Chapter 13

“Medium rare please.”

Willow carved the prime rib at just the right place for the meat to be the correct doneness. She then placed it on a china plate along with some asparagus and a baked potato and then passed the plate to Heather who was acting as server. She placed the plate in front of Master Carl and stepped back to the sideboard while Willow competed Lord Blackmon’s plate.

The preparations for the meal had been an all-day affair. Fresh bread dough was made, the prime rib roast had been seasoned with a dry rub and a cheesecake was prepared and cooled for dessert. The best china had been retrieved from the storage room and washed. The same was true for the silver. The round dining table was decorated candles and with fresh cut flowers from the garden and the wine was the very best Lord Blackmon’s cellar had to offer.

There were two place settings and two pillows arranged on the floor next to the chairs. When the plates had been served and all was in order, Heather knelt down on the cushion facing Master Carl and Willow settled near Lord Blackmon. Both slaves were adorned similarly. While Willow had kept her hair short and spikey, Willow’s red mane was piled up on top of her head. Both wore black bow ties around their necks but no shirts. Instead they wore vests made of silk held across their breasts by one satin ribbon. Willow’s was red while Heather’s was green along with short silk skirts in the appropriate color and matching strappy heels.

“Bon appetite,” Lord Blackmon said as he raised his glass. Carl raised his glass and repeated the salute. When he set his glass back down, he went to place his napkin in his lap but could not find it. “This is the first formal meal I have enjoyed since I came back from my misadventure, and I believe it is the first we have shared together. Please allow me to demonstrate.” Lord Blackmon took a warm roll from the basket and tore it open. He used his knife to spread some butter across the soft bread. Crumbs from the roll had dusted his fingers but he did not wipe his hands on a napkin. Instead he lowered his hand to the black haired slave kneeling next to his chair. She quickly took his fingers into her mouth and removed the offending crumbs. “Both of our slaves have been very good and should be encouraged. Please feel free to share any of your meal you wish with her. In a setting such as this, it is traditional for them to enjoy it from your hand.”

Carl raised his eyebrows, “So ... this is a reward?”

Lord Blackmon had taken a bite of the buttered roll and waited until he had swallowed before he answered, “No, not really. This is the way we will eat when we go to a club or other high end establishment and we do not want to confine or commit our slaves to the kitchen staff for use. However their behavior and attitude needs to be proper and polite for them to remain in the formal dining room with us. So I guess this is a teachable moment for both of these slaves as well as yourself.”

“I see.”

“There is more to it though. This custom developed for a number of reasons. One is that it puts the slave below the level of the table and thus out of sight of the other diners. Many slaves carry marks of various degrees, many of which are considered ... unappetizing to be staring at during a fine meal. It also gives the slaves something to focus on and do. They are not just in the line of sight fidgeting.” While he talked, Lord Blackmon had cut a small piece of his excellent prime rib and had begun feeding it to his kneeling slave. “However some masters take advantage of these customs to show off or further humiliate their slaves. I once had dinner in a very nice place in Half Moon Bay and watched a master repeatedly smear butter on the bottom of his shoe just so his slave could lick it off. Someone spoke to the management and the master was told never to return to that establishment.”

Carl had to admit it was incredibly sensuous feeding a morsel of the wonderful beef to his lovely redhead. She took her time and removed every trace of juice and fat from his fingers, gently sucking each finger in turn. The whole process seemed to slow down the meal, making it more deliberate and more enjoyable. As the meal progressed the two masters talked about a number of topics but excluded from the conversation were the recent legal issues that had occupied so much of their time and attention. The evening had become an oasis from those concerns.

The slaves cleared the plates and then brought each man a slice of the cheesecake along with coffee. Carl took a bite then fed one from his fork to Heather, “I am not sure what prompted you to plan this dinner. There are a number of things we should be celebrating. We have not celebrated your safe return and recovery. We could be recognizing the addition of Willow to your household. But you never told me what the occasion was for this invitation.”

Lord Blackmon pushed back from the table slightly, “We are celebrating in a manner of speaking. However it is none of the things that you mentioned. Tonight is a ceremony of sorts. But the dinner table is not the place to discuss this. Let us retire to the other room.” With that he stood while Willow retrieved his cane.

The great room was of course dominated by the fireplace and the large leather arm chair. However Carl noticed that there was an addition. A second chair, much like the first and fitting in well with the décor, had been added on the other side of the fireplace. While Carl was contemplating this addition, Lord Blackmon poured two sniffers of something golden and held one out to Carl, “I drink very little, but do enjoy a little cognac after a special meal. Will you join me?” After Carl took the glass the larger man led him over to the new addition and clearly was expected to sit down. Lord Blackmon returned to the original chair, sat down and took as sip from his glass. “I arranged this dinner for a specific purpose. I needed to fulfill a commitment, a promise, I made and I need your help to do so.”

