A Gentlemen's Agreement (11 page)

It wasn’t.

But, as she passed through the
door, he yelled, “And send in whoever is available out there.
Two of them.
I don’t care which two, just make it fast.”

She hooked her thumb at Apple and
Cherry. “You heard your owner. Get in there and give him some relief.”

She envied the two slaves as they
scurried to obey.

And she envied them a whole lot
more when they were shrieking in delight a few minutes later.

Lime was staring at her in
silence.

“What?” Irene asked.

“What on earth do you do to him in
there?”

“I begged him to rut the hell out
of me.”

“He still won’t let you service
him?”

“Not even when I fall on my knees.”

“What a waste. I bet you’re a terrific
sex partner.”

Irene smiled. “Thank you. Nickel
thinks so and I service her by rote.”

“Not that you’re not a great
entertainment director. I’m not saying that. All I’m saying is that you could
direct all the entertainments and you could still get fucked every day. And at
the entertainments.”

“I sure could.” She didn’t want to
think about that any more – it was making her crotch too juicy; she was
almost squishing when she moved her thighs – so she decided to change the
subject. “How did you become a slave?”

“The most common way. Bankruptcy.
My husband was a gambler. We had a good income but he lost more than he won.
All gamblers do. He thought that he could win his money back if he kept placing
bigger bets until he got lucky. No gambler ever gets lucky enough. We were
married so his debts were my debts. When I was twenty-four, I fetched eighteen
thousand on the pleasure block. I heard that Daniel was worth only eleven
hundred on the labor block. Between the two of us, we still didn’t raise enough
to pay off his debts. His bookie was stupid. He could have foreclosed on us
much sooner and made a profit. I think that Daniel convinced him that he earned
a high salary and the bookie thought that he could get paid in full without
foreclosing on us.”

“How long ago was that?”

“I think I’m about thirty now, so
that was six years ago.”

Irene was surprised. That made Lime
the oldest slave in the kennel save for Nickel. “You don’t look thirty. I’m
twenty-eight and I thought that you were younger than me.”

“I try to look and act young. It
helps that I’m small and that I pretend to be naïve. The longer a pleasure
slave can stay young, the longer she can stay out of the labor auctions.”

“When I’ve asked the others how they
were enslaved, they were all either pressed or adjudicated. None of you were
born into it.”

“Peach was. You should talk to her
if you want to know about that. It’s not common, you know, to be born into
slavery.”

“I didn’t realize that it was
uncommon.”

“Sure. Think about it. If an owner
breeds his slaves then he’s responsible for feeding and housing the children
until they are old enough to sell. That costs a lot of money. Half the children
are going to be boys and that means that they’ll almost certainly end up in
labor auctions. There’s no demand for male pleasure slaves. Of the girls, most
of them won’t be pretty enough. Plain-looking females join the males in the
labor auctions. So maybe one out of five children at most will be sold for a
good price. Only fools think that they’re going to get rich raising slaves.
They hear stories about some pleasure slave fetching a hundred thousand and
they think that they’ll get a whole crop of children who will grow up to be
those special cases.”

“So why does anyone breed slaves
at all?”

Lime leaned close. “That’s an open
secret. Some owners have only good-looking girls to sell. People are pretty
sure that they kill the boys at birth and the homely girls by the age of two so
that they won’t have to waste money raising labor slaves. I don’t know if that’s
true but it seems likely.” She stroked two small scars on her lower belly.
“I’ll never have to find out, myself. My second owner had me spayed.”

Irene was horrified. “Sterilized?”

“Those pesky tubes are history.
They were gone by the time I was twenty-five. They left the ovaries, though, to
make sure that I still get a full complement of hormones. Slaves with no
ovaries aren’t as good at servicing men so their value decreases dramatically.”

“Did you have children before you
were pressed into slavery?”

“A boy and a girl. They’re my
sister’s children now. It was a relief that she was willing to adopt them.
Being pressed into slavery would have been a lot worse if it had put my
children in an orphanage. The youngest was one and a half. I guess she’s in
second or third grade today. She wouldn’t recognize me. The boy probably
wouldn’t, either. He was four when I was sold. I don’t think four-year-olds
remember people very well. Do you?”

“I think he’d remember his mother.
I’m sure that he treasures those memories of you.”

Lime wiped a tear from the corner
of her eye. “It doesn’t matter, does it? He’s never going to see me again.
Children never see slaves, except on the street when we’re running an errand.
And then their mothers tell them not to look. My sister might have told my
children not to look at me some time when I was out on an errand.”

“I’m sorry I brought this up,”
Irene said.

“No. It’s good. I like to remember
that I did something good before I was sold. My children are good, you know.
I’m certain of that. They’re going to grow up to be fine people. They won’t
make the kind of mistake that I did, getting involved with a gambler.”

“I’m sure they won’t.”

“Anyway, I better go clean up. You
never know when the owner is going to decide that he wants service.” She left
in the direction of the bathroom.

