Rachel tried out the new Brian and pronounced him a major improvement on the old. One rainy afternoon, she took him and Claudia into Grendel’s workshop and put them both through their paces, directing them to make love to each other for her amusement, and then to her for her satisfaction, and then back to each other just to see how far they could go. As a consequence, a lot of work didn’t get done that day, and Chris’s strap was busy that night, but no one regretted it.
Grendel kept his distance, knowing that it had been the key to breaking Brian’s facade of slavery down, and by doing so kept the boy hungry. Slowly, he brought him closer and closer, first by watching as Brian serviced Sharon and Robert, then by exhibiting Brian to visiting friends, and then one one night by using Robert in front of Brian, while Brian crouched on the floor in full sight of the scene. When he told Robert to stay and dismissed Brian, the boy crawled over to him and thanked him tearfully for the chance to see him in such a way.
“So you may have been right, boy,” Grendel said to Chris the next day. “Don’t get cocky!”
“Never, Sir,” Chris assured him.
That night, Grendel took Brian in hand and finally let him show off the skills that Paul had boasted about. And judging by the way Brian reacted, from Grendel’s first touch to the moment when the owner closed his eyes and felt his come bursting out almost painfully in the hot channel of Brian’s ass, dammit, Chris was right.
They had some real slave material on their hands here.
* * * *
The following week, Alexandra and Grendel met to discuss how to proceed.
“Claudia will go home, there’s no doubt about it,” Alex said. “Madeleine will be thrilled, and I think we can expect some major referrals from her in the future, as well as a standing invitation to go to all her parties.”
“I’d call Claudia a success,” Grendel agreed.
“And I think Robert’s good enough to go to general auction.”
“Really?” Grendel checked the calender. “There is one soon, we could probably get him in, if we call now. But I was thinking, why don’t we ask Madame to ask around her friends and see if someone we know might be interested?”
“Well, if you want to make the call,” Alex said.
“Sure.” Grendel jotted down a note. “I’d hesitate to do the same with Sharon, though. I‘d just as soon make sure no one thinks we’re passing on very good merchandise here.”
“On the other hand, there is the question of that clause in her contract,” Alex reminded him. “I’ll tell you what. Since you’re doing the mistress circuit, I’ll see if I can scrape up some potential bids for our showpiece.”
“More than fair. Now... about Brian.” Grendel leaned back. “I think we should keep him for another month and refine him some more. By the end of the summer, he’ll double in value, easily.”
Alex whistled. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely. He’s raw material now; it’s like handling nitro. I think we can mold him into our nice little plastique package and move him out as an all-purpose slave, ready for master’s wishes.” Grendel let his hand fall to his side, where it brushed Chris’s hair. “Besides, it gives us a little more time with him. He could be fun. Regret pointing him out, boy?”
“No, Sir. He will bring honor to the house.”
“Oh, shut up.” Grendel pointedly ignored the slight snicker from beside his chair and looked directly at Alex. “Well? What do you think?”
“I think you’re both full of yourselves,” Alex announced. “Send me your prodigy tomorrow night, and I’ll tell you what I think.”
Two mornings later, Alexandra initialed her approval of entering Brian into the next level of training when he completed this one.
* * * *
“This week marks the end of the basic training period,” Chris announced one morning. The four slaves looked up from their breakfast. “In the month and a week you’ve been here, you have all progressed, and the owners are now determining which step you will take next. For the first three days of this week, the people who come here are all potential buyers. I know I don’t need to remind you how to behave. Do not disgrace this house in any way.”
“There’s more to it than that,” Grendel said, entering the room. The slaves rose, as they had been placed on formal behavior for the week, and he waved them back down. Alex joined him, and they addressed the slaves from the head of the table.
“The people you meet this week may desire you and want to possess you,” Grendel continued. “This is the purpose for which you have been trained. Every move you make, every gesture and sound, has a value in their decision-making process. If you follow your directions and behave the way you’ve been taught, you can guarantee that they will take you at face value. If you mess up, you aren’t just making us look bad, you’re making yourself look stupid.”
“These buyers are familiar with this house, our track record, and our training methods,“ Alex said. “They know what to expect, and they’ll know immediately if a fault of yours was something we neglected or something you just refused to correct. You are novices. These people are buyers. Don’t insult their intelligence.”
“Yes, ma’am,” came a chorus of voices.
“Then let’s begin this final week.”
* * * *
The buyers came in trickles, and they came in groups. Some of them had been by before, as visitors during the earlier phase in training, and most of them were eager to see any changes in the slaves they tried out the last time. Sharon was kept busy, and Claudia was excused from most showings, because of her unique status. But she was often kept nearby for serving drinks and fetching things like writing tablets. To separate her from the slaves that were being offered, she was given a plain black dress, much like the one Rachel sometimes wore.
Each day, the slaves found themselves showing themselves, posing, answering questions, and getting touched, invaded, and tormented by a variety of people. And for the nights, when all the showings were over and they had a chance to eat, they were all sent immediately to bed, in order to be fresh for the following morning.
