Chapter 26: Stick Gets Some Consolation and Inez Moves

Inez delivered Jason his dinner in his office in the living area of his rooms. Jason looked up, waved for the tray to be placed at one side of his desktop, and directed, "You will be sleeping here, tonight."

"Master?" Inez asked, confused.

"Sleeping with you in the bed you shared with your soon-to-be ex- husband should probably be giving me a kick," Jason related, "but it is not. Your new life is with me, not vice-versa. You will be moving here. I have asked Armand to approve remodeling that will expand these rooms, taking some space from the next apartment over in order to accommodate Bianca. YOU will move in here, effective tonight." He waved his hand at the door behind him. "The bedroom is there; see to it that you don't disrupt my things too much as you bring yours in, and get a feel for the way I organize. If you mess things up, you'll spend all day fixing them, afterward."

"Yes, Master."

"Come here." Inez circled the desk, hesitantly. Jason took her chin. "You are MINE! Your old life is gone, as if it never existed. What you carry in HERE," he poked her belly, relatively gently, "is mine also. Bianca, in that she is now my ward, is my responsibility, but she is a free woman. YOU are not; YOU are property. You are to dispense with your old life; it is irrelevant to you in your new condition. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master."

Clearly, she knew what to say; just as clearly, she didn't REALLY understand. Well, time would teach her. "I want you nude in these rooms, like the Wench is. You will stop at the door and put on a skirt and blouse and go about your business, but HERE, I want you nude. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master."

"You're still dressed..." Inez blinked, then started hauling at her peasant blouse. "Hurry! Learn to do it quickly; I'm not interested in striptease, only the results!" She stepped out of her skirt. "Fold it neatly, and place it by the door. We'll get you a piece of furniture to place such things upon."

Inez took the garments to the door, folded them, and placed them neatly beside the door, which was wide open.

"Come back here..." Jason directed. Inez returned to a position beside his chair. "Turn around..." A quick look of trepidation, and she did so.

SMACK! Jason gave her a good slap on the ass -- nothing incredible, just a good, solid attention-getter. "Work on your speed," he admonished, then added, "Now go and take a good, hard look at my bedchamber. I want you to remember how it is SUPPOSED to look..." Inez did as she was told, rubbing her ass; Jason watched her from the corner of his eye.

Inez consoled herself that she was learning; she'd never be perfect, because Jason wouldn't let her be -- but she could do her best to approach it. Letting herself into Jason's bedroom, she realized that she was in trouble; Jason was a neat-freak, totally anal-retentive. Everything would HAVE to be perfect -- constantly. That would be a major challenge, one that would no doubt keep her very busy. The closet looked like a parade -- everything on a hanger, spaced with precision... Where was she going to put her things? The drawers in the bureau were all in use... Timidly, she returned to him at the desk, "Master, where am I going to put my things?"

Jason frowned. After a bit of thought, he announced, "We'll have to get another chest of drawers. As for the closet, see if you can narrow the distance between the hangers by half. I don't want things all squashed against each other, though; use the minimum distance that allows decent separation. You don't have that much on hangers, do you? Take the left side. I don't really see what you need from a chest; you're not allowed underclothing..."

"Um, yes, Master -- no, Master! Yes, Master!"

"Go! I don't want a disaster at bedtime, so hurry up -- but do it right, or I'll spank you!" Inez made for the door, and Jason added, "If it will save you time, you can go nude to your old rooms..." Inez recognized the expression that greeted her scandalized glance as his equivalent of a grin.

The trio was at Mary's; Stick had grumbled a little bit, but allowed himself to be led. Mary put a beer in his hand and rubbed his shoulders a bit, then took Teddy's hand and led him off to the other side of the room. Ducking into the walk-in closet, she started shucking out of her clothing, but her eyes were on Teddy. "Right now, his attention is all on what he's paying for; we need to remind him what he's getting. I'll get his head and his hands busy, but his bottom half is yours, okay?"

"Okay."

"If we get all worked up and Stick runs out too fast, I'll take care of you; you need to concentrate on him. Make him happy; remind him what the upside is." She pulled her nightdress over her head. "Ready?"

"Ready."

"Okay, Baby, relax." Mary rubbed Stick's hard shoulders. "Things aren't as bad as you think. Things could be a lot worse." She leaned forward over the back of the couch and kissed him.

