Marketplace (14 page)

So, I’d find some way to
get time to go out, and I’d do all this stuff. I bought new, sexy
clothes and some cheap silver chain jewelry, and I would just go in
and take over the place! Every time I went out, I’d meet tons of
guys who would do anything for me. I’d make them fight with each
other just by, you know, not making up my mind. And then I’d get up
and do the sale thing, and do some hot scene with the guy who had
the most play money.

But then it would go back
to the same old problem, you know? I’d get off the stage, and
they’d just be regular guys who want a little kinky touchy-feely
session and then go home and fuck. And a lot of them wanted to go
to my home to fuck, too, because it turns out that they’re married
or some shit.

This kinda became a problem
with Jerry. I was still living with him, but I wasn’t telling him
where I was going all these nights. I mean, I’d tell him I was
going out with girlfriends, or shopping, or to the movies or
something. Like, he wasn’t stupid, you know? So he caught on, but
he thought I was cheating on him with someone regular. It was
really cool for a while, because he would sometimes get into
playing master when he was really pissed, or he’d threaten to chain
me to the bed for the whole weekend and stuff like that. But he
finally just lost it, and I had to tell him what was up.

So we went to the clubs
together after that. See, he always knew about them, but he was
afraid of his, you know, reputation. Like, what if his students
showed up there, or another teacher, right? So I told him, hey, who
gives a shit? I mean, they’re there too. And you’ve got this total
slave babe on your arm while they’re probably crawling around
licking some old woman’s boots, OK? And he saw I was right, so we
started going out together.

And that was really cool
for a while, especially when he led me around on a collar and
leash, and made me call him master all night. He even sold me once,
brought me up on stage and all that. But that was like the biggest
mistake he ever made, because that’s how I met Frank.

Frank bought me that night,
and it was like my biggest fantasy coming alive. I mean, he looked
the part even better than Jerry did, and he acted it one hundred
percent. And Jerry was cute, you know, I liked him, but Frank was a
total fox. And he was rougher than Jerry, you know, not so,
cultured. But he was really educated, like he was this building
designer or something, and he had this amazing loft in Manhattan,
with a dungeon and a slave’s room and a jacuzzi.

So anyway, that night, he
bought me and he totally dominated me, right there in the club. It
was really hot, with Jerry watching and everything. But when we got
home, I really expected Jerry to be angry and jealous and get up in
my face about it? And he didn’t. He just acted like everything was
cool, same as usual, goodnight sweetheart, see you in the
morning!

So, I went to the, um,
Equi-whatever Coalition, and I asked around, and they told me that
this guy, Frank, was probably gonna be teaching this special
seminar on masters and slaves in about a week. So I went there, and
I saw him again, and like a week later, I was living with
him.

He was the best. I mean, I
thought he was a real, one hundred percent master when I moved in
with him. He had his own little play room, and there was
leather everywhere
.
He even had a table with a wheel
on it, like a rack?

And he had tons of
equipment, I mean an entire wall of whips and paddles and bondage
cuffs and things.

And he was ready for me. He
had me dress the way he liked, I ate on the fucking floor a lot,
and every day when he got back from work, I had to be kneeling
naked in the hallway, waiting for his cock.

That cock became my entire
life. I had to be ready for him to fuck me, or I had to be ready to
blow him, all the time. And he’d spring it on me when I wasn’t
expecting it, like during dinner, or while he was watching TV, or
once, when he was talking on the phone to his fucking mother. I
mean there he was, saying things like, “sure, Mom,” and “hey, Mom,
that’s great, and how’s cousin Susie?” and there I was slurping
away on his dick! And he liked to do things that Jerry didn’t get
into, like put a vibrator in me and take me out to dinner, or spend
a whole day just tying me up in different places. And he liked to
whip me too, and that was something else Jerry really didn’t
do.

But the best part was that
he loved to show me off. We went to the clubs every weekend, and we
were the hottest sensation! He’d walk in with me on a leash,
dressed in something really, um, skimpy, with gold chains around my
ankles and my belly? And he’d be in all black, with like whips and
riding crops on his belt. Sometimes, he’d handcuff me, or put these
really pretty nipple-clamps on me. They had little pearls hanging
from them, they looked so hot. And he’d do a scene with me in the
middle of the biggest room, and everyone would watch. Guys would
just drool over me. At this one place, they’d just whip out their
cocks and start pumping.

And once in a while, Frank
would have a play party at the loft, and people would come over.
Those were the best. He would tie me up really fancy, and make me a
centerpiece, or he’d make me wear this really stupid costume, or
maybe crawl around all night like a dog. And he’d let everyone
touch me if they wanted to, and sometimes even whip me or spank me.
He’d say things like, “My property is available for loan tonight,”
and people would be so fucking impressed. And I was real good at
being a slave now, so all the guys would get really
jealous.

It was at one of his
parties where I first played with a woman. He and this other master
who had a slave thought it would be real hot to watch some
girl-girl action, and they put us together. She was shy, but I
really got into it. I just did stuff that I liked, and she went
crazy. Afterwards, the guys pulled us apart and fucked us silly,
like for hours. Soon, all these mistresses were asking to play with
me too.

And for a while, it was
like living a dream. But it was a dream, you know? You begin to
wake up and realize that things really aren’t that great. For me,
it started when Frank began to talk about getting another slave or
two. Like, he always wanted what he called a ‘stable.’ And I’m not
exactly the most, you know, monogamous, girl in the world, and it
didn’t bother me if he wanted to play with other women, but living
with them was kind of out of the question. And when I raised the
issue, he kinda just dropped it, and just like Jerry did, he
started to only do this stuff part time.

