Chapter 6: Unfettered Philosophy and Power Trips

Bianca was sitting in her room, slowly getting a grip, when the intercom came on and a now familiar voice said, "Bianca? The Wench is done; she's going to need you to help clean her up and get her back to her quarters."

Dread slowed her response, but she made it to the wall panel and husked, "Okay."

"Hurry along, then." Charles sighed; the girl was going to need some fatherly advice, and he'd never been one. He walked over to where the Wench was still kneeling, exhausted, and ran his hand along the smooth curve of her back. "Why don't you lie down for a bit, Wench? Bianca's on the way to help."

The Wench collapsed in place, rolling onto her side. She was exhausted, physically and mentally. Her mouth hurt, her throat was sore, her knees were rug-burned, and her pussy was sore -- but she'd lost count of the orgasms she'd gotten from the yard boys. Add to that the fact that she'd largely succeeded in the purpose of the exercise, and it was a positive experience, all in all. The wooden floor of the porch was cool, and sleep beckoned.

Bianca arrived, and took in the state of her charge. "Is she okay?"

Charles nodded. "Yes, merely tired. I'm quite proud of her -- only the one accident!" He beamed a bit.

Bianca stood there, drawing invisible diagrams on the floor with her sneaker toe. "I, uhh..."

Charles cut her off. "You are young and you were inundated with something you'd had little exposure to. Your body reacted the way it was supposed to. Everybody understands."

"But, Pete!"

"Especially Pete. You aren't a little sweet on Pete, are you?" Charles teased gently.

Bianca's throat closed -- all she could manage was an embarrassed nod. Charles nodded. "I thought so. Well, you could do worse. But if your father catches him in a compromising position with you, the knife will come out. Pete isn't your age, either..."

"Boys my age are just that! Boys!" Bianca spat.

Charles blinked. "Well," he temporized, "most girls figure that they can mold a boy into something decent at that age. Some even succeed..." He paused, then said carefully, "Pete is a better choice for your first experience, but the age difference will matter to most people -- I wouldn't plan to bear his children. In fact, if you should mention this conversation to anyone, I'll deny it -- I can't be seen as encouraging you."

"Well," Bianca sighed, "God knows what he thinks of me now..."

"You made it clearly apparent that you are not a child, but a woman. He noticed." Charles retorted. "Other than that, well, being sexually responsive might be an embarrassment in the presence of other women, but to men it is a positive thing; basically, I'd say you put yourself on the map... Be sure to tell me if you receive unwanted advances -- Pete wasn't the only one to notice." He turned to regard the Wench. "Let's get a look at your patient."

The Wench was a mess; her sharp model's features were coated with goo that ran down her neck to her breasts. Stepping around the back side, Bianca discovered more goo oozing from her vulva. "Hey!"

Charles chuckled. "Someone didn't make it around front," he noted. "Things stayed pretty wild until almost everyone had gotten through round two. If you'd hung around, you'd have needed more relief."

Bianca looked at the mess. "I need to get out of my school clothes."

Charles nodded. The white blouse and plaid skirt weren't really up to the muck. "Hurry back. Make it something you can get wet -- you're going to have to bathe her." Bianca nodded and dashed off again. Charles watched her go, wishing he had the energy to bounce around that fast...

Charles stood over the Wench for about five minutes, which had to be a world record for changing clothes by a teenage girl -- especially since Bianca reappeared with a small basin and a couple of washrags. She was wearing jean shorts that weren't QUITE 'Daisy Dukes' and a swimsuit top that was meant to be demure -- but demure had to be difficult when you were carrying the firm round globes on your chest that Bianca was. 'Yes', Charles mused to himself, 'she's going to be a man-killer.'

Bianca knelt next to the Wench and began applying the washrag to her face. The Wench started and threw up her hands, but Bianca murmured, "Shhhh! I'm cleaning you up. It's my job, remember?"

"Ummmm, yeah. Okay." The Wench sighed and relaxed. Exhaustion had her in its grip, and Bianca's efforts were gentle. Bianca nudged her over onto her back and she rolled flat obligingly.

Charles grunted. "Okay, I'm leaving her to you. Get her into a shower, then into her cage -- but leave the door open. And make sure there isn't a lot of goo around here!" he admonished.

