by Ian Smith
“I am sure Tyler will be completely exonerated,” Stephen Chase said in support of his fiancé. Phillip Saunders agreed.
“But then that means suspicion falls on one of us three,” pointed out Freddie wickedly, indicating the other two men.
“Why do you assume it must be a man?” Elizabeth asked with a pout.
“Is that a confession, sister dear?” taunted Freddie.
“Of course not,” she said archly. “And don’t you dare even think to accuse Joanne. But of course it’s not any of us.”
“The police said they were sure it was someone in the house and that only leaves us, Joanne, Bassett and the five slaves,” Freddie pointed out. Under the table, Rosie shivered at the thought that she might be accused.
“Well, then, the police are obviously wrong, aren’t they?” said Elizabeth.
“I don’t like to point the finger, but I suspect their logic is pretty sound,” Philip Saunders observed. “Nobody outside the household knew about our little dare game, or had the access they would need.”
“Probably one of the slaves blabbed,” argued Elizabeth. “They should be tortured until one of them confesses.”
Under the table, Rosie shivered again with fear, so strongly that Master Freddie would undoubtedly have felt it. Her return to the Slave Centre yesterday had been bad enough. Her body still bore the marks.
Fortunately, however, nobody seemed to take Elizabeth too seriously, which was as normal. The breakfast meeting at last broke up. The taste of Master Freddie’s cum in her mouth, Rosie went back to the kitchen to help Charlotte and Cassandra wash up.
Even there, the gossip went on. Bassett and Cora were busy elsewhere, so they could speak freely, at least after furtive looks around to make sure nobody overheard them.
“What would happen to us if Master Tyler was found guilty?” Charlotte asked the more experienced Cassandra.
“I’m not sure,” the glamorous blonde replied, brushing a stray lock of hair back from her exceptionally lovely face. “People convicted of serious crimes in Xanxta usually get slavery for life and their goods and property confiscated by the state so we would probably wind up back in the Slave Shop for resale. But the Mason estate is in trust, I think and under the terms of Tyler’s father’s will, I think it would be split evenly between Freddie and Elizabeth, maybe with some provision for Joanne, so we’d be split as part of the proceeds.”
The thought of being owned by Freddie made Rosie’s head spin with revulsion and fear, although she wasn’t sure Elizabeth was too much better. None of the possibilities offered her any chance of freedom.
The morning wore on. It being Saturday, both Philip Saunders and Steven Chase had surgeries until lunchtime and then the rest of the day they were free. Donald Peters seemed to have disappeared and even Police Chief Jefferson Williams seemed to be keeping a low profile. However, both they and the entire family appeared for lunch. For most of the meal there was a strained, embarrassed silence, but as they began the dessert course, Elizabeth skewered Jeff Williams with a surprisingly fierce glance.
“Mister Police Chief,” she said witheringly, “perhaps you can confirm to us that this rumour that my brother is under house arrest and suspected of the murder is total rubbish.”
Jefferson Williams glanced at Donald Peters, who nodded almost imperceptibly. “Yes, madam, I can confirm that Mr. Mason is not under any sort of arrest. He does remain a suspect, but only as much as everybody else.”
For a moment there was silence that was broken by Philip Saunders. “Thank God common sense has prevailed,” he said sharply and reached over to shake hands with Tyler Mason. Rosie saw that firm grip and the eye contact between the two men and realised perhaps for the first time just how strong the friendship between them was. Freddie Mason glibly echoed the sentiments and Steven Chase added his congratulations to Tyler Mason. Joanne Mason remained impassive, whilst Elizabeth Mason loudly stated that she was glad this nonsense was at an end.
“It isn’t quite all over yet,” Donald Peters said softly.
She turned on him. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” he said apologetically, “there is still a murderer on the loose.”
“An invisible murderer who can get in and out of locked rooms despite the presence of half a dozen witnesses by the only door and who can stab a man with poison without leaving a mark on him,” Philip Saunders observed.
“Indeed,” Donald Peters almost purred.
Freddie Mason scowled at him. “You sound like a cat that has just eaten all the cream,” he said. “You must have had a really good time with one of the slave girls last night.”
“Freddie!” exclaimed Joanne Mason.
