The Slave (54 page)

It took longer to get the wax off than it
did to put it on, but some of the minutes were spent with the sharp
edge of the knife against the smooth skin under Robin’s knee, or
around her heels, or on the inside of her arm. She held herself
still as possible, breathing in sighs of relief as strip after
strip was taken from her body.

“
Don’t think we do this every night,”
Judy cautioned at one point, finding a neglected clamp and removing
it. Robin gasped at the sudden pain. “This is just to say
hello!”

“
Yes, ma’am,” Robin whimpered. “Thank you,
ma’am! It’s wonderful!”

They did not try to play with her clit or
her cunt, staying away from the area almost so perfectly that she
felt both relief and shame. She could feel the wetness between her
spread thighs―there was no question that from the moment she knelt
by the coffee table, she had gotten aroused. Oh, she could use an
orgasm, and a big one! Or several in a row, for that matter. She
groaned as Khim applied her knife edge to her wax-covered breasts,
and resigned herself to an orgy of frustration. Maybe, if the two
women were interested in hearing what she wanted, she could beg
them to fist her.

Finally, she felt the slide of loosening
ropes, and realized that Khim had stopped scraping the wax away.
She could still feel bits of it here and there, clinging to her
skin in places the knife couldn’t reach or where Khim didn’t care
to go. She felt a little dizzy, off-center. It had been so
wonderful to have to lay there and accept all that attention―yet if
Monica had done it, she would have felt bad! She couldn’t clear her
mind to puzzle over that contradiction and still manage to get up,
as the hands on her body were nudging her to do. She rolled over
and sat up, her legs over the side, feeling the bending and
twisting of the rope harness as it pulled more wax from her skin
with every movement. It was maddeningly hot.

“
Thank us,” Khim said,
coming around the table to stand in front of her. Without thinking,
Robin dropped to her knees and kissed the flat of the knife blade
that was offered to her, and then the hand holding it, and then
went down to kiss the tops of Khim’s shoes. For a second, she
almost froze again
―but then she thought,
how many other things could she have
meant? This is pretty standard in porn, isn’t it?

She repeated the motion for
Judy, and then rose to her knees, her head bowed. “Thank you,
ma’am,” she said softly. “Thank you, ma’am! That was so
wonderful!”

“
Of course it was,” Judy giggled. “I
bet you haven’t had a lot of Owners who got that fancy with you,
huh?”

Robin’s head jerked up. She caught a
certain inflection in Judy’s voice―something she hadn’t heard in
some time! She blinked in the flickering light of the many candles
still perched around the room, as Khim laughed.

“
Uh-oh! Something gave us away,” Khim
said, even as she put the knife down.

“
Oops!” Judy said, looking around.
“What did I say?”

“
Owners. Everyone says ‘doms’ now,”
Khim said. “I keep telling you that. You keep using Marketplace
words.”

“
Shit,” Judy muttered. “I hate that
‘dom-sub’ crap.”

“
And it gives you away every time,”
Khim laughed. “Especially when you say it like that. Hell, it turns
me on when you say it like that. ‘Owners,’” she echoed with perfect
mimicry. “So, don’t leave the poor slave down there shivering,
let’s get her upstairs and get the rest of the wax off!”

Robin had hit the floor again, her head
all the way down in the posture taught to her as correct for a
slave who has realized they’ve made a grave error. From between her
bent arms, she said, “Please, ma’am, this slave begs forgiveness;
please, this slave was not aware you were Marketplace owners! This
slave will never fail to display proper protocol again; please
allow this slave to make amends or take any punishment you
desire....”

“
Shh, shh,” Judy said, leaning down
and tapping Robin on the shoulder. Robin shook―and then peeked up.
Judy was smiling, her bright smile cutting through the dim light on
the floor. “It’s OK, we’re not owners,” she said. “We’re
slaves.”

