Marketplace (23 page)

She mimed a kiss at him,
and he grinned. “Your dungeon or mine?” she asked, getting up to
leave.

“Since you ask, why yours,
of course.”

* * * *

Four exhausted, beaten, and
bleary-eyed slaves stood in the garden awaiting their dismissal.
Throughout the week, their bodies and minds had been worked
constantly, from rising until late evening, when they collapsed
into their beds with groans and a desire to curl up and sleep for
the next two days.

Their trials showed on
their bodies as an endless array of red and white lines, light
bruises, and various cuts and scrapes gotten in assorted labor. But
the reaction in their minds and souls came out in the way they bore
themselves and how they dealt with new insanities and new demands.
Robert, despite claims that he was trying his best to behave the
way Alexandra wanted him too, was a constant mess, fluttering
between panicked gibberish and impassioned begging and pleading for
mercy.

Claudia, on the other hand,
seemed to, in less than one week, begin to bear herself with a new
kind of quiet dignity. Although she still couldn’t bear to be
punished publicly and cried more often than not, her tears came in
silence now, trickling down her face in a glistening
shower.

Brian stumbled more, and
his speech became less cocky, and less stylized. Every day, he
endured some new trinket or adornment that Chris got from
who-knew-where, and his head sank down into his chest when people
giggled at them. He was just starting to become slightly
sullen.

And Sharon showed her
stress by fluctuating between a stubborn and resentful dedication
to her duties and outright surliness to her comrades. They spoke
less and less to her, even in jest, and no one helped her out in
the bathroom. Full time training was turning out to be a little
more harsh than anyone had expected.

Then, on that evening out
in the garden, Chris paused before sending them off to bed and
said, “Claudia and Sharon, you are dismissed.”

The four looked at him and
then at each other. He repeated himself. “You are dismissed, girls.
Go. To. Bed.” His fingers jerked toward the strap, and Claudia
turned and fled. Sharon opened her mouth for a moment, and then
thought better of it and followed her better behaved
sister.

“Robert and Brian, you have
thirty minutes to make yourselves fully presentable. Then you,
Brian, will report to Master Grendel, and Robert to Mistress
Alexandra. You both remember where their suites are?”

He was answered with two
mute nods. “Good,” Chris said, glancing at his watch. “You have
thirty minutes starting from now.” The two men took off at a run,
and Chris strolled casually into the house after them, whistling a
show tune.

* * * *

Robert was so used to being
naked that walking through the hallways was no big deal. But
somehow, when he reached the doors to Mistress Alexandra’s suite,
he trembled and felt the weight of the chain around his neck. He
was also dreadfully conscious of the amount of body hair that was
now almost in full pelt all over his frame. Next to the
smooth-shaven bodies of the other three, he felt obscenely dirty,
like his body was covered in moss or mud. When he was allowed to
ask his questions, he asked why he wasn’t permitted to go shorn
like everyone else. Chris had answered, “Because you prize being
shorn. You must learn that no pleasure belongs to you, but to your
owners.”

Which made sense, actually.
But now, standing before the doorway that might very well lead him
to the nearest railroad station, he felt dirty, despite the
vigorous washing he had just given himself.

As the clock downstairs
began to chime the hour, he knocked. And at Alexandra’s invitation,
he entered her sanctum, a place he had only entered in bright
daylight. Now, with only small table lamps lit, it was a sensuous
series of caverns. An outer room, with tables and chairs and a
comfortable couch, for receiving visitors. A large master bedroom,
with a walk-in closet and a bathroom that had a shower and a
personal sized jacuzzi. And a small antechamber on the other end,
with a big comfortable chair and a reading lamp and a magnificent
view of the garden. It was her private world, all done in clean,
plain lines, with shelves of treasured books, cabinets of souvenirs
and
objets d’art
,
and no televisions or radios to
distract her from the tranquility of the design. She was waiting
for him in the outer chamber, dressed in a light summer blouse and
casual, form-fitting slacks.

He never saw his mistress
in New York in regular clothing. Not after the first night he met
her. Yet somehow, Alexandra’s casual dress and manner was becoming
very alluring. It spoke of a power that didn’t need costumes or
amulets to work. And for all the hours he spent bound and gagged in
a room hung with red and black drapes, with heavy wood furniture
upholstered in black leather with gleaming silver buckles and
snaps, such a decor never made him shiver the way he did when he
stepped into the softness of the oriental rug in the middle of her
floor and inclined his head in what she had taught him was a proper
bow.

“Good. You’re on time,”
Alexandra noted. “Let’s go inside, I want to get a good look at
you.” He followed her obediently into the bedroom, where his
shivering became trembling.

“That’s it,” Alexandra
said, stopping in front of him. “Right in the middle of the carpet
here. Now, lace your fingers behind your neck and stand straight.”
He obeyed, and she took a walk around him, like she did the first
time she examined him. Only this time, she was much closer to
him.

“I think your workouts are
too easy for you, Robert,” she said, her voice directly behind his
left shoulder. “I see by your charts that you finish them early
most of the time. You should have told me.”

“Y-yes, ma’am,” Robert
managed to croak out. His voice always started up high. He always
needed to a moment to gain control of it and drag it down. He
waited for her to appear within his peripheral vision again, but
she stayed where she was.

“I knew of a master,” she
said softly, “who tattooed his slaves here, on the shoulder, with
an intricate rose pattern.” She touched Robert’s shoulder up high,
tracing the area she was speaking about. “He actually cut the
design into them, with a surgeons’ tool, and then rubbed colored
inks into the raw cut, so that it looked like a regular
tattoo.”

Robert’s back actually
rippled in a shudder.

