Marketplace (39 page)

She dried his back and held
the robe for him. “I thought it was a problem, sir,” she said,
backing away. He belted the robe and pointed into the bedroom and
she preceded him.

“It is. But the problem is
not specifically your virginity. The problem is what to do about
it.

“We normally don’t have to
deal with something like this. I can honestly count the number of
intact virgins I’ve seen over the years, and it’s not many. This
isn’t exactly a stereotypical slave market, and virginity isn’t as
much prized as someone who knows what they’re doing. At least in
the market we serve.” At his gesture, she poured him another cup of
coffee, and sat at his feet when he pointed.

“I, for one, have no
interest in being your first,” he said seriously. Her eyes widened
in amazement. “It’s no insult, believe me. But I happen to feel
that first times, no matter what the social standing of the person,
should be by choice, not by circumstance. If I believed that you
lusted wildly after me, that might be different. But we won’t even
pretend that this is so, and that puts us right back to the
question.

“I would like to send you
back to Madeleine the way you are, but of course we’re not sure
what her plans are going to be. I can tell you that fucking you is
certainly one of her interests. Going through a drama with you over
the issue might not be. Alex feels much the same, willing but not
especially eager. And you have to understand, Claudia,
it’s not you.
It’s that
you’ve managed to build up this fear and shame around the issue.
I... we... would prefer it if we were sure that you had made some
sort of personal decision about what you want to do. If it’s
unsuitable for this house, we’ll leave you as-is, and it just won’t
be an issue for us.”

He stretched out his legs
comfortably. “Enjoy the time you take to make the decision. This is
probably only the third time we’ve presented such an issue to an
applicant here, and this is the least unpleasant
circumstance.”

“Sir? I’m not sure what my
choices are,” Claudia said finally.

“Well, you can choose to
leave yourself vaginally virginal, whatever that means to a woman
who has been in several lesbian relationships and survived the
experience with the ability to have multiple orgasms. Or, you can
ask that Alex deal with this—and you—in a more mistress-to-slave
fashion. For that matter, you could still try to convince me that I
should be your first penetrator. Or, if there is someone else here
who you might have naturally chosen, we can explore that
possibility.”

“Someone else,” she mused,
putting her head down. After a moment, she looked back up. “I know
what I want,” she said finally. And she told him. He thought about
it for a moment and then nodded.

“I don’t see why not. I’ll
speak to Alex in the morning. Of course, by doing this, you’re
placing control of the event in our hands.” He looked down at her
with hard eyes. “I think I might like to watch that, for
example.”

She gulped, but didn’t
waver. “I think... that might make me feel safer, sir,” she
answered.

“Ha! Good answer. Come on,
turn out the lights and lay next to me in bed. Alex tells me you’ve
got some nice moves. Now that the scary part is over, you can get
back to your training.”

“Sir? May I ask a favor
please?”

Grendel looked interested.
“I’ll listen to your request.”

“It-it’s not for me, sir.
It’s for Sharon, and Brian.” She lowered her eyes, knowing that she
was overstepping.

“OK. I’m still
listening.”

She raise her head
hopefully. “Sir, they want to be good slaves, I know it. But
they’re confused, and scared, and I think they want your attention
very much, but they don’t know what they should be doing. Please
sir, is there some way you can give them a hint, or provide them
with more direction? I’m sure they’ll be excellent once they’re
given a chance, sir.”

Grendel nodded while she
spoke and waited until she was finished. Then, he said, “I’m sure
you know how inappropriate that request was.”

Claudia nodded, her face
falling.

“Your concern is touching,
but your interference in matters of training is not allowed. But
you approached it properly, and I’m not angry with you. In fact,
I’ll take your comments into consideration. But you’re not to
mention that you made this request, or that I responded to it, do
you understand?”

“Oh, yes sir! Thank you,
sir!”