"Yes sir." Bianca returned her attention to the Wench, ignoring Charles' departing footsteps. As she worked on her neck and breasts, the Wench opened one eye and opined, "I made a spectacle of myself, didn't I?"

Bianca grinned. "I think that was the idea. How was it?"

"Tough at first. I enjoy giving blowjobs -- it's a service thing, and when I succeed, it's an accomplishment. But there was a deliberate roughness to these..." She mused a moment, enjoying the swipe of the rag on her left breast. "Of course, it was supposed to be, and that made success even sweeter... When Phillippe started fucking me, I was already primed, and the going got a LOT easier... I don't know HOW many times I came, and Pete..."

"Pete?" Bianca looked up from dabbing at the Wench's labia.

The Wench nodded. "That's Pete," she amplified, nodding toward her crotch. "I got a really big one and dragged him along before he could get out and run around." She eyed Bianca, "You weren't here?"

"No." It seemed that the answer was unnecessarily short, so Bianca added, "I... left."

"Well, there was a lot of wild shit going on. I'VE never done THAT, so I'm pretty sure YOU'VE never seen it. What happened? When did you go?"

"I was... in and out." Both women smiled at the inadvertent pun. "Scoot over -- I need to work on the floor." Bianca selected her original cleaning materials, the harsher detergents not meant for human use, and began swiping at the porch floor. After a moment, she continued, "I got hot right away, but watching Phillippe... fuck... you had me going nuts! Mister Charles sent me off for towels, so I stopped and rubbed myself off in the linen closet -- but it wasn't enough..." She dipped a sponge and went at the floorboards again. "When I got back, you had Ed in one end and Boris in the other. It was bad -- I couldn't handle it, so I went over and parked over that chair arm..." Musing, she got up and, taking the sponge, began to wipe the lounger arm. "It didn't work -- or maybe it did -- I don't know. I got really hot, and suddenly there was this hand on my shoulder, and I looked up and Pete..." Bianca blushed fire engine red. "I got a BIG one, and when I came back, I was draped all over him! So much for being quiet..." She wouldn't meet the Wench's eyes as she returned to collect the materials, tossing the contents of the basins over the porch rail. Piling the things beside the door, she came back to the Wench and extended an arm, "Let's get you inside."

The Wench took the arm, and leaned on Bianca to the door, but announced, "I'll help with these..." and collected some of the cleaning materials. The pair headed downstairs to the laundry, the Wench following Bianca who was more familiar with the layout. After dumping towels and other linens, the pair headed for the cleaning closet, where Bianca rinsed the various containers and put them away. The Wench, leaning against the wall, made the connection: "You got a thing for Pete?" Bianca's answer was in her eyes. "Well, you can't blame him for doing me -- it's what he was there for. Besides, there was this male ego thing going on..."

"I guess he's got a steady girlfriend, too," Bianca sighed.

"Um, well, if I remember right, it's not that big a thing," the Wench replied. "More a case of scratching each other's itches than anything else. And according to Pete, Amy isn't that particular... But, uh, you know, he's, well, a LOT older than you..."

"Yeah, but he's SO cute!" Bianca gushed. "Besides, in twenty years, no one would know the difference!" The pair headed off toward the Wench's quarters for the next phase, the Wench still walking a bit unsteadily.

"Honey, a guy as cute as he is ALWAYS has a woman -- well, at LEAST one. And while you're right -- even ten years from now it would be no big thing -- right now, it's robbing the cradle, and he could go to jail, if your daddy didn't get him first..."

"Oh, I know. I'd never be able to hold onto him. And the whole world would screech about how old I am -- but boys my age are SUCH idiots! Besides, I want it done right when the time comes -- I don't know anyone my age I could trust for that!"

The Wench stopped and turned to the young girl, leaning against the doorframe for support, but grabbing her by the arm and swinging her to around so their eyes could meet. "Honey, is that ALL you want? A good first time?"

Bianca looked defensive. "Well, a good first FEW times, maybe..."

"How few?"

Bianca grinned. "If it's as good as I think it is, as many as I can get!" The impish smile was replaced by a more serious look. "I know I'm just a kid, and I can't hold him. But it would sure be fun to try!"