Stick was holding onto his depression, but it got hard, quick, when you were getting kissed and mauled and shit... "Draper's gonna fuckin' go ballistic..."

"Not if it's presented right." Mary came around and knelt on the couch, resuming her kissing attack while reaching for his fly. Stick reached up and collected a handful of thinly covered breast; kneeling like this presented Mary's small, splayed tits to their best effect. She stopped at his waist, having opened the zipper, and opened a couple of buttons on her nightie so that he could get at one directly.

Stick closed his eyes and enjoyed her lips and the feel of her breasts while she worked at his jeans again. The woman had four hands, it seemed like... He raised his hips and his jeans and boxers slid down his legs and a soft hand began cradling his balls. His attention solely on Mary's kiss and her other attentions, he didn't even think about how his shoes and socks came off, or his jeans and boxers got totally out of the way until a warm, wet mouth descended over his cock. After THAT, it was too late to worry... He broke for air and gasped, "Jeezus, Teddy! You sure I can't jus' put you in a skirt?"

Teddy released the swollen head of Stick's cock with a loud pop. "If you think it'll help..." He rolled his lips over the glans and started working the sensitive area just under the ridge, supplementing the effort with his tongue.

Coherent thought was going by the wayside -- Stick had too much going on. He buried a hand in Teddy's curls to direct him, (not that he needed it), and resumed kissing and fondling Mary, letting go and slipping into the maelstrom of sensations that the attention brought. A minute later, he was clutching Teddy's head to his crotch while he pulsed out a load into the little fucker's throat. Why'd he have to be such a damned fine cocksucker?

Mary watched him recover, her smile a layer over her concern. "Better?"

"Yeh." Stick ruffled Teddy's curls. "You gonna get that skirt -- but it'll be only to keep folk who don't know no better from askin' stupid questions while the three of us is out." Reaching around, he rubbed Teddy's back. "If you gotta put up with shit like that, I figure I can suck your dick occasionally... Only fair. As for the rest of them assholes: Fuck 'em if they can't take a goddam joke. Mary, give Ted a little, I wanna watch."

"Mistress? Master wants to see you..." The Wench wiped her mouth on her arm as she leaned in Sharon's door.

"Do you know what about?" Sharon asked.

"Well, no. But he has no urgent, uh, sexual needs." The Wench wiped at her lips with a finger and thumb, not meeting Sharon's eyes.

"Uh... huh. I don't know whether to thank you or be mad..." Sharon's expression reflected the conflict.

"Um, it's not as if I had a choice. Or even like I was the first. Or..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Enough! Where is he?"

"The Media Room. Do you know where it is?"

"Across from the study?" Sharon asked. The Wench nodded. "Thanks."

Sharon turned back toward her bedroom, and the Wench followed. When Sharon shrugged out of her nightie and grabbed a pair of pants, she asked, "You're dressing?"

"You and I have different rules," Sharon responded. "One of mine is 'never make it easy'." She grabbed a blouse.

"No underwear?" the Wench wondered.

"Some things aren't worth the aggravation," Sharon retorted. "If messing with my mind is what he wants, he'll just shred them. If I'm lucky, the outerwear will hold him; if not, anything else will just be in the way..." She strode out. The Wench decided to wait; she might be wanted, after...

"You sent for me?" Sharon opened the conversation as she entered the room.

Armand was sitting on a couch, watching four different things split- screened on a large monitor, apparently. He looked up and got rid of three inputs, leaving one, frozen. "I thought you might like to see what happened to Mr. Adams' mother..." He patted a place on the couch beside him, and reached for a packet of materials on the table before him.

Sharon settled gingerly while she took the packet. This wasn't Armand's usual adversarial approach... Flipping over the first photograph caused Sharon to forget her unease, however: "Oh my God!" She peered at the picture of the bedraggled black woman lying in the road, "Are those NAILS?"

"Yes," Armand confirmed. "Big ones, too."

"That's barbaric!" Sharon moved on to a picture taken in the ER. "Unbelievable!"

