Marketplace (8 page)

“Then I want to hear you
say it, girl.”

“Yes. Yes, sir.”

“Yes sir, what?”

She trembled. He stepped
closer, lowered his voice. It made him more menacing. She stared
into his dark eyes and whined, “Yes! What you said! Whadda you want
me to say!”

“That you’re nothing,”
Grendel gently prompted.

“I’m nothing!”

He shouted into her face,
sending her stumbling back. “You’re nothing, what?”

“Sir! I’m nothing, sir!”
She whimpered and looked down and then had a sudden inspiration.
She dropped to her knees and lowered her head to his
feet.

The other three gazed at
her, bent into a sexy, trembling package. Claudia nodded
approvingly. Robert felt a stirring between his legs and bit his
own lip.

Grendel went back to his
chair and sat down. “Now, as I was saying,” he began. Sharon
stirred and started to raise her head. “No, stay where you are,
Sharon, that’s the first correct thing you’ve done since you got
here, and I want to enjoy the moment. As I was going to say, you
are especially nothing this week. At the end of the week, if you
stay, your education pattern will change.”

“Except for one thing,”
Alexandra noted. “You will still be required to obey everyone else
in the house, and you will still be subject to whatever discipline
is necessary to help you remember what your place and purpose
is.”

Brian raised his hand,
sneaking a glance back at Sharon. God, but that bitch was a laugh
and a half. When Alexandra nodded at him, he asked, “Sir, ma’am,
will we always get punished for someone else’s, um,
mistakes?”

“Maybe,” the two of them
answered at once. The trainers looked at each other and
laughed.

Alexandra said, “During
this week, absolutely. You can worry about next week when it
comes.”

“Think of it as an
incentive to encourage good behavior in your fellow applicants,”
added Grendel.

“And... if I may? What
about safe words?”

Sharon’s head snapped up at
the question, and Grendel sighed. He snapped his fingers. “Crawl
over here, missy pleasure slave. Get your head down there.” He
pointed to a spot near his left foot. She did as he said, her body
slinking across the patio like a cat. When she put her head gently
down, he raised one booted foot and planted it between her shoulder
blades, pushing her down further.

“Now stay put for once!
I’ll let you know when you can get up.” He looked back at Brian,
but Alexandra had decided to take the question.

“This is not like your old
life, Brian,” she began. “There are no safe words here. Grendel and
I—and Chris—know what we’re doing. And if you are driven to the
limit of your capacity, we will know it. If you experience some
physical problem that requires attention, you will say so,
immediately, and it will be attended to.

“But you have no way of
changing what is going on because it’s uncomfortable, or boring, or
difficult, or because it hurts and you don’t like it. You aren’t
here to like it. You may like the life, you may love it and never
leave it, but we will not be your owners, this will not be your
house. You are here as a student, and you will leave—hopefully—as
property.”

Brian nodded and lowered
his head. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

“Are there any other
questions right now?” Grendel shifted his foot to a more
comfortable spot on Sharon’s back and leaned on it a little. Her
moan sounded muffled, no doubt her cheek was pressed against the
stone. He relented a little and eased up.

The other two, the
‘goodies,’ as Alex had phrased it, were silent for a moment. Then,
timidly, Robert raised one hand, still trying to cover his chest.
Alex nodded at him.

“Ma’am? Um...” He shifted
nervously and almost whispered his question. “May I have a shirt,
please?”

“No,” Alexandra answered.
“I want to see your chest. Be thankful you still have your
pants.”

“Oh!” Robert gasped,
horrified. It was so difficult to be naked, even half-naked! He
blushed, and lowered his head.

“Any other questions?
Claudia?” Alexandra turned her sharp blue eyes toward the little
slave, who shook her head. “Well, then that’s it for now. Did you
want to say anything else, Gren?”