I call these guys weekend
masters. Like they’re two separate people, and one is totally
normal and dull and vanilla, and the other is a walking
fantasy.

But you have to
understand, I was always a
real
sex slave to them. I mean, a pleasure slave. I
didn’t do the dishes and stuff all the time. The way I figured it,
my job was to keep them happy below the belt, you know? And they
thought I was the best. My two masters always told me I was the
best slave they ever had, and all their friends could just burst
from being jealous. The problem was that they were never really
enough master for me.

So anyway, Frank and I went
to this private party one weekend, at this woman’s house down by
the shore. And the minute I walked through the door, I knew that
there were, like, two kinds of people there. There were people like
Frank and me, and there were these really different people. I can’t
explain how they were different, except that they seemed to be more
intense. And at that party, I met this guy named Joe Manelli. I was
coming out of a bathroom, and I heard him talking on the phone,
telling someone about this hot deal. So, I thought it had something
to do with the stock market or something, but then I realized that
he was talking about people. And that was the first time I heard
about the Marketplace.

I cornered him later, you
know? When Frank wasn’t looking. And I asked him, you know, what
was he talking about? And he just totally went into denial, like I
hadn’t heard him right, he didn’t say anything, and besides, it was
none of my business. And from then on, anyone I thought was in on
it, they treated me like I was some kind of idiot, and they all
laughed. Even Frank, when he heard about what I was asking about,
even he laughed at me. He bought me more books and told me to be
happy with what I had.

So the next time we went to
that woman’s house, I kind of found this file cabinet in this
office and there was a folder in it marked Marketplace, and I just
kind of borrowed it for a while. I took it to the bathroom, and I
wrote down some names and addresses. And I put it back, real nice.
I mean, if no one was going to tell me anything, if they were going
to all pretend it didn’t exist, how the fuck was I supposed to get
in, you know?

So, in the folder was
Manelli’s name again, and some stuff about contracts. I called him
first. When he wouldn’t talk to me, I went to see him, because I
had his address now. And he tried to brush me off, but I just
stripped down and knelt on his carpet and looked up at him and
called him master, and boom, he was all mine.

And he told me about the
whole deal, how this thing is international, and old, and really
secret, and how contracts work, and who makes money, and how slaves
live, and everything. He even gave me some lessons on how to act,
although he wasn’t right at all. I mean, now I realize that he
probably was some kind of Marketplace nerd, you know? Good for the
shit work, but not part of the, you know, inner circle or
whatever.

But basically, I let him
fuck me and he wrote me a contract, the way I wanted it, and then I
wrote to this place. My contract is totally great, like it says
that I’m a pleasure slave and I shouldn’t be doing, like, the
windows? He showed me how to make up a file like the slaves had to
have, and he even got a photographer to take my pictures for me.
About three months after I wrote, I got a postcard back, with the
date and time I was supposed to get here. It said I should pack
certain stuff, and that was it.

So I packed up my favorite
books and toys and stuff and told Frank I was lending them to a
friend, and that she thought he was really hot. He didn’t even ask
who! I put them in long-term storage, and paid for two years worth.
And I really concentrated on being the best slave for Frank, so
that when I was gone he’d have lots of good memories.

I called Frank from the
railroad station and told him I was visiting my family out of
state, and I’d be back in a month or two. I figure one way or
another, it’ll be easier for him if he thinks I’m coming
back.

But I’m not. I can’t. I
need the real thing. And what’s more, when I get what my contract
says, it’s going to be the real thing forever. Because I’m not an
idiot, I know how guys work. And if they sell me like it says in my
contract, I’ll have myself a master who wants no one else but me
for the rest of his life!

Chapter Six

This was the pattern for
the rest of the week: each day, they met privately with either
Alexandra or Grendel, and either answered questions or underwent
some form of testing. One morning, they might be assigned to some
mundane household chore, the next might find them doing a series of
poses intended to be erotic or defining. Questions seemed random,
partly about their experiences and hopes, and then suddenly about
current events and philosophy. They were grilled, constantly, on
the most basic kind of submissive behavior, and the blue binder in
the library was frequently consulted and sections memorized by them
all. It took some special inspiration to get Sharon to crack it
seriously.

Claudia found herself
drowning in that ancient silver, a task that was assigned only to
her. And each night, she received more than her fair share of
punishment for not finishing the job. Chris taunted her constantly,
openly questioning her ability to do anything right. In time, her
tears slowed, but they never seemed to really stop. She began to
hunger for a kind touch or word, and would shiver at a gentle tone
in anyone’s voice.

Robert missed the comfort
of his role and his costumes, and seemed to be in tears as often as
Claudia. Whenever he was given a task, he always seemed to do it
best when no one was looking. But whenever Cook turned to see what
he was up to, or Alexandra wanted to watch just how he was going to
sweep the porch, or (worse yet!) when Chris came by and just stared
at him with those cold eyes, he just fell to pieces. Suddenly, the
knife would slip and weird chunks of vegetables would drop onto the
pile of neat slices he had already cut. Or clouds of dust would
rise where only clean floors shone a moment earlier. A bag would
shift in his arms, seemingly of its own accord, and curios would
clatter as he set them back on a shelf. He was positive that he had
his own personal gremlin. It was the only way to explain how all
these things only happened when someone was there to
watch.

And they were tightly
controlled—like prisoners, Sharon commented one night. But not like
slaves. And on this point, they all agreed. Their clothing, their
sleeping arrangements, the manner in which they were spoken to and
even the punishments they received, seemed devoid of the stuff
their fantasies had conjured. And even as they were stripped of
what little clothing they were issued from time to time, no special
distinction was ever made between the clothed and
unclothed.