The Slave (46 page)

Robin liked to think that it
was guilt, and then wished that there was a way to rid herself of
such thoughts. They tainted her awareness of her obedience and
dedication.
If I can feel resentment, or happiness because I think my
master feels bad, I’m not a good slave
, she would remind herself.
And I so want to be
a good slave.

* * * *

“
What’s on your mind, sugar?” Monica asked,
lying back in the lounge chair. It was the week after a major
series of political meetings in Washington, and she had come out by
herself for some quiet time. Eric was out on another shoot, this
one in Greece, and Raul was with him―something new. Carl was
running the house, and Robin was Monica’s personal servant, which
suited them both just fine. Muscledog was busy doing the garden
work, wearing nothing but a jock strap and a broad weightlifter’s
belt.

“
Pleasing you, ma’am,” was Robin’s
automatic answer. She smiled. Some of their conversations started
out like this and ended up encompassing hours of late-night murmurs
and secrets shared. But it was a sunny day and the water was
sparkling, and it just didn’t seem the time to talk about the
stories that filled the night.

“
That’s nice. What would please me
would be your telling me exactly what you were thinking of when you
stared across the pool for so long.”

Robin smiled. “I was thinking of the coming
autumn, ma’am.”

“
Hm. I bet it’s real nice out here in
LaLaLand. It’s fun back on the right coast, too. Congress comes
back, the Court comes back, the lobbyists come back, and everyone
with money comes back. Lemmings, crawling back up the cliff,
forgetting why they were so quick to get away.”

Robin laughed appreciably.

“
You been in the Marketplace long?”
Monica’s question was startling. People rarely, if ever, asked
questions like that of owned slaves. If you wanted to know, you
asked the owner. But Robin was getting used to Monica getting what
she wanted in unconventional ways.

“
For almost two years, ma’am. This
autumn.”

“
Ah. So now we are at the root of the
matter. Anniversary time. Contract time?”

“
One of my masters would have to be
consulted about that, ma’am.” That was the general, all-purpose
answer which meant, “Hell, I can’t tell you that!”

“
Ah-hah. Another one right on the
nose.” Monica smiled and trailed a finger through the droplets of
moisture on the outside of her iced tea glass. “Going to sign on
for another hitch?”

“
Ma’am, I’m sorry,” Robin lowered her
eyes. “I can’t answer that question.”

“
Hm. OK. Who trained you? I know Eric
said you were a virgin on the block.”

“
Chris Parker.”

“
No kidding? I haven’t seen that
character in years. Quite a trainer, I hear.” Monica eased her legs
out and wiggled her toes as Robin nodded in agreement. “Quite a
little butterball, too, if I remember. Cute, kind of.”

“
Maybe you’re thinking of someone
else, ma’am?” Robin frowned. “The Chris Parker who trained me
wasn’t tall, but he wasn’t, um... He was actually quite built
up.”

“
Really?” Monica pushed her sunglasses back
and fixed her dark eyes on Robin. “Well, I guess he could have
dropped some excess weight, or built it up in a few years. But just
to make sure we are talking about the same fellow―short, light
voice, a little scratchy, black hair, kind of thick-waisted,
glasses? White, with an upper class affectation in vocabulary?
Hangs around with Elliot and Selador?”

“
That would be him,” Robin admitted. “He
has a mustache and a beard now, but Ken Mandarin said that the
mustache was new... two years ago.”

“
Well, I guess so.” Monica grinned.
“So? How was training for you? Discover any deep dark secrets about
him? He’s quite a topic of gossip, you know. Very up-and-coming as
far as trainers go. Want to share some insights with
me?”

“
Ma’am, I really don’t... I mean, I don’t
think that would be appropriate, and I’m very sorry―”

“
OK, OK, I’ll stop pushing.” The older
woman patted Robin on the head and sighed. “Ethics. Sometimes it
seems like all the ethics have left politics and entered slavery.
Did you ever consider the philosophical and sociological
ramifications of that? That slaves might someday be the most
honorable class in a society and leaders the least?”

Robin giggled, grateful for Monica’s quick
capitulation on the gossipy questions.

“
Why don’t you go inside and get me
something really cold, like ice cream or something? I’m feeling a
wave of sweet tooth coming on.”

“
Yes, ma’am!”

But when Robin came back, very little of the
ice cream ended up in Monica’s mouth. Most of it ended up melting
all over Robin’s body, and then Muscledog’s, and Monica watched and
laughed and encouraged as they licked the sticky stuff off of each
other. She drizzled trails of strawberry across Muscledog’s broad
chest, and down to his shaven crotch, and dropped a heavy dollop of
the stuff over his cock and balls. And when Robin finished smearing
it all over her face while trying to lick it up, she ended up on
her back for the same treatment while Muscledog licked his way
across her body.

It was cold and it tickled, and it turned
sticky in the sun, but the feeling of being eagerly licked all over
while she stretched and pushed her hips out was just delightful.
And even though she gasped and giggled when a scoop landed right on
her crotch, she quickly began to sigh as Muscledog’s talented
tongue worked its way through the creamy mass to find a different
kind of cream below.

And when Monica ordered Muscledog to bring
Robin off that way and he good-naturedly applied himself to the
task, Robin found herself staring up into Monica’s face when she
came, her eyes open even as her face was screwing up in the waves
of pleasure that ran through her body.

It was a moment of near perfection. Later,
while she showered and cleaned off the residue of the scene she
sighed and fingered herself under the stinging showerhead.

