Marketplace (33 page)

Because arrayed before him
in three chairs, were his three companions, their faces touched
with light blushes and barely disguised mirth.

Brian was sitting in his
chair dressed in a white lace apron, with a lace cap on his head
and little strings of pearls dangling between his nipple rings.
Heavy ropes of more pearls hung around his neck, and
Victorian-style earrings danced and dangled from his ears. Helping
out and exaggerating the natural color on his cheeks were bright
circles of paint that could only have accompanied a clown
costume.

Claudia was wearing a pair
of loud, plaid boxer shorts much too big for her, and men’s socks
with old fashioned garters. A pair of suspenders held the shorts
up, and a smiley face button was attached the right suspender, a
McGovern campaign button on the left. Her hair was in
pig-tails.

And Sharon—well, Sharon was
dressed in something that looked like it came out of the latest
rock video or an old science fiction pulp magazine cover. Her
breasts were covered with demonically pointed golden cones attached
with strands of chain, and she had a skin-tight pair of lycra
leggings in a tasteful gold lamé which covered her from ankle to
hips. Her feet were encased in fluffy, pink bunny slippers, and a
pair of gold antennae bounced above her ears.

Robert stared in shock. He
could see that Brian was struggling not to laugh, and the young man
was losing the battle. Finally, he folded his arms over his chest,
hiding the pearls, and looked down at the floor. Claudia was in a
kind of shock herself. She seemed not to know what to make of the
entire affair, except that it was silly and maybe a little bit
embarrassing and she tried not to look at Robert for fear of
distracting him, knowing full well that he couldn’t help but be
distracted.

And Sharon? Well, she
simply blazed with her uncomprehending anger. The look on her face
was hostile, and Robert couldn’t tell if she was angry at him, or
Chris, or Alexandra, or what! But somehow, the tit-cones and the
bunny slippers made her seem terribly ridiculous, and Robert had to
struggle to control the twitching at the side of his mouth. He
glanced over to Alexandra, and felt a droplet of sweat run down the
back of his neck. Alexandra, seemingly unaffected by the oddly
dressed slaves, waved her hand for him to start. Grendel was hiding
his mouth behind one hand. Chris was standing to one side next to
the two of them, his hands behind his back and an entirely
disinterested look on his face.

Robert swallowed and
cleared his throat and tried to focus his eyes on the air above
everyone’s head. He must not stammer. He must not speak in a
high-pitched tone of voice. He must sound impressive and
clear.

Sharon’s antennae bounced
into his peripheral vision.

Laughter spurted up within
him, growing in his belly and chest, and he fought it back down.
Carefully, trying to keep his voice steady, he put his hands behind
his back and began,

“’
Twas brillig, and the
slithy toves, did gyre and gimble in the wabe...” and collapsed
into peals of laughter. It was infectious. Brian burst out into
loud guffaws, actually slapping his knee, and Claudia snickered and
giggled until tears formed in her eyes. Their laughter rose in
intensity every time they looked at each other. Sharon looked
confused for a moment and looked around he, unable to figure out
what to do. Finally, she allowed a snicker to escape, and
reinforced it by staring at the bouncing pearls on Brian’s chest.
In no time, the four slaves were laughing so hard, tears trickled
down their cheeks and they had to gasp for breath.

Alexandra hid a smile but
maintained her composure. It was her show, after all. But Grendel
threw back his head and grinned at Chris, the only one in the room
still struggling to keep a neutral look on his face.

“That’s quite enough!” the
majordomo said sternly. “Pull yourselves together!” It was quite a
feat, with Claudia managing to obey first, by staring at the floor
and physically holding her mouth closed. Brian and Sharon took an
extra minute, their shoulders shaking almost uncontrollably. And
Robert, wiping the tears out of his own eyes, cleared his throat
again and looked over to Alex, who nodded for him to begin
again.