“No, I think they have
enough to consider for a little while.” He turned to the three and
said, “Go back into the house and wait in the main hallway. Chris
will join you momentarily and explain the rest of the house rules
to you, and we will have some private interviews later on today,
after you get acquainted with the house and the staff.” He waved,
and kept his foot firmly on Sharon’s back. The three looked
slightly confused, but then walked toward the house.

Alexandra was taking
notes.

“Your two are quiet,”
Grendel said.

“They have some
manners.”

He nodded, drained the last
of his coffee. “I seem to have the losers.”

“Think of them as
challenges. Besides,” Alexandra smiled and winked, “this one can at
least make a good ottoman.”

Grendel looked down and
sighed. “No she can’t. Too bony.” He lifted his foot and nudged
her. “Follow the others. Quickly.”

She got up, her hand
reaching up to caress her jaw, and then turned and fled. She looked
quite graceful as she jogged past a silent Chris, who never moved
from his stationed spot by the pathway. Grendel beckoned to him,
and he approached, to stand about a foot away. Chris put his hands
behind his back expectantly.

“Don’t sulk, Chris. It
makes you look cross,” Alexandra said, pausing in her
writing.

“No, Ma’am. Forgive
me.”

“What’s the matter, boy,
upset over their bad behavior this morning? Think it reflects badly
on you? Or are you just jealous of the attention pretty Sharon was
getting?” Grendel’s voice was light, but his eyes seemed to get
harder. Alexandra looked up to watch the exchange.

Chris’s face remained
impassive. He didn’t answer, but cast his eyes down respectfully.
Grendel pushed his foot out across the stone, making a light
scraping sound. Chris remained still.

“You’d like it if I let you
get down there, wouldn’t you, boy? Wouldn’t you like to feel your
back under my boot?”

“Would it please you,
Sir?”

Alexandra smiled. “Give it
up and let him get back to work, Gren.”

Grendel glanced at her and
sighed. “Right. Get on with you, Chris. You have a lot of work
ahead of you this week.”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you,
Ma’am.” Chris turned to leave and unhooked the strap from his
belt.

“Look what you’ve done,”
Alexandra said, pointing. “Now he’s going to take it out on
them.”

Grendel shrugged and then
got up to stretch. “That was the point.”

* * * *

“Here comes the bad girl,”
Brian announced softly to the other two. “Aww, did the little girl
have her mouf washed out wif soap?” He snickered.

They were waiting in a
high-ceilinged hallway, near the main stairs. When Sharon
approached, they all looked up. She glared back at them.

“Why... um, why don’t you
leave her alone?” Robert asked. “Shouldn’t we be trying to get
along?”

“Why should I be nice to
her?” Brian hissed, glancing back down the hallway. “We’re already
going to suffer for her dumb-ass bad manners, right? And you,
sister, just don’t fucking get it, do you?”

“Get off my case, asshole,”
Sharon snapped back.

Brian lifted his hands in
mock surrender and turned away. The reason for his capitulation was
clear. Chris entered the hallway several seconds later, the strap
in his hand.

“Let’s begin the tour of
the house, shall we?” he said. His voice seemed a little scratchy.
“Your interviews start in one hour, and you will not be
late.”

* * * *

Brian got his beating in
the main dining hall, the sharp reverberations of the strap echoing
around the room like gunshots. He was bent over at the waist, his
hands braced on a mahogany sideboard, his clothing neatly folded
between them.

The three watched, their
backs stiff and their hands held tightly behind them. Chris
quickly, almost savagely, brought deep red marks up on Brian’s ass,
and Brian growled and grunted with each shot. He twisted slightly
from time to time, but maintained his position, lowering his head
and groaning when Chris caught him with an especially strong whack.
It seemed to take a very long time until Chris seemed
satisfied.

The majordomo stood back
and looked at his handiwork and then turned back to the three
standing applicants. “You will not eat in here,” he said calmly, as
though he had not halted the tour to viciously beat a man. “Unless
you are in training or permitted to eat in the company of the
owners, you will take your meals in the servants’ dining room. This
room is mostly used for entertaining.” He turned back to Brian, who
had held his position. “You may thank me and put your clothing on,
Brian.”

