Marketplace (44 page)

Sharon stared. “You mean
the little bastard doesn’t have a dick?”

“Well, he’s got one, it’s
just not attached to his body.” Brian shrugged. “Who knows
why.”

“Maybe he’s a freak,”
Sharon suggested. “Like he was born without one.”

“Or maybe he had it cut
off,” Brian suggested. “In an accident.” He winced.

“Maybe he was gonna be a
woman once and changed his mind too late,” Sharon mused. “Like the
way Robert wanted to have his dick cut off for his
mistress.”

“No, if that was true, he’d
have tits, and he would have done hormones and everything,” Brian
explained. “It’s like Robert said, you can’t just go in and ask
them to carve your dick off, you gotta go through therapy and
stuff. I don’t know why he hasn’t got one, but he doesn’t. And
that’s why I’m in the dog house.”

Sharon nodded, but was lost
in her own thoughts. She knew people who wore fake dicks. And they
were all...

“Hey!” she said suddenly.
“Do you think Chris is a dyke?”

“Huh?” Brian looked at her
as if she were crazy. “What the hell do you mean? Of course he’s
not a dyke, he’s a guy!”

“Yeah, but how do you
know?” Sharon asked, warming to her theory. “I mean, he could just
be a dyke with a real short haircut who doesn’t have real big tits.
Did you ever see his chest? No, right? And does he have a mustache
or a beard? No, right?”

“He can grow one,” Brian
said, waving one hand at her. “I don’t have a mustache and I’m not
a dyke. Besides, I’ve known some dykes with huge...”

“Yeah, but what about his
chest, huh? And what about the fact that he’s so short? He’d be an
average woman, right? But he’s a short guy! He’s a dyke in
drag!”

“Sharon, you’re nuts,”
Brian insisted. “I saw him dressed up for a leather bar, OK? I’ve
been close enough to him to
smel
l him, and he’s a guy. He’s just
a short guy without a dick, that’s all. I mean, who knows? He might
have a real dick under there, but it’s real small. Or maybe he was
wearing the fake one just for show, to freak me out. It’s no big
deal; it’s just my theory for why he hates me.”

“Where did you say his room
was?” Sharon asked.

“On Grendel’s side, third
floor... hey, where are you going?”

“Oh,” Sharon said, standing
up, “the bathroom. I gotta pee.”

“Sharon,” Brian warned.
“You can get into a lot of trouble if you do this. You know the
rules.”

“I’m just going to the
bathroom,” she insisted. “Go to sleep, OK?”

It wasn’t hard to find,
actually. She saw the light under one door, and paused outside of
it, listening carefully. There were faint sounds like tapping,
which she finally realized was the sound of typing. Hearing it, she
smiled and continued down the hall. Claudia had said ‘suite,’ and
in this house, suites had at least two doors. The next one was
unlocked, and she turned the handle and opened it. It was dark
inside, a little light coming in from the first room, the outer
room, where Chris was still working.

Keep typing, my butch pal,
Sharon said to herself. And she tiptoed carefully into this room,
the bedroom, following the wall, until she found another door. She
was in luck, she had found the bathroom! She went inside and turned
on the light after she closed the door behind her. I’ve got you
now, she thought, cheerfully. There’s nothing a real butch dyke
likes more than a fem type who just loves her big cock!

Now, for evidence. There
are things that every women has to have, no matter how butch, she
thought with a smile. She checked under the sink, and in the
medicine cabinet. Deodorant, some major national brand. Shampoo,
but no conditioner. No facial supplies, either. No birth control
pills, no diaphragm, just a pile of condoms and some little tubes
of lube. One toothbrush. A steel razor rested on a shelf, and it
had a few very short black hairs caught in it. Chris also
apparently used the same shaving gel the slaves used. There was an
enema bag under the sink.

But there were no pads, no
tampons, no douche bag, no hairspray, not even the slightest hint
that a woman ever used this bathroom. In fact, the magazine that
sat on the counter with one page turned back was on
motorcycles.

