Marketplace (16 page)

Grendel looked down at the
table for a moment, and ran a finger along his jawline, bending and
stroking down his beard. “I guess I can do that, if I’m sending
Brian back to Paul. But damn it, I hate to do this to Paul. He’s
usually very good at spotting them. And then of course, we lose the
favor he’d owe us if we make something out of the kid.” He thought
about it for a moment and then met Alex’s eyes across the table.
“Unless you want him, of course.”

“I don’t think so. From
what you’ve told me, there’s nothing exceptional there. Every move
he makes is so calculating. It’s shallow. He knows the right sounds
to make, but I don’t think he knows why he’s doing all these
things, unless he thinks it’s the best way to get sex. Give him a
few more years, maybe he’ll grow up and stop thinking the world
revolves around him.”

“Then I guess we know what
to do,” Grendel said, closing the folders and piling them up.
“Unless you have anything to add, boy?”

Chris looked up again.
“Keep Brian,” he said simply.

“That’s it?” Alex asked, a
little smile curling around her lips.

Chris nodded.

Grendel frowned for a
moment and then relaxed it into a grin. “Did you like his
cocksucking so much?” Chris grinned back but didn’t
respond.

Grendel sighed, and pulled
the folders apart again. “OK, let’s reconsider. What about Robert,
again? Do you think we can make a body builder out of him? There’s
a run on bodybuilders these days.”

Alex shrugged eloquently.
“Or maybe we can just make up something as we go along.”

* * * *

The following afternoon,
Chris made four phone calls. That evening, the applicants were
gathered in the library after they ate.

“Is there anyone who wants
to voluntarily leave the program?” Alexandra asked. The four stood
still. “Then we’ll cut through the dramatics right away. We’ve
decided to keep you all.”

Four bodies expelled breath
at once. Claudia’s knees almost buckled. Robert’s did, and he went
to his knees.

“Oh, thank you ma’am, thank
you!” he cried.

“Robert, control yourself!”
Grendel snapped. “Get up and get back in line.” The shamefaced man
did so, but he couldn’t hide the incredible look of relief and
gratitude on his face.

“You may be congratulating
yourselves now, but Grendel and I want you all to understand
something.
None
of you were automatic selections. You are all in some way
below our usual standards for applicants. In fact, that was a part
of our decision to keep you all together. The amount of remedial
training needed is extensive, but your deficiencies overlap. You
will all benefit from each other’s training.”

“Tomorrow starts a whole
new way of life for you,” Grendel said. “Some of the rules you have
managed to learn will change. But the basics remain the same. You
will offer your absolute, trusting obedience, your most profound
and genuine submission, and your greatest respect and gratitude for
everything you are taught and everything you receive. Are you all
absolutely sure you wish to stay?”

The four nodded, and
murmured “Yes, sir.”

“Then receive your training
collars.”

Chris handed Alexandra and
Grendel lengths of heavy silver chain. One at a time, the
applicants stepped forward and bent at the waist. Four muted snaps
locked them on. As they stepped back, their fingers went up to
fondle the smooth links, and they looked at each other to see how
they must look. Grendel nodded when Alexandra locked Robert into
his collar, and he turned to her with a smile.

“Now the fun
begins.”

Part Two: Chapter
Seven

Many aficionados of the
scene imagine that being trained to be a slave is a journey through
a magically erotic kingdom. They envision an endless stream of
sensual stimulation ranging from the most common sexual encounters
to prolonged sessions of agonizing torture.

With all the participants
suitably costumed, of course.

It is disillusioning for
these people to realize that masters and mistresses do not often
feel constrained to conduct their affairs in gleaming black leather
or latex, complete with jackboots or stiletto heels. Their faces
fall in disappointment when they are made to understand that a
slave’s life is mostly comprised of patience and study.

Yes, study. If not before
actual books, then following the example of greater, senior slaves.
Or learning every nuance of their owner’s character, so that they
can more completely and seamlessly offer themselves at the right
time and in the right manner.

A true slave, one who will
be cherished and valued, will never allow their skills and talents
to become stagnant. They will never be satisfied with their level
of competence. And they will always be willing to follow their
owner’s lead, quickly, respectfully, and to the best of their
ability.

To be thrilled at the touch
of leather, aroused by the sound of harsh words, or satisfied by
the security of rigid bondage is the mark of a lover.

To be thrilled at the
opportunity to provide useful service, aroused by a pleased nod,
and satisfied by the proverbial job well done, is the mark of a
slave.

It may sound severe. Almost
anti-erotic. Until you see two people, owner and owned, existing in
a complementary relationship where each suits the other like
balances on a delicate scale. Until you feel the energy of their
rapport, you cannot understand how they fulfill each other, take
and give in ways no negotiation could possibly express.

Then, you will understand
that singular intimacy which drives such people on their search for
perfection. It is beyond orgasm. Beyond love. It can almost be
called rapture.

To achieve that level may
require many years of training. But in the end, there is nothing
which compares to it. At our house, we know this, and we construct
our training with that exact goal in mind. We demand that
applicants leave behind their foolish dreams and expectations, and
we strip away any falseness that may linger. Those who survive and
go on must be implanted with the urge to go further. Our name and
reputation depends on it.

But it’s so hard to get
good material these days.

Chapter Eight

When the four slaves
tumbled out of bed and into the hall for the first morning of their
formal training period, Ms. Rachel was standing next to Chris as
she had the first morning they arrived. New bundles were neatly
folded in a large basket at her feet.

“Since this marks the start
of a more personalized training period, you have been issued some
new items,” Chris said, pointing down. “If you have questions about
how to use anything, ask me immediately. Assume that anything
you’ve been given is meant to be used every time you bathe. Robert
first.” As Chris pointed, they gathered their new supplies, and
walked quietly but quickly down to the shower room.

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.