Carl looked at his own glass, “How can I help?”

Lord Blackmon looked hard a Carl, “The explanation needs some ... visual aids. If you would permit, will you tell your slave to come out here?”

“Heather! Please join us!” The redheaded slave, still dressed in her bow tie, vest and skirt came out from around the corner near the kitchen and knelt at her master’s feet.

“Sir?”

“Turn and face Lord Blackmon, he has something to say to you.” A brief flash of confusion appeared on her face but she turned and knelt facing the other chair.

Lord Blackmon crooked his finger indicating for her to come near him. He set his glass down and sat up as she approached. He motioned for her to stand between his knees. Without warning and almost in one motion he tore away her green vest and skirt leaving the redhead naked except for her heels and the black bowtie. “Slave, turn around and sit on my lap.” Heather turned and faced Carl again, this time with fear in her eyes, but she complied. Ignoring Carl, Lord Blackmon used his large hands to force her knees apart and her ass all the way back against his stomach. He then reached up and removed whatever it was that held her hair up and her flame red tresses tumbled down across her pale shoulders. “I heard the story about how well you did at the hotel, how you convinced the manager to give Master Carl what he was looking for. Well done.”

“Thank you sir.”

“Have you told your master how much you enjoyed your outing?

Heather’s voice was small and high but she managed to squeak out “Yes sir.”

“Good! And did you beg him to whore you out again sometime?”

“Yes sir.”

“Ask him. Ask him now.”

“I ... I don’t understand.”

“Ask him to let you be a whore right now. Ask him to give you to me for the night, or for the week, or for the year, whatever I wish. Ask him to do it because that is what you want.”

The young redhead looked terrified, tears began streaming down her face, but she said, “Sir, would you please loan me out to Lord Blackmon. I ... want to be your slut to do with as you please. I will make you proud of me...”

Lord Blackmon laughed out loud, “Very good! Did you hear what she did? She wanted you to remember that you are her master and to not forget her. She is very loyal this one!”

None of this had amused Master Carl. “It might work even better if you shoved your hand up her ass and moved her mouth like a ventriloquist dummy.”

Lord Blackmon looked at Carl, “Does this bother you?”

“Yes, it does. She is mine and it would have been just good manners to...”

“Yes, that is true. It was bad manners of me. I apologize. But I was trying to make a point.” Lord Blackmon ran his finger across Heather’s cheek, “Not long ago, this girl flinched away when I dared touch her face like this without asking. But look at the change in her. She just asked you to give her over for my use, to be fucked any way I wanted. Things and people can profoundly change. In the interest of good manners would you allow me to touch your slave while I ask her a few questions?”

Carl knew him well enough that bad manner was just not is style. He had also learned to trust Lord Blackmon. This strange behavior had to be leading somewhere. “Sure, I would ask that you not hurt her without asking me.”

“Oh, most certainly.” Lord Blackmon turned his attention back to the redhead on his lap. His knees forced Heather’s thighs wide apart, obscenely displaying her sex. He used his left arm to trap her arms behind her and reach around to run his fingers lightly through her pussy. “I want you to tell Master Carl about Page.”

Heather was having trouble catching her breath from the stimulation she was receiving, “Sir?”

“Tell him what has been happening to Page.”

“Sir, she ... she has been ... tortured all week.”

“Tortured! No, no, no ... What she has been through has not been torture. Did she use that word?”

“No ... no sir.” Heather was becoming more and more distracted by the finger moving across her clit. “She never told us what was going on ... only that she needed our help.”

“Help? Was she asking you to help her avoid the activities?”

“No sir, she needed our help completing them. Even when you and Master Carl were gone yesterday, she asked us to ... use her and tease her.”

He had inserted a finger and was rubbing her clit with his thumb, “‘All week’ did you say?”

Heather’s voice was pitched higher with excitement, “Yes ... yes sir!”

Abruptly Lord Blackmon stopped his stimulation, released her arms and firmly moved her back off of his lap to the floor, “Thank you, you may leave us.” Trembling she rose to her feet and walked unsteadily from the room. He watched her until she was gone then turned back to Master Carl, “This evening is about Page and for Page. She asked for it and she planned it. She has prepared herself all week in anticipation of tonight. I wanted you to hear that from someone other than me so that you would know without any doubt that it was true.”