* * * *

Retired slaves to be precise. After Robin
shut her mouth and blinked, the two women hauled her up by her
still-macramé’d arms and helped her up the stairs. They used hot
water and the hand-held massager to help her get the rest of the
wax off, talking to her while chips of wax scattered
everywhere.

It was easy to believe that Judy had been
a slave. Robin kicked herself for not noticing things like the way
she held herself and the way she listened intently, and of course,
for the way that she almost always seemed to be ready for the lead
that Khim took, whether it was in movement or play. Looking into
her large gray-blue eyes, it was easy to see that she had once
taken a collar. There was a depth there that Robin had seen a few
times in her experience. In Greta, the physician slave, and
sometimes in Raul’s dark eyes, on the nights when he was quietly
reflective and talked about his experience. And of course, in Chris
Parker’s eyes, that sense of having belonged―of longing and the
knowledge of a mystery the rest of the world had no concept
of.

In fact, it was easy to imagine Judy her
in her younger guise, lithe and laughing, eager for play or sex,
delightfully fun to touch. Helpful and cheerful. She must have been
so damn cute up on the block, with her big, firm breasts and her
wide smile.

But Khim? Tall, impressive Khim?

“
What, you think only little frail
girls like you get to be slaves?” Khim had laughed, seeing that
slight look of doubt in Robin’s eyes. “Big girls can be very
popular, you know.” Robin must have looked shocked that Khim could
read her that easily, because Khim shrugged. “It takes lots of
folks to make it all work, you know. Besides, I can’t be insulted
if after all these years people don’t spot me as a slave. I’m not
one anymore. Haven’t been since before I left my last contract.”
She sighed. “I hope that never happens to you, Robin. I hope you’re
always content to be owned while you are owned. Because it sure
sucks to be waiting out your time, knowing that it just doesn’t
feel right anymore.”

“
I think it’s worse to be out and
thinking you made a big mistake,” Judy said. By that time, they
were all seated in the master bedroom, Judy in a big chair, coiling
the used ropes, Robin on the floor and Khim sprawled comfortably on
the bed in her bathrobe. “At least when you got tired of it, you
knew it was only a matter of time before you got your walking
papers and a check and you could say adios. For me, I spent way too
much time thinking I’d made the biggest mistake of my life and
wondering what the hell to do with myself.”

“
But―why did you leave?” Robin asked
cautiously. She had been given permission to act under a very
lenient verbal protocol for their discussion.

Judy shrugged. “Wasn’t my choice.
Circumstances, that’s all. When my last contract didn’t get
renewed, I thought about going back to the block and I just
couldn’t take it anymore. I thought maybe it was time to try the
real world again. But I missed it so much, I signed up for the
first Reunion I heard about!” She laughed and tossed one of her
coiled ropes to Robin and then a tangled mess after it. “See if you
can make it like that, OK?”

Robin obediently picked up the tangled
rope and started to unravel the knots in it. “I’ve never gone to a
Reunion,” she said, referring to the private vacations for slaves
that the Marketplace arranged and partially subsidized. “Are they
nice?”

“
Nice if you’re looking to hook up,”
laughed Khim. “We met at one!”

“
But―forgive me, but I thought you
didn’t miss the Marketplace,” Robin said. “Why did you go to a
Reunion?”

Khim sighed. “You know, it’s one thing to
not miss being a slave. But I missed being around Marketplace
people! There was no one to tell my stories to. No one I could
bitch with. Sometimes, I’d go to the parties, you know, the soft
world things, and I’d just feel... weird! Like I was from another
planet or something. I’d be having a good time, playing or talking
or whatever―and then suddenly I’d think, ‘What do these people have
in common with me?’―and I’d go home. Not much fun.”

Robin nodded. “I used to feel like that
even before I got into the Marketplace. Meeting you two was
different. Oh, I am so stupid for not realizing why!”

“
Well, don’t be,” Judy said with a
grin. “Not everyone notices, you know. If I could only bring myself
to talk like everyone else....”

