“I understand.”
She hoped that he did.
* * *
“Linda? This is… Irene.” She stumbled over her own name. She no longer had any right to use it, but her old friend wouldn’t recognize the name, Flame.
There was a long silence on the other end of the line.
Flame hadn’t heard the click of a disconnection. “Linda? Are you there?”
“Is it true?” The voice was cold.
“What?”
“You disappeared. Everyone is saying that you were sold at auction.” Her friends voice dropped to a near whisper. “That you were made a slave.”
“That’s almost true.”
“Almost?”
“I wasn’t made a slave. I made myself a slave. I volunteered to be sold.”
There was stone silence from the phone.
“Linda?” Flame asked.
There was more silence. Then, “I don’t understand.” Her voice was small and uncertain. “What does that mean?”
“It’s pretty simple, really. I went to a slave auction with James and I saw the slaves being sold and they all looked so scared. But they looked alive. Vital. And I felt so… not alive. As a lady, I knew exactly what I was going to be doing the next day and the next and all the rest of the days of my life. The slaves had no idea what was going to happen to them after they were sold. I wanted to be as alive as they were. Can you understand that?”
“No.”
“I know. I find it hard to understand, too. But I knew in my gut that I had to do it. I had to get up on the block and be sold. It was humiliating and terrifying. Every second, from the moment I stepped onto the auction block to the moment that I was put into a kennel is etched on my brain forever. I’ve never had a day of my life, not even my wedding day, that was as emotionally powerful as every single second standing on the block, listening to men bid on me. Committing yourself to marriage is pale and insignificant compared to committing yourself to slavery.”
There was another silence.
Flame let her friend digest what she had said.
Finally, Linda said, “You’re sick. Insane. You belong in an asylum. In a straightjacket in a padded cell. You need to be locked up for your own good.”
“I am locked up most of the time. An hour ago, I was chained to a whipping bench and raped by my owner. Barely a day passes that he doesn’t put in some kind of bondage and use me for sex. It doesn’t matter what I want. He wouldn’t dream of asking my permission. He does whatever he wants to me. Anything. Without restriction. On Saturday, he’s hosting a dinner party and I’ll be servicing his guests in the billiard room after the meal. There’ll be seven men. They’ll spend hours forcing me to perform every kind of sex act that they can imagine. They’ll penetrate me every way that a woman can be penetrated. It’s going to happen to me in two days and there’s not a damn thing that I can do to stop it. Not a damn thing.”
Flame could hear her friend breathing heavily into the phone. She didn’t know if she had disgusted her friend or stimulated her lust or both, but she had certainly aroused some strong emotion in her.
“Maybe you can understand, after all,” Flame said. “As a slave, I often feel fear and pain and humiliation. And sometimes, even a bit of joy, too. But I’m feeling something every moment of every day. I never felt that when I was a lady. When I was a lady, there was never a time, not even on my wedding night when I gave my virginity to my new husband, that I felt such intense emotion as I feel whenever my owner is using me. You can’t imagine how keenly I feel my own emotions now. All the time.”
Flame stopped talking and let Linda absorb that idea.
“There’s no divorce from slavery, you know,” Linda said. “No annulment. You can’t even be widowed from slavery. If your owner dies, you’re part of the estate and will be sold to someone else. You can’t ever come back to us. You can’t return and we wouldn’t take you back even if you could. You’re gone forever. You left me. You left your husband. You left everyone.”
“No,” Flame said. “I didn’t leave my husband. James left me. He was there when I was being auctioned. He watched men bidding on me and he didn’t lift a finger. He could have bought me for less than he bought his other slave at the same auction. Instead, when I was on the auction block, he walked away and let a stranger buy me. If he wanted me he could have owned me. He could have had me more completely and utterly than he ever had me as his wife. I thought that he loved me, but I was wrong. He didn’t want me so he left. He took his new slave with him and left me behind.”
“Why would he want you? You weren’t a person any more. You made yourself a piece of property. You stopped wanting to be his wife and became the property of the highest bidder. What did that say about him, that you would rather be the slave of a stranger than a lord’s wife?”
“I was saying that I would rather be his slave than his wife. I was kept in his manor like a stuffed trophy animal while he was out in the kennels fucking his slaves. I wanted him to be fucking me, too. I wanted to please him and that was never going to happen while I was his wife.”
“And now you’re not his wife. And you’re not being fucked by him. Now you’re being fucked by some other man. By lots of other men. And you know what’s happening to your husband? All the eligible women in the county are flocking around him like moths around a candle, each dying to be the next Lady Fortson. He has his pick of the ladies.”
“I hope he picks one who will be happy with him.”
“He’ll find one who won’t sell herself into slavery right in front of him. That for damn sure.” Linda sounded angry.
Flame hadn’t meant to make her friend angry. “I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to understand what I did.” She laughed ruefully. “And I certainly don’t expect that any other lady will ever sell herself into slavery.”
“You can be damn sure that we won’t.”
“I called because I was hoping that you’ll do me a favor.”
“Really?” Linda’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “You should know how often I do favors for slaves.”
