Marketplace

by Laura Antoniou

  “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 Claudi
a 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.

  Her tears landed on them and glistened. This was not the elegant domination she was used to at all!

  “That will be enough, Claudia. Now, we will proceed to the north wing of the house, Master Grendel’s wing.” He walked away from her while she was still on her knees, and she scrambled to catch up with them.

  The tension was making Robert shake as they proceeded through the archway that led to the north wing. The sound of Chris’s voice describing the rooms that they passed through became a steady drone. None of it registered. He gazed at the paneled walls and looked wherever Chris directed their attention, and tried to remember what his Mistress (the newer one) had told him before she left.

  “These people can make a real slave out of you,” Ali had insisted, petting his head. “If they can’t, no one can. Listen good and do everything they tell you, and you’ll be on your way to a real mistress in no time!”

  And as he padded obediently behind the group taking this tour, he knew that deep in his heart being owned was a dream of immense magnitude. But maybe he just wasn’t cut out for it. He was such a failure at everything! He certainly couldn’t take a beating like Brian did, so manly and strong.

  They had reached the end of the wing, where Chris merely showed them a closed door. “This is Master Grendel’s workshop, where you will not have any need to go. Beyond is the garage. Robert, please remove your trousers, brace yourself on this door and present.” The strap appeared in Chris’s hand once more, and the other three got out of the way.

  Robert unfastened the drawstring of the loose gray pants and lowered them, blushing all the while. He hurried over to the door, hoping no one could really see his nasty thing, and leaned over, placing his broad hands against the oak finish.

  Chris said, aiming the first blow, “For Sharon’s lack of manners,” and then struck. It was a wide, even swing that brought the length of the strap neatly across Robert’s extended cheeks.

  As he felt the sharp pain and the thudding impact, Robert gasped. The second blow brought out a whimper, but his arms stayed where they were put. He twisted his ass slightly, and the third blow landed more on one side than the other. Immediately, Robert began to react the way he had been taught to. He started to cry.

  “Oh, oh dear!” He managed to whine between shots. His voice was high pitched again, strained by his posture. “Oh, p-please! Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Uph!” He bit his tongue as the strap hit him lower down.

  Abruptly, the strapping stopped. “Be silent, Robert.” Chris ran the edge of the strap across the larger man’s back. “Your ass is not the only place on the body I may pay attention to.”

  Robert bit his lip and tried to be quiet through the rest of the beating, but whimpers, whines and squeaks came through his lips with every blow. Oh, he tried, tried so hard, but it was so frightening! And with everyone watching, it was ten times as bad.

  Finally, it was over. And when Robert straightened up for a moment, the state of his nasty thing was yet another embarrassment. He crouched down to kneel at Chris’s feet and tried to hide the awakening of his cock, but he knew that they all saw it. When Chris turned away to lead them to the east wing, Robert deliberately stayed behind a moment more so that no one could look at him pulling the pants back on.

  “This is Mistress Alexandra’s wing,” Chris said, when they had passed through the main house again. “It was added on in 1977, but the architecture and construction are consistent with the Dutch Colonial design of the main house. Her studio is, as Master Grendel‘s workshop, off limits to you. Here,” he opened a set of wide double doors, “is the solarium and exercise room. Some of you may be assigned to tasks here. It is also one of the three places where you may spend your free time, if you have any.”

  They looked around, curious and impressed. The long, narrow room seemed to have an entire wall made of broad windows. Light poured in and bathed an assortment of gleaming equipment. A bar was on one end of the room, and a curving staircase going down was on the other. Chris pointed.

  “The stairs lead to the pools. We have a small swimming pool and a jacuzzi, both of which are off limits to you.” Sighs and one barely audible “aww” answered that announcement. Chris smiled briefly and then showed them the various equipment. When they followed him out of the room, they all glanced at each other. Surely, Sharon should have been punished there?

  But the tour continued, through the media room (off limits), and then to Alexandra’s study, and then a brief nod toward her own master suite. The third floors of both wings held guest bedrooms and store rooms. The third floor of the main house had servants’ bedrooms, the dorm they slept in, and the shower room. They hadn’t seen anything that looked or sounded like a dungeon, or playroom.

  And when the tour ended, Chris glanced at his clipboard and said, “Brian, to Master Grendel’s study. Claudia, to Mistress Alexandra, in her studio. Robert, to the kitchen, to be directed in duties by the cook, and Sharon...” He looked up at her for a moment. The slaves felt a moment of tension start to build.

  “Sharon, to the main library. There, you will find a binder containing the standard rules of decorum for propert
y. You will begin to study it.” Chris snapped his fingers. “Go!”

  They obediently ran off in different directions.

  Chapter Four

  “But can’t you do anything else?” Alexandra asked. She glanced briefly down at the folder on the table and shook her head. Obviously, no matter how many times she asked that question, the answer was always going to be that pathetically perplexed face and a shivering shake of that pretty little head. The interview was already an hour and a half long. Claudia was simply a slave with very, very limited uses.

  But she was a cute thing. Standing in the slanting morning sunlight, her body free of that shapeless gray dress, she looked like a little doll, pink, smooth, and sweet enough to want to sweep up and take home. But then what?

  “You know all the rituals of various teas. You can squirm delightfully when you are teased and you can take a formal caning with some panache. You can do light housework, such as dusting, but your Mistress never insisted that you do the real work.” Alexandra reviewed the salient points again, expressing her amusement with every line. “After all, washing dishes might ruin your nails. Vacuuming was just too strenuous and inelegant for a delicate little thing like you.”

  Claudia squirmed, just a little bit, and lowered her head, blushing.

  She does that very well, Alexandra thought. The mistress of the house took a step closer to the girl. “In other words, Claudia, you have been spoiled rotten, haven’t you? You did practically no labor, performed no meaningful task other than to carry a tray every once in a while and manage to do it with some grace. Your other skills, if we can call them that, are blushing, simpering, being obsequious to the point of saccharinicity, and looking cute in an erotically designed maid’s costume. Is that an accurate evaluation?”

  Claudia lifted her head a little. “If... if Ma’am says so,” she said softly.

  “Well, you can be voice trained,” Alexandra mused. Voice training was valuable in a property. It meant that the slave would never answer a question or voice a comment which would indicate a personal desire. Some owners liked that, it could add to the value of an otherwise uninteresting or limited offering. Alexandra realized that she was already assuming that they would have to sell Claudia. That wasn’t fair, not to Claudia, not to Madeleine, and certainly not to the house.