Well, maybe he... she...
keeps the stuff hidden, Sharon thought. If I was going in drag all
the time, maybe I would hide it, just in case anyone would kind of
casually find something and say “Oh-oh!” and get me. She sighed.
Well, maybe tomorrow, I can...

The door flew open, and
Sharon screamed. Chris stood there, his eyes blazing behind his
glasses. When he saw who was standing there, he reached in and
grabbed her by the collar and slapped her across the face, hard.
Her head snapped back, and he tightened his hold on the
chain.

“You idiot!” He shouted at
her. “You brazen, stupid, asshole! I could have cut your imbecilic
throat!”

That’s when Sharon’s eyes
focussed on the hand holding onto her collar. Chris was holding a
big knife in his hand, the steel edge just barely touching her
skin. She whimpered and flinched, but he held her.

“What the hell are you
doing out of your room? And what are you doing in my room?” Chris
continued to shout, his hoarse voice echoing in the tiled
room.

“Please!” Sharon coughed.
“Please... too... tight...”

Chris shook her and
loosened his hold. He took the knife out of his clenched hand and
put it down on the counter. “Talk!”

“I’m... I’m sorry,” Sharon
gasped out. “I just wanted to know... I wanted
you
to know...”

“What?”

“I know about you!” she
blurted out. “I know what you are! And I want to be with
you!”

Chris let her go entirely
and stepped back. The look on his face was anger mixing slowly with
confusion. As he moved back, she could see what he was wearing. It
was the first time she had seen the majordomo only partially
dressed. He had on a crisp, white T-shirt that showed off his
clearly plain barrel-shaped chest. The definite shape of a man’s
chest, with well spaced nipples, which were noticeable. Sharon felt
her belly make little flip-flops.

He was also wearing an open
men’s robe, in a dark red plaid, the type of robe thousands of men
get for Christmas gifts. The belt hung down low, almost to his
knees. And he was wearing pajama bottoms in a matching
pattern.

Someone bought him the set,
Sharon thought weirdly. They’re always on sale.

“Get inside,” Chris said,
gesturing. “I think I need to hear this.” He picked up the knife
and pulled her into his bedroom. There, with the only light source
what was coming from the bathroom, he pushed her down to her knees
next to his bed, and sat down on the edge.

“Talk,” he demanded.
“Now.”

But she wasn’t sure any
more! Sharon clenched her fists and considered. Then, she began to
talk. “I... I know about you,” she repeated, hesitantly.

“What do you know about
me?”

“That... that you... that
you’re not what you look like,” she finished lamely.

“Is that so? And what
exactly made you break a house rule near the last phase of your
training to come sneak around in my bathroom?”

Sharon moved a little
closer to the bed. “Because even though... I know... it makes me
hot,” she said, lowering her voice seductively. “It’s all right
with me. And... and it makes you special to me.” She leaned
forward, and gently kissed his knee. “I wanted to be with
you.”

“Your wants vanished after
the first week, Sharon,” Chris said, pushing her head away. “And
you disobeyed a direct instruction. Grendel will be very
displeased. Go back to your room, and we’ll deal with this in the
morning.”

“But wait!” Sharon
protested. “Please! Please, Chris, I’ll make you happy! I know how,
I swear! And I’ll never tell anyone!” She threw herself forward,
folding her arms around his legs. “Please, don’t send me back! Give
me a chance to please you, you’ll see, I mean what I
say!”

“Sharon, you haven’t made
any sense since you came in here!” Chris pried her off him again.
“What is this big secret you think you know about me?”

“That you’re really a
woman!” Sharon blurted out.

“Oh?” Chris sounded amused.
“How interesting. Someone will have to tell my mother.”

“But you are!” Sharon said,
frustrated. “You don’t have... I mean, everyone knows that you’ve
got... and you’re short, and you don’t...” her arguments vanished
away, the most telling one an account by a man who admitted that it
could have all been a hoax. She slumped forward and put her head
down to the floor. “Oh God, oh God, I just know!” she
wailed.