It was delightfully maddening, frustrating and horrible. They talked about their dream owners every night and slept like children.
When the showings were finally over, Alex and Grendel had enough interest to actually auction off Sharon and Robert, and they set Friday as the night it would be done. They summoned Brian and told him that they wanted to keep him on for further training, and Brian thanked them so effusively and well that it was impossible to believe that this was the same man they met almost six weeks ago. When he left, Grendel turned to Alex and said, “You know I need to deal with Chris a little bit.”
She waved a hand at him. “Go right ahead. I’m not going to be able to relax until the sale is over anyway.”
* * * *
With the sale and the arrival of Mistress Madeleine (whom the other three slaves wanted desperately to see) only one day away, the slaves were just beside themselves with anxiety and excitement. No one had been able to eat dinner, even with the pleadings of Cook, who had made some special foods to say goodbye. They had nibbled politely, but left most of it alone.
The early bedtime worked against them now. They were all wide awake and overwrought, and far too excited to sleep. When Grendel actually walked into the room with Chris, they were astonished but eager for whatever was coming next. They scrambled out of their beds and knelt, and Grendel suppressed a smile. New slaves were so alike. He nodded a release, and they got back to where they were.
“Since this will probably be your last night here,” Grendel began, “I’ve decided to do something special. While you’ve been here, you’ve been limited to how much curiosity you could indulge in. In the past two weeks, you’ve all done well in controlling it, which is the mark of a good slave. However, right now, before you go to sleep, I’m offering you a chance to ask any final questions about this house, our methods, or staff. I’m not promising that I’ll reveal anyt
hing sensitive or things you have no business knowing, but I’m sure there are some questions you’ve been burning to settle. If you have no questions, I’m also prepared to hear comments.”
And Claudia, the little darling, did just as he instructed her to.
“Sir?” she asked, raising her hand shyly. “If it’s permitted, I have one question. What is Chris, in the hierarchy of this house?”
Grendel looked at Chris, who looked startled, and said, “I think I’ll leave that to Chris to answer.”
“Well,” Chris said with a slight frown, “I’m the majordomo, which means the chief of the house. A steward, perhaps, or a butler.”
Robert said, “But you’re more than that, Chris, aren’t you? I think what Claudia meant was, how do you fit in? We’re slaves. Ms. Rachel and Jack and Cook and Mr. Shaw are employees. Are you an employee of the house?”
Chris looked a little uncomfortable and glanced at Grendel, whose gaze was suddenly hard. “Answer.”
“I am... not exactly an employee,” Chris finally said. “Although my needs are met quite adequately.”
“Tell them exactly what you are,” Grendel prompted. A shift occurred in the room, and all the slaves felt it. There was something happening that was scary and wonderful. The power they felt was old, and rich, and Brian actually shivered in pleasure. Even Sharon felt it, and in her mind, she knew, this is real.
Chris lowered his head for a moment. “I am an adjunct to this house,” he said after some thought. “I am not a slave, as you understand the term. I have no contract, and wear no collar. I work here of my own free will, and of that will, I subject myself to the will and whims of Mr. Elliott and Ms. Selador.”
“But...”Brian said, haltingly, “I don’t understand. If you’re submitting to them, why...” He looked up at Grendel. “I’m sorry, sir, I withdraw my comments.”
Grendel shrugged. “It’s a fair question. You want to know why we don’t accept him as a slave, since he obviously is one in all but name. The reason is that we—Alex and I—don’t own slaves. In our line of work, it seems far easier to hire experienced people who will not be prone to feelings of abandonment, jealousy, or insecurity every time we go through a new group of novices. But we found that we couldn’t send him away because he provides the perfect solution to our household needs as well as being a generally agreeable companion. We know that he hates not being able to be what he desires most, but at the same time, our refusal to accept him is a sublime torture that no amount of scenes could ever match. You, Brian, are now aware of the unique type of pain rejection and the withholding of a desired place can be.”
“Yes, Sir,” Brian whispered. Chris’s face was a mask of controlled emotion, but it was clear that he was more than slightly humiliated by Grendel’s explanations.
“Sir,” Robert said, clearing his throat, “I’m a little confused. If Chris... if all he wants is to be... what we are, why is he in charge to the new slaves? Wouldn’t someone who is more of a top be more appropriate?”
Grendel laughed. “Go ahead, Chris, tell them.”
Chris colored a little. A very little. And remained silent.
“No? Then I will. Chris is a top, Robert, as if you didn’t have firsthand knowledge of that. When we first met Chris, he was teaching tops. In fact, Chris has had offers from slaves, and he’s has been mentioned many times as a very promising trainer within the Marketplace. Even the legendary Anderson has mentioned him in her reports. That’s something quite special.” Grendel watched the slaves carefully, and saw some levels of comprehension dawning.
Brian remembered Chris in full leathers, pounding the banister and the floor, saying “This is me!” He blushed for the majordomo, and felt in his gut a sympathetic twinge of pain.
