She bowed her head again. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“Nothing to be sorry about,” he said lightly. “It’s a common condition, we all have it at one time or another. Of course, you should have realized that this was something that should have been brought to someone’s attention. You should have told Madeleine, and you should have told us. There are some people who actually think that your state of being sexually aware and functional while still being ‘intact’ is of special value. Personally, I think the whole concept of valuing something everyone is born with but only half the population can evidence is barbaric.”
She dried his back and held the robe for him. “I thought it was a problem, sir,” she said, backing away. He belted the robe and pointed into the bedroom and she preceded him.
“It is. But the problem is not specifically your virginity. The problem is what to do about it.
“We normally don’t have to deal with something like this. I can honestly count the number of intact virgins I’ve seen over the years, and it’s not many. This isn’t exactly a stereotypical slave market, and virginity isn’t as much prized as someone who knows what they’re doing. At least in the market we serve.” At his gesture, she poured him another cup of coffee, and sat at his feet when he pointed.
“I, for one, have no interest in being your first,” he said seriously. Her eyes widened in amazement. “It’s no insult, believe me. But I happen to feel that first times, no matter what the social standing of the person, should be by choice, not by circumstance. If I believed that you lusted wildly after me, that might be different. But we won’t even pretend that this is so, and that puts us right back to the question.
“I would like to send you back to Madeleine the way you are, but of course we’re not sure what her plans are going to be. I can tell you that fucking you is certainly one of her interests. Going through a drama with you over the issue might not be. Alex feels much the same, willing but not especially eager. And you have to understand, Claudia, it’s not you. It’s that you’ve managed to build up this fear and shame around the issue. I... we... would prefer it if we were sure that you had made some sort of personal decision about what you want to do. If it’s unsuitable for this house, we’ll leave you as-is, and it just won’t be an issue for us.”
He stretched out his legs comfortably. “Enjoy the time you take to make the decision. This is probably only the third time we’ve presented such an issue to an applicant here, and this is the least unpleasant circumstance.”
“Sir? I’m not sure what my choices are,” Claudia said finally.
“Well, you can choose to leave yourself vaginally virginal, whatever that means to a woman who has been in several lesbian relationships and survived the experience with the ability to have multiple orgasms. Or, you can ask that Alex deal with this—and you—in a more mistress-to-slave fashion. For that matter, you could still try to convince me that I should be your first penetrator. Or, if there is someone else here who you might have naturally chosen, we can explore that possibility.”
“Someone else,” she mused, putting her head down. After a moment, she looked back up. “I know what I want,” she said finally. And she told him. He thought about it for a moment and then nodded.
“I don’t see why not. I’ll speak to Alex in the morning. Of course, by doing this, you’re placing control of the event in our hands.” He looked down at her with hard eyes. “I think I might like to watch that, for example.”
She gulped, but didn’t waver. “I think... that might make me feel safer, sir,” she answered.
“Ha! Good answer. Come on, turn out the lights and lay next to me in bed. Alex tells me you’ve got some nice moves. Now that the scary part is over, you can get back to your training.”
“Sir? May I ask a favor please?”
Grendel looked interested. “I’ll listen to your request.”
“It-it’s not for me, sir. It’s for Sharon, and Brian.” She lowered her eyes, knowing that she was overstepping.
“OK. I’m still listening.”
She raise her head hopefully. “Sir, they want to be good slaves, I know it. But they’re confused, and scared, and I think they want your attention very much, but they don’t know what they should be doing. Please sir, is there some way you can give them a hint, or provide them with more direction? I’m sure they’ll be excellent once they’re given a chance, sir.”
Grendel nodded while she spoke and waited until she was finished. Then, he said, “I’m sure you know how inappropriate that request was.”
Claudia nodded, her face falling.
“Your concern is touching, but your interference in matters of training is not allowed. But you approached it properly, and I’m not angry with you. In fact, I’ll take your comments into consideration. But you’re not to mention that you made this request, or that I responded to it, do you understand?”
“Oh, yes sir! Thank you, sir!”
“Then come on up here.” He lay back and spread out one arm, and she curled up next to him. He touched her and explored her, and directed her to him, and she found herself enjoying it. When he turned and moved her with him, she sighed, liking the warmth of his body and the security of his size and strength. When he released her without any difficult demands on her, she went to the cool pallet on the floor and thought, why he’s very nice. That thought kept her awake for many long minutes. I was so afraid of him, and he’s so nice.
* * * *
“Robert, this is Sensei Chen.” Chris performed the introductions. The sensei, in sweat pants and a cut off T-shirt, looked like a college student at a track meet. He nodded to Robert, who was now used to normal people not reacting to his nakedness.
“The sensei is here to start a new series of lessons for you. He is an expert in the technique of Go-Ju, a Chinese form of karate. For the next three weeks, you will see him every day for one hour, and three hours on Wednesdays. Practice time is your own to schedule, but you will be responsible for keeping up with his outlined goals.” Chris bowed formally to the sensei, who grinned and bowed back, and Chris left without another word.
