to do the same for Sharon, but changed his mind just before he opened his mouth.
She’s never said a nice word to me, he thought, lathering up under the shower. Why should I do anything for her? The new soap felt wonderful against his skin, and smelled so nice. Why didn’t they let him shave? He’d feel so much more, well, natural, with all this ugly hair off. He glanced enviously at Brian, who was staring at his face in the mirror and hefting the can of shaving gel, but finished his shower and internal cleansing in silence.
* * * *
“Today, you start some new assignments. At the end of next week, most of the household staff will be taking three weeks off, and you four will replace them, taking over all duties except for cooking and stable keeping.”
Chris addressed them as they stood naked in the morning sun, outside of Alexandra’s side of the rear gardens.
“Some of the tasks you will be performing will be practical, others will be educational. Free time, as of today, has ceased to exist. Any time you are not working or being worked, you will be studying, exercising, or asleep.” He looked at Brian, who had raised one hand. “Yes?”
“Chris, what does ‘being worked’ mean?”
“That’s the term we use to refer to any time spent with the Mistress or Master which is designed around your erotic or sexual use, Brian. And you knew that, and asked the question facetiously.” Chris raised one eyebrow, and waited for Brian to deny it.
Brian’s entire body tensed, and his mouth opened, but he held it back. In silence, he lowered his head.
His cock stirred against his freshly shaven groin. Chris ignored it.
Chris continued. “Your assignments are as follows. Brian, to Ms. Rachel and laundry duty. Robert, since Cook thinks highly of you, to the kitchen. But don’t get too comfortable there, Mistress Alexandra has some other plans for you eventually. When Cook doesn’t need you, you will be used outside, so see the gardener, Mr. Shaw. Claudia, you’re under me directly, dealing with the maintenance of the main house and various staff duties which I will explain to you in time.”
Claudia pressed her lips together, biting back a moan.
“And Sharon...” Chris looked directly at her and smiled gently. “To the stable, if you please. Jack is waiting for you.”
Brian ended up downstairs, in the spotlessly clean laundry room. And how do we know it’s spotless? he asked himself. Why, because we scrubbed every square inch of it just last Thursday, floors, walls and ceiling, with Sadistica Supreme as our personal devil with a pitchfork. Ms. Rachel, so composed, so polite, and so utterly disagreeable. So accurate with a wet towel, so quick to take offense, and ever so eager to shove something unpleasant in your mouth.
He closed his eyes for a moment, and tried to compose himself. But this is it, he thought, tensing and relaxing. You made it, pal, you’re in the program. From here on, it should be easy, and then in no time, you’ll be off to what you want.
As long as what I get isn’t anything like this, he mentally noted. He opened his eyes as he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. It was Rachel, Chris, and Claudia. Claudia was holding Chris’s clipboard under one arm, and she had a leather bag, like a mail satchel, hanging from one shoulder. Otherwise naked, and shorn of hair, she made a funny sight. A site inspector who had forgotten to get dressed that day. Brian tried to control the twitch that struck his face. He failed, but managed to keep from laughing out loud. The thought that his face was as naked as the delta between her legs struck him as rather sobering.
“Stand at attention, please,” Chris said. The majordomo held a hand out toward Claudia, who began taking things out of her bag and handing them to him. Rachel looked amused.
“Mr. Elliot has ordered that you be adorned, Brian.” Chris brought his hand forward and showed Brian two objects the younger man didn’t recognize. Swiftly, they were attached to the silver rings through Brian’s nipples. Brian looked down to see what now looked like upside down silver bows with little strands of satin ribbon hanging down from them. The ribbons extended down his hairless chest all the way to his belly. They were baby pink, and curled at the ends. The weight of the adornments was negligible, but from the way the ends of the ribbons bounced with every movement of his chest, he knew that he would never be able to forget that they were there. His head began to pound.
“The next one, Claudia. I shouldn’t have to ask.” Claudia hurriedly pressed another item into Chris’s hand, and a pink bow of the same color and texture was tied around Brian‘s throat. Chris took a moment to adjust the knot of the bow so that it fell neatly into the hollow at the base of Brian’s throat. The ends were split, and curled up.
“Very nice,” Chris said. But the look in his steel-framed eyes was vicious amusement. “What do you think, Brian?”
“Please, Chris,” Brian choked out. “I... I don’t... I never...”
“Yes?” Chris prompted.
“Please. I... I hate this. Can I speak to Master Grendel? I can explain...”
Chris shook his head. “It’s very impertinent for you to express such a judgment about your master’s desire to adorn you. You hate it? That’s just too bad.” Without taking his eyes away from Brian’s face, Chris held his hand out again. When Claudia didn’t drop something into it instantly, he gently smacked her across the top of her head, the way teenagers take shots at each other in play. His hand returned to the open position by her while his eyes pinned Brian to his spot on the chilly tile floor.
The last thing to be added for adornment was another length of ribbon. Chris let it unravel from the ball that Claudia belatedly passed to him, and gathered up Brian’s cock and balls in one hand.