Brian knelt and then looked
up. Chris nodded, and Brian bent swiftly forward and kissed each of
Chris’s boots. “Thank you, sir. I mean, thank you,
Chris.”

Chris started walking while
Brian was still pulling his pants on. Tough little guy, Brian
thought, pulling his T-shirt on as he caught up to them in the next
hallway. Heat spread all along his ass. His cock was at half-mast,
nicely awakened by that strap. Gives one hell of a nice beating. I
wonder if he’s pissed about what happened yesterday? When Brian
flashed on the scene in Grendel’s office, he wondered if any of the
other slaves knew. Did they get the same test? He tried to pay
attention to what Chris was saying about the rooms they passed
through.

Claudia was ordered to take
her dress off in the library. Positioned so her small, dimpled
buttocks extended behind her, she lowered her head and held herself
very stiff. A tear was already slipping down her cheek as Chris let
the strap slide along her curved bottom.

“For Sharon’s lack of
manners,” Chris said. He had said the same thing before starting on
Brian.

The first stunning slap of
leather sent Claudia stumbling forward. She cried out, a very
harsh, unladylike sound as she fell forward and hit the table she
was supposed to be bracing against.

It hurt! Oh, God, it hurt
too much! It wasn’t like Mistress’ cane, which whistled and cut in
sharp, electric seconds and then went away. It was hard, it was so
hard, and flat, and stinging and, and, it wasn’t
dignified!
Claudia burst
into tears.

“Please, Chris, please, I
can’t take it, please!” Claudia slipped to her knees alongside the
table. “Please...”

Chris looked a little
surprised. He placed the strap on the table and bent down to look
at her. Then, he straightened up and motioned to Robert. “Pick her
up. Lay her over there, on her belly.” He pointed to a long, brown
leather sofa which was flanked by several imposing windows. Robert
helped Claudia up and took her over to one end of the sofa, looking
back at Chris for confirmation. When Chris nodded, Robert whispered
to Claudia, and positioned her over the arm of the sofa, her head
almost resting on the seat. The rich scent of the old leather
filled her nostrils.

“When we received your
records,” Chris said, addressing the four, “we also received a
description of how and why you have been disciplined. For many of
our applicants, fetishes—theirs and their owners’—played a large
role in how they were treated. For Claudia, her preferred form of
discipline was the cane.” He picked up the strap again.

“Here, the cane is a tool,
like this strap. But it is impractical from my point of view, as it
has a tendency to produce lasting marks, something I am not
authorized to do. You will get very used to this strap, regardless
of whether you can withstand it, or if it makes you cry.” He walked
past them to Claudia’s side, and ran careful fingers over her ass.
There was a pink trail where he had struck her before.

“Claudia, this is nothing.
You will compose yourself with discipline for the remainder of your
punishment, or be gagged.”

“Yes, Chris,” she started
to say. But the first blow of the strap caught her in
mid-acknowledgment, and she gasped. It was another line of punching
pain, like the first. But this time, she was fully braced, and
didn’t have to rely on her arms to hold her in position. She turned
her face to the cushions of the sofa and made a series of muffled
cries as the rest of the flashes of pain coursed through her
bottom.

How humiliating! How awful!
Her tears flowed copiously down her face, wetting the leather below
her. She tried not to squirm, and then made little fists in her
agony. Then, as suddenly as the first beating began, it was over,
and Chris was pulling her up to stand in front of him. She didn’t
wait for his direction, but dropped to her knees and kissed his
boots. And how inappropriate his boots were, she thought, even as
she pressed her lips to them. Mistress had such lovely footwear,
shiny black patent leather sometimes, or lace-up Victorian boots
with stiletto heels. Chris wore common workman’s boots, however
well polished they might be.