Words that had threatened
to come out in chunks of strangled sound flowed from Robert’s lips
like the well known phrases of a liturgy. The barely constrained
hilarity of the moment was a perfect tonic, and even as the lines
of the nonsense poem rolled out in a smooth (but not very dramatic)
cadence, Robert found himself amazed at the ease of his delivery.
Having the three sitting directly in front of him in their funny
costumes was only one part of what made it easy. The other part was
the subtle encouragement he felt from them. Hints of giggles and
snickers rose during some of the stranger linguistic jumbles, but
everyone managed to maintain some form of composure until the
end.

He finished with a slightly
halting final line, afraid to add any flourishes. He looked at
Alexandra for a moment, and then cast his eyes down
quickly.

“You need some dramatic
coaching, but that was very good for a first time effort, Robert,”
she said as she rose. “Follow me.” She turned to leave after giving
Grendel a covert wink, and walked toward the door. Robert looked up
after her, gazed around in one moment of insecurity, and then
dashed past his fellow slaves to catch up.

“All right, get up, strip
down, and put these chairs back,” Chris barked at the three.
“You’ve served your purpose, let’s get back into proper roles
here!”

Grendel got up and patted
Chris lightly on one shoulder. “Carry on,” he said
lightly.

“Would you like any of the
others sent to you tonight, Sir?”

The tall man looked over at
the three, still divesting themselves of the bits of old Halloween
costumes that Chris had dug out of storage. “No,” he said, driving
a spike of shame through each of them. “I don’t think
so.”

* * * *

“You did very well,”
Alexandra said as she led Robert away from the dining room. “I’m
pleased.”

“Oh, th—” Robert stopped
himself and coughed. Out of habit, his voice had been an octave
higher. “I mean, thank you, ma’am.”

“I also like the fact that
you’re giving more thought to how you sound and act. So I’m going
to reward you.” Alex led him past the staircase, and he looked back
at it in confusion. They were headed toward her ‘studio,’ one of
the rooms the slaves had been forbidden to enter. His heart began
to pound.

“Oh. Oh my,” he
murmured.

“Don’t ruin things,
Robert.” Alex stopped at the door and looked back at him. “My rules
for your new behavior don’t end at this doorway.”

“No, ma’am!”

“Then let’s get on with
it.” She pushed the door open and flicked a light switch. And
Robert, whose sole experience with the term “dungeon” meant cheap,
heavy black leather with silver studs adorning heavy
pseudo-medieval furniture all lit by black lights and candles,
blinked in amazement and wonder at what he could see from the
doorway.

Just as Alex’s taste in
bedrooms was light, airy and elegant, so was her flavor of
playroom. Although the lighting was not bright enough to read fine
print by, the L-shaped room was washed in muted colored lights
which illuminated her decor rather than cast it in shadows. The
furnishings were varied and well spaced out, including a large
square frame that looked like it was made of a well varnished and
polished mahogany, fitted with rigging gear of a contrasting
metallic hue, and several well-padded pieces of equipment that
looked intriguingly designed to be delightfully adjustable and
support a human body in a number of positions. Everything seemed to
be custom made to Alex’s tastes, including plenty of soft fabrics
and a scattered array of thick rugs and large pillows that could
serve as platforms or bolsters for all sorts of activities, or
provide a comfortable seating area for voyeurs.

“It—it’s wonderful, ma’am,”
Robert gasped, stepping into the room to follow her. His bare feet
sank into the carpeting.

“Yes,” she agreed. “That’s
why you’re generally not allowed here.” Without any further
explanation, she walked around the perimeter of the room,
considering her options. Robert felt that he was to stop following
her and stood by the door. When she gestured, he closed it behind
him.

“Go into the other part of
the studio,” Alex said finally. “Bring me back two things you’d
like me to use on you.” She pointed and he ran.

