Marketplace (49 page)

Which was why he couldn’t
afford to do this more often.

But in this moment, he
reveled in the tight heat embracing his cock, in the warmth of the
beaten flesh that he ground his body against. His thumbs dug into
layers of bruises, and Chris arched his back and moaned with every
spasm of pain.

Grendel reached across the
desk and grabbed hold of the chain locked around Chris’s throat. He
jerked up, and Chris gasped, and Grendel tightened his hold.
Dangerous games. There was no one else he could do this with. No
contract stood between them. The Marketplace could have nothing to
say, could do nothing to protect Chris, remove him, shelter
him.

To both of us, Grendel
thought, as he twisted his hand and drove his hips forward, the
collar is not real.

But my hand is. And your
breath is, boy, and your fragile windpipe and of course the blood
pulsing...

The red rose cut into
Chris’s shoulder seemed to flare under the marks of the belt. The
edges had risen, as they always did when he was beaten, and
Grendel, who was not normally drawn to blood, again wished that he
had seen it done. That he understood why it was there. In the
pleasurable frustration of a man who paradoxically wanted to know
everything yet always wanted something new to discover, he wanted
to know about all the various marks of ownership, the proof that
others had come before him and made this man gasp and cry and blush
and scream. But he didn’t ask those questions.

Suddenly, a spasm of pain
flew through Grendel’s body. It took him a moment to realize it
wasn’t physical, but a harsh, electric moment of pre-cognition. I
can’t mark you, he realized. Unless that collar is as real as my
hand and your breath.

He released the chain, and
Chris collapsed forward, choking for air. The heavy coughs were
like rhythmic spasms throughout his body, and Grendel could feel
the compression along his cock. It was no act, no moment of
make-believe when Grendel allowed anger, frustration and fear to
take over and they drove his passion thoughtlessly as Chris just
braced and panted for breath.

The end was sharp and long,
and Grendel threw his head back as he came, feeling the explosions
race through him. He pulled out quickly, and heard Chris gasp
again. The man who managed so many trainees, who had written so
much, created so much, was shaking. But he didn’t move, didn’t fall
to the floor, didn’t speak.

Grendel looked down as he
stripped the condom off. Well, there’s blood, he thought, tossing
it onto the tile floor.

“Clean up,” he said as he
walked to the bathroom. “And keep silent.” Somehow, hearing Chris
thank him right now would be unbearable.

* * * *

Alex and Rachel returned
from their sailing adventure after lunch. Rachel, an indifferent
sailor, had taken the opportunity to lay out in the sun while Alex
and Gordon Reynolds took control of the exquisite catamaran
available for resort guests. The slave who was technically there to
take them out spent most of his time making drinks and pointing out
local landmarks. Gordon and Alex were both excellent
sailors.

Chris collected bathing
suits and tote bags and ran a bath for Alex while Rachel showered
in the separate stall. By the time she returned to the bedroom that
she had shared with Chris on the first night and Alex on the
second, she found Chris had laid out shorts and a blouse for her.
He was emptying the sand out of her canvas bag into the trash can.
Alex had decided that Chris should wear all white for this week in
the tropics—and characteristically, his linen trousers were razor
creased and the short sleeved shirt looked fresh from the
laundry.

“I want a T-shirt,” Rachel
said, as she walked across the room naked. She had covered the
fair-skinned Alexandra with gobs of sunscreen, but only smeared a
little across her own nipples and tattoos. She tanned
beautifully.

“Of course, Mistress, my
apologies.” Chris took the blouse and hung it up and brought back a
T-shirt for her. She grinned and sat in the big papasan chair, her
legs spread. It had been her choice how Chris was to address her
this week. But rather than turn her on, it seemed to bring her to
the edge of giggles.

“So, what did the big guy
do to you while we were out?” she asked, wiggling her
toes.

“I’m afraid that is not for
me to say, Mistress,” he said smoothly. “Will there be any other
service I may provide for you?”

She pouted for a moment and
then beckoned. “There sure is, hot stuff. Come on over here and get
me off. I need to relax a little, and you’re the perfect siesta.”
She pointed to the floor in front of her, and as he moved, she
spread her legs wider. “I can get used to this,” she said, her
voice lilting up as he knelt. “Maybe I should ask Alex if we can
keep things this way when we get back.”

He didn’t answer, and for a
moment, she wondered why. But then she remembered; he was not to
question, not to be informal, not to be casual in any way. Part of
her loved this instant obedience from her friend and long-time
lover. Part of her was annoyed at not hearing him tease
back.

But all of her was
distracted from these thoughts as he began to kiss her inner
thighs. “Yeah, that’s it, that’s it,” she sighed. “Make it good,
sugar.”

And so he did. And when she
came once, she decided twice would be better. By the time she was
up to four, he was on his back while she rode his mouth and
fingers, and they were in that position when Alex came
in.

Rachel didn’t stop her
rhythmic rocking, or the way she was twisting her own nipple rings.
She grinned at Alex and licked her lips, and Alex laughed. “Well, I
was looking for a massage, but if you’re keeping him
busy...”

“Just wait—wait a minute,”
Rachel breathed. “Yeah, that’s it, sweet boy, nice boy, keep going,
yes, just like that, yeah, oh yeah! Make it nice, make it good,
show off for pretty Alex, that’s right!”

Alex folded her arms and
smiled as Rachel started to shake, her lips spread back in a
grimace that Alex knew very well. “Oh yeah, you sweet mouth fucker,
work that clit, come on, faster, keep it going, that’s it you son
of a bitch, here it is, Alex, here it is, oh yeah, mother fucker,
yes, yes!”

Alex watched Rachel come,
her head cocked to one side. It was always exciting to watch
Rachel; it was like having a porn actress around sometimes. But
much more honest.