Chris reached out and
grasped a handful of her hair and twisted her head up.

“You just know,” he
savagely mocked. “You just
know.
So you break rules, you sneak into my rooms, you
babble your pitiful stories to me, and you place your entire future
on the line in the hopes that I’ll be so overwhelmed by your
charity that I’ll treat you kinder and make your way
easier!”

“No!” she
gasped.

“Oh yes,” Chris insisted.
“Well, you just might get more than you bargained for, little
Sharon.” He pulled up, and she followed his hand, wailing. He
pushed her face first over the edge of the bed and jerked her
wrists together up in the small of her back. Standing up behind
her, he reached into his crotch and moved in close. His legs pushed
hers apart as his hands pushed her body onto the bed.

“So you think I’m a woman,”
he said, resting against her. “You think I’ll like what you have to
offer me. Well, here’s a taste of what I like, Sharon. Open wide
for me. Get your butt up! Higher!”

His fingers thrust into
her, three at first, and then four. She groaned and cried into the
bed as he rammed them in and out of her brutally, spreading her
open and working her until it hurt, it hurt, it hurt!

“Have you ever been
fisted, Sharon? I
like
fisting.”

“No!” Sharon howled.
“Please, please, no, please!”

“No? Then I guess you
wouldn’t be too good at making me happy, would you?” The fingers
were jerked out, and he let go of her arms. She pulled them to her
sides, tried to put them under her to brace herself, but he was on
top of her in a second. She felt two things nudging into her. A
heavy bulge near her leg that could only be the cock that Brian
described, and the cold steel edge of the knife Chris had brought
with him. It was against the back of her neck.

“I also like knives,” Chris
hissed into her ear. “I like to cut people a little bit, watch them
bleed, let them taste their own blood off the blade when I’m
through. I cut pretty designs into their bodies, and they love it.
They come back for my special designs, and some of them actually
beg to serve me so that they can have the honor of being marked.
Shall I do that to you, Sharon?”

“No,” she whimpered.
“Please, I don’t want to be marked, I can’t, please, I’ll do...
I’ll go...”

“Then that’s
another
way we can’t
have fun, Sharon!” Chris pulled the knife away. “It looks like
you’re only good for one thing that I like, girl.” There was the
familiar rustle of a small package being torn open. “And that’s
fucking. But I don’t like it the way you probably do. And that’s
too fucking bad, because I need it now, and you’re
handy.“

He tore into her asshole
with one savage thrust that made her scream. He pushed her face
down into the bed, muffling her cries, and began to mercilessly saw
back and forth. The small amount of lube on the rubber wasn’t
nearly enough, and Sharon wailed a continuous stream of promises,
pleading, and inarticulate sounds of pain. Finally, he pulled out
and dragged her off the bed.

“Aren’t you happy to be
pleasing me?” he asked, throwing her down on the floor.

“Yes!” she cried. “Yes,
anything!”

“Put your head down! Get
your ass up! Crawl back to the bathroom, you moron, and put your
face to the floor! Let’s finish this where you started it!” He
dragged her there, her arms and legs trembling, and as she laid her
cheek on the cool tiles, she could hear him opening the medicine
chest. She was so grateful for the snapping sound of the bottle of
lube opening that she kissed his bare foot near her.

“I didn’t say you could do
that!” he snapped. “Put those lips on the floor! That’s it, kiss
it! Lick it! And stay there!”

His re-entry was smoother,
but not that much less painful. Under his steady, harsh pounding,
she kept her tongue to the floor, washing the same space of tile
with her tongue, dripping tears and spit on it, making incoherent
cries. Finally, with several long, swift strokes that made her feel
like he was going to burst through her body in another second, he
shuddered against her, and she could swear that she could feel the
heat of his cock as his throat made a series of deep growls. He
ground his hips into her, and then jerked the cock out all at once,
before it... softened?