Marketplace (46 page)

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Authors: Laura Antoniou

Tags: #submission, #laura antoniou, #Adult, #bdsm, #bondage, #the marketplace, #erotica, #mistresses, #glbt, #slave fiction, #dominatrix fiction, #submissive men, #dominant men, #erotic fiction, #submissive women, #slave, #domination, #pansexual, #ds, #dominant women, #dominant woman, #slavefic

BOOK: Marketplace
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Grendel kept his distance,
knowing that it had been the key to breaking Brian’s facade of
slavery down, and by doing so kept the boy hungry. Slowly, he
brought him closer and closer, first by watching as Brian serviced
Sharon and Robert, then by exhibiting Brian to visiting friends,
and then one one night by using Robert in front of Brian, while
Brian crouched on the floor in full sight of the scene. When he
told Robert to stay and dismissed Brian, the boy crawled over to
him and thanked him tearfully for the chance to see him in such a
way.

“So you may have been
right, boy,” Grendel said to Chris the next day. “Don’t get
cocky!”

“Never, Sir,” Chris assured
him.

That night, Grendel took
Brian in hand and finally let him show off the skills that Paul had
boasted about. And judging by the way Brian reacted, from Grendel’s
first touch to the moment when the owner closed his eyes and felt
his come bursting out almost painfully in the hot channel of
Brian’s ass, dammit, Chris was right.

They had some real slave
material on their hands here.

 

* * * *

 

The following week,
Alexandra and Grendel met to discuss how to proceed.

“Claudia will go home,
there’s no doubt about it,” Alex said. “Madeleine will be thrilled,
and I think we can expect some major referrals from her in the
future, as well as a standing invitation to go to all her
parties.”

“I’d call Claudia a
success,” Grendel agreed.

“And I think Robert’s good
enough to go to general auction.”

“Really?” Grendel checked
the calender. “There is one soon, we could probably get him in, if
we call now. But I was thinking, why don’t we ask Madame to ask
around her friends and see if someone we know might be
interested?”

“Well, if you want to make
the call,” Alex said.

“Sure.” Grendel jotted down
a note. “I’d hesitate to do the same with Sharon, though. I‘d just
as soon make sure no one thinks we’re passing on very good
merchandise here.”

“On the other hand, there
is the question of that clause in her contract,” Alex reminded him.
“I’ll tell you what. Since you’re doing the mistress circuit, I’ll
see if I can scrape up some potential bids for our
showpiece.”

“More than fair. Now...
about Brian.” Grendel leaned back. “I think we should keep him for
another month and refine him some more. By the end of the summer,
he’ll double in value, easily.”

Alex whistled. “Are you
serious?”

“Absolutely. He’s raw
material now; it’s like handling nitro. I think we can mold him
into our nice little plastique package and move him out as an
all-purpose slave, ready for master’s wishes.” Grendel let his hand
fall to his side, where it brushed Chris’s hair. “Besides, it gives
us a little more time with him. He could be fun. Regret pointing
him out, boy?”

“No, Sir. He will bring
honor to the house.”

“Oh, shut up.” Grendel
pointedly ignored the slight snicker from beside his chair and
looked directly at Alex. “Well? What do you think?”

“I think you’re both full
of yourselves,” Alex announced. “Send me your prodigy tomorrow
night, and I’ll tell you what I think.”

Two mornings later,
Alexandra initialed her approval of entering Brian into the next
level of training when he completed this one.

 

* * * *

 

“This week marks the end of
the basic training period,” Chris announced one morning. The four
slaves looked up from their breakfast. “In the month and a week
you’ve been here, you have all progressed, and the owners are now
determining which step you will take next. For the first three days
of this week, the people who come here are all potential buyers. I
know I don’t need to remind you how to behave. Do not disgrace this
house in any way.”

“There’s more to it than
that,” Grendel said, entering the room. The slaves rose, as they
had been placed on formal behavior for the week, and he waved them
back down. Alex joined him, and they addressed the slaves from the
head of the table.