"It's pretty impressive," Armand agreed. "At this point, we have no evidence that the attack on her is related to the one on you -- but we're not done investigating. The evidence, however, indicates that a local pimp was out to make an impression on the unaffiliated hookers downtown. Tabitha Adams made a perfect target, being past her prime and pretty fiercely independent. When I confirm this, I'll take steps."

"Why? What evidence DO you have?"

"His people were showing this around..." Armand flicked a switch on his remote and the scene currently being displayed -- the kitchen, Sharon thought -- was replaced by video of Ms. Adams, bound over a sawhorse. The view zoomed in to show a garden hose with a cone-shaped tip being fed into the black woman's ass. In a couple of seconds, the hose jumped, and muted screaming began. "I turned down the volume," Armand related diffidently. Over the next few minutes, he fast-forwarded to several highlights of the horrendous torture session. The nailing was particularly awful; Sharon covered her eyes, but the scream...

Armand paused the video. "Ordinarily, even young Nate's relationship to Nora would be irrelevant, but Ms. Adams apparently told the pimp, one Rodday Pinkham, that she was under my protection. It wasn't true, but his disregard is an issue..." His voice was cold. "Given this, I've decided to extend that protection, retroactively. If, as it appears, Mr. Pinkham ordered this, I plan to deal with him. He is apparently only loosely affiliated with any organizations... As for the actual perpetrator, he is undoubtedly a professional, and will be difficult to find -- and it might not even be worth it, except to retain him as a resource. He is extremely creative; despite some obviously intense pain and dramatic-looking injuries, Ms. Adams was never really in any danger of losing her life..."

"You're unbelievable!" Sharon exclaimed, shocked.

"Oh, all right. To be fair, if I catch him, I might let Ms. Adams visit a bit of payback upon him." Armand chuckled and Sharon realized he had been feeding her a line. "In the meantime, I'm going to let Nora get away with her current plans to shelter her boyfriend overnight, in case this pimp has further ideas." Armand turned fully toward Sharon. "... Which brings us to you..."

"Me?"

"Specifically, what am I going to do about you? Some things are clear, and some aren't. You're here, which is as I willed it, but your status is unclear to you, isn't it?"

Sharon suddenly realized that based upon previous experience with conversations of this nature, she was sitting too close to Armand. Withdrawal, on the other hand, seemed futile; she was in his house, for God's sake! "Yes..."

"I think it is time we clarified your expectations and mine, don't you?" Armand smiled archly. "Come here!" he barked. Sharon didn't move, but he didn't expect her to; the purpose of the command was to shock her into immobility. A quick grab, and she was over his knees, pinned.

"Armand!"

"Silence!" Armand worked the zipper to Sharon's slacks. "Push them down!"

"No!"

SMACK! Sharon's ass took the imprint of Armand's hand.

"Okay! Okay!" She started shoving at the pants, pushing them down over her hips.

"Another video has arrived," Armand grated, "one starring you! Do you want to see it? Given your responses, it wasn't that bad..."

"Oooohhh..." Humiliation turned Sharon scarlet. No wonder he was pissed! "Noooo..."

"Frankly, I think you were highly sensible about the whole thing," Armand stated matter-of-factly. "Cooperation, and an attempt to reap some pleasure from the acts made good sense. I'm sure you learned a few things, too, didn't you? How was it?"

"It was... Armand!" Sharon REALLY didn't want to go into it -- the fact that she'd managed to cum more than once during a rape was pretty embarrassing...

"True confessions time, my Dear. Obviously, you enjoyed it..."

"Well, okay. Yeah."

"Have you made any comparisons?"

"Huh?"

"With me."

"Oh." Actually, it hadn't occurred to her. "I remember thinking at the time that you'd done worse..." Armand was rubbing her ass; when was he going to start beating her?

"That wasn't necessarily what I was talking about. I'd intended to broaden your experience, and this certainly offered an opportunity. What did you think?"

"Um, I..." Sharon really wasn't prepared for this.

"We'll leave it, then, for now," Armand said breezily. "It's time to speak of your role in my house. We're not married, but you're technically not an employee. You ARE my dependent, however... The Wench calls you Mistress, but you are not in charge, here -- I want that clearly understood."

"I'll stay out of the way until things clear up, Armand..."

"You will not be relocating anywhere. Is that understood?"

"Armand! We're NOT married!"