Rachel leaned forward and
stretched like a cat before getting up. “He’s all yours!” she said
energetically.

“I think I’ll give him a
moment to make himself presentable,” Alex said gently. “Five
minutes in the other bedroom, Chris.”

“Yes, Madame,” he said.
Whispered, actually, his voice was hoarse. No wonder, Alex thought,
as she turned to go. After a morning with Gren and lunch with
Rachel, I’m surprised he can speak at all.

She did wish she’d seen him
on his knees when Grendel was reading the paper, though. Grendel
promised he’d repeat that tomorrow. Apparently, he found it very
relaxing.

* * * *

Chris staggered back into
the suite after he had taken a light meal in the employee/slave
dining hall. The other three occupants were all out and would
probably be out late; every night at the resort offered an array of
entertainments ranging from cabaret performances to amusing slave
competitions to outright orgies.

Although how an orgy could
possibly be any different from the regular daily activities was an
honest question. At least in this particular suite.

“Hola, Diego,” he said
wearily to the gray haired man who was turning down the king-sized
bed in one of the bedrooms.

“Hola, Chris,” the slave
replied cheerfully. “You help?”

“Sí, chi.” The many
arrangements that slave owners and the occasional trainers made
when they took over the small resort ranged from having personal
slaves do none of the work of caring for a room, to all of it.
Chris imagined that he could have taken care of it all, but didn’t
mind that he was not required to. And it was pleasant to have
contact with a senior slave, even for a few minutes at a
time.

Together, they made short
work of the rooms. Diego removed the wilting flowers from the
largest arrangement and put mints on the pillows, and Chris thanked
him in rudimentary Spanish and then took a hot shower. The fourth
one today. He had rarely spent so much time grooming himself.
Between brushing his teeth and hair, washing his body and keeping
the white clothing clean and pressed, he felt like he was living
life twice as fast as necessary. But thus far, he had not been
found unacceptable whenever he presented himself.

The water made his bruises
throb, but he used the hottest water he could stand and then did a
series of stretches while his body dried. He was becoming more
limber as he increased time stretching and running. His weight had
remained the same, and he was sure he would never have the
washboard abs so admired in men, but at least he was losing some of
the flabbiness around his waist and hips as muscles were developing
elsewhere.

He studied himself briefly
in the full length mirror, and then turned away to dress. That body
was not who he was.

The only thing he liked was
the chain. He wiped it down with a dry cloth before he put a clean
shirt on. As he fastened the trousers he glanced around the room
one more time. All of Rachel’s clothing, which had been strewn
about before she left for dinner, was put away. Dirty laundry had
been sent out. Safe sex supplies and favorite sex toys were handy,
the bed inviting. Since no one had communicated a preference to
him, there was a pallet at the foot of the bed in each of the
bedrooms. He adjusted the lights in the two rooms and then went
into the sitting room with his book to take as comfortable a
position as he could on the floor and wait for someone to
return.

He did not regret agreeing
to come, to play this role for his employers. He knew, intimately,
the pain of this taste of the forbidden. But he had not expected
Rachel to be here as well, and even when he was told to include her
in the travel arrangements, he had not imagined that she would be
given free rein over him, co-equal to Grendel and Alex.

Chris wished that his
feelings about that situation were clearer. Certainly, he had
bottomed to Rachel before, and on occasion under Alex’s control the
two women had found... interesting ways to use him.

But for Rachel to be
suddenly elevated to owner status, even pretend Owner—it was
awkward. Especially since she didn’t enjoy it all the
time.

But that was bad,
unproductive thinking. He took this collar, even if it was for only
two weeks. If Grendel and Alex wanted him to offer service to
anyone they brought into the room, or to send him into the marathon
sessions some owners enjoyed watching or participating in, for
these two weeks they could do so.

Still, he was grateful that
when the three returned from their entertainments, Alex and Rachel
went into one room hand in hand while Grendel snapped and pointed
for Chris to go into the other. Exhausted as he was, it was just
easier to serve and then sleep at the foot of Grendel’s
bed.

* * * *

Alex had tried to be quiet,
but she heard the door to Grendel’s room open and the discreet
cough behind her as she had barely finished perusing the contents
of the little refrigerator in the wet bar.

“Pardon me, Madame, may I
be of service?”

She smiled, and then
straightened up. “Mineral water, please,” she said, retreating to
the couch. “And did you pack something stronger than
aspirin?”

“Yes, Madame, I’ll have it
for you right away.” Chris was in a summer robe and loose white
pajama bottoms. His hair looked tousled, but otherwise he was
awake. It was scary how quickly he could wake up and move. Grendel
told her that there had been a few times early in his relationship
with Chris, when he was still seeing him privately, when Chris had
awakened suddenly in the middle of the night, as if from a night
terror. But they had seen no evidence of this in their house, and
certainly Chris never reported sleeping problems to
them.

He delivered the water
first, no ice, the way she preferred it, and then vanished into the
shared bathroom and came back with both the painkiller and a small
bottle of mint massage gel. Alex said nothing, just nodded, and he
stepped behind her and very gently worked his cool fingertips
against her neck and shoulders and then at her temples. The mint
seemed to release the headache pain in its vapors, and his silence
was comforting as well.

“You’re a treasure, Chris,”
she murmured, as he capped the bottle.

“Thank you, Madame, it is
my pleasure to be of use.” His voice was low too, and he refilled
her glass without making any sign that he was ready to go back to
sleep or for her to request something else. She had often found him
up and about on her restless nights, and at first thought that he
was also wakeful. But she soon came to realize that he did not
consider it proper for him to be asleep while she or Grendel were
awake.