“I’m hoping that you’ll consider me a special case.”
“Not bloody likely.”
Flame took a deep breath. “My owner is throwing a dinner party on Saturday and I was hoping that he could borrow one of your slaves for the evening.”
Linda laughed bitterly. “A slave wants to borrow a slave. Isn’t that one for the record books.”
Flame answered with a laugh that was light rather than bitter. “I know. My owner’s wife would have asked but she doesn’t know anyone else who owns a slave.”
“No? Sounds like your owner isn’t a man of much substance.”
“No, he’s not.”
“So why in hell would I lend him a slave? What would he ever be able to do for me in return?”
“He owns a slave. He’d be happy to lend her to you the next time you need one.”
There was another pause. “You mean you? You’re telling me that I could borrow you the next time that I need to host a party for a dozen men and need someone to service them?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Don’t be so quick to decide. Think about it for a minute,” Flame said. “People in your circle know my history. They’ll find me a rather exotic treat. Your husband’s friends will be talking about his party for years after they’ve forgotten all the other parties that they’ve attended.”
Flame held her breath, waiting to see if she had convinced her friend.
“You’re shameless.”
“No. I feel my shame more sharply than you can know. I was raised to be a lady from birth. That doesn’t go away. My shame cuts me all the way to the bone. I’ve abased myself even asking you for a favor. Offering myself for the sexual gratification of men that I’ve dined with, men of lower rank than me, men that I’ve snubbed socially, is the most degrading thing that I’ve ever done. If you want to punish me most cruelly, make me suffer most deeply,
all you have to do is agree to my offer.”
“And you still want me to lend you a slave?”
“I’m begging you. I’d abase myself before you if you were here. I’d drop to my knees and press my face to the ground at your feet.”
“I’ll think about it,” Linda said at last. “I don’t negotiate with slaves. Tell your owner’s wife to call me.”
She disconnected.
Flame hoped that Linda would agree. She had to find a slave for her owner to borrow, no matter what it cost her. What she had offered to Linda, that she could be borrowed to service her former friends, would be unbearable but she had no choice. Every slave had to bear the unbearable.
She went to find Mrs. Dodge and tell her how to talk to Lady Linda Hoffman. She could only hope that she wouldn’t be beaten too severely for her effrontery.
* * *
Flame’s heart thudded and her stomach churned. In her entire life, exactly two men had used her for sex – her husband, James, and her owner, Dodge.
In two hours, she would be fucked by six more men, not counting Dodge who would surely fuck her as well.
The number of men in her entire life who had used her for sex would increase fourfold in the course of a couple of hours.
She had no idea what it would feel like to be used over and over in different ways by so many men in such a short time, but she doubted that she would enjoy it. What she did know was that none of the men that used her tonight would care a whit whether she enjoyed it or not.
Unless Baronet Grenfeld was still offended that she had refused a second dance with him. He might care too much. He might make absolutely certain that she found not the least shred of joy tonight.
She had spent most of the afternoon sitting on a wooden chair with a dildo jammed into her ass, just to make sure that it would be as loose as possible for the entertainment.
She had been too upset to eat anything since lunch yesterday. The upside of that was that her colon was as empty as it could be so it didn’t matter if her sphincter was gaping half open.
No one had told her if she would be entertaining all the gentlemen by herself or if Linda had agreed to lend a slave to Mrs. Dodge.
She would read a lot into what Linda did.
If Linda lent a slave and never asked to borrow Flame back, it would mean that she still had some compassion for her friend. If she refused to lend a slave, it would indicate disdain for her. But if she lent a slave only so that she could be able to borrow Flame later and cruelly humiliate her, it would mean that Linda hated her.
Her cell door opened to reveal an unfamiliar face – another slave who was wearing a housedress. Flame blushed at her own nudity.
“I’m Sapphire,” the slave said. “We’ll be working together tonight. Mr. Dodge instructed me to help you prepare for this evening’s entertainment.”
“I’m Flame,” she said. She examined Sapphire. The other slave was a couple of years older than her. That would make her about thirty. She was beginning to show her age. She was pretty but not an exceptional beauty. She looked thin in her housedress. Worn by time and circumstance. Linda had sent the least desirable slave in Lord Hoffman’s stable.
Flame hoped for better from her old friend, but had no right to expect it.
“Two slaves for seven men,” Sapphire said. “That’s not too bad. I’ve had worse. Once it was me alone to serve eight. I had to move quicker than a hummingbird in a hailstorm. Afterward, I could barely waddle. My cunt was so sore that I couldn’t close my thighs for a week.”
“I’ve never entertained before. I have no idea what to do.”
Sapphire laughed. “You do whatever you’re told. Immediately and with great enthusiasm.”
“I figured that much.”
“You can take some initiative if you like, but that can be risky. If you offer yourself to one man first, the others might feel rejected. Sometimes slaves are punished in interesting and imaginative ways for the amusement of the guests. The punishment will be severe if the guests take a dislike to you. You don’t want to make yourself a candidate for that kind of entertainment if you can help it. The trick is to keep the guests aroused constantly. As long as someone is waiting eagerly to have sex with you, the others won’t take time out to punish you. Your jaws may ache like the devil during the fifth blowjob in a row, but you better remind yourself that being suspended by your wrists with your toes barely touching the floor for the rest of the evening would be many times more painful. You can take my word for that.”
