Slave Of The Aristocracy: A Gentlemen's Agreement Part 9

"So, advise me of the situation."

"You ordered that Nickel would partic.i.p.ate in the entertainments and do her share of servicing the gentlemen. Last night, my instructions to all the slaves were clear. They were to hide in the garden until they were found and then submit to the gentlemen without resistance. But when the slaves were out of sight, Nickel took advantage of the situation to go back into the kennel and close the door to her cell. When I found out where she was, I simply locked her door until you were available to decide what to do about her blatant disobedience."

"What do you think I should do about it?"

"That is entirely your decision."

"Good G.o.d. Don't play games with me. Obviously she has to be punished. You were in charge of the entertainment. What punishment do you recommend?"

"If the entertainment failed, I was willing to suffer a three-day fast. She did not contribute to its success so I would have her suffer the same fast that I was risking."

"So she doesn't eat again until when?"

"Wednesday breakfast."

"Okay. That sounds fair to me. And she can endure her fast in her cell. Water deprivation, too?"

"No. Three days is too long to be deprived of water."

"Okay. I'll instruct the kennelman give her a pint of water every morning and leave a bucket in the cell for her to relieve herself in."

"I think that will make your point." Irene nodded solemnly.

"You think that's enough? I could cane her before I let her eat on Wednesday."

"I think the fast is punishment enough. Three days is a considerable ordeal. She will suffer." Lord Snow had not thought about the lights, but Irene would make sure that Nickel was suffering in the dark. She would have no stimulation to distract her from dwelling upon her transgression. "One small point."

"Yes?"

"It would be best if she understood that this punishment is being administered by you. She's going to suspect that I was behind it, anyway, but if she can't be certain then maybe there'll be a little less bad blood in the kennel when she gets out."

He smiled. "I'll tell her personally."

"It would be best."

"So the nasty business is done," he said. "Let's move on to lighter topics. I trust you realize that congratulations are in order. Last night may well be the most splendid entertainment that I've ever seen. It's not yet noon and Lady Snow has already been inundated with invitations to all manner of social events. People that we've never met are hoping that we'll reciprocate and invite them back so that the gentlemen can enjoy the next entertainment that you devise. Lady Snow is sending regrets to anyone of lower rank than an earl unless they're already an old and dear friend. Not just an old friend and not just a dear friend, but both old and dear. We have the privilege of being terribly exclusive right now." He grinned.

"I'm happy to be of service," Irene said.

"You won't have to stage another entertainment for three weeks. Like I said, we're accepting a lot of invitations so we will be entertained elsewhere for the rest of the month."

"I'll start planning something for the second Sat.u.r.day after next."

"Any idea what you'll do?"

"Not a clue. I'll have to think of something."

He looked at her for a minute, as though he were trying to decide if he should believe her. Then he shrugged. "If you need anything, let me know."

"There is one thing that would make it easier for me to deal with the other slaves."

"What's that?"

She fingered the gold collar about her neck. "I'd like you to have this removed. And change my name back to Flame. Or some other slave name. You like fruit. How about Tangerine? Or k.u.mquat. Anything but Irene. That's a name for a lady, not a slave."

He shook his head. "No. The collar stays. Along with your name." His flat, uninflected tone made it clear that he wasn't going to entertain discussion about it.

She didn't understand why he wanted her to keep wearing that humiliating punishment collar and to keep answering to the name that she had been known by when she was a lady. His wife, Lady Snow, had to cringe every time she heard it. Not that she would hear it much. Lord Snow would have little reason to mention Irene. There was no need because she was never called up to the manor to perform even token housework.

"Then I need something else." Irene stared hard at him.

"What's that?"

"I need to get f.u.c.ked. I need it so bad, it hurts. I'd give anything if you'd throw me down on that bed and rut the h.e.l.l out of me. Anything."

"Jesus Christ! I told you not to say that. Get the h.e.l.l out of here! Right now!"