Irene stayed and listened to the
muffled sounds of Apple and Cherry’s exuberant romp with Lord Snow in the
pleasure room.

Their joy made her want to weep in
despair. But she didn’t. Slaves learned to be tough.

* * *

On Wednesday morning, the
kennelman
brought Nickel to the table to eat with the other slaves.

She was naked – her corset
and strap were nowhere to be seen – and her hair was wet.

The
kennelman
had made her shower and wash her hair before coming to the kitchen. He didn’t
want her rank smell to ruin the other slaves’ appetites. She hadn’t been able
to wash for three days but that was not the worst of it. The
kennelman’s
instructions had been to provide a bucket for
her to relieve herself but made no mention of toilet paper.

Using the bucket in total darkness
had been a messy business.

Lord Snow told the
kennelman
not to clean Nickel’s cell. He was to leave a
brush and soap for her to clean up her own mess. She already had a bucket. Her
first task would be to clean that out.

Lord Snow was considerate of his
kennelmen
.

Nickel’s eyes were red with hate
when she glared at Irene but she dared not speak her mind for fear that the
kennelman
would snatch her precious bowl of porridge out of
her grasp.

A
kennelman
had the duty and the authority to keep the slaves in order when he was tending
to them and he had discretion about how to do it.

Nickel never took her eyes from
Irene, never once looked down at her bowl, as she shoveled spoonful after
spoonful of oatmeal into her maw.

Only when the bowl was completely
empty, did she look down to make certain that she cleaned up even the tiniest
smidges of food.

The
kennelman
did not offer her a second bowl. The slaves never got seconds and they would
never dream of asking for more.

One bowl of porridge would have to
satisfy Nickel until dinner.

But it was clear from Nickel’s
glare that the only food that would satisfy her was Irene’s heart,
fried
and sliced on a plate. She would delight in eating
every bite of that gourmet treat.

“Nickel, you’ve been assigned a
chore,” the
kennelman
said. His voice was mild. A
kennelman
never had to raise his voice to a slave. Slaves
knew that they would live an exceptionally uncomfortable life if they failed to
mind their
kennelman
.

She left to clean her cell.

After the
kennelman
left, Peach said, “It seems, Lady Irene, that you have caused our
whiphand
some distress. I reckon that we’ll see how your
strong cunt holds up after it’s been well tenderized by her strap.”

Irene addressed all of the slaves.
“I hope that you’re all practicing with your weights every day. You’re going to
need your strength for one of my upcoming entertainments.”

Peach snickered. “It’s you that needs
those weights. The rest of us have a better way to
excercise
our cunts.”

Irene shrugged. “Suit yourself.
But don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”

After she finished cleaning her
cell, Nickel stayed inside until the other slaves had gone to the manor to
undertake their token chores of the day.

When Irene was alone, Nickel
emerged. She was wearing her corset and strap again.

“You locked my door,” Nickel said.

Irene didn’t bother to deny it.
“You were ordered to attend the entertainment.”

“I didn’t eat for three days.”

Irene nodded.

“And you didn’t eat me out for
three days. Come to my cell,” she said. She was clearly exerting effort to keep
her voice neutral.

Nickel was still Lord Snow’s
whiphand
and now she was itching for a reason to tenderize
Irene’s cunt. Her hand was twitching toward her strap as she waited for Irene
to refuse.

Irene did not.

In her cell, Nickel said, “I think
it would be good if we started fresh. No hard feelings.
Water
under the bridge.
All that.”

Irene didn’t believe a word that
Nickel was saying. That woman knew how to hold a grudge like no other.

“So I’m going to give you a chance
to show your good faith.” She
lay
on her cot and
spread her thighs wide.

Irene could have refused, could
have gone running to find Lord Snow, but she didn’t. This was her problem to
solve. A display of pride would only make it worse.

She sank to her knees, buried her
face in Nickel’s crotch, and began licking her musky cunt.

While Nickel’s moans increased in
volume and deepened in timbre, Irene thought about what was going to happen at
the next entertainment.

An entertainment that Nickel would
not be able to escape or avoid.

An entertainment
in which Nickel would have the starring role.

It made her task easier.

Nickel’s climax was explosive. The
more Nickel hated Irene, the more she was stimulated when she forced Irene to
degrade herself by pleasuring her enemy.

Irene’s face was lathered with a
froth of cunt juice when she left the cell.

Lime found her in the bathroom,
taking her second shower of the day, trying to make
herself
feel clean again.

“Irene, I have instructions from
Lord Snow. There’s a car coming to take you somewhere. I don’t know where. Lord
Snow didn’t say. You’re to wear a housedress and shoes. I left them on your
cot.
The car’s going to be here in a half hour.
You’ve
got to be ready.”

“I will,” Irene said as she turned
off the water.

She wondered if she had been sold.
It didn’t sound like it. When a slave was transferred to a new owner, she was
always naked, had her hands cuffed behind her back, and was leashed about the
neck.