There was a wrench at her arm and Sharon found herself bowed backwards over Armand's knees, looking up at him with terrified eyes. "You are MINE!" he hissed. "Marriage has NOTHING to do with your relationship to me! You belong to me! You always have! Admit it!"

"Y-yes, Armand!" Arguing with this intensity was beyond her.

"The coin you will render in return for your residence under this roof is the one you have always utilized -- your submission to me! Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, Armand!"

"You will remove certain of Jason's burdens of responsibility for the operation of this house from his shoulders, working with him to ensure smooth operations. You may rely upon him to instill discipline, but I expect you to set standards, understood?" Sharon nodded, wide-eyed. "As to where you sit in the pecking order: There are slaves and servants in this house, and there are free men and women. You sit at the pinnacle of the former group, but are not a member of the latter. You will submit to my needs, on demand, as you always have. Do you understand?" Sharon nodded, blinking and shaking.

Armand rolled her back over. "Now lie there, quietly. Any questions?"

"Ummm..." Sharon gathered her wits. "What about Nora?"

"Nora is a free woman, aside from her obligations to us, her parents. She represents the pinnacle of the other group, which is quite small, at the moment. The only other free woman in the household is Inez's fourteen-year-old daughter Bianca. Everyone else is either a slave or a servant." Armand resumed rubbing Sharon's ass, causing her to tense and relax, tense and relax. "Jason is a servant, but he is also my right hand; I recommend that you not attempt to dominate him, as it will irritate him and cause him to attempt to put you in your place, with or without my permission. I recommend that you develop a relationship based upon mutual assistance and cooperation. Ultimately, Jason sits above you, for he is a servant, and you are a slave."

"Armand!"

Armand's hand on her ass lifted, and Sharon flinched -- but it did not descend. Armand went on reasonably, "Based upon our relationship, I will allow you to continue to use my Christian name to address me -- but you will do so with respect, or you will pay for it as you always have. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Armand." When was he going to hit her? Sharon's ass was clenched tight...

"Many of the females in this household are technically servants, but would acknowledge themselves as somewhat less. I'm sure you are aware of the implications..."

"Ummm..."

"I use them -- as I will use you! This is not a major change in the status quo -- I have always used you when I felt like doing so. This hasn't -- will not -- change; you will submit to me on demand, just as you are now." The hand descended -- but gently -- and began rubbing again. "Males are servants; I have taken the submission of one or two of them without changing their status. Jason has been known to punish in this manner. Aside from Jason, and perhaps Charles, the overseer, however, they are subordinate to you and will follow your instructions as if they were mine. Again, do not cross Jason in this area -- let him brief them."

Armand rubbed some more, musing. "I may resume attracting toys, and I may not. Having you more readily available may slake certain of my hungers. On the other hand, you may decide that having some idiot around to take the load off of you is convenient, as has happened before. Should I resume taking in toys, remember your place; THEY are guests, and free women, until properly trained -- YOU are not. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Armand." Sharon paused a moment. "Do I have any say in this?"

"No." Armand continued rubbing her ass. "I plan to continue to assign the Wench to you as a helpmeet, except where it may conflict with her primary duties. You should consider her your sister in bondage -- perhaps develop a friendship. Lean on her, when you need support that you can't expect to get from me -- I'm sure she'll provide it. She apparently enjoys serving you. Now, let's watch the video, shall we?"

The next twenty minutes were a confusing mix of sensations for Sharon. There was humiliation at her on-screen antics -- a humiliation that Armand reinforced with bland comments like, "You like that, huh?" and "You choke well, don't you? Hmmmm." Mixed with this was arousal from the on- screen content; now that she was somewhat used to seeing herself as a performer, she could concentrate on the content, which, let's face it, was pretty racy, especially for a submissive... Finally, there was Armand's constant stimulation of her ass; he never struck her again after that initial swat to get her going, but his ministrations ensured that she was flinching constantly, clenching her buttocks and starting as she awaited the swat that she considered inevitable. Eventually, all that clenching up became an end in itself, due to the stimulation it gave her...

By the time the video of her ravishment ended, Sharon wanted an orgasm, BAD; Armand knew this, but deliberately made no move to grant it. "Up you go. We're done for the evening, unless you have questions. I recommend that you meet with Jason in the morning and get some idea of the scope of your duties as housemistress. All set?"

