“Not at all,” the man replied. He had an accent, and his inclined his head formally. Stuart answered without thinking, automatically lower, and the man smiled. He was balding, his sand-colored hair swept back over his skull, light blue eyes exacting behind horn-rimmed glasses. Stuart searched through his memory and came up with... Walther Kurgan! This man was part of his staff.
“I am Markus Schulze,” the man said carefully. “Please, Mr. Kurgan wishes to meet you.”
“Oh? Oh! Well... sure. Thank you,” Stuart stammered, and followed Markus around the bondage rigging in the center of the room, past the back-to-back flogging frames and the impromptu jack-off contest being held while trainers bet on which slave would ejaculate first.
* * * *
Walther saw Michael LaGuardia striding through his party as well, and he cocked his head slightly to follow him. Ah, but he was a good-looking man. Stripped naked and sold, he would have bidders tearing their wallets to make offers for him. Except... he was not very attentive, was he? That was a puzzlement.
To see young Parker on his own, well, everyone knew that was going to happen eventually, with or without the surprise public promotion to Master Trainer. How many did that make for her now? Six? Seven? A good life’s work. And it was only fitting that a trainer of Parker’s degree have an apprentice in service, but frankly, one expected such a trainee to be better than this Michael.
Of course, how much better could he be, considering his pedigree? To come out of the training house of that posturing, nattering salesman of short-contract trash slaves, it was a wonder he had manners at all. Negel himself was well-mannered, for an American, but some of his students were simply nightmares! Brash, arrogant, yet ignorant at the same time. Negel and his “tribes” and his “new age” and his suggestions that they were all frustrated rapists and monsters simply because they held to a tradition of growth through adversity!
And yet... one of his students wound up in training with Anderson’s newest Master Trainer. How? Why? What did she see in him that he, the Trainer of Trainers of Germany, did not see? Perhaps he should ask to borrow him, exchange a student for a few months.
He put that aside as Markus returned and performed the introductions. Walther smiled just a little as the young man before him stammered something about being honored to meet him and then hurriedly wished him a good evening in what he supposed was the lad’s only German.
“And a good evening to you, Mr. Lundberg. You are Swedish, perhaps?”
“Through my father, yes,” Stuart answered. “My Mom’s French. I mean, they were both born in the States, though.”
Walther nodded. “Welcome to my party. I saw you looking around. Is there something special you are searching for?” Up close, Walther could see the fine boning of the young man’s face, a certain delicacy of chin and neck, small ears. But the feathery hair on his chin and upper lip was real, and there was some across the backs of his slender hands as well. He dressed him mentally in a loose shift, and felt an odd stirring; yes, he realized with some amusement. He would make a very pretty girl! One with no tits at all, but there were many who enjoyed that.
How strange to be so fascinated!
* * * *
Stuart swallowed hard and then decided to take the risk. “I’m looking for a certain kind of slave, Herr Kurgan.”
“For yourself?” The man looked surprised, and Stuart couldn’t blame him. Not too many trainees seemed to be allowed to play with the slaves during the Academy, at least not without supervision.
“No, sir, for... someone else.” He almost said for Marcy, and then stopped himself, thinking suddenly that maybe she wouldn’t want to have it broadcasted. Why didn’t I think this through? he thought with a panicked cough.
“We must help you, then. What sort of slave must you find?” The trainer looked positively eager to help!
“A... man. A man who can, um, get it up? I mean, be hard, his, uh... cock...” Suddenly every way of describing such activity seemed so childish and slang-ridden in English!
But Walther was nodding. “To fuck, yes. To fuck anyone? A man or a woman, or both, or perhaps neither?” His eyes seemed to be dancing with some private joke.
“Well... it would be best if he could fuck a woman?” Stuart felt his voice edge up in timbre and took a deep breath to force it back down before he started squeaking.
Markus, who had been standing back, stepped forward and said, “Perhaps Ernesto?” He indicated a direction with a nod of his head and the three men looked at the slave.
“No,” Stuart said thoughtfully, impressed by the weight hanging from Ernesto’s balls and the stunning erection he was displaying despite the swinging weight. Or, perhaps because of it. “I am looking for someone... bigger. Not in cock size, although, well, that one is sure OK. I mean, like... stronger? Bigger, like, um, you, sir?” he held his arms out around his own suddenly meager chest and looked somewhat stupidly up at Walther who threw his head back and laughed.
“Thank you, young man, yes, I understand! Markus?”
Markus was scanning the room again and this time he had to shift them over for a better view. Tied to a steel cross was a man with a deep chest and thick thighs, his muscles bunched as a man struck him in artistic lashings of a single-tail. He was covered in a light brown, almost reddish layer of body hair, but as if to emphasize that, the area around his cock and balls had been shaved completely clear. It was like a spotlight had been shone on one part of his body. He had a huge, square jaw and stark cheekbones and a face that looked cragged enough to be handsome in the roughest sort of way. The hair on his head was a brilliant, cinnamon-dusted red, tied back like a Viking warrior. He had a ring in his nose, two more in his nipples, and it looked like he had a Prince Albert as well.