“Yes, it sounds painful,
doesn’t it? He put theirs on the left shoulder, which a few people
have wondered about. What is the significance of that placement,
Robert?” She neither moved nor took her hand away. In fact, she
began to run her fingers lightly across his back.

“Um, um,” Robert strangled
on the words. “Ma’am, uh...”

“Gather yourself before you
speak, Robert.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The big man
took a deep breath. “In the gay culture, ma’am, the custom of, um,
placing keys on the left means that you’re a master, and on the
right means that you’re a slave.” Somehow, despite the maddeningly
erotic touch of her, he managed to spew out that simple fact. He
felt like he had just finished a wrestling bout. Answering
questions while he was like this was so hard!

“That’s correct, Robert.
Yet this master placed his mark left. Can you imagine
why?”

“N-no, ma’am.”

“Work on your imagination,
then. I will tell you this, though. It is rumored that the master
had a rose tattooed on his
right
shoulder. Isn’t that a delicious piece of gossip?
Doesn’t it suggest a longer tale?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Alex left off her
explorations of his back and cupped one hand around a firm cheek.
“You have quite a good-looking body,” she said, caressing him. “Do
you realize that?”

Robert colored, deeply and
suddenly. He coughed and tried to lower his head, but couldn‘t
without disturbing the position he was in. “N-no,
ma’am!”

“Are you suggesting that
I’m wrong, or do you think I’m lying to you?” Alex asked, a little
smile on her face. She patted his ass lightly. “Spread your legs
wider apart.”

He did so, awkwardly. “No,
no, ma’am!” he said, trying to maintain his balance. “Of course
not!”

“Then pay attention. One of
the best things you have right now is your body, Robert. Your
training is shoddy and your deportment is a mess. But you should
thank God every night that you look like a nice piece of meat.” She
walked back around to face him.

“When was the last time you
sexually pleased a woman, Robert?”

“Um... oh, dear,” Robert
squirmed a little, avoiding her eyes. “Over two years ago, ma’am,”
he finally squeaked out. “My... my mistress never... she wouldn’t
ever let me...”

Alex stroked his left
nipple until his stammering dissolved into a moaning whimper. “And
how are you at massage?” she asked.

“Oh, I’m very good at foot
massage, ma’am!” Robert’s face brightened. Finally, something he
did do well! “I used to do it for all of my mistress’
friends!”

“OK,” Alex said, nodding.
She walked over to a chair by a window and sat down. “Show me what
you can do.”

In no time, Robert had Alex
sighing in relaxation. His large, worn hands cradled her feet in a
firm, warm grip, and his fingers, so clumsy in so many other
things, kneaded their way to nerves and muscles until she felt like
purring. He certainly was good, past the skill level of an
attentive and caring lover. And once he was seated on the floor,
working diligently on a task he was eager to do, some of the
confidence that had given him the strength to be a successful man
in mundane society seemed to peek through his self-erected
barriers.

“How are you on the rest of
the body?” Alex asked, looking forward to an all-over
massage.

Robert looked up in panic.
His hands stopped working. “T-the rest?” he said. “But ma’am would
have to... I mean, I never...”

“Yes, I think I’d like that
very much,” Alex said, pulling her foot from his hands. “You’ll
find some oils in my bathroom. Pick something soothing and bring it
here with a few towels. If you run the bottle under the hot water
for a little while, it will make the oil nice and warm.” Robert
looked slightly helpless, and he was slow to get up, so Alex leaned
over and cupped his chin in her hand. “If you can give a near
professional massage, it would be worth our while to get you to
professional level and make it part of your qualifications, Robert.
It’s a very popular item, especially among women. So do as you’re
told.”

So she was ready for him,
wearing nothing but a loose robe by the time he returned. She told
him how to lay out the towels and how much oil to use, and then
stood away from him. “Now come and remove my robe. Drape it nicely
over the arm of the chair. I want every move to be
graceful.”

Of course it wasn’t. His
hands fumbled at her belt, and she could feel him trembling as he
eased the silk over her shoulders. Since he turned away from her to
lay the robe down, she could only hear the ragged inhalation of
breath that sounded almost like a sob. She ignored it and made
herself comfortable on the bed, her head resting on her
forearms.

“You may begin,
Robert.”

He took a few more seconds
than he should have to actually approach her. She was so ready for
that first touch that she sighed at the heat of his palms. He began
by gently rubbing the slightly warmed oil into her shoulders and
across the blades. The rough tips of his fingers were like delicate
abrasions. She made a satisfied humming sound and settled down into
the bed, more relaxed than she had been before.

Robert worked diligently at
spreading a thin layer of the expensive, lush-smelling oil, and
then began to press his hands down, pushing against the muscles and
beginning to grip with his fingers. Each wave across or down her
back, he alternated with light scratching motions, which she seemed
to like very much. The more she liked it, the bolder he became. His
hands worked steadily in increasing pressure, working knots out of
her muscles and encouraging blood flow. Gently, he eased her arms
out from under her head and worked his magic on them, even to her
fingertips, before letting her have them back. Then, he worked his
way across her neck and down her spine to her lower
back.

Alexandra was in heaven.
Good sex was always nice (mediocre sex wasn’t all that bad either,
when you got down to it), but a good massage was ecstasy! And damn,
if Robert didn‘t know what he was doing! No doubt, he’d blossom
with just a few sessions with Julio, their regular masseur. And
since he didn’t feel that she was actually watching him, he seemed
fully capable of doing his genuine best.

He paused, and she stopped
her reverie to wonder why. Oh, yes, he had reached her ass. She
smiled against her pillow and then lifted her head to order him to
continue. As he did, his hands light again, their trembling
discernible as he pressed them against her, she praised him and let
her head drop back down. It took barely a minute for him to regain
his ability and work on her with the excellence he had shown on her
back.