The Wench chuckled and let go of Bianca's arm, sliding her arm up and around her shoulder as the pair resumed walking. "Don't underestimate yourself, Honey -- you're all woman. You'd be surprised what you can catch!"

The pair entered the bath off the Wench's quarters and got her into the shower, Bianca plopping on the toilet seat while the Wench cleaned herself. It was a quiet interlude, the Wench luxuriating in the feel of the water on her various sore spots and Bianca coming down from her part of the racy interlude that had preceded it. If this was the Wench's normal activity, this would be a tough week... Bianca gave voice to the query, "Is this kind of thing normal for you?"

The Wench pulled her face from under the spray and looked thoughtful. "I haven't been here long enough for there to be a 'normal', I don't think... That was the wildest thing I've ever done, in many ways. Master is kinky -- he likes humiliation, he likes to prove his control, and he's into producing pain, both to see if you can take it and to see if it excites you -- but he's mostly a solo act. So I've done stranger, but not more." She finished rinsing and stepped out to where Bianca had both her towel and another question ready.

"How did you get to be here, doing this?" Bianca asked, as she began rubbing the Wench's back while she collected a second towel for her hair.

"Um, do you mean was I always a slut?" the Wench retorted, then became thoughtful. "No, this is basically Master's doing. Up until a few weeks ago, I was a model. When I had a name, it was Felicia -- now it is whatever Master decides to call me." She worked quietly for a bit, while Bianca worked at her back, then deliberately spread her legs. Bianca took the hint and wiped her ass, then knelt to do both legs, both of them pretending to ignore the effects of working on the more intimate areas -- but Bianca was being too thorough for either of them not to be clear on the fact that she was being deliberately intimate. Having been waited out, the Wench continued, "I had hot and cold running men, but it was about getting them to spend money on me, not about sex. I was beautiful, and somewhat famous, and it was a privilege to be with me -- one that men paid for by buying me things and taking me places. Oh, I liked sex, and I had it occasionally, but there was some calculation to it -- would this rich guy buy me that? That kind of thing. Master was to be a long-term investment; you see, I had peaked, and demand was beginning to drop off, so I was looking for a more permanent source of supply for the good things in life."

The Wench turned around, and dared Bianca with her eyes to continue, her arms still up working her hair -- and Bianca took the dare, starting at her neck, and working down over her breasts and armpits. The Wench continued, "Master didn't play games. Suddenly, I was the supplicant, and HE was telling ME what I would do to secure my position. It was a new game for me, and I didn't understand the rules -- or maybe I didn't understand that there weren't any. Master demanded more and more of me, while waving the flag of my greed before me. One day, he called me into his office, where he was getting a blowjob from a woman that he identified as his ex- wife. I don't know if it was, but she just turned red and kept on sucking. I gather that it is a tactic Master uses to separate the sheep from the goats -- only someone with guts and real greed will hang around for the next step. But Master didn't realize that there is a third group -- women who WANT to be owned. I didn't know I was one such until I saw him exercise his control over her like that -- but I got hot flashes any time I thought about it."

Bianca was slowly working lower. The Wench once again assumed a spread stance, and Bianca knelt while working her way over her belly and hips. Bianca caught a whiff of the Wench's distinctive vaginal secretions -- she was getting aroused just telling the tale! "Go on," Bianca prompted, while shifting to her calves and ankles. Both knew that she would work her way up...

"Things went downhill quickly after that," the Wench related, "Master made demands, things that no self-respecting woman would put up with. He just took -- and I gave. Oral sex, anal sex, beatings, fisting, diabolical tortures, humiliation, abuse... He had me give blowjobs to business associates, eat out his secretary... I think I realized before he did that I HAD no self-respect -- or at least it wasn't important. He would demand something outrageous, and I would comply or be punished. Only I always complied... He punished me anyway -- object lessons, or whatever. The intent was to break me -- but I was already broken... I learned to link pain with pleasure; if it hurts, is scary, or humiliating, it's just another sensation to pile atop the others and enjoy. Sex went from being a tool I used to get things to something I craved, a gift I could give my Master to seek his approval. Master continued to push, looking for resistance, even to the point of causing me to fear for my life -- it didn't matter. If Master wants my life, he can have it; I'll do what I can to go quietly..."

