The Slave (21 page)

“
It’s in the people who really make
you feel that they’re different. The ones who don’t make a point
out of telling you about what they’re doing, but who just do it.”
Robin thought about it for a moment, running the names of people
they knew through her head. “Like those two guys at the Fetish
Frolic? Dave and...”

“
Mike. I remember them. Mike had his
nipples pierced.”

“
Right. But what I really remember
about them was that the minute they walked into a room, even though
they were both dressed and you couldn’t see Mike’s collar, you
could tell that Dave was his master. When Mike sat down on the
floor, it didn’t look staged. It was just what he did. When they
talked about how they lived at home, you really believed it. It
wasn’t like they were making it all up to impress other
people.”

“
I like the way you can sense things
like that,” Troy said, looking into her eyes. “It keeps me
remembering that you’re the real thing.”

Lines like that made Robin blush and move
the conversation along. But they also kept her coming back.

* * * *

He was as different from Maria as two people
could be. Where Maria had started with ritual and elaborate scenes,
Troy built upward from good and hot sex to a gradual inclusion of
rules and formalities. Where Maria fell in love and loved
wholeheartedly, Troy kept a certain distance, never touching the
border of “boyfriend.” He never brought flowers, or used
endearments. He didn’t hold her hand or kiss her gently and
playfully. When they went out, he never placed his arm around her
or encouraged her to move into that closeness that people
associated with couples.

Where Maria used her skills in dominance and
erotic torment as a lover would, Troy used them more as parameters
for their growing relationship. Some forms of attention were
rewards. Some were punishments. Some were entirely for his own
amusement and pleasure. Robin became aware that they had entered a
period of negotiation where the two of them traded expectations,
fetishes and needs, without actually coming out and saying
everything directly.

In time, they passed through those awkward
stages of semi-negotiation.

He encouraged her to talk about her
fantasies. She encouraged him to take the lead in determining when,
where, and how they would interact sexually. They rewarded each
other with their eagerness to go into their respective roles, until
it became more natural than anything else.

And without a collar like the one she wore
before, Robin slowly became Troy’s “submissive.”

He was demanding of her in ways she
delighted in. He began by teaching her exact postures and positions
to take upon the utterance of a word or a flick of a subtle hand
signal. He utterly dominated their sensual explorations, planning
what they would do and not altering it unless it was his pleasure
to do so.

And rather than keeping the physical side of
their relationship private, he introduced Robin to semi-public
play, at SM clubs and parties, where she would find herself
stripped and bound and tormented for the pleasure of an audience as
well as for the pleasure of her “dominant.” The sheer exposure, the
humiliation of her responses, and the amount of strength such
performances robbed from her all combined to make every public
appearance into a test of her endurance. But it was all just
another way for her to add luster to her chosen master’s image. It
was wearing Maria’s collar and sitting at her feet, but multiplied
by ten.

Experiences began to accumulate, making a
kaleidoscope of sensations that swept Robin into a period of
complete acceptance of her role. She followed Troy’s training with
the same sharp attention that served her so well in her profession,
and earnestly tried to do everything he demanded of her with flair
and an inner expectation of perfection.

Sucking his cock became a regular duty that
she transformed into an art, watching videos and reading about
techniques and even clumsily practicing on one of her dildos.

Silky, lacy costumes from expensive lingerie
stores began to fill her wardrobe, carefully chosen for the way
they accentuated her curves and allowed instant access to any part
of her body.

She learned everything she could about his
tastes and preferences, from the way he took coffee (black, one
sugar), to which colors he preferred in his SM toys (in this he was
typical, black on black). She anticipated his movements and desires
whenever they were together, and learned that such behavior would
almost always be followed by some kind of attentive reward from
him.

As weeks fell into months and months
gathered into seasons and they fed into and upon each other’s
desires, Robin began to sense she was finally feeling something
that answered the emptiness she’d felt inside of her since she was
a child. This was more real than anything she had ever felt before.
She was making a difference in Troy’s life, giving him face,
pleasure, and service. He was possessive of her, and nurturing and
demanding, the way she always imagined a master would be.

So, blinded by her own pleasure and
satisfaction, she didn’t realize anything was wrong until the night
of the video camera.

Bound inside a doorway with chains, her
breasts wrapped in loops of soft rope, her body crisscrossed with a
harness made of the same material, Robin could only moan when Troy
set up the camera and lights and taped her writhing and moaning as
he steadily beat her. Then, as she gasped and whimpered, he used a
vibrator on her, making her jerk and thrust as he touched and
retreated, teased and pressed. All the while, saying, “Look into
the camera, baby. Smile for the camera.”

She came, again and again, and he captured
it all on tape.

And made her watch it while he took her from
behind, on her hands and knees in front of the television
screen.

Whimpers of pleasure became screams, became
inarticulate sounds of pleasure mixed with shame mixed with a
perfect sense of something that she might have called contentment
if she were capable of thinking.

And much later that night, as she lay
wrapped in his arms, she murmured to him, “I would love to be
marked by you.”

“
You are,” he chuckled, tracing the
area over her ass cheeks and hips that was dotted with little marks
of his earlier whipping.

“
No, I mean a real mark,” she
whispered, snuggling closer.

“
You mean, like a tattoo?”

“
Yes, if that’s what you’d prefer. Or
maybe a brand....” And she smiled and kissed him and immediately
felt the shift, the slight stiffening of his body that was as
chilly as an icy mist sweeping through the sheets.

“
Go to sleep.” His voice no longer
held amusement. Nor did it permit discussion.

With a sinking feeling settling over her,
Robin couldn’t help but disobey. Closing her eyes, she lay awake
beside him long into the night, wondering what she said that made
him suddenly so distant.

