The Slave

by Laura Antoniou

  He’s made of stone, Robin thought, taking one more succulent scallop and washing it down with cold water. She hadn’t been offered any wine, and despite wanting some very much, she didn’t even try to ask.

  There was no dessert, but Robin helped Leon serve the coffee, trying to follow his every move. It was an utter failure. What motions he made naturally seemed awkward to her body. She couldn’t even keep her arms steady when carrying the tray, although she didn’t make a clatter when she set it down. Even standing still seemed difficult; while Leon became a golden statue, her chest rose and fell with exaggerated power, her fingers clenched and relaxed, and she became itchy in places she wasn’t generally aware of.

  When Leon was finally dismissed, amid laughter and fond teasing, Robin was left with the clean-up, which she dispatched in an almost mindless fashion. It was getting hard to think now. There were more questions than ever, and fewer options that she really wanted to consider.

  Was Chris serious when he offered her to Rachel? And who exactly was Rachel anyway? Did they work together? Who were the bosses? Ken Mandarin had said something about Chris working for someone else―Grendel Elliot? Was that the name? So who was Alex?

  And all the things that Leon spoke about! It wasn’t just how to set the damn table and which wine to serve with which course, but dammit, it was how to smile, how to turn your body, how to be unobtrusive, yet utterly available. It was a million rules about asking questions, or answering them, carrying drinks or food and setting them down. It was information about where you knelt if that was what was required of you, and how to take food from someone’s hand.

  “The stories I could tell you!” Leon had said once, gulping water down to wash away his mouthful of food. “Why, between gettin’ the house cleaned, gettin’ the owner fed, and keepin’ body ’n’soul together, why you’d think we never had time to have any fun!”

  Fun. Was that what this was all about, Robin half wondered, even as she washed and rinsed. Was this fun? There’s nothing fun about doing domestic chores, or working your tail off for what comes down to room and board and a cash salary that comes two years down the road.

  But at the same time, there she was, buck naked at a kitchen sink, and dammit, she was still on the edge of arousal. Walking into the dining room and holding something for Leon really was as thrilling as a stroke from a caring lover. Thinking about the possibilities inherent in Chris’s invitation to Rachel were both amazingly, powerfully erotic and stomach-clenchingly terrifying. She had once offered such a license to one who touched her submission deeply, but somehow it was different then. She had known her dominant lover, and known his friends. After her first full day with Chris, she didn’t know him any better than she did last night.

  And what was worse, there were no safety nets here, no friends waiting for her to call and make sure she was all right. There were no safe words, no negotiation beyond what was to go into her contract―if she got that far.

  Her ass cheeks still glowed hot with pain, and each move reawakened it. How could she be any good to play with? Would they continue, despite these bruises? Would there be no time for her to surrender and receive mercy?

  It was far better to allow all these questions and worries to collide with each other until they obscured thought altogether.

  When she finished, she closed the cabinets and stacked the trays to return to Leon tomorrow, and felt rather then heard the presence of Chris in the room. She turned to him.

  “All done, sir,” she said lightly, her voice failing slightly when she looked at him. He was serious, a thoughtful dispassion that made frivolity unspeakable. He raised something in his hands, and she saw that it was a plain silver chain.

  “Are you still determined to do this?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Robin heard herself respond.

  “Then receive your training collar.” He stepped toward her and looped it around her throat and placed a small lock on it. The weight was almost negligible, but it was heavy enough to make its presence known. The lock lay about an inch below the hollow of her neck.

  “Now, you have truly entrusted your body and your mind to my direction,” Chris said. “I see no reason why my original expectation of your training should not be fulfilled. This is a symbol for you, so that you remember why you’re doing this. But it’s also a warning. If I take my key out to remove this lock upon your request, I will not ever return it. Do you understand?”

  Robin understood completely. She nodded.

  “Good. Then go to the playroom. Rachel is waiting for you.” He stepped aside so that she could pass him, and it was only that move which impelled her forward.