Brian closed his eyes.
The ribbon went around them, and then crossed to separate the cock from the balls, and then each ball from the other. The ends of the ribbon crossed each other neatly around the whole package securely but not tightly, and then tied at the top. Another bow. A neat, crisp one.
“There!” Chris announced cheerfully. “That finishes the look. You may continue your work, Brian.” Without another word, Chris and Claudia left the room.
Brian remained at attention. His hands were locked at his sides, his entire body as erect as his cock wasn’t. Shame flooded through him. Clamps, leather, straps, boots, chains, yes!
But pink ribbons and bows?
All over his body. His naked, shaven body. No. Oh God, no.
Rachel stepped in front of him and pulled gently on the ribbons cascading down his chest. Pleasure shot through his nipples, and she smiled at the tension in his face. Wrapping the ribbons around her fingers, she led him, stumbling, across the room, where there was a large table used for folding laundry. She edged up against it released him, leaving him standing at attention in front of her.
Carefully, she lifted the edge of her black dress, revealing that she wore stockings and not pantyhose, and that she had no panties on whatsoever. She slipped herself neatly onto the table and reached out to get another grasp on those damned ribbons. With a sudden harsh tug, she pulled him onto her, and then pressed his head down.
“You heard him,” she said, her voice raspy with pleasure. “Get to work, pretty boy.”
* * * *
Cook’s frozen bread dough had defrosted and risen overnight. Robert was given the task of punching it back down, separating it into even loaves, and then making braids. Cook showed him once how to use a sharp knife to do the dividing, how to roll out even strips, and then the simple method of braiding and tucking the ends in. Then, she turned away from him to begin making up her shopping lists.
Robert did as he was instructed. It was really as easy as she said, he reflected, neatly slicing through the pounded down dough. Just slice, slice, and then roll, roll, and before you knew it, three even strands. Then one over the other, from end to end, and neatly pinch the ends together before you tuck them under. His first loaf was almost identical to hers. He moved it onto the wooden tray where it would rise one more time, and draped a damp linen cloth over it.
“Very good,” Alexandra said.
He jumped up from his seat, dropping the next ball of pounded dough. It fell with a very dull thud against the table and landed in a misshapen heap.
“Oh! I’m dreadfully sorry!” Robert tried to pick up the dough, and his fingers sank into it. He pushed it together and awkwardly threw it back into the bowl. He shifted nervously back and forth and then finally came to rest mostly facing Alexandra, his head down and his hands clutched behind his back.
Alexandra studied him.
“Where on earth did you get the idea that this is how you should behave right now?” she asked.
“Wh-what? Um. I don’t know, ma’am. I’m sorry. I, I...”
Alexandra hushed him. “You’ve been reading too much into some of the more formal instructions in the behavioral guide. Robert, how many times do I have to tell you to listen to what you’ve been told, and follow my instructions first? I know you’re trying to be good, but you’re also making a fool out of yourself and proving that you have difficulty following direct orders.”
He whimpered, and his lower lip trembled.
“And stop that whining! I swear, you’re worse than Claudia!”
He sniffed hard. The sight of him trying to control himself was almost as comical as his outbursts. Alexandra kept what she hoped was a fairly neutral look on her face. It was important that he get firmness, not amusement. But he was damn silly.
She turned her attention back to the table. “Now as I was saying—sit down, Robert, sit down!—that was a good job you did on that loaf. Have you ever baked before?”
“Not, um, before I came here, ma’am,” he said. His voice was terrible. Whenever he tried to avoid slipping into his falsetto, he sounded like he was trying to imitate an adolescent boy at the time of a voice change. It was grating.
“Well, get back to work. I’m not here to disturb you.” She directed his attention back to the bread, but didn’t move from where she was standing.
The dough stuck to the bowl. (Despite the dusting of flour on the sides.) It fell from his hands and wouldn’t roll out neatly. His strips were raggedly cut, and he had to do them again. The second time, they came out with a distinct curve, narrowing to shapes vaguely reminiscent of a child’s drawing of a quarter moon.
He tried not to look over his shoulder. Sweat broke out in the middle of his back and along his hairline. Desperately he rolled out three lumpy, uneven strips and braided them with trembling fingers. Pinching one end actually broke three pieces off.
The finished product looked like a Play-Doh approximation of what a braided loaf of bread might look like to a visually impaired four year old. He heard Alexandra’s thoughtful “tsking” behind him, and he began to sob.
“I’ll see you this afternoon, Robert. Let’s hope you regain your composure and your dexterity by then.”
Alex met Grendel in the hallway. He looked at her compassionately.
“Headache already?” he asked.
“I think we might have made a mistake with him,” Alex said, rubbing her temples.
“Here, let me do that.” Grendel got behind her and applied his fingertips to the area below her hairline and began to gently massage. “Don’t write him off so fast; it’s only the first day.”