Grendel went on. “Chris created the program you’ve just been through, my new slaves. Hoping that someone would put him through it one day, no doubt. Would you agree to that, boy?”
Chris looked up. “That would be pointless now, Sir,” he answered. His voice had an edge to it, sharp but still polite.
“Yes, I suppose it would,” Grendel agreed. “And that’s the reason why he’s so damn useful around here. He takes care of the administrative side of the training so that Alex and I get to go directly to the roots of things and do what we handle best.” He smiled, his work done. “Any other questions?”
After that, they asked nice, predictable questions about how long the house had been operating, and how often they went to the resorts, and which of the books was closest to the truth, and other nonsense. When the questions petered out, Grendel tapped Chris on one shoulder and sent him out to the hall, and said good night for the last time to the four slaves. He hit the lights as he left.
In the hallway, he reached for a handful of Chris’s hair and clenched it. Chris drew in a sharp breath and straightened up.
“You handled that well, boy,” Grendel said, holding tight. “I love to see you under pressure like that. You look so good when you squirm.”
“It’s my pleasure to serve you, Sir,” Chris said, closing his eyes. He opened them again when Grendel gave him a shake.
“Yes, so you’ve told me. You did very well in general this time around, especially in spotting the potential in Brian. So naturally, I’m putting you in charge of him when the others leave.”
“Yes, Sir.” Between clenched teeth.
“Now, now, don’t sulk. You saw him, you insisted we keep him, now he’s going to be your problem for a few more weeks. Tonight was just to remind you that your status here is so precarious. You may be valuable, but you’re ours as long as you need us.” His words were harsh, but his voice was kind, and Chris closed his eyes again. Grendel let Chris go. “Go to bed. There will be a lot of people expecting to see you tomorrow, and I want you looking sharp.”
“Yes, Sir. I’ll try to improve myself, Sir.”
Grendel walked away without comment, thinking, Goddamn perfectionist!
Part Three: Chapter Twenty-Two
Many pictures have been painted of the sales within the Marketplace. Bright lights and stages, glass cages and mirrored tables, golden chains and liveried waiters serving up trays of paddles have all appeared from time to time. Some of those elements have even appeared in the actual events as well as the books supposedly written about them.
But one thing is true, wherever you are. In the pages of fiction and on the bidding tables of the Marketplace, the auctions take place silently, with numbers entered on computers or written down in leather folios, or passed to special couriers in sealed envelopes. It would never do for a slave to know what their value is. Or to see their potential owners fighting among themselves. No, it’s best that a slave is forced to wait in silence, enduring the pain of the mystery, until a hand comes to snap shut the open lock that hangs from that simple chain collar.
The procedure is simple at our house. Each slave is mounted on a special pedestal, a number on a tag around their neck. An open padlock joins the two ends of the collar, and a key is in the lock. Their folders sit on shelves that protrude from the pedestals, and bidders are welcome to examine the contents. Many of them will have copies already, sent to them for perusal before the actual sale. The folders contain the history of the slave, notes from trainers or former owners, and a copy of their contract.
The slaves are not bound, but are positioned on their knees with their hands behind their backs and their legs spread. Those who are not voice trained are gagged. It is a mercy, really. The voice trained may have to answer questions, and that is always so difficult under circumstances like these.
The bidding folders are actually in another room. There is no chance that any slave will even know how often he or she has been bid upon. Qualified buyers have until a certain time to write their high bid down, and they are permitted to return and bid again before the cut-off time. In our house, as in many older ones with an established clientele, we have a system of preferred buyers who are always given one opportunity to top the highest bid.
When a winning bid is determined, the new owner goes to their new slave, removes the numbered tag, and may replace it with their own. But the one gesture that makes the sale complete is when they sign the three copies of the contract and take one, and secure the lock, taking the key.
The slave does not need to sign. They signed when they were free.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The sale began at nine in the evening. There were twelve qualified buyers present, plus representatives of preferred buyers who had placed advance bids and given instructions to bid up to a certain amount on their behalf. All of them had seen the two slaves before, so a lot of the pre-sale discussion was actually among themselves rather than with the slaves. Not that Sharon would have made interesting conversation. She was very securely gagged.
The buyers were a diverse group, quiet in their wealth, careful in speech, casual in dress. Grendel and Alexandra were dressed up, as good hosts should be, and mixed freely, introducing people and chatting amiably with old friends.
Mistress Madeleine arrived early in the day and Alexandra took her into her sunny office to chat for a while. When Madeleine was ready, Alex sent for Claudia, who arrived led by Chris. Chris was already in his suit for the night, dark and elegant, and next to him, Claudia could have been wearing a little black dress of the kind that women wore to fancy dress functions instead of the housekeeper’s frock that it was. Her hair was up, and charmingly so, and her pleasure at seeing her mistress was so clear in her eyes that Alex had to smile. How could Madeleine have thought of sending the girl away?
“I would like you to see something,” Alex said, gesturing to Chris after Claudia had made her proper curtsy. Chris brought Brian in, and put him in a bent over position, and handed Claudia a cane.
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