She sauntered across the room, throwing as much sway into her a.s.s as she could. He had to be watching and she hoped that this would be the day that his resistance crumbled to dust.

It wasn't.

But, as she pa.s.sed through the door, he yelled, "And send in whoever is available out there. Two of them. I don't care which two, just make it fast."

She hooked her thumb at Apple and Cherry. "You heard your owner. Get in there and give him some relief."

She envied the two slaves as they scurried to obey.

And she envied them a whole lot more when they were shrieking in delight a few minutes later.

Lime was staring at her in silence.

"What?" Irene asked.

"What on earth do you do to him in there?"

"I begged him to rut the h.e.l.l out of me."

"He still won't let you service him?"

"Not even when I fall on my knees."

"What a waste. I bet you're a terrific s.e.x partner."

Irene smiled. "Thank you. Nickel thinks so and I service her by rote."

"Not that you're not a great entertainment director. I'm not saying that. All I'm saying is that you could direct all the entertainments and you could still get f.u.c.ked every day. And at the entertainments."

"I sure could." She didn't want to think about that any more it was making her crotch too juicy; she was almost squis.h.i.+ng when she moved her thighs so she decided to change the subject. "How did you become a slave?"

"The most common way. Bankruptcy. My husband was a gambler. We had a good income but he lost more than he won. All gamblers do. He thought that he could win his money back if he kept placing bigger bets until he got lucky. No gambler ever gets lucky enough. We were married so his debts were my debts. When I was twenty-four, I fetched eighteen thousand on the pleasure block. I heard that Daniel was worth only eleven hundred on the labor block. Between the two of us, we still didn't raise enough to pay off his debts. His bookie was stupid. He could have foreclosed on us much sooner and made a profit. I think that Daniel convinced him that he earned a high salary and the bookie thought that he could get paid in full without foreclosing on us."

"How long ago was that?"

"I think I'm about thirty now, so that was six years ago."

Irene was surprised. That made Lime the oldest slave in the kennel save for Nickel. "You don't look thirty. I'm twenty-eight and I thought that you were younger than me."

"I try to look and act young. It helps that I'm small and that I pretend to be naive. The longer a pleasure slave can stay young, the longer she can stay out of the labor auctions."

"When I've asked the others how they were enslaved, they were all either pressed or adjudicated. None of you were born into it."

"Peach was. You should talk to her if you want to know about that. It's not common, you know, to be born into slavery."

"I didn't realize that it was uncommon."

"Sure. Think about it. If an owner breeds his slaves then he's responsible for feeding and housing the children until they are old enough to sell. That costs a lot of money. Half the children are going to be boys and that means that they'll almost certainly end up in labor auctions. There's no demand for male pleasure slaves. Of the girls, most of them won't be pretty enough. Plain-looking females join the males in the labor auctions. So maybe one out of five children at most will be sold for a good price. Only fools think that they're going to get rich raising slaves. They hear stories about some pleasure slave fetching a hundred thousand and they think that they'll get a whole crop of children who will grow up to be those special cases."

"So why does anyone breed slaves at all?"

Lime leaned close. "That's an open secret. Some owners have only good-looking girls to sell. People are pretty sure that they kill the boys at birth and the homely girls by the age of two so that they won't have to waste money raising labor slaves. I don't know if that's true but it seems likely." She stroked two small scars on her lower belly. "I'll never have to find out, myself. My second owner had me spayed."

Irene was horrified. "Sterilized?"

"Those pesky tubes are history. They were gone by the time I was twenty-five. They left the ovaries, though, to make sure that I still get a full complement of hormones. Slaves with no ovaries aren't as good at servicing men so their value decreases dramatically."

"Did you have children before you were pressed into slavery?"