Robert blinked and looked down at the young man. This new twist was totally confusing. Dancing, and karate. He resigned himself to realizing that nothing was ever going to make sense here.
“Hiya, Robert. You’re a big guy, huh? We’re gonna have to get you a jock strap, I think. Well, let’s go out back and see what you’re made of, and then we see what I can teach you, huh?” The sensei led Robert into a clear area of grass out near the garage.
“Is this going to hurt?” Robert asked.
“Oh, not more than you can take,” the man said with a grin.
“Great,” the big man sighed.
* * * *
One night, Sharon found herself called to see Grendel. She went after dinner, walking proudly through the halls, confident that her time had come at last.
But when she got there, he didn’t do anything. He didn’t tie her up, or play with her, or even take a freaking bath and have her wash his back, something that little airhead Claudia seemed to think was such a hot thing to do. Instead, he posed her on this little mat-thing by the door, and left her kneeling there for, well, a long, long time. It felt like hours. And he made these phone calls, and he read for a while, and Chris came in with some coffee, and nothing happened at all!
And then finally, when she was about to just die from the boredom and the itchy feeling in her legs, he looked over at her and said, “You may spend the night.”
“Thank you, sir!” she purred at him. “May I get up?” When he nodded, she gave herself a mental pat on the back. Oh, she knew all the tricks now. Don’t move a muscle until you get permission, that was a good one. Now, she rose and stretched, careful not to leave the spot she was in. Oh yeah, some sex was going to feel really good right now. She wondered if he was going to make her start with a blowjob. She really wanted to get fucked. Blowjobs are OK, but when I’m horny, oh, I want it bad, she thought, twisting
around.
“May I come to you, sir?” she asked, when she was ready.
Grendel looked up from his book, as though he was surprised that she was still there. “If you like,” he said, putting the book down. She walked across the room slowly, making it her most sensuous stride, and sank to her knees gracefully at the edge of the bed.
“Very nice,” Grendel admitted. He reached out and stroked her hair for a moment. “You may go to sleep now. I’ll turn out the lights.”
Sharon felt confusion building. She looked up at him and started to get up. “Um.” She stopped and then gathered her thoughts before the word ‘like’ got out. “Sir... I thought... didn’t you want to, um, use me, sir?”
“No, not really.” Grendel smiled gently. “But you may stay anyway.”
“Oh.” Sharon tried to keep the scowl from her face, and she sighed prettily. “Yes, sir,“ she said, keeping her voice light. And then she tried to get into bed. He stopped her with one hand.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.
“T-to, um, sleep?”
“There’s a pallet down there with a blanket,” Grendel pointed to the foot of the bed. “That’s where you sleep, girl. It’s in the book.”
Oh damn, was it? Oh yeah, something about sleeping at the foot of the bed unless other arrangements were made. But Sharon looked down at the end and saw the little futon like thing that was down on the floor and then back at Grendel. I thought it meant that you slept at the bottom of the mattress, she thought, this time allowing the frown to escape.
“You don’t like it?”
She should have been warned by the light, friendly tone of his voice.
“Sir, don’t you think...wouldn’t you rather I was up here with you?” Sharon tried offering good stuff instead of complaining. Maybe that was the way to go.
“What’s wrong?” Grendel asked. He got up and looked at the pallet. “Don’t you like it?”
“Well, sure, sir,” she said, sliding up to him. “But don’t you think I belong closer to you than on the floor? If I’m really good, don’t I deserve to be somewhere special?”
Grendel nodded and stroked his beard. “You have a point,” he said with a nod. He walked back to the the table and hit the intercom button on the phone. “Chris, could you come to my room, please?”
“You know, you’ve really given me something to think about,” he said, as the two of them stood in the middle of the room. Sharon smiled sweetly, wondering what Chris was for. She entertained a brief fantasy that Grendel was going to yell at the little guy, telling him to never put one of these pallet things on the floor when Sharon was going to be here. She smiled even sweeter.
“Chris, Sharon isn’t satisfied with the sleeping arrangements here,” Grendel said. “She seems to believe that her special needs call for special accommodations. I’m sure you can find her something appropriate?”
“Wait—” Sharon started to say.
“You made your choice, Sharon, and I’m respecting it. Good night.” As the two of them left, Grendel allowed himself a laugh. Well, Claudia, he thought, going back to his book, there’s one!
When Chris grabbed Sharon by the arm and marched her out, her mouth opened in shock. Well! Of all the Goddamn nerve! What did she do wrong? She was so outraged and obsessed with this weird situation, she didn’t notice that they weren’t heading toward the dorm room.
“Wait,” she said again, pulling back a little. “Where are we going?”
“To find you a more appropriate place to sleep. Shut your mouth, you ungrateful little minx.” Chris grasped her arm more firmly, and propelled her into the kitchen, where he let her go for a moment while he went into one of the storage rooms. When he came out, he was holding a large flashlight and a bag that clanked. She was grasped again, and pushed out the back door, and along the path to the stables. Halfway there, she started to struggle, and he had to threaten to use his strap on her to get her to walk. Then she tried pleading, begging, and then screaming, which he cut off by calling her attention to the many unpleasant things that she could be gagged with if she disturbed the horses.