“Then come on up here.” He
lay back and spread out one arm, and she curled up next to him. He
touched her and explored her, and directed her to him, and she
found herself enjoying it. When he turned and moved her with him,
she sighed, liking the warmth of his body and the security of his
size and strength. When he released her without any difficult
demands on her, she went to the cool pallet on the floor and
thought, why he’s very nice. That thought kept her awake for many
long minutes. I was so afraid of him, and he’s so nice.

* * * *

“Robert, this is Sensei
Chen.” Chris performed the introductions. The sensei, in sweat
pants and a cut off T-shirt, looked like a college student at a
track meet. He nodded to Robert, who was now used to normal people
not reacting to his nakedness.

“The sensei is here to
start a new series of lessons for you. He is an expert in the
technique of Go-Ju, a Chinese form of karate. For the next three
weeks, you will see him every day for one hour, and three hours on
Wednesdays. Practice time is your own to schedule, but you will be
responsible for keeping up with his outlined goals.” Chris bowed
formally to the sensei, who grinned and bowed back, and Chris left
without another word.

Robert blinked and looked
down at the young man. This new twist was totally confusing.
Dancing, and karate. He resigned himself to realizing that nothing
was ever going to make sense here.

“Hiya, Robert. You’re a big
guy, huh? We’re gonna have to get you a jock strap, I think. Well,
let’s go out back and see what you’re made of, and then we see what
I can teach you, huh?” The sensei led Robert into a clear area of
grass out near the garage.

“Is this going to hurt?”
Robert asked.

“Oh, not more than you can
take,” the man said with a grin.

“Great,” the big man
sighed.

* * * *

One night, Sharon found
herself called to see Grendel. She went after dinner, walking
proudly through the halls, confident that her time had come at
last.

But when she got there, he
didn’t do anything. He didn’t tie her up, or play with her, or even
take a freaking bath and have her wash his back, something that
little airhead Claudia seemed to think was such a hot thing to do.
Instead, he posed her on this little mat-thing by the door, and
left her kneeling there for, well, a long, long time. It felt like
hours. And he made these phone calls, and he read for a while, and
Chris came in with some coffee, and nothing happened at
all!

And then finally, when she
was about to just die from the boredom and the itchy feeling in her
legs, he looked over at her and said, “You may spend the
night.”

“Thank you, sir!” she
purred at him. “May I get up?” When he nodded, she gave herself a
mental pat on the back. Oh, she knew all the tricks now. Don’t move
a muscle until you get permission, that was a good one. Now, she
rose and stretched, careful not to leave the spot she was in. Oh
yeah, some sex was going to feel really good right now. She
wondered if he was going to make her start with a blowjob. She
really wanted to get fucked. Blowjobs are OK, but when I’m horny,
oh, I want it bad, she thought, twisting around.

“May I come to you, sir?”
she asked, when she was ready.

Grendel looked up from his
book, as though he was surprised that she was still there. “If you
like,” he said, putting the book down. She walked across the room
slowly, making it her most sensuous stride, and sank to her knees
gracefully at the edge of the bed.

“Very nice,” Grendel
admitted. He reached out and stroked her hair for a moment. “You
may go to sleep now. I’ll turn out the lights.”

Sharon felt confusion
building. She looked up at him and started to get up. “Um.” She
stopped and then gathered her thoughts before the word ‘like’ got
out. “Sir... I thought... didn’t you want to, um, use me,
sir?”

“No, not really.” Grendel
smiled gently. “But you may stay anyway.”

“Oh.” Sharon tried to keep
the scowl from her face, and she sighed prettily. “Yes, sir,“ she
said, keeping her voice light. And then she tried to get into bed.
He stopped her with one hand.

“Where do you think you’re
going?” he asked.

“T-to, um,
sleep?”

“There’s a pallet down
there with a blanket,” Grendel pointed to the foot of the bed.
“That’s where you sleep, girl. It’s in the book.”