"A boy and a girl. They're my sister's children now. It was a relief that she was willing to adopt them. Being pressed into slavery would have been a lot worse if it had put my children in an orphanage. The youngest was one and a half. I guess she's in second or third grade today. She wouldn't recognize me. The boy probably wouldn't, either. He was four when I was sold. I don't think four-year-olds remember people very well. Do you?"

"I think he'd remember his mother. I'm sure that he treasures those memories of you."

Lime wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "It doesn't matter, does it? He's never going to see me again. Children never see slaves, except on the street when we're running an errand. And then their mothers tell them not to look. My sister might have told my children not to look at me some time when I was out on an errand."

"I'm sorry I brought this up," Irene said.

"No. It's good. I like to remember that I did something good before I was sold. My children are good, you know. I'm certain of that. They're going to grow up to be fine people. They won't make the kind of mistake that I did, getting involved with a gambler."

"I'm sure they won't."

"Anyway, I better go clean up. You never know when the owner is going to decide that he wants service." She left in the direction of the bathroom.

Irene stayed and listened to the m.u.f.fled sounds of Apple and Cherry's exuberant romp with Lord Snow in the pleasure room.

Their joy made her want to weep in despair. But she didn't. Slaves learned to be tough.

On Wednesday morning, the kennelman brought Nickel to the table to eat with the other slaves.

She was naked her corset and strap were nowhere to be seen and her hair was wet.

The kennelman had made her shower and wash her hair before coming to the kitchen. He didn't want her rank smell to ruin the other slaves' appet.i.tes. She hadn't been able to wash for three days but that was not the worst of it. The kennelman's instructions had been to provide a bucket for her to relieve herself but made no mention of toilet paper.

Using the bucket in total darkness had been a messy business.

Lord Snow told the kennelman not to clean Nickel's cell. He was to leave a brush and soap for her to clean up her own mess. She already had a bucket. Her first task would be to clean that out.

Lord Snow was considerate of his kennelmen.

Nickel's eyes were red with hate when she glared at Irene but she dared not speak her mind for fear that the kennelman would s.n.a.t.c.h her precious bowl of porridge out of her grasp.

A kennelman had the duty and the authority to keep the slaves in order when he was tending to them and he had discretion about how to do it.

Nickel never took her eyes from Irene, never once looked down at her bowl, as she shoveled spoonful after spoonful of oatmeal into her maw.

Only when the bowl was completely empty, did she look down to make certain that she cleaned up even the tiniest smidges of food.

The kennelman did not offer her a second bowl. The slaves never got seconds and they would never dream of asking for more.

One bowl of porridge would have to satisfy Nickel until dinner.

But it was clear from Nickel's glare that the only food that would satisfy her was Irene's heart, fried and sliced on a plate. She would delight in eating every bite of that gourmet treat.

"Nickel, you've been a.s.signed a ch.o.r.e," the kennelman said. His voice was mild. A kennelman never had to raise his voice to a slave. Slaves knew that they would live an exceptionally uncomfortable life if they failed to mind their kennelman.

She left to clean her cell.

After the kennelman left, Peach said, "It seems, Lady Irene, that you have caused our whiphand some distress. I reckon that we'll see how your strong c.u.n.t holds up after it's been well tenderized by her strap."

Irene addressed all of the slaves. "I hope that you're all practicing with your weights every day. You're going to need your strength for one of my upcoming entertainments."

Peach snickered. "It's you that needs those weights. The rest of us have a better way to excercise our c.u.n.ts."

Irene shrugged. "Suit yourself. But don't say that I didn't warn you."

After she finished cleaning her cell, Nickel stayed inside until the other slaves had gone to the manor to undertake their token ch.o.r.es of the day.

When Irene was alone, Nickel emerged. She was wearing her corset and strap again.

"You locked my door," Nickel said.

Irene didn't bother to deny it. "You were ordered to attend the entertainment."

"I didn't eat for three days."

Irene nodded.

"And you didn't eat me out for three days. Come to my cell," she said. She was clearly exerting effort to keep her voice neutral.