“I know that. It’s just hard to see him as a sex object when he’s blubbering over a mound of bread dough. How do I reach the real Robert? Somewhere in there is a man who cared enough about his body to work it in high school and college. A man who played and coached football.” She smiled and leaned back. “Mmmm. That’s good.”
“I’m glad. And babe, if there’s any way to find that man under the maid’s uniform, you’ll find it. You’re the best.” He kissed the back of her neck, and she chuckled. “Listen, I’m going out to the stable to check on darling Sharon. Care for some entertainment?”
“No, I don’t think so. I’m going to work Claudia before lunch, and the contrast is just too jarring. But thanks for the offer and vote of confidence. I’ll return the favor when you’re ready to give up on Brian.”
He stopped massaging and laughed. “That’s a good point. Well, I’ll leave you to missy perfection while I get her evil sister. At least you get laid.”
“Ha! Don’t count on it,” Alex turned around and smiled back. “See you later, my dear.” She kissed him gently and they went their separate ways.
* * * *
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Sharon screamed.
Jack blinked and mimed wiping spittle from his face. “I asked for th’ news, not the bleedin’ weather,” he said laconically. He tossed the rake over to her and turned away to get something else off the wall.
Sharon saw the rake coming and leapt gingerly out of the way. “You are crazy if you think I’m doing this shit!” she continued to yell. “You go and get Grendel right now, and tell him this is just out of the fucking question!”
“’Ere’s a coverall—you’ll be wantin’ that—and there’s muckin’ boots in the nor’ shed. They may be a bit large for your feet, but you can always wrap a bit o’tape about the tops to keep ’em on. If it works for the ’orses, it’ll work for you.” He tossed the plain denim coverall at her, and she reached out to catch it.
“Did you hear me?” she asked, clutching the garment in front of her. “I’m not doing it.“
“Aye, I got you. But you’ve got to realize something, model.” Jack grinned, showing a mouth full of strong, white teeth. “You’ll be doin’ what I say, or you’ll be packin’ your bags for ’ome, and that’s for damn sure. Y’see, Mr. Elliot and Mr. Parker told me all about you and your fancy ways. Yet, ’ere you are. So put the cover on like a good little model an’ go an’ get your booties and we’ll ’ave a nice lesson in muckin’ to start the day.”
Sharon looked at him in a state of incredulous horror. He smiled again and snapped his fingers. “Go to it, lass! You won’t be liking what ’appens if you waste my precious time!”
“Look,” the beautiful, young woman said, trying to stall for time. “You don’t understand.”
“Oh, aye?” Jack leaned on a stall post and folded his powerful, sinewy arms. “Educate me. Elucidate my boggled mind.”
“I... I... I don’t know how to do this,” Sharon began, pointing at the fallen rake. “And... I’m allergic to animals, OK? And... and...”
“And?” He looked interested.
“And look,” Sharon dropped the coverall away from the front of her body. She spread her arms out slowly and then lowered them in front of her in a coy, stunningly practiced gesture. Her skin was the color of warm honey, save for a gently contrasting triangle of white between her thighs. In the cool of the morning, her nipples were erect, and pointed slightly upward. Her lips
parted in a sweet, childish pout.
“Do I look like I was made to work in a stable?”
“Naw, y’surely don’t.”
“Then, please speak to Grendel about this? I’m sure it was all, like, a mistake.” She smiled back at him. “I’ll wait right here, if you want.”
Jack sucked in a short breath and nodded. He turned away from her and walked to the far end of the stable, toward the tack room.
I don’t believe this, Sharon thought to herself, looking around. I mean, what do I have to do to get through to these people?
She had come to the stable, carefully picking her way over damp patches of ground and wrinkling her nose at the smell of horses and horseshit, thinking that she was going to be taught how to ride one. Not clean up after one! After all, horseback riding was one of the things that Grendel mentioned good slaves should be able to do. Wasn’t it?
She felt itchy. The pathway in front of the empty stalls was dirt and straw on top of concrete, and there was no clean place to stand. She stepped on top of the discarded coverall and wiped her feet against it. There, that was better. She turned around looking out the wide side door, into the paddock. The horses were out there somewhere, probably eating their oats or grass or whatever they ate for breakfast. Maybe she would get a really pretty one, like all white, or maybe a big black one with a white star on its forehead? And she could wear those totally cool clothes, all those suits and top hats and stuff. Or was that for fox hunting? Never mind, the tight pants would look good on her, and so would those shiny black boots. Or would she look too dykey?
Lost in her reverie, she didn’t hear Jack’s return.
Suddenly, an incredibly strong hand grasped her left wrist and looped something around it. As she screamed her surprise, Jack jerked her body around and caught her right wrist in a neat cross-tie. In an instant, the loops were pulled tight, and her hands were bound together. In another instant, she was rudely kneed into an adjoining stall, and the end of the rein was threaded through a ring set just at the highest point Jack could comfortably reach. He pulled it taut and tied it off, and chuckled while he did it.
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