Of course, that was just tradition,
not law. Lords could break tradition if they felt like it.

But surely Lord Snow wouldn’t have
sold her when he needed her to plan his next entertainment. That was still more
than two weeks away, but she couldn’t imagine Lord Snow wanting to change
entertainment directors, even two weeks before an event.

Unless he had
already cancelled the event.

Maybe he had been offered an
earldom. That would be sufficient incentive for him to give up his favorite
slave.
Especially one who never serviced him.

Maybe the last time she begged to
be fucked had been the straw that had broken the camel’s back. Maybe he didn’t
want to have to fight temptation any longer and was happy to get rid of her.

Maybe he had sold her to a brothel
down by the docks and couldn’t be bothered with the usual ceremonial transfer
of property.

By the time she was climbing into
the backseat of the nondescript sedan, she had terrified herself with thoughts
of spending the rest of her life on her knees in some dirty brothel, sucking
one sailor’s cock after another’s, all day, every day for the rest of her life.

The driver was taking the road
that led toward the ocean.

That did nothing to assuage
Irene’s fears.

But instead of driving toward the
docks, he drove north to reach a barren, windswept granite peninsula. Irene had
been here before when she was a lady. It was one of the most dramatic features
of the western coastline. People came to watch storms roll in across the ocean.
It was called God’s Finger, but this time, Irene thought of it as God’s Cock.
She had to get laid soon. She was so horny that everything she saw made her
think of sex. Having to design orgies for everyone else, being surrounded by
naked beauties
who
were getting fucked left and right,
even seeing Nickel have an orgasm every damned day, was a constant torture.

Lord Snow was a cruel, cruel man.

The driver parked right next to
another sedan that was waiting at the back of the lot, away from the other cars.

He exited the car and walked
toward the point.

He’d given no instructions, so
Irene sat alone in the back seat.

A minute later, a lady in a long
dress with her hair piled high on her head slipped out of the adjacent car and
joined her.

“Hello, Irene.”

“Hello, Linda. It’s good to see
you again.”

Her old friend looked curiously at
the gold collar that encircled her neck. “Still collared, I see.”

Irene fingered the gold
self-consciously. “Not by choice. Lord Snow owns me now and he wants me to keep
wearing it. I’m a slave so I’d rather be known by a proper slave name. I’m
thinking that maybe Grapefruit would be a good name.”

“Better than
Ugli
Fruit.”

“I’d rather be called
Ugli
than Irene.”

“
Ugli
would be a blunt irony. You were the most beautiful of the ladies in our
circle. As a slave, you’re breathtaking.” Her voice sank to a low, bitter
octave. “I expect that you’re damned popular with our husbands.”

“I’m afraid not. Lord Snow is
keeping me celibate. I haven’t been laid in months. I became a slave for all the
sex. This enforced abstention is hell.”

Linda smiled. “Good for him.”

“It’s not natural. Women
were designed to be fucked
, well and often.”

Linda blushed at the raw language.
Or maybe because the idea was so appealing to her.
“Apart
from that, you seem to be doing all right.”

“I am. A pleasure slave’s future
is bleak but the present is fine. Apart from suffering from near-fatal
horniness.” Irene was enjoying baiting her old friend with outrageous talk
– statements that would never be spoken in polite circles. She nodded at
the driver who was standing on the edge of a precipice, looking at the lowering
sky. “You think that he’d like to fuck a willing slave? He can bugger me if he
wants. Right now, I’ll take anything I can get.”

“I… I…” Linda was stuttering.

Irene laughed in delight. “I’m
just pulling your chain.” Then she stopped laughing. “But I mean it. If he
wants to fuck me, I’d love it. Really.
I’m so far beyond
picky
,
you wouldn’t believe it
. If Lord Snow
would let me run errands, I’d be bending over for random men on the street.”

Linda laughed with her. “I believe
it. You’re terrible. Terrible.”

“You know slaves. They’ll do
anything. Literally anything.”

Linda paused for a long moment. “I
heard a rumor. I heard that you organize after-dinner entertainments for Lord
Snow.”

“That’s not just rumor. He made me
his director of entertainment. I have to come up with some novel experience for
his guests every week or two. If the men aren’t happy enough with what I give
them, then I’ll get locked in my cell for three days without any food. People
always think that a beating is the worst punishment, but a slave would take a
strapping over a fast any time. Maybe not a caning, but a fast is definitely
worse than a strapping.”

“Lord Snow would do that to you? Not
let you eat anything for three days?”

“Sure. It’s no problem for him. He
just says a word to his
kennelmen
and it’s done. I
don’t get a single bite of food until breakfast on the fourth day.”

“Men think of the most horrible
things to do to women.” Linda’s mouth curved in disgust but her eyes were
sparkling.

“The truth is that Lord Snow
didn’t think of it. I did. He doesn’t think that I need to be punished but I
told him that he has to starve me if I fail to please his guests. Not just
please them but give them a better entertainment than they expected. If my
entertainment is only average, my belly stays empty for days.”