Bianca had reached her crotch and was gently dabbing between her legs. The Wench stepped over and put one foot up on the toilet. "Am I okay down there? It took a beating, and it's a little sore -- do you see any blisters or anything?" Bianca leaned in warily, but the Wench reached down an opened herself up. "C'mon, you've shaved it -- give it a good look! Prod around, or whatever! If it needs something, we need to know sooner, rather than later -- if Master wants me and I'm not right..."

"Okay." Bianca got down low and tried to get a good look from below, but it was limited. Rising, she directed, "Turn and face the door, and bend over. I've got no light down there." She bent to a serious examination of the older woman, who continued to hold herself spread. Gently, she ran a finger here and there in the surface groove of her pink channel. "That hurt?"

"Nooo..."

A child of a modest culture, Bianca was ill-equipped to give gynecological exams, but she got serious about it, running her finger around the opening of the Wench's vagina. "How's that?"

"Ummm, fine." The Wench closed her eyes and Bianca couldn't escape the idea that she was enjoying the attention. Well, might as well make it a learning experience... She probed deeper, hunting around in the fleshy folds. "And this?"

"Good. It's starting to be fun..." Bianca snatched her hand back, scandalized, but the Wench just winked and grinned. "I was just teasing. Haven't you ever diddled another girl on a sleepover, or something?"

"Um, no," Bianca replied. "Couldn't bring anyone here -- it'd come out that Papa was a servant..."

"Not to mention the unsavory goings-on around here..." The Wench nodded. "Well, it doesn't mean anything much. In modeling, a lot of the girls are high-strung, and boys are around to pay the tab, not get comfort from. I've diddled and been diddled for comfort and stress relief -- it DEFINITELY doesn't mean I don't like boys... Besides, it's more fun than doing it yourself." The Wench rose. "Guess things are fine, then. Good to know -- I didn't know if I could take that much attention..."

The pair headed for the Wench's quarters, a mostly bare room with a four-foot by four-foot cage in the middle. "Why do they make you sleep here?" Bianca asked.

"To remind me that I'm a slave. And to inspire me to work hard to be allowed to sleep elsewhere." The Wench seemed nonchalant. "I'm pretty tired, so it won't matter tonight." She got down on all fours and crawled into the cage, and Bianca shut the door. "Better lock it," the Wench admonished.

Bianca did so, but asked, "What if you have to pee?"

"I'll hold it. Worst case, you'll have to clean up the mess..." The Wench's eyes danced.

Bianca grinned back and squatted there, apparently in no hurry to leave. "So, you said you had to lick out Mister Armand's secretary. Have you ever been licked out?"

"Uh huh." The Wench rotated around and curled up on her side facing Bianca. "I've given, and I've taken, freely. Getting your pussy eaten is not something you pass up, once you've had it -- whether the person doing it is a boy or a girl. Tongue rides are a lot of fun, and they're 'equal opportunity'. Don't let anybody kid you; boys do it, too -- to each other. They generally won't admit it because other guys will call 'em queer, but most guys have had a blowjob from another guy -- usually when they were young and first getting into sex. It's experimentation... But guys are a lot touchier about it than girls."

"Why?"

"It's a service. A submission. Coming from your culture as you do, I don't have to tell you about machismo..." The Wench grinned. "Think how humiliated your Papa would be to have to perform a service like that -- submit to another man and suck his cock..."

"Oh," Bianca replied, then her eyes widened, "Oh!"

"Honey?"

"Papa was... freaked... for a couple of weeks a while back. Alternated between being embarrassed and severe attacks of machismo. I think Mister Jason punished him for something..."

"Oh." The Wench blinked. "Ummmm, yeah, you're probably right. It's seriously humiliating, and Jason -- or even Master -- is fully capable of it. I heard that Jason has been abusing Jorge regularly that way." She eyed Bianca. "That's probably why you're here, now -- Jason probably made your Papa do that and it freaked him out so bad that Master forbade him to repeat it." She lay there a moment, thinking. "You can see why guys won't admit to it -- it's tantamount to admitting that they're not fit to lead, be the 'Alpha Male'. And you can see how being forced into it might really bust up someone who is into machismo." She eyed Bianca. "Knowing Jason, he probably beat up your Papa first, and then forced him. Don't blame him for it -- don't ever mention it, if you want to keep the peace."