Sharon nodded, slowly pulling her pants back up. She couldn't BELIEVE he was leaving things like this... Surely, he knew... Armand's smile told her that not only did he know, he was intentionally leaving her in her sorry state. Dismissed, she staggered out of the Media Room toward her quarters, "Damned sadist..." She was going to have to masturbate...

"Wow! You look rough!" the Wench exclaimed as Sharon stomped through the door to her rooms, "What happened?"

"Typical Armand," Sharon hissed through clenched teeth. "I... need to be alone..."

"You need to vent a bit and have a nice hot bath," the Wench argued. "Why don't you undress and stretch out on the massage table in the bath and you can tell me all about it while I work some of the tension out?"

"I..." Dammit, the tension problem was in her clit! Still, she could masturbate in the bath, under water. The massage would feel good, if it didn't take too much of the edge off... "Oh, all right." By the time the Wench had set the water temperature, Sharon was on her stomach on the table with a towel over her, surreptitiously pressing her mound against the table top.

The Wench, however, dispensed with the towel immediately. "That's in the way; besides, we've seen one another." She rubbed Sharon's calves while eyeing the gap between her legs; Sharon's labia were pink, puffy, open, and wet. "So what is Master up to now?"

"Well, first, he showed me pictures of Nate's poor mother; some guy nailed her breasts to a board, for God's sake! Unbelievable!"

"Wow! No shit?" The Wench moved to Sharon's thighs.

"There was a video, too -- awful stuff! Enemas from a garden hose..." Those hands were really too close... (They were, too -- the Wench could feel the heat coming from Sharon's center... ) "Why don't you work on my shoulders?"

The Wench grunted and shrugged, but neatly scotched Sharon's escape attempted escape by the simple expedient of crawling up to kneel between her splayed thighs to do the shoulder work. "What else?"

"Well he used a bottle brush on her, uh..."

"Vagina?"

"Yeah. And he had some gag he stuck in her mouth with a ring -- but he added some plugs and things, and the next thing you know, he's holding her nose and she passes out from being unable to breathe..."

"Wow! Nasty!"

"Well, the nails were the worst! He actually pulled one out and drove it in again!"

"Ewwwww!"

"After that, Armand kind of started his usual thing. I say 'kind of' because he was pretty weird about it..." Sharon shook her head. "He dragged me across his lap and got me out of my pants, and I figured I was in for a spanking, but it didn't happen. Instead, he made sure I was paying attention, then lectured me on my place in this household..."

"Oh? Ummm, what is that, Mistress?"

"Well, for one thing, I've been told that I'm not what Armand calls a 'free woman'. Armand insists I'm a slave. In fact, he claims I have been all along..."

The Wench allowed herself a small smile, "You disagree?"

"You're damned right!" Sharon railed, "Not that it matters..."

"Master has some grounds..."

"Yeah, yeah..." Sharon sighed. "Anyway, I'm apparently head slut, or chief slave, or some damned thing..." She relaxed a moment, absorbing the work on her shoulders and neck. "I'm to run the household, with Jason's backing. Armand didn't ask me, he told me. I'm to assume control of normal operations, freeing up Jason for... something..."

"Probably to give him free time to devote to his new family," the Wench chuckled.

"Yeah, maybe... Anyway, Jason is to introduce me around tomorrow. He'll still handle discipline. I understand that the Overseer still handles slaves..."

"Oh, that's Sir," the Wench related. "He's a reasonable person alongside Jason. Besides, there's just me..."

"Well, YOU are still assigned to ME, except when it conflicts with your 'primary duties'... You want to remind me what those are again?"

"Entertaining guests, Mistress..."

Sharon shook her head. "How? Do you juggle?"

The Wench rolled her eyes. "I'm a slut, Mistress! Really, do I have to draw you a picture?"

"Oh." Sharon mused a moment. "Do you have any limits?"

"Well, I'm not supposed to get myself killed. Other than that..."

"So, boys? Girls?"

"Dogs and ponies, too, for all I know. Thus far, I haven't seen a lot of use, Mistress..."

"No?"

"No." Sharon felt the Wench's shrug in her ministrations to her upper back. "Master hasn't brought anyone in, except, you and Miss Nora..."