Oh damn, was it? Oh yeah,
something about sleeping at the foot of the bed unless other
arrangements were made. But Sharon looked down at the end and saw
the little futon like thing that was down on the floor and then
back at Grendel. I thought it meant that you slept at the bottom of
the mattress, she thought, this time allowing the frown to
escape.

“You don’t like
it?”

She should have been warned
by the light, friendly tone of his voice.

“Sir, don’t you
think...wouldn’t you rather I was up here with you?” Sharon tried
offering good stuff instead of complaining. Maybe that was the way
to go.

“What’s wrong?” Grendel
asked. He got up and looked at the pallet. “Don’t you like
it?”

“Well, sure, sir,” she
said, sliding up to him. “But don’t you think I belong closer to
you than on the floor? If I’m really good, don’t I deserve to be
somewhere special?”

Grendel nodded and stroked
his beard. “You have a point,” he said with a nod. He walked back
to the the table and hit the intercom button on the phone. “Chris,
could you come to my room, please?”

“You know, you’ve really
given me something to think about,” he said, as the two of them
stood in the middle of the room. Sharon smiled sweetly, wondering
what Chris was for. She entertained a brief fantasy that Grendel
was going to yell at the little guy, telling him to never put one
of these pallet things on the floor when Sharon was going to be
here. She smiled even sweeter.

“Chris, Sharon isn’t
satisfied with the sleeping arrangements here,” Grendel said. “She
seems to believe that her special needs call for special
accommodations. I’m sure you can find her something
appropriate?”

“Wait—” Sharon started to
say.

“You made your choice,
Sharon, and I’m respecting it. Good night.” As the two of them
left, Grendel allowed himself a laugh. Well, Claudia, he thought,
going back to his book, there’s one!

When Chris grabbed Sharon
by the arm and marched her out, her mouth opened in shock. Well! Of
all the Goddamn nerve! What did she do wrong? She was so outraged
and obsessed with this weird situation, she didn’t notice that they
weren’t heading toward the dorm room.

“Wait,” she said again,
pulling back a little. “Where are we going?”

“To find you a more
appropriate place to sleep. Shut your mouth, you ungrateful little
minx.” Chris grasped her arm more firmly, and propelled her into
the kitchen, where he let her go for a moment while he went into
one of the storage rooms. When he came out, he was holding a large
flashlight and a bag that clanked. She was grasped again, and
pushed out the back door, and along the path to the stables.
Halfway there, she started to struggle, and he had to threaten to
use his strap on her to get her to walk. Then she tried pleading,
begging, and then screaming, which he cut off by calling her
attention to the many unpleasant things that she could be gagged
with if she disturbed the horses.

She ended up in an empty
stall, a chain around one ankle, locked to the sliding bar that
held all the stalls closed. “It will open automatically in case of
fire,” Chris explained. “Here is your bedding,” he kicked up some
straw around her, “and here is your coverlet.” He tossed in a horse
blanket made of heavy netting. “There’s water in the bucket, and if
you can’t wait until morning, you’ll find that straw can be very
moisture absorbing. I hope these accommodations are more to your
liking.”

“Chris, Chris,” she moaned,
clutching the blanket to her body. “Please don’t leave me like
this! I swear, I didn’t mean anything! I didn’t know! I didn’t
remember! I’m sorry! I’ll never do it again!”

“You little fool,” Chris
scolded, gathering up his flashlight. “Many slaves wish that they
had the honor of sleeping at the foot of their master’s bed. You
knew. You read all about it. But you thought it didn’t apply to
you. Sleep well.”

He turned out the light
when he left. The oppressive heat made wrapping herself up in the
blanket unadvisable, but the straw was scratchy against her skin,
and she was afraid of bugs, so she did it anyway. And she sobbed
until the tears just couldn’t come any more, and she was afraid
that she might wake the stupid horses and get into more trouble.
Sharon spent a long, uncomfortable night, sure that her life could
not get worse, not in a million years. She was so very
wrong.