It would be so nice to belong to a woman.
But she had no control over that. If she wanted to stay with Chris,
he would not allow such a restriction in her contract. She could
hear him saying, “You’re looking for an owner, not a lover!”

No, despite the drawbacks, she had something
real good right here. She had owners who didn’t really abuse their
slaves, fellow slaves that she got along with, and an interesting
and varied life.

And according to what she’d heard and seen,
she lived comfortably, having plenty of time to rest, a bed to
sleep in, and a generally undemanding household rhythm. It could be
much, much worse.

This is as good as it
gets
, she
realized, suddenly losing all interest in jerking off.
This is what I’ve
wanted my whole life, to be a real slave, property of a master who
could use me as stakes for a poker game if he wanted to. Living a
life under someone’s complete authority. Giving myself utterly to
them.

This really is the best I can
hope for
,
she thought, stepping out and beginning to mechanically dry herself
off.
How can
I even think of taking such a chance with my life, and messing this
up? I could end up anywhere. I’ll just have to figure out a way to
deal with these wrong feelings and get ready to sign up again in
the fall. Chris will approve.

That night, in Monica’s bed,
she worked even harder to please the woman, and was rewarded with
an invitation to spend the night in the room again.
Yes
,
Robin thought as she relaxed and got into a comfortable
position.
This is certainly where I should be.

Chris did the contract negotiation with Eric
after Robin called him and told him that she would be pleased to
stay if her masters wanted to keep her on. But when Chris asked her
if he should add more time to the contract, Robin paused and
couldn’t get the word “yes” to come out of her mouth. Chris went on
to the next question without missing a beat, and when she saw her
new contract on the first day after the old contract expired, she
saw that it was for another two years. She also noticed that there
was an additional clause that identified ANDERSON as a person to be
notified for any disputes or renegotiations if PARKER was
unavailable.

Well, he said he’d leave her in good hands.
She saw Eric and Jimmy glance at each other when they came across
that name, but they signed all the same.

Maybe
, she thought,
they
were thinking that they could send me
for more training.
The idea appealed to her.
What would it be like to train under
someone who Chris obviously respected so much? I wonder what she is
like. I wonder if they are training people together. Wouldn’t that
be great?
But the topic was not raised with her.

She had up to three weeks “off” if she
chose. She decided to take two, and went down into Los Angeles to
experience the city by herself. The only times she had been there
were for various sales and viewings. Now, with fourteen days all to
herself, she played tourist, going to Hollywood and making the
rounds of the best attractions. In between, she called people in
New York, extended the storage contract for her things and spent
lazy mornings reading colorful magazines in a soft, wide hotel bed
while eating whatever she damn well pleased.

She spent a lot of money on gifts for her
family and shipped them with friendly notes that spoke of the
wonderful life she now had in California. Remembering that cousin
David’s wife had been delivered of twins (or so her mother’s last
birthday card had informed her), she bought a box full of
Disney-themed toys and hats and little T-shirts and sent that off,
too. It made her feel good. And it seemed ironic that cousin David
would probably never know how clearly she remembered the games she
played with him when she was a child, and what her life was like
now. She wondered what kinds of games his kids would play.

She played news junkie, reading newspapers
and magazines and watching some television. It was amazing how many
things could happen without other people talking about them.
Reflecting back on her two years, she realized that she probably
wouldn’t have realized that there had been an important election
this past year if it hadn’t been for guests like Monica, who
chatted about current events. Eric and Jimmy never watched
commercial TV, and Jimmy got all of his economic news through
various computer services. It was like living on an island, cut off
from mainstream life.

In the classified ads of one local
newspaper, she found a listing for a meeting of some kind of
leather society. It described an “SM Support Group” that met every
week. She had been tempted to go; wouldn’t it be funny? But then
she remembered her disappointment when she had gone back with Ken.
If it had seemed so small and sad to her when her only other
experience had been Ken and her household, what would it appear
like now? And there was also a persistent nudge of old loyalty. She
would not put herself in a position in which to ridicule that time
which, for all its pain and occasional emptiness, was the best she
could have hoped for.

I’ve changed so much since
then
, she
marveled
.
Look at how much I’ve learned. Think of how much has happened. I am
living the life.
In a way, that started the end of her vacation. By her
thirteenth day of freedom, she was more than ready to get back to
the quiet house in the hills.

* * * *

Another autumn. More cycles, artwork here, a
statue there, a glorious illuminated depiction of the “crimme af
sodomie,” probably designed as an early version of a gay men’s sex
magazine. Eric went into raptures, bought the special airtight
frame that she suggested and displayed it under subdued light.

It seemed to settle his discomfort with her
once and for all.

Monica started to drop by regularly,
sometimes with April but mostly alone. She had established some
very important allies in LA and in San Francisco, and was becoming
quite the jet-setting businesswoman, her political acumen no longer
a well kept secret. She started to joke that now she really
believed that “the boys” had purchased Robin for her pleasure. It
seemed that whenever she arrived, Robin appeared at her side and
didn’t leave it until ordered to.

And Monica never ordered her to leave.

Life was good. Usually. But in
those moments when she wasn’t working, and especially in those
moments when the masters were using one or any combinations of the
boys but had not requested her, Robin felt those old doubts
returning.
Have I settled again?
she asked herself one day, lifting Maria’s old
collar into her hands and caressing the leather.
Have I become used
to something, convincing myself that it’s as good as I’m going to
get?

The speed in which these thoughts returned
after what seemed like such a strong resolution to banish them
depressed her more than she liked to admit.

* * * *

“
Oh, this is beautiful,” Robin said,
drawing the coiled whip out of Monica’s bag.