  * * * *

  The cabinets were unlocked. The sliding doors were drawn back, and the drapes closed, and the room lit by soft, indirect lighting. Rachel was sitting on the bed, her skirt tight against her hips. There was something in her hands that glittered silver, and new things scattered around the room, almost in disarray.

  “Come here, kitten, and let’s get to know you better.”

  Robin moved in cautiously. She was suddenly aware of how her body must appear to this strange woman. She hadn’t showered since the morning. Since then, she’d been beaten twice, brought to sweat and tears. She had on no make-up, no scents, and spending the entire meal in the kitchen with the steam and Leon’s harried directions hadn’t helped her hair one bit. Her hands were soft from washing dishes. And she had been close to coming too many times to speak of.

  And Rachel noticed. She beckoned Robin to her, and ran her hands over the smaller woman’s body, lifting her arms, tapping her legs apart, posing her. “Don’t you know how to show yourself?” she spat angrily, after Robin fumbled her posture.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Robin answered, blushing again. “I’m sorry ma’am, I didn’t realize that was what you wanted!”

  “Then do it.”

  Robin took a deep breath and stepped slightly back to give herself the room. Showing oneself took precision, and a lack of things to bump into.

  She stood straight, spreading her legs in a wide stance, and lacing her fingers behind her neck. This posture thrust her breasts out prettily, left her entire body open and inviting. At a nod from Rachel, Robin executed a neat turn, to display her back, and then bent over, placing her hands just above her knees.

  “Mmmm. I like you like that. But finish it up.”

  Robin swallowed, half rose, turned back and knelt, her knees and thighs spread wide. She placed her hands behind her back and bowed her head, her hair spilling forward around her ears.

  “Not bad, little kitten, not bad. Tell me, have you ever served a lady before?” Rachel took the silver thing in her hand and attached it to Robin’s new collar. It was a leash, a very short one. She let it trail down between Robin’s breasts, and Robin shivered at the touch of the cool metal.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Oh good. I would hate to think that all your experience was jerking off to cheap porn and strange men.” Rachel laughed and pulled something else off the bed next to her. “I think it’s time you prepared yourself to be well used, dolly. And I want to watch you do it. Let’s go.”

  Robin felt the tug of the leash and rose with it, keeping the pressure light but steady. It was a good move, a perfect response to being leashed, but Rachel seemed unimpressed. They went into the small bathroom, and Rachel unhooked the leash and leaned against the doorjamb and pointed.

  Robin showered, keeping her body turned toward Rachel as much as possible. She soaped herself up, blushing and wincing whenever she felt the soreness of her ass and upper thighs, and whenever Rachel snickered. And when Rachel handed her the object that she had brought from the bed, Robin bit her lip. There was a silver extension that attached to the water valve in the shower; Robin had originally thought it was one of those hand-held massage units. But it wasn’t. The thing in her hand was a nozzle, long and shaped somewhat like a narrow cigar case, with holes stamped into the end. It screwed into the end of the silver co
il.

  “Do you know how to adjust it?” Rachel purred, moving forward for a better look. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself. I’m saving all the hurt for me.”

  Robin almost dropped it in her nervousness. “I’ve never... I mean, I only... never with something like this, ma’am,” she managed to choke out.

  “Then I’ll have to show you.” Rachel attached the two parts with speedy efficiency, and showed Robin the safety valve which prevented the water pressure from building past a certain point. Robin’s heart pounded in her ears; it seemed impossible that she was actually going to have to do this in front of someone else. No one had ever asked that of her before. Oh, certainly she had given herself cleansing douches and enemas, but never, never in front of another person.

  “Cunt first,” Rachel said with a cheerful smile, handing the nozzle over. “Shall I pass you some lubricant, or do you think you’re wet enough?”

  Robin did as she was told, no lubricant necessary. The slender tube rose up into her by her own hand, and she shivered at the cool invasion, and then at the slow jets of water inside her body.