Bianca shook her head. "If it's not so awful, why does everyone act like it is?"

"Honey, ignorance and superstition run rampant in both of our cultures. We got ours from the Puritans, and you got yours from the Pope. You've had World History, right? You realize that in the Middle Ages, the Pope was more powerful than most kings? A lot of the crap that still exists in Catholicism has nothing to do with God, but everything to do with controlling people. Morals are sacrosanct, and you're taught them early -- they don't have to make sense. So bad ones are almost impossible to root out. Religion provides almost all of our standards of conduct -- and some are as foolish as others are good -- but because you aren't encouraged to analyze your religious beliefs, the bad and the good are a mixed-up mess..." She mused for a moment. "Homosexuality is counter-productive for the propagation of the species -- but there are too many of us, already. So what's the harm? The Pope is against it because he needs more ignorant Catholic kids for a power base -- just like he's against birth control. Do you think it's really better to raise a kid in squalor caused by overpopulation than to keep him from being born? Ever hear of quality of life?"

Bianca was thoroughly shocked. This -- slave -- was trashing her religion!

The Wench blithely plowed on, and Bianca quelled her outrage when she discovered that the attack was general, and, worse, made sense: "Religious law is impossible to repeal. The Jews and the Muslims have a bunch of dietary and sanitary regulations written in their religious texts that make perfect sense in the Middle East, in the desert, forty miles from water -- but make no sense at all given modern sanitation. But they can't get rid of 'em, they're right there next to other, supposedly immutable wisdom. If religious scholars got up and said, 'Gee, this is no longer true -- we should delete it, ' what would that say for the next line on the page? A lot of what goes by the name of religion is about secular power..." The Wench trailed off at Bianca's look of confusion.

"Secular?"

"Worldly. Who REALLY owns the real-estate. Religion is supposed to be about God, but ends up being about who owns the hearts and minds of the most people. And it all usually hinges upon the idea that some written work is the one absolute Word of God, which you're supposed to believe implicitly despite the fact that it appears to be a collection of tall tales. Then everybody embroiders it with stuff they wanted done at the time, and because it's in The Book, it's unassailable, too. The Catholics are the worst, by some measures, because they had things in hand for so long. Why do you think that there are so many sects that go under the heading of Christianity?" Bianca shrugged, and the Wench answered, "Because each of them -- Lutherans, Episcopalians, Baptists, you name it -- slice and dice the Bible differently. But ALL of them chop out the crap that the Catholics wove around it in an effort to control millions of poor, ignorant peasants!" The Wench paused, eyed Bianca sidelong, and grinned. "Sorry, where were we? Oh, yeah -- ignorance is rampant. Masturbation is good for you, and everybody does it -- but no one can admit it because some moron will take the opportunity to publicly denounce them if it will get him a minute in the spotlight. Oral sex with a member of your own sex is just fun and a release of tension if you're NOT homosexual, and it doesn't MAKE you homosexual and almost everybody does it, sometime. But once again, nobody -- especially no male -- can admit it. Oral sex with the opposite sex is pretty damned wonderful, but even IT is frowned upon -- and the reason seems to be because you're NOT risking pregnancy! And that brings us back to the axiom that sex is for procreation. Once, there was an emphasis on that for the survival of the species -- lots of people died, and everyone was encouraged to have as many kids as possible. Women were subjugated by men who were constantly reminded that it was their duty to father as many children as possible. But the underpinnings of the situation slipped away; we got basic control over disease, and population mushroomed, killing each other, wholesale or retail, came to be frowned upon, women started making their own mark and moving out from under male control. But the words were still there; they assumed a different focus: The emphasis went from 'Sex is for procreation, so don't pull out and dump your semen on the ground, make sure she's pregnant', to 'Sex is for procreation; you should abstain. Or at least, don't enjoy it!'

Bianca had settled to the ground, tailor-fashion, outside the cage, making for a strange picture -- a cross between 'Receiving Enlightenment at the Feet of the Master' and 'Interrogating the Prisoner'. The Wench was reflecting on this ruefully when Bianca asked her next question: "What about incest? Surely banning THAT is reasonable!"