Oh, yes, Stuart thought. He’s even cut! He looked like a model for the cover of some romance novel with a silly title like The Scottish Brigand or something. Minus the piercings.
“Travis,” Markus said. “He can perform for women.”
“Will he serve your purpose, mein junger mann?” Walther asked genially.
“Yes, sir! Yes, I think he’s perfect!” Stuart exclaimed. “Could I—I mean, is there a way I can borrow him? A little before midnight? I don’t know how long she’d want to keep him, though.”
Walther waved carelessly. “Take him when that man is through, keep him as long as he is useful! What else are slaves for?” At that moment a slave came by with a frosted glass brimming with a pale beer, which he accepted without looking. “But while we wait, you must tell me about yourself. Tell me what you have learned at this Academy, hm?”
* * * *
Walther listened to the youth speak passionately about computers and slaves and training and the honor of meeting so many amazing people, himself suitably at the top of such a list. And as he allowed the man’s excited voice to continue, he watched his body, the way his eyes lit or shifted, the movements of those small hands. He could see in this lad why the pederasts could so easily love the boys in the olden days, for who is more beautiful than a boy at the brink of manhood? Even a stalwart heterosexual like himself could see that.
You want him, you old stallion, he thought with some amazement. But do I? He asked himself back. Or do I want the girl he used to be?
One of his best trainees the previous year had been a woman who had served six years in the English navy. With her muscular body, close-cropped hair, and steely dark eyes, she had been mistaken for a man many times, and no matter how frilly and fancy a woman’s costume she could be made to wear, she was simply not that sort of woman. He had used her several times over the course of her training—naked, she was as much of a woman as any other. But there was no denying she was far more interesting, far more passionate, when she was butch. She preferred women, but had stayed in training in his house because like so many of his clients, she wished to be trained by the best, to serve with a purity of purpose. In the end, she did wind up being sold to a woman, and they were presumably
quite content.
Would having Stuart be like having her?
No, Walther realized. It would be different. I am not sure how, and yet I know it would be so. He is a man, and I do not want a man, even if he is a pretty boy. Do I?
Intriguing. And pleasant. It would never do, to become boring in his old age, would it?
When the time looked right, he stopped asking questions, took the lad over to the steel cross as the slave was being released, and handed him over with a slight bow. Stuart almost fell over in his own bows and effusive thanks as he took the slave in hand and walked, with some self-consciousness, though the party.
* * * *
This was so easy! Stuart crowed to himself, as he decorated the slave in his room. Leather cuffs and straps, ordered from room service, and long leather bands crossing his body in a sort of harness. He even spoke English! Since he was from Scotland. Stuart tried to keep himself from babbling at the slave. He put on his training persona, stern and controlled, and told the slave—Travis—what Marcy might like and how she liked to be addressed and what she liked to drink and as much as he could remember that might come in handy. The slave was serious, but pleased with the assignment—calling him “sir” with appropriate deference and smiling, but not leering or grinning.
Mr. Kurgan was so nice! Stuart thought, letting Travis have a little drink of water before finishing up the presentation bondage. He wasn’t scary at all. I liked his assistant, too. I wonder if I look that cool when I help Marcy. I hope I do. Man, it would be so cool to have someone following me around and handing me things and answering my questions before I finish asking them. Mr. Kurgan sure had a lot of questions! It was almost like...
He interviewed me. Stuart blinked in astonishment and his mouth opened. God dammit, he interviewed me! And I just went right along with it, blab, blab, blab, and didn’t even realize it! Why did he do that?
To throw me off? Well, that’s sure working now.
Because he was bored? Nah, it was his sex party, how could he be bored?
Come on, he thought, with a sudden chill. You know why trainers interview. He swallowed and took a deep breath. Great. The German Trainer of Trainers, world renowned for his brutality, is interested in... me?
Ahhh... shit.
* * * *
Marcy came back to her room a little before midnight, and was not terribly surprised to find the package all wrapped up on the coffee table. Big, muscled, and a ginger, to boot! Once she took off the blindfold and loosened the gag and nudged at his balls with the riding crop conveniently left clipped to the ring through the head of his penis, he showed a definite and profound interest in using that ringed cock in pretty much any way she desired.
Well fuck, she sighed, as she untied him and then commanded him to strip her, with care and seductive grace. Now I’ll have to find someone to train Stu some more. Maybe Max would take him? Parker would be the obvious choice, but who knows when he’ll be wanting another trainee, he’s already got the pretty boy.
Then the slave started licking down her spine as he gently scratched the skin on either side of where his tongue trailed, working his way down to her lower back and she decided to stop thinking for a while. There were rafters for swinging, and she intended to use them.
* * * *
“And find out what her plans for him are,” Walther was instructing Markus, as he beckoned over one of the female pleasure slaves. He had a hard-on so tremendous it ached, and there was no reason for such suffering. “But be discreet!”