  “Turn! Let me see! Spread your legs, wider!” Rachel was leaning into the room, her voice hard despite her smile. And she laughed again as Robin did as she was told, and the water cascaded down her spread thighs. Robin moaned, the pressure and the sensations so nice, the shame so terrible! She wanted to lean that silver penetrator against her clit, rock it back and forth, pull it out and let the water batter away at that little scrap of flesh that was feeling so abandoned and so needy. But she kept it where it should be, and withdrew it when Rachel’s voice commanded, and with a groan that almost ended in a sob, accepted some slippery wetness from Rachel to open up and penetrate her rear passage.

  “Do you like to be fucked up the ass, dollface?” Rachel asked, keenly watching Robin push the nozzle in.

  “Ahhh...” Robin clenched and unclenched her teeth, drew herself together and spoke through shudders. “Yes, ma’am. Yes, I do.”

  “Oh, that’s good. That’s very good. That’s it, dolly, open up and let some of that water out. Yes, pull it back, let it run in and then right out again, yes, that’s it... Now put it back and take some more....”

  Every humiliating second seemed to last forever, down to the final washes that emptied her out and cleaned her up. When she stepped out, she collapsed into a little kneeling, soaking wet bundle at Rachel’s feet, kissing them as though she had just been punished, and the echo of Rachel’s delighted laughter stung her.

  Dried off, she was leashed again, and brought back into the room. Rachel looked at her for a minute, and set herself in motion. Before long, Robin’s wrists were cuffed together behind her back, and a posture collar was up high around her throat, forcing her shoulders back and her chin up.

  “You need some decorations,” Rachel murmured, pulling out something new and silvery. “You’re much too plain by yourself.”

  Little clamps, wide-mouthed with fat, heavy heads, were carefully placed on Robin’s nipples. Robin couldn’t look straight down, but by casting her eyes downward, she could see that they were cleverly made to press but not to pinch. Their pressure was constant, but not unbearable, and the chain that connected them glinted. But Rachel was not finished. She brought out two weights, shaped like tears, and attached them to the clamps. As the weights were added, the clamps tightened.

  “I wasn’t going to let you off that easy, little dolly,” Rachel whispered. “Oh no.”

  She lifted a tangle of more silver so that Robin could see more clamps like the ones on her nipples. And then, Rachel sank gracefully down, and began to attach them in rows of three to each of Robin’s labia.

  Each pinch of flesh made Robin want to jump. Each gathering, each compression, and each addition of weight was like a lightning bolt through her pussy. The pain was exquisite, as only this kind of intimate pain could be. And Rachel’s warm breath against her bare lips was a sweet agony in itself, one that made her whimper, even as she struggled to stand still and keep her legs spread.

  “Much better,” Rachel said, stepping back to admire her work. “I might even let you near me now.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Robin whispered, feeling the stiffness of the cuffs, the weights swinging softly against her thighs, against her breasts, a tiny trail of sweat working its way behind the collar. “Oh yes, please, ma’am!”

  “Eager dolly.”

  “Yes! Yes, ma’am!”

  “You have to learn to be patient.” Rachel stepped back and fingered the button at the collar of her blouse. “I’m surprised Chris hasn’t already beaten that into you.” Carefully, slowly, she unbuttoned the conservative blouse, and let it fall open. Robin panted in some air as Rachel’s firm breasts came into view, each one with a thick, luscious nipple, and each nipple bearing a golden ring.

  “Do you like these?” Rachel asked teasingly. “If you want them, you’ll have to earn them. Show me how much you want me, dolly. Make like you want me to fuck you, like your hips need to push up to me. Yes, that’s right, shake them, girl, make them rock.”

  Robin moaned and closed her eyes. Slowly, she began to rock her hips back and forth, each sway causing the weights to swing, the clamps to pull at her flesh. She whimpered again, but didn’t stop, planting her feet wide, and trying to undulate, working her body to thrust her hips out, present her splayed lips to the woman in front of her, a desperate plea for any kind of touch. They jangled as they struck each other, and that added to her sublime shame.