Freddie ignored her. “It couldn’t have been Cassie, because I was enjoying her hot creamy body,” he speculated. “Charlotte? She’s really up for it, isn’t she? Absolutely panting for it when she’s with me. No, hang on, you had our quiet little mouse Rosie, didn’t you?”
The three slave girls had gone bright red with humiliation but Donald Peters wasn’t affected at all. “I had Rosie, yes,” he said mildly. “She was very attentive and most pleasant.”
“Did you get her to use her mouth? I’ve been training her in that.”
“Yes, at the breakfast table each morning,” Joanne Mason snapped. “You do have some revolting habits, Frederick Mason. It seems to run in the family,” she added icily.
“She did make a little use of it, yes,” said Donald Peters to cover the embarrassed silence. “She was very good.” Rosie felt her cheeks going hotter and hotter with embarrassment and shame. “I must thank you for your kind hospitality.” Naturally, there were no thanks for Rosie herself!
“My pleasure,” boomed Tyler Mason expansively, cutting Freddie down to size without effort by reminding everybody just who was the owner. “I personally selected and bought Rosie from the Slave Shop. I saw her there, still a virgin with her chastity belt on, and I thought, there’s a girl keen to be unlocked and to get started. She was coy on her first night, of course, but a little touch of the whip soon settled her nerves, didn’t it Rosie?”
It was more than a little touch as Rosie recalled, but by the end of it she had crawled weeping into the bed and submissively opened her legs to him. Her first time had been a nightmare experience and things had not improved that much since. “Yes, Master,” she said.
“But these days you’re happy doing your duty, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Master.”
“She’s lying, of course,” Tyler Mason explained, “but give her time. She’s making progress. Now Charlotte can hardly get enough. Mr. Peters, tonight you might like to sample our little cherry red strumpet.”
“Thank you, Mr. Mason,” said Donald Peters suavely. “I’ll look forward to that.”
Was it true? Rosie wondered. Would she eventually come to enjoy slave sex, to lose her inhibitions and just go for it? She knew that Charlotte was quite happy having sex, no matter who with. On the one hand, it would make her life a bit less unbearable; but on the other, when she reached that point, there would be nothing left of her except being a full, total slave, trapped in this life as much by her own submission as by the chains and bonds. Still, she already had no hope of escape, rescue or release, so perhaps the sooner she was able to let herself go completely, perhaps the easier things would be.
Freddie was clearly irked at having his thunder snatched away by Tyler and possibly also by not having Charlotte available tonight; the cherry red sex bomb was his usual Saturday night feast. Please, Rosie thought, not me instead, and then realised that she was a long way from being able to let herself go. “Well, I bags Cassie tonight,” Freddie said nonchalantly and Rosie just managed to avoid an audible sigh of relief. “I fancy a bit of spanking tonight; is your bottom up for that, Cassie?”
Cassandra’s boobs were stil
l red from her interrogation yesterday, but her superb bum was currently unmarked. “Yes, Master,” she said, pretending an enthusiasm that Rosie knew wasn’t there. “I’ll look forward to it.”
“You know,” said Phillip Saunders, “I think we’re all so pleased about Tyler being in the clear that perhaps we should have a little celebration. I don’t usually go in for public usage of slaves, but I think that all of us men could do with letting off a bit of steam.” Evidently, having broken the mental barrier of performing in public the other night, he was now keen to make up for lost time. “Perhaps the ladies would excuse us if we took the slave girls off to the lounge for a while?”
“And what do you expect us to do?” asked Joanne sharply.
Phillip clearly did not want to cause offence. “Well, er, there’s Ashley as well,” he offered.
Elizabeth stood up. “I think it’s a very good idea,” she said with determination, “but I shall have my fiancé.”
“My dear,” Steven Chase began.
“Will it be in private or in public, darling?” she asked very firmly. Rosie smothered a surprised smile: it was the first time she had seen Elizabeth Mason stand up to her domineering boy friend.
He yielded. “Whatever you wish, my love.” He took her firmly by the hand. “See you in a couple of hours, everybody,” she called over her shoulder as he led her out of the dining room.