“Of course, sir,” Markus said, as he backed away. The slave knelt as Walther pointed at his crotch and spread his legs wider. Ahh, yes. Seated in a comfortable chair set on a small dais, he had a perfect view of a sea of bodies in motion—men and women and, well, everyone else, fucking and sucking, beating and thrusting, tugging and licking, and all the delicious sounds and scents of the same.
And there, just to his right, he saw that Michael LaGuardia again, an almost lost look on his face. He took a longer look, and read it as a sort of wistful expression. That was not as odd as it might sound; often the jaded would find themselves surrounded by decadence and simply not be affected by it.
Ah, well, the man would go then to another diversion and seek sex another night. Walther stretched comfortably and laid one large hand on the slave’s head as she freed his aching cock and began to worship it properly. He sighed with pleasure and swept his eyes around the room again, lord of all he surveyed...
And by God, there was another one! A woman, staring out over the tangles of bodies and limbs and toys, her eyes slightly hooded, her body language whispering disconnection. Who was she? Ahh, Massimiliano’s trainee—Laura, or Luciana, or Louisa, or something like that. She did not look engaged at all, in fact, she looked almost sad! Oh, this would never do! Walther was about to summon Markus to do... something... about those two and then, suddenly, they saw each other.
Or, that will work, he admitted, settling back comfortably. Now he saw what was truly going on. Permitted at last by their masters to go indulge in their personal pleasures, the two of them had suddenly realized they wanted merely to screw, like lovers, like chance meetings at bars and clubs. Walther chuckled and pressed the slave’s head tighter against him. Kinder, he thought with some generosity. They look at my orgy and they think it is a shame they merely want, what do they call it? The plain, the vanilla. And they are ashamed. They are awkward suddenly, like at a school dance.
They actually held hands as they left and his smile wasn’t entirely due to the expert ministrations of the slavegirl between his knees. Yes, he decided. I will find a way to borrow that young man. And perhaps we shall see if I need to think of Germany.
About the Author
Laura Antoniou has become well known in the erotically alternative community as the creator of the Marketplace series (The Marketplace, The Slave, The Trainer, The Academy, and The Reunion), the first three volumes of which were originally published under the name Sara Adamson. One Marketplace character also appears in her first book, The Catalyst, but she leaves the reader to figure that out. The only independently written Marketplace short story, “Brian on the Farm,” appears in Lawrence Schimel and Carol Queen’s ground-breaking anthology, Switch Hitters: Lesbians Write Gay Male Erotica, and Gay Men Write Lesbian Erotica (Cleis), which has been published in English and in German. “That’s Harsh,” a new Marketplace story that appears as a bonus story in The Slave (Book Two of the Marketplace) won the 2011 John Preston Short Fiction award, presented by the National Leather Association.
Antoniou has also had great success as an editor, creating the Leatherwomen anthologies which highlighted new erotic work, By Her Subdued, a collection of stories about dominant women, and No Other Tribute, which features submissive women. Her nonfiction anthologies include Some Women and an homage to author John Preston entitled Looking for Mr. Preston. Antoniou’s work has been published in the United States, Germany, Japan, Israel and Korea, to international acclaim.
Antoniou’s short stories also appear in other anthologies, most recently in SM Classics, edited by Susan Wright; Things Invisible To See: Gay and Lesbian Tales of Magic Realism, edited by Lawrence Schimel; The Second Coming, edited by Pat Califia and Robin Sweeney; Once Upon a Time: Erotic Fairy Tales for Women, edited by Mike Ford; Ritual Sex, edited by Tristan Taormino and David Aaron Clark; and Best Lesbian Erotica 1997, edited by Tristan Taormino. Antoniou was also a columnist for Girlfriends magazine from 1995-1997, the submissions editor for Badboy and Bi-Curious magazines from 1995-96, a regular contributor to The SandMUtopia Guardian, and a short-lived columnist for Alt.com. Winner of the National Leather Association’s 2011 Lifetime Achievement Award, Antoniou is a highly demanded speaker at schools, leather/SM and sexuality conferences, and has become well known for her rants, thinly disguised as keynote speeches.
Antoniou is currently finishing the sixth book in the Marketplace series, entitled The Inheritor. She has no intention to stop there.
The
Marketplace Series
Now Published by Circlet Press’s Luster Editions
Circlet Press is proud to be returning the entire Marketplace series by Laura Antoniou to print, as well as launching all-new ebook editions. These books are the first in our Luster Editions line of erotic books and books of alternative sexuality that are not science fiction or fantasy.
The Marketplace
—available now as ebook or paperback
The Slave
—available now as ebook or paperback
The Trainer
—available now as ebook or paperback
The Academy
—available now as ebook or paperback
The Reunion, Fall 2012
The Inheritor—in the works!
* * * *
Stand-alone short stories also available as downloads for 99 cents each!
For Want of a Nail
That’s Harsh!
California Dreamin’
For More Information
www.circlet.com
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