  “I don’t know,” Rachel said, watching. Her eyes were dancing, but the smile on her face was thin and cruel. “I think you could do with a little more, don’t you?”

  “If you wish, ma’am!”

  Each new teardrop added another degree of pain. One on each nipple, and one on each of the foremost and aft-most clamps on her pussy lips. These hung down lower now, pinching cruelly even when she stood still.

  When Rachel walked over to the cabinets and came back with a short, stinging whip, Robin moaned, and felt tears growing.

  “Now you’re really going to dance for me!”

  Robin tensed and bit back a cry when the first lash fell. It was like being burned in a thin line, quick and shocking, and Rachel delighted in catching her unawares. Robin bet her knees into a half crouch and began to gyrate her hips, moving them upward, and moaning with every tug on the clamps. The weights bounced up and down, hitting her and each other before falling into place and pulling on the wide mouths that pinched her flesh.

  Rachel laughed with delight and walked around her, snapping the little whip in unexpected places, like across the inside of one thigh, or around the upper arm, or across the belly. It never struck hard enough to throw Robin off balance, but it did serve to keep her moving, and to stimulate the arrival of tears.

  I can’t bear it, Robin thought madly, clenching her fingers behind her. Not one more minute, I just can’t! And the pounding in her head and her chest was matched with the trembling of her body and the agony between her legs, still hot, still demanding a touch, as wet as she had been before.

  And then it stopped. “Not bad, dolly. You wouldn’t pass muster at any dance club I go to, but all you need for that is practice. Down.” Robin hit the floor heavily, and gasped. The weights spun and danced between her legs.

  “Thank me.”

  Each kiss on each boot dragged the weights on the nipple clamps across the carpet, took pressure off and then returned it, but Robin was too flustered to care.

  “Now, really thank me.” Rachel unhooked her skirt and let it drop behind her. Stockings adorned her legs up to her thighs, but her own pussy was bare of any covering but a tangle of dark hair.

  Robin froze for a moment, and then carefully wet her lips. Controlling her body so she could keep her balance, she sank lower and arched her back a little. Craning her neck, cursing the stiff collar that prevented her from being as flexible as she should be, she placed a soft, respectful kiss at the top of Rachel’s cunt, r
ight over the clitoral hood.

  “That’s it, keep going.”

  New kisses got placed all along the lips, and as Rachel obligingly spread her legs, Robin sank between them. The rich, heady scent of a woman filled Robin’s world, and she whimpered just a little before her tongue came from between her lips to gently caress the flesh above her. Her heart was pounding too loud to hear the responding purr, but she continued nevertheless, licking at the soft folds of flesh, covering them a kind of worshipful attention.

  She went slowly, that much she knew. Up and down, along the sides and dartingly between them, returning to the hood and licking alongside it, and then gently probing at it. Rachel’s clit was already pushing it aside, and Robin struggled with the urge to go for that little bundle of nerves, that tightly wrapped center of pleasure that she knew would respond so well to the thrumming of her tongue and the soft pressure of her lips. But she held back, opening the labia, taking that soft flesh between her lips and licking, planting wet kisses along the sides, sending her tongue gently into the wetness inside.

  Abruptly, Rachel stepped back. “That’s enough for now,” she said, her voice just a little hoarse. “Up!”

  Robin struggled a little for balance, but rose in one nice movement. As soon as she was back up, Rachel kissed her, hard, pressing their bodies together. The compression of the clamps on her nipples hurt, but the ecstasy of a kiss from someone who was so clearly dominant and forbidding washed away the discomfort. Robin moaned and received the kiss, letting Rachel probe the inside of her mouth with a hot tongue. And when she felt Rachel’s hand between her thighs, her moans got louder, and she thrust her pelvis forward into Rachel’s hand.

  With one hand, Rachel gripped Robin to her. With the other, she released the clips on Robin’s labia, one by one, and dropped them to the floor, each new agony adding to the desperate, muffled cries beneath Rachel’s mouth and lips, each new absence of weight and pain a shuddering of relief and regret.