Joanne also stood up and spoke to Bassett. “Have Slave Ashley report to my bedroom in five minutes,” she said and walked out without waiting for a reply.
Tyler Mason spoke. Phillip Saunders’ festive mood had evidently caught on with him. “Mr. Peters and Police Chief Williams, I insist you join us in the lounge for the festivities. Bassett, you too, once you have finished your errand for my wife.”
The normally imperturbable butler raised an eyebrow. “Me, Sir?”
“Yes, you Sir. I am in the mood to celebrate and you have been with me for a long time. Girls, go to the lounge and get ready. We shall be along shortly.”
Rosie trooped silently out with Charlotte and Cassandra and they went into the lounge. They looked at each other for a moment and then all three pulled their uniforms over their heads and stood naked. Rosie saw Cassie’s blonde pubic hair neatly shaven into the letter M and Charlotte’s more curly, darker and therefore more pronounced hair identically shaven into that single letter. It was just slightly easier to have her pubic letter on show when the other girls were the same. She tried to stand tall, determined, if not to enjoy this, to at least not care. But she couldn’t meet the eyes of her comrades.
The men came in, six in all: Tyler Mason, Freddie Mason, Phillip Saunders, Jefferson Williams, Donald Peters and lastly and most circumspectly Bassett the butler. Six men, three girls: two each. The men settled into chairs. “A little foreplay, I think,” Tyler Mason said. “Girls, you will crawl to each man in turn and ask if you could go across his lap for a spanking.”
Immediately, all three knelt down. On her hands and knees, Rosie crawled to the nearest man to her. It was the detective, Donald Peters. She forced a feeble smile. “Please, Master,” she intoned, “could I please be allowed to go across your lap and would you mind spanking me?”
He nodded without saying anything. Rosie could see from his body language - she was fast becoming an expert in the foibles of men - that he was rather unsure about this, either he was inexperienced in spanking and unsure of himself (a real rarity in this town!) or even rarer, he wasn’t particularly into it. As she clambered over his legs, Rosie recalled that she hadn’t seen him raise a hand to any slave since his arrival. She felt him run his hands down her back and thighs - he certainly didn’t mind having a good feel - and then he slapped her extremely lightly on her bottom. Another half dozen slaps landed, so light that she could barely feel them. Around her, Rosie could hear Charlotte and Cassandra being much more sternly dealt with, the sounds of hard male hands striking their soft bare flesh echoing around the room.
Tyler Mason called for a change, so Rosie picked herself off Donald Peters lap, gave him a quick smile of thanks for his mercifulness and crawled to the next lap. It was Tyler Mason himself, her owner. As she draped herself over him, he observed her bare bottom and called across to his houseguest, “you haven’t got her very red, Mr. Peters!”
Any polite reply from the detective was drowned out by the sound of Tyler Mason’s beefy hand impacting on Rosie’s unprotected derriere. She gritted her teeth and made no sound. If she’d got off lightly with Donald Peters, she knew she wouldn’t do so this time. A dozen hard, stinging slaps put some heat into her rear before Tyler called for another change. Rosie had hopefully thought that with six men and three girls she would get two sets of smacks, but instead she realised that each man would have a go with each girl. So, she had to crawl over each male lap in turn and take her punishment. By the end of it her bottom was stinging and burning not an unfamiliar sensation. Almost as bad was the humiliation of having to surrender herself to the likes of Freddie Mason, who she hated, Phillip Saunders, who treated her like a baby and Jefferson Williams, who had tormented her yesterday under totally false pretences. But that was how it was: you had to lie over their legs, feeling the growing erections beneath you, knowing how invitingly your bottom was presenting itself and then ask to be smacked as if you were a naughty five year-old. But a five year-old would at least not have the shame of having to expose an adult body ...
At last it was over and the girls were allowed to stand. Rosie could see vivid red handprints over Charlotte and Cassandra’s bottoms and knew her own was similarly decorated. The men, at Tyler’s behest, were all removing their clothes. Six male bodies came into view, with ages ranging from Philip Saunders in his early thirties to Bassett and Donald Peters at around sixty. There were six male cocks in front of Rosie, who had not ever seen one in the flesh until a few months ago and Rosie knew they were not out just for show.