“The people you meet this
week may desire you and want to possess you,” Grendel continued.
“This is the purpose for which you have been trained. Every move
you make, every gesture and sound, has a value in their
decision-making process. If you follow your directions and behave
the way you’ve been taught, you can guarantee that they will take
you at face value. If you mess up, you aren’t just making us look
bad, you’re making yourself look stupid.”

“These buyers are familiar
with this house, our track record, and our training methods,“ Alex
said. “They know what to expect, and they’ll know immediately if a
fault of yours was something we neglected or something you just
refused to correct. You are novices. These people are buyers. Don’t
insult their intelligence.”

“Yes, ma’am,” came a chorus
of voices.

“Then let’s begin this
final week.”

 

* * * *

 

The buyers came in
trickles, and they came in groups. Some of them had been by before,
as visitors during the earlier phase in training, and most of them
were eager to see any changes in the slaves they tried out the last
time. Sharon was kept busy, and Claudia was excused from most
showings, because of her unique status. But she was often kept
nearby for serving drinks and fetching things like writing tablets.
To separate her from the slaves that were being offered, she was
given a plain black dress, much like the one Rachel sometimes
wore.

Each day, the slaves found
themselves showing themselves, posing, answering questions, and
getting touched, invaded, and tormented by a variety of people. And
for the nights, when all the showings were over and they had a
chance to eat, they were all sent immediately to bed, in order to
be fresh for the following morning.

It was delightfully
maddening, frustrating and horrible. They talked about their dream
owners every night and slept like children.

When the showings were
finally over, Alex and Grendel had enough interest to actually
auction off Sharon and Robert, and they set Friday as the night it
would be done. They summoned Brian and told him that they wanted to
keep him on for further training, and Brian thanked them so
effusively and well that it was impossible to believe that this was
the same man they met almost six weeks ago. When he left, Grendel
turned to Alex and said, “You know I need to deal with Chris a
little bit.”

She waved a hand at him.
“Go right ahead. I’m not going to be able to relax until the sale
is over anyway.”

 

* * * *

 

With the sale and the
arrival of Mistress Madeleine (whom the other three slaves wanted
desperately to see) only one day away, the slaves were just beside
themselves with anxiety and excitement. No one had been able to eat
dinner, even with the pleadings of Cook, who had made some special
foods to say goodbye. They had nibbled politely, but left most of
it alone.

The early bedtime worked
against them now. They were all wide awake and overwrought, and far
too excited to sleep. When Grendel actually walked into the room
with Chris, they were astonished but eager for whatever was coming
next. They scrambled out of their beds and knelt, and Grendel
suppressed a smile. New slaves were so alike. He nodded a release,
and they got back to where they were.

“Since this will probably
be your last night here,” Grendel began, “I’ve decided to do
something special. While you’ve been here, you’ve been limited to
how much curiosity you could indulge in. In the past two weeks,
you’ve all done well in controlling it, which is the mark of a good
slave. However, right now, before you go to sleep, I’m offering you
a chance to ask any final questions about this house, our methods,
or staff. I’m not promising that I’ll reveal anything sensitive or
things you have no business knowing, but I’m sure there are some
questions you’ve been burning to settle. If you have no questions,
I’m also prepared to hear comments.”

And Claudia, the little
darling, did just as he instructed her to.

“Sir?” she asked, raising
her hand shyly. “If it’s permitted, I have one question. What is
Chris, in the hierarchy of this house?”

Grendel looked at Chris,
who looked startled, and said, “I think I’ll leave that to Chris to
answer.”

“Well,” Chris said with a
slight frown, “I’m the majordomo, which means the chief of the
house. A steward, perhaps, or a butler.”

Robert said, “But you’re
more than that, Chris, aren’t you? I think what Claudia meant was,
how do you fit in? We’re slaves. Ms. Rachel and Jack and Cook and
Mr. Shaw are employees. Are you an employee of the
house?”