And what that would mean in the morning.

“
An owner may wish to alter your
physical appearance, and has every right to do so, barring an
alteration which places you in physical danger. Therefore, you may
be expected to grow or trim, remove, style or color any or all of
your body hair, or to have its texture changed. You may be expected
to use or not to use cosmetics, clothing, adornments, jewelry, or
anything else to conform to what your owner expects from you. They
may have you pierced in any number of places. My standard contract
includes a restriction on any alteration considered permanent; in
this category I include tattoos and brands. Would you like to alter
that?”

Chris was making notes on a legal pad while
Robin knelt motionless on the floor, trying to hold a perfect
position while looking natural and relaxed. Her knees were wide
apart, her back straight, and her palms resting lightly on her
thighs. She spoke carefully, trying to keep herself from bobbing
her head and turning it from side to side, the way she normally did
when having a conversation. If she wanted to be sold without a gag
filling her mouth, she would have to learn how to speak
properly.

She had no intention of being gagged on what
might be the single most important day of her life.

“
Sir, may I please ask a
question?”

“
You may.”

“
Sir, should an owner wish to mark me
and I am willing to be marked, will that clause prevent it from
happening?”

“
No, it will not. It only applies to
situations where a permanent mark would be against your
will.”

“
Sir, then please allow it to stay as
you have written it.”

Chris smiled and ground out his cigarette.
“Good answer. I was sure you were going to say that you would like
the clause kept in. Good girl.”

Robin flushed and tried to keep her
position.

“
You’ve learned quite a bit in such a
short time. I’m beginning to think you might actually be worth it.”
He jotted down a few more notes. “On your back and masturbate for
me.”

An erotic jolt flashed throughout Robin’s
stiff body, and she leaned backward with a barely stifled moan.
That kind of mood switch was so typical of her trainer, yet so
unpredictable! She slid her legs out underneath her body and
brought her fingers down to her bare cunt, finding the wetness
already there. It was almost always there, or waiting for a
moment’s notice to start flowing through her.

She had not experienced the joy and release
of orgasm since that first night. But she didn’t let that get in
the way of performing exactly as she was instructed to. In fact,
since Chris had added “for me,” she tried to be even more direct in
her self-stimulation. She pulled gently at her cunt lips, sliding
her fingers along the sensitive flesh and trailing lines of sweet
moisture up and around her clit, coaxing it erect. And Chris
actually watched her, leaning forward, instead of leaving her to
moan and twitch while he paid attention to still more
paperwork.

Robin felt complimented by the attention,
and deliciously embarrassed. She moaned as she brought herself
closer to the edge, and then backed down, controlling herself,
keeping herself primed to come, but not so close that she would let
it get away from her.

And then the doorbell rang.

“
That will be Leon, I suppose,” Chris
said, leaning back in the chair. “Stop and tend to your
duties.”

Robin allowed the slightest of groans to get
past her compressed lips, and blushed at the look of disapproval
Chris flashed her. Damn it! She had been so perfect all afternoon!
With a slight nod that served as an exit bow, she scrambled up and
ran down the hallway to answer the door. She licked her fingers and
drew them across her belly to dry them and pulled the door open
without checking to see who was there.

It wasn’t Leon who greeted her as she opened
the door with a grin on her face. It was an older man, perhaps in
his mid-forties. His skin was the color of dark ground cinnamon,
his tightly shorn hair inky black. His eyes focused upon her
immediately, and Robin felt the intensity of a gaze that could only
be called calculating. As in her value.

Robin knew that her mouth was open and she
snapped it shut. Before she could panic, she saw the familiar
golden halo of Leon’s hair just over the stranger’s shoulder, and
realized, first to her relief and then to her horror, that this was
Mr. Reynolds, of 14C. Leon’s owner.

She was relieved, because here she was
without a stitch of clothing on. If it had been some unexpected
delivery boy, that would have been most improper. She was horrified
because she hadn’t made any gesture of welcome or respect. Her mind
flooded with instructions, and she stepped back, bowing her head as
gracefully as she could. This seemed to be acceptable, because he
brushed past her and continued down the hall, followed by a
grinning Leon, his arms full of dinner fixings. He winked at her as
he passed, and then hurried on to the kitchen. Unsure of what to do
now, Robin locked the door and walked gingerly toward the living
room, hoping that Chris would send her to the kitchen as well.

“
Mr. Reynolds,” Chris was on his feet
when Reynolds entered the room. “Thank you for coming.”

“
Gordon, Chris, please call me Gordon.
We’re on your turf now.” The two men laughed and shook hands. Robin
wondered what the comment about turf meant.

“
Thank you, Gordon.”

“
So, this is the new project, eh?” Gordon
Reynolds turned around to point at Robin, who froze and tried to
look calm and shy and alluring. His voice was deep and strong, and
she suddenly remembered all the adoration in Leon’s voice when he
talked about the man he called master. She suddenly had a flash;
the sight of Leon’s golden paleness kneeling before this powerful
dark man, taking his cock into his mouth―and felt the wetness
return with a surge of pleasure.

“
This is Robin,” Chris said, a
slightly amused smile on his face. “Wondering which of her
instructions apply to the situation and failing to do anything as a
consequence.”

Robin gasped and immediately dropped to
her knees and lowered her head.

“
Well, that was done with some grace,”
Gordon Reynolds commented.

“
But it doesn’t help matters, does it?
Go and fetch our drinks from Leon, Robin and bring back the strap.
I’m really pleased that you could make it over, Gordon. Leon told
me that you’re working in Canada now....”