Sapphire sounded like she was speaking from experience.
She cocked her head and appraised Flame. “I’m surprised that you’ve never entertained before. Most slaves entertain at least once a week. How long have you been a slave?”
“Two months.”
“Adjudication? Bankruptcy?”
“Neither. I volunteered.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Nobody does. I was the wife of a lord. I didn’t like it so I put myself on the auction block to be sold.”
“You didn’t like being a lady?”
“It was boring.”
Sapphire stared at her. “Being a fine lady was so boring that you made yourself a slave?”
“That’s about the size of it.”
“Do many ladies do that?”
“I don’t think any lady has ever done it before and I doubt that any one will ever do it again.”
“I’d think not.”
“So, what do we do tonight?”
“Two slaves for seven men. I think we should start off with a show. We can burn some time that way.”
“What kind of a show? I can play the flute.”
“Not unless it’s made of meat and attached to a man at the crotch. Try playing a musical instrument tonight and you’ll spend the evening with it shoved up your ass. Better a flute than a fiddle, I guess, but let’s try to avoid that altogether. The only show that will interest the gentlemen is a sex show. We kiss each other, fondle each other. You take my clothes off, as slowly as you can. I take yours off. We take turns spreading our legs and licking each other. You get the idea.”
Flame shook her head in shock. “I… I’m not attracted to women.”
Sapphire laughed. “Me neither. So what? I’m not attracted to most of the gentlemen that I suck off, either. A slave does what a slave does. Nobody cares about her feelings so she shouldn’t either. Life is easier if you don’t feel anything.”
“When I was a lady, I didn’t feel anything. I became a slave so that I could have feelings.”
“Then you made an extraordinary miscalculation.” She shook her head. “Spectacular. Anyway, after the show, the gentlemen will be lined up to have a turn at us. We slide from each other to the gentlemen. Someone will likely want a blowjob when your tongue is still coated with my juices. Don’t disappoint him. The trick to avoiding going through hell tonight is to not disappoint a gentleman. Not even a little bit. No matter what he wants.”
Sapphire’s instruction was bringing no comfort to Flame. She was almost shaking with fear.
“The guests will be eating soon. We better get dressed. If we aren’t ready when dinner is over, the punishment will be dire. Horny gentlemen don’t like to wait and they take out their frustration on the nearest slave.”
There were boxes piled in the kitchen.
Sapphire began opening them. “Isn’t this cute? We’re going to start out the evening dressed like ladies. I’ve never worn a lady’s dress before.”
Flame’s face burned. One of the dresses was blue satin with white trim – the same color, fabric, and style as the one that the handlers had torn from her body on the auction block. Dodge was going to remind her and everyone else of her humiliation by making her re-enact the stripping of her lady’s dress.
No other slave could do this. In any other circumstance, to present a slave in a lady’s dress would offend every gentleman in the room. But to present the Lady Irene’s transformation into Flame would b
e hilarious. The presence of the real former Lady Irene would make it all right for Sapphire to join the act and wear a lady’s dress, too.
She examined the contents of the boxes. “These are ladies’ dresses, but they’re not ladies’ undergarments.” There were neither camisoles nor panties in the boxes, just red stockings and garter belts.
“I wouldn’t know,” Sapphire said. “I’ve never seen a lady’s undergarments.”
Apparently Sapphire had never been asked to do her owner’s laundry.
The gentlemen would love the fantasy that some of the ladies they knew might wear such sluttish things under their long dresses. There would be no shortage of hard-ons in the room when the dresses were removed.
Flame wondered if, after tonight, Baronet Grenfeld might suggest that Dame Grenfeld buy a new wardrobe of undergarments. From what she remembered of him, he was pig enough to demand it. And his wife might be weak enough to comply.
She looked at Sapphire. “Do you want me to make your face up like a lady’s instead of a slave’s?”
Sapphire looked back in surprise. “There’s a difference?”
“Yes. A lady’s makeup is softer. Less obvious. A slave’s makeup is bolder. More exciting. Provocative.”
“I never knew that.” She thought for a minute. “Okay. Let’s do lady’s makeup for our entrance. We don’t have to worry about not being provocative enough. We’ll be plenty provocative when we’re licking each other’s pussies.”
Flame cringed at the thought.
“Don’t worry,” Sapphire said. “I keep myself clean down there. Practically sterile.” She laughed.
Flame couldn’t laugh with her.
“And we have to wear our hair up,” Sapphire said.
Flame was startled. “Up? Slaves never wear their hair up. It’s forbidden. Real ladies would crucify us.”
“Where’s it written that it’s forbidden? Nothing is forbidden in an entertainment. Not as long as the gentlemen are kept amused. And we don’t have to worry about any ladies. I can guarantee that no lady is ever going to hear about how slaves wear their hair in the billiard room.”
Slave of the Aristocracy: Book One – On the Auction Block Page 8