Chris looked a little
uncomfortable and glanced at Grendel, whose gaze was suddenly hard.
“Answer.”

“I am... not exactly an
employee,” Chris finally said. “Although my needs are met quite
adequately.”

“Tell them exactly what you
are,” Grendel prompted. A shift occurred in the room, and all the
slaves felt it. There was something happening that was scary and
wonderful. The power they felt was old, and rich, and Brian
actually shivered in pleasure. Even Sharon felt it, and in her
mind, she knew, this is real.

Chris lowered his head for
a moment. “I am an adjunct to this house,” he said after some
thought. “I am not a slave, as you understand the term. I have no
contract, and wear no collar. I work here of my own free will, and
of that will, I subject myself to the will and whims of Mr. Elliott
and Ms. Selador.”

“But...”Brian said,
haltingly, “I don’t understand. If you’re submitting to them,
why...” He looked up at Grendel. “I’m sorry, sir, I withdraw my
comments.”

Grendel shrugged. “It’s a
fair question. You want to know why we don’t accept him as a slave,
since he obviously is one in all but name. The reason is that
we—Alex and I—don’t own slaves. In our line of work, it seems far
easier to hire experienced people who will not be prone to feelings
of abandonment, jealousy, or insecurity every time we go through a
new group of novices. But we found that we couldn’t send him away
because he provides the perfect solution to our household needs as
well as being a generally agreeable companion. We know that he
hates not being able to be what he desires most, but at the same
time, our refusal to accept him is a sublime torture that no amount
of scenes could ever match. You, Brian, are now aware of the unique
type of pain rejection and the withholding of a desired place can
be.”

“Yes, Sir,” Brian
whispered. Chris’s face was a mask of controlled emotion, but it
was clear that he was more than slightly humiliated by Grendel’s
explanations.

“Sir,” Robert said,
clearing his throat, “I’m a little confused. If Chris... if all he
wants is to be... what we are, why is he in charge to the new
slaves? Wouldn’t someone who is more of a top be more
appropriate?”

Grendel laughed. “Go ahead,
Chris, tell them.”

Chris colored a little. A
very little. And remained silent.

“No? Then I will. Chris is
a top, Robert, as if you didn’t have firsthand knowledge of that.
When we first met Chris, he was
teaching
tops. In fact, Chris has
had offers from slaves, and he’s has been mentioned many times as a
very promising trainer within the Marketplace. Even the legendary
Anderson has mentioned him in her reports. That’s something quite
special.” Grendel watched the slaves carefully, and saw some levels
of comprehension dawning.

Brian remembered Chris in
full leathers, pounding the banister and the floor, saying “This is
me!” He blushed for the majordomo, and felt in his gut a
sympathetic twinge of pain.

Grendel went on. “Chris
created the program you’ve just been through, my new slaves. Hoping
that someone would put him through it one day, no doubt. Would you
agree to that, boy?”

Chris looked up. “That
would be pointless now, Sir,” he answered. His voice had an edge to
it, sharp but still polite.

“Yes, I suppose it would,”
Grendel agreed. “And that’s the reason why he’s so damn useful
around here. He takes care of the administrative side of the
training so that Alex and I get to go directly to the roots of
things and do what we handle best.” He smiled, his work done. “Any
other questions?”

After that, they asked
nice, predictable questions about how long the house had been
operating, and how often they went to the resorts, and which of the
books was closest to the truth, and other nonsense. When the
questions petered out, Grendel tapped Chris on one shoulder and
sent him out to the hall, and said good night for the last time to
the four slaves. He hit the lights as he left.

In the hallway, he reached
for a handful of Chris’s hair and clenched it. Chris drew in a
sharp breath and straightened up.

“You handled that well,
boy,” Grendel said, holding tight. “I love to see you under
pressure like that. You look so good when you squirm.”

“It’s my pleasure to serve
you, Sir,” Chris said, closing his eyes. He opened them again when
Grendel gave him a shake.

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