The other side of the room,
out of direct sight of the door, held her collection of toys.
Robert gasped again, struck with absolute amazement at the wonder
that was arrayed before him. Neatly put away in glossy cubicles or
hanging from brass-colored racks, were cuffs in heavy canvas and
soft leather, bondage arrays designed for women and men and for
either gender, blindfolds with fat layers of sheepskin or soft
linings of silk, a whole row of paddles, straps and canes, a line
of whips ranging from the smallest, most viciously cutting, knotted
and twisted rubber to huge, luxuriously thick, electric blue
deerskin, as soft as velvet. Coils of rope lay in nautical
precision on one shelf next to a rack of metal devices that would
make the most dedicated torturer cry with envy. Cock rings, with
snaps, studs, or little tormenting teeth on the inside, long,
narrow silver clamps attached by chains, assorted cock-and-ball
harnesses, labia stretchers, tit clamps, a small chest full of
plain wooden clothespins, dispensers, jars and tubes of lotions,
creams, and lubes, and a very eclectic assortment of dildos,
butt-plugs, cock-shaped vibrators, and other objects for delving
into one orifice or another. There were also harnesses to keep such
devices in, or to harness one to a woman’s loins.

Robert felt a wave of
dizziness pass through him. He had never seen such an assortment of
SM gear before, not ever. Not even at the shops he went to when he
bought tribute for Mistress. Sure, they had a lot of inventory, but
it was never so varied, never so colorful, so inviting, and so, so
sexy! And the way everything was stored or displayed was so
friendly! He wanted to touch the tresses of the whips and feel
their weight upon his hands. He wanted to open the clamps and see
how they worked, and play with the pile of soft things, the fur and
the feathers, and he wanted to smell the rich leather on the straps
that looked so soft and well worn! Robert trembled. It was
intoxicating. It was bewildering.

And Alexandra was waiting!
Quickly, he shifted his gaze back and forth, chewing on his lower
lip. What did she say? Two things? Was a pair of cuffs one thing or
two? He reached out for something soft and furry looking and then
jerked his hand back as if it were burned. What kind of things?
Surely not these sensuous-looking lover-toys?

He stuck his hand out and
encountered a thick paddle, and took it, and then looked over at
the whips. His trained instinct told him to get one that was
knotted and rough looking, but the colors confused him and were far
too compelling. He choose a red one, with a thick bundle of heavy
tresses, and scurried back into the other side of the studio.
Trying not to rise up on his toes when he walked, he padded over to
Alexandra, who was sitting patiently on top of a spanking bench and
knelt in front of her. It was a move suggested in one of the
behavior manuals, and he copied it exactly, holding the whip and
paddle above him as he lowered his head.

Alex took the paddle first
and turned it over in her hands. It had two different textures on
it, a gleaming rubber side and a softer leather covered side. Then
she took the whip, and ran her fingers through the soft
tresses.

“You have good taste,” she
said, stroking the whip. “This is one of my favorites. We’ll save
it for last. Right now, I want you bent over this bench.” She
hopped down and patted it.

When Robert positioned
himself, he realized that the curved cushioning of the top of the
bench provided a very secure place to rest his body. He closed his
eyes and sighed. After so many days of standing while braced
against tables and doors, or crouching on all fours, or being bent
over fences, rails, and the side of a car, the sensation of being
on a piece of equipment actually designed for this purpose was
absolutely
decadent
.

Alex used the leather side
of the paddle, and started lightly on Robert’s mostly unbruised
ass. He tensed and relaxed under her as she smacked him, using
mostly the same pattern she had used so successfully on Claudia.
But when he started to squirm, she stopped, allowed him to rest,
and then started up again, each time picking up force and tempo.
Soon, he started to whimper.

“Don’t you like this?” she
asked, pausing.

“Oh! Yes,
ma’am!”

“Then why do you sound like
I’m hurting you?”

Robert’s eyes snapped open.
What an odd question! He tried to gather his thoughts and failed,
and tried again. Alexandra stopped beating him, which made it
easier to think.

“D-don’t you want me to
react this way, ma’am?” he finally asked.

“Not particularly,” Alex
replied. “This is supposed to be a reward. Perhaps instead of
sounding like you’re enduring this for me, you should try to offer
me some forms of gratitude.”