She ended up in an empty stall, a chain around one ankle, locked to the sliding bar that held all the stalls closed. “It will open automatically in case of fire,” Chris explained. “Here is your bedding,” he kicked up some straw around her, “and here is your coverlet.” He tossed in a horse blanket made of heavy netting. “There’s water in the bucket, and if you can’t wait until morning, you’ll find that straw can be very moisture absorbing. I hope these accommodations are more to your liking.”
“Chris, Chris,” she moaned, clutching the blanket to her body. “Please don’t leave me like this! I swear, I didn’t mean anything! I didn’t know! I didn’t remember! I’m sorry! I’ll never do it again!”
“You little fool,” Chris scolded, gathering up his flashlight. “Many slaves wish that they had the honor of sleeping at the foot of their master’s bed. You knew. You read all about it. But you thought it didn’t apply to you. Sleep well.”
He turned out the light when he left. The oppressive heat made wrapping herself up in the blanket unadvisable, but the straw was scratchy against her skin, and she was afraid of bugs, so she did it anyway. And she sobbed until the tears just couldn’t come any more, and she was afraid that she might wake the stupid horses and get into more trouble. Sharon spent a long, uncomfortable night, sure that her life could not get worse, not in a million years. She was so very wrong.
* * * *
Just one day later, Alexandra had Sharon show herself to a pair of men wearing expensive European suits (one very light, the other dark) and carrying small, exquisitely designed briefcases. The men were alike enough to be brothers, spare and economical in movement and bearing themselves as though they were diamond merchants looking at decidedly inferior merchandise. Conferring with each other in fluid Italian, they prodded her and issued curt commands in lightly accented English.
“She does not look healthy,” one commented to Alex. “Do you have her medical files?”
“Of course.”
“Turn—no, slowly! Lift your arm up, that’s it, higher, higher...” the other man stroked the inside of her arm, and she giggled. He drew his hand away immediately and slapped her, hard, across the breast. Sharon gasped and yelped, and her arm came down. She ground her teeth together in the incredible effort not to demand what the hell this guy was doing! And he turned away from her with a look on his face that was more eloquent than any verbal exchange.
The man in the dark suit shook his head. “No, Alexandra, I don’t think so. She’s not even ready to enter our training program. But we thank you for allowing us to look at her first.”
“Your house is always welcome to place advance bids here,” Alex said, rising. “When we heard you were looking for her type...”
“Yes, and we appreciate it. She would be adequate for our needs if she had better training. Not to suggest that you have not done splendid work with her!” Light suit hurried to correct himself. “But perhaps when she has completed her training, we can come out and take another look at her. Six more weeks? Eight, perhaps?”
“Maybe you have something else to show us?” Dark suit suggested. “We have the new catalogs from Los Angeles and Stockholm, and they are very disappointing.” He opened his case and drew several bound documents out, placing them on her desk. “I think the market will like to see some fresh faces from New York this year.”
“Thanks,” Alex said, flipping through one. “I’ll show you the others if you like, but I‘m afraid I don’t have anything else like her right now. Why don’t we meet with Grendel? He wanted to ask you about the possibility of creating a kind of foreign exchange program designed to foster a more marketable linguistic base for some specialty merchandise.”
“Good idea! Excellent!” Dark suit nodded, and they let Alex precede them. On the way out, Alex gestured a dismissal to Sharon, who slumped into a pouting position as soon as
they left.
Are they staging all this stuff for me, she asked herself. I mean, what is this shit! They don’t like me because I’m, like, ticklish? I don’t believe it, I mean, what am I supposed to do? She was going to leave, but then the glossy covers of the catalogs caught her eye. She walked over to the desk, and contrary to everything she had been warned not to do, picked the top one up. As she flipped through the pages, her eyes widened and she licked her lips.
They were catalogs of slaves! One of them, with elegant gold-bordered pages, showed photos and numbers only, but the photos were astounding. Each slave was shown in several poses, full-frontal, kneeling with legs spread, rear, and a head shot. They all wore chain collars around their necks, with numbered tags. Many of them sported piercings through nipples, labia, clit hood, and even through the head of a cock or two. Some had tattoos. Since the photos were in color, she could see that almost all of them had experienced recent beatings.
They were male and female, some terribly young, others well into middle age. They were white, mostly, but an elegant Asian woman with sensual lips gazed out from one page, and a muscular black man with a shaved head and several rings along the bottom of his cock posed on another. There were at least fifty people in the catalog, identified only by a number.
Oh God, Sharon thought, flipping through the book. Some of these guys are fucking gorgeous! So hot! The men looked good enough to grovel to, their bodies hard and sculpted, their poses placing them at angles to show off biceps and asses, cocks and heavy balls. And some of the women made the world’s top models look plastic and one dimensional. Not all of them, Sharon noted with satisfaction. I’d be no dog in this group. In fact, as she flipped back and forth, she noticed that mixed in with the cuties were lots of perfectly ordinary-looking guys and girls. But even their pictures showed a sense of erotic estheticism, like even they were seen as objects of desire and people to be possessed.
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