“Cassandra! Do a slow dance!” Tyler Mason ordered.
The gorgeous blonde stepped forwards, took a couple of hesitant steps and then began to dance, slowly and seductively. Bassett discreetly selected a soulful compact disc and put it on to accompany her. Rosie watched, mesmerised. She knew that the elegant blonde beauty was a trained dancer, but had not realised just how good she was. Cassie used her superb, sensuous body to tremendous effect: her bare feet seemed to glide effortlessly across the floor, her hips swaying gently, the slight rise and fall of her flawless breasts inviting every male head to make a nest there. First one silky thigh and then the other would move across her delta, obscuring the view and giving a subtle hint of mystery, then she would straighten up, revealing the faint blonde M of pubic hair and exposing herself fully, stripping the mystery away and yet when she partially covered her pubes up again the spell took hold once more. Rosie had a sudden feeling that if she herself could dance like that, she almost wouldn’t mind going naked to do it. And it was a dance that could only be done naked.
The men had gathered into two close groups of three, their eyes still on Cassandra, and Tyler Mason did no more than just click his fingers in the direction of Charlotte and Rosie. The two girls automatically moved forward, each taking one of the groups of three, and knelt down in front of them, careful not to interfere with their view of Cassandra. Rosie had Master Freddie, Phillip Saunders and Donald Peters. With only the slightest hesitation she brought her tongue out and touched Phillip Saunders’ swollen prick, whilst her left hand reached out to stroke Master Freddie’s manhood and her right began to gently brush that of Donald Peters. Moments later Phillip’s dick was inside her mouth, whilst she concentrated on not neglecting the other two. After a little while she disengaged her mouth from Master Phillip and moved it to Master Freddie and then as soon as she had him nearing eruption she moved on to Donald Peters. She would rather have concentrated solely on him - he was by far the least vile man of the three in character, although his body
was perhaps the ugliest - but she knew she had to keep her attentions evenly divided.
Tyler Mason detached himself from Charlotte’s attentions and took a metal egg from a bureau. Rosie had not seen this thing before. He grasped Charlotte, ordered her to open her legs and slipped the egg inside her love channel. Then he took a piece of cord and tied it around her as a crotch rope, ensuring that the thing stayed inside her. Charlotte looked down anxiously; the egg was now completely inside her and so could not be seen, although she would certainly be able to feel it.
“That’s enough, Cassandra,” he ordered. “Come and change places with Charlotte. Bassett, do we have any reggae music?”
“I believe so, Sir.” Even naked and with his prick glistening with Charlotte’s saliva, the butler was urbane and composed. The soundtrack changed to a jaunty, bouncy beat and Charlotte began dancing with a suitably up-tempo rhythm, her firm young breasts bouncing slightly to the beat. Then she gasped and jerked sharply.
“Shocking,” Master Freddie smirked; “quite shocking.”
Rosie understood now. The metal egg in Charlotte’s vagina was giving out regular electric shocks, each one making the girl gasp, jerk and writhe. The shocks came at random intervals: her dance became frenzied at times when she got three or four in quick succession. Rosie was able to watch for a few moments before she was called back to continue with her vile (to her) ministrations. For a couple of minutes, although it seemed longer, she had to continue gently sucking and hand-stimulating the three men. Then came the dreaded order for her to change places with Charlotte. She stood up and saw Tyler Mason undoing the crotch rope on Charlotte’s now sweat-gleaming body. The little egg slid out, shiny with her juices.
Rosie moved into the centre of attention. The music they put on for her was a bouncy, commercial number. She had very little dancing experience and no training, but she started to move about vaguely. Then she saw that Tyler Mason was holding a long, snaking whip. He cracked it and she jumped. Then he began to flick her with it. The tip was travelling quite fast and it bit sharply into her thigh. Rosie jack-knifed then tried to recover her dancing poise. He flicked her again, causing another sudden movement as Rosie tried to evade the wicked tip. She realised that this was to be her dance, a dance to the whip. She somehow forced herself to stay in range of the whip, whilst trying to twist and turn to evade it. All the time, in front of her Charlotte and Cassandra were working away, sucking one cock after another as the eyes of all six men remained on her.