“
But I felt you were different
before,” Robin insisted. She explained why to the two women, who
looked thoughtful and then pleased with what she had to say. Then,
Judy shook her head anyway.

“
Well, thanks,” she said. “But when I
said not everyone notices, I meant someone a little closer to home,
too. Monica doesn’t know, and we’d prefer to keep it that way, as
long as keeping the secret doesn’t make you disobey a direct
order.”

Robin gasped, but covered it up quickly as
Khim yawned and stretched. “Wow, what an afternoon. I think I’m
going to take a little walk and stretch out. Judy, would you
introduce our temp slave to the kitchen and see if she wants to
show off the cooking Monica always brags about?”

“
As you wish,” Judy said with a wink,
and Robin had to get up and move right away. But that didn’t stop
her from thinking all the way downstairs.

* * * *

“
If Monica didn’t tell you I was
Marketplace, how did you know?” she finally asked Judy, after she
had slipped the foil-wrapped fish into the oven. Judy was showing
her where the china and silver were kept.

“
Oh, I guess the same way you spotted
us,” Judy said, pulling out a pair of candlesticks. “Here, put
these out; it’s an occasion. But don’t put them out every night,
OK?”

“
Yes, ma’am,” Robin said. She settled
two tapers into place and continued to set the table. She had been
given only two settings, and she felt that usual sense of shame and
pleasure when she realized that she would be eating in the kitchen
or on the floor.

“
I mean, when I saw Monica bring you in
that first night, my first thought was something like, who did she
borrow you from? Monica’s got great taste, but she never showed up
with someone who―I don’t know―who really knew how to act, I guess.
Mo is not the pickiest of people when it comes to playmates, even
bottoms. So when she showed up with you, I thought either you were
slumming, or she had finally lucked out and gotten someone who
could be worth something.”

At first, Robin didn’t know what to say.
It seemed slightly disrespectful―but no matter how she examined it,
what Judy said was a little harsh, but true. Monica didn’t demand
that her bottoms show signs of high-level protocol, and she really
wasn’t interested in training. She did know how to treat a
Marketplace slave, and thank goodness. But there was apparently no
desire in her to repeat that sort of behavior with someone of the
soft world.

Which
, Robin reflected,
only makes sense!
Why apply one standard to people who shouldn’t be held to it, and
why ruin a Marketplace relationship by not observing the boundaries
there?

“
But when Khim said there
was something about you, too, that’s when I knew. Khim
doesn’t
―well―look for the same things I do. So when we compared
notes, we decided that you were either a former slave or a current
one. Either way, we had to touch base and say hi! Not too many of
us around here, you know. There’s a couple of guys over in D. C.,
and we keep in touch with some of the people we knew when we were
in service. But not too many do, you know.” She sighed. “I guess
it’s like anything else―you leave behind a whole lifestyle, for
better or worse, and you want to get on with other things. But
thank God for Reunions, or I’d go crazy. You should go to one;
they’re fun.”

Robin smiled but didn’t comment. She had
been notified of the potential to go to these slave-only
gatherings, but it seemed pointless to her. Her small amount of
free time during her contracts was the only thing that didn’t
belong to the Marketplace. Why not spend it lying on a beach, or
skiing, or something totally different? But there was no need to
mention a disagreement with Judy.

Robin served the dinner the way Chris and
Raul had both drilled her, dressed in the simple black dress she
had brought with her. Judy and Khim did not seem interested in
keeping her naked all the time, which was a relief. She did in fact
eat her dinner in the kitchen, perched on a stool by the counter
while listening for the sounds of crystal clinking and silver
rattling, and judging when it was time to go out and remove the
plates and refresh drinks. To her pleasure, Khim and Judy discussed
their household business, gossiped, and talked to each other, and
only complimented her on the food, and not on her service.

This is going to be
easy
, she
thought with delight.
What a nice way to keep busy when Monica is
away!
And a
fine way to make sure her service skills hadn’t been forgotten in
Monica’s slightly free-and-easy lifestyle.