Chapter 7

"Thank you, Mercy," I said, smiling and fidgeting in my seat as the woman served our dinner.

She'd prepared a chicken breast, broiled I think, but I have to confess I've never been much good in the kitchen. Mercy was an excellent, however, and she was Mr. Reiser's housekeeper and cook, although only for dinner. He didn't require her to make breakfast and usually had lunch at the office, and on the weekends he liked to fend for himself. Of course, Mr. Reiser had me now and I wouldn't mind taking care of him at all, at least as much as Mercy would allow. That turned out to be not much at all.

Thin and kind of old, she was nearing sixty anyway, and a very old school black, as they say. Mercy had been born into slavery shortly after the war and would most likely die a slave. She'd had a child at fifteen, a half-breed with Mr. Reiser's father, and that was how she'd come to be so close with our Master. Mercy had been his wet nurse and nanny, and later his personal maid until he'd gone to college. After graduating, he'd received her as a gift from his parents, one of many gifts, I assumed; a slave alone wasn't worth very much. Mercy had been with Mr. Reiser ever since and whatever the woman's opinion was of me, she'd decided to keep it to herself for the time being.

She clearly loved him like a son and I very much wanted Mercy to like me, as I'm sure Mr. Reiser did as well. I couldn't get a smile out of her though, but not a frown neither, so I was slightly encouraged, and it had been just one day that I'd been there, so ... I was hopeful.

Mercy didn't eat with us and I suspected that was by her choice more than Mr. Reiser's, but I could be wrong. She struck me as old fashioned though, the way a lot of slaveborn are, especially if they've been in service to one family all their lives. Being a houseslave was a lot different than being a fieldslave too, as anyone knows, and so she possessed a rare dignity and a serious demeanor, I could see that right away. She probably didn't think I should be eating with our Master either. I should eat in the kitchen with her, and help her clean up and sleep in my own bed and all of that. It wasn't hard to see why she wouldn't smile at me, when I stopped to think about it.

We all do what we have to though. It wasn't up to me where I ate or slept, or what my duties were around the house. I was Mr. Reiser's fuckslave, I thought with a little giggle, just enough so he glanced at me over our dinner with a curious smile. I just shrugged and my face warmed pleasantly with a bit of personal and private embarrassment. He didn't ask, but Mr. Reiser did take the opportunity to speak with me, not that he needed one. For whatever reason, we were at a point where we would smile a lot and look at each other, but not say anything. Perhaps all lovers go through that in the beginning. I wasn't sure as the only lover I'd ever had was him. It was fun though and distracting to my heart, the way every little thing about us seemed exaggerated and important somehow.

"After dinner we'll go to the club," he decided. Mercy had returned, pouring a glass of white wine for me, but it wasn't bubbly like the champagne I'd liked so much.

"Thank you, Mercy," I said softly, determined to keep trying because I was going to be there a long time, I hoped.

"You can show me how well you drive," Mr. Reiser continued, ignoring Mercy as she refilled his glass.

"What?" I blinked and then smiled.

"Your car." He picked up his wine. "I want to see you drive it before I give you the keys."

"Oh." I picked up my own glass and I didn't know what to say. I guess a lot of slaves drive, that's all some of them do, but I hadn't heard of too many who had their own cars. It seemed like kind of a weird idea, actually, but I'd never been a bedroom negra before.

"Mercy, did you get the packages?" Mr. Reiser asked, catching the woman as she was about to go through the door and back into the kitchen.

"Yes suh, they's in the negra's bedroom." she replied slowly, and the woman had a real accent, but I liked it.

I'm sure I have a genuine Southern accent too, like Mr. Reiser and everyone else I knew, but only someone old could talk like Mercy did and it sounded like music to me. Very melodic and not hard or harsh, but every syllable delivered in its own patient time. A sound that caught the ear and made you stop everything else you were doing, just for a second, and listen to it. I swear, of everything I might say about Mercy, like how she was not so tall and not so pretty as I imagine she'd once been, and her black hair was all gone to grey and neat around her wrinkled face ... It's her voice I'd most wish to share, and more's the pity that my words are such a poor expression of my memory.

And that's love too, you see? I was enamored of everything around us. My Master's home and possessions, and even his slave; I felt terribly eager in my affections and I wanted to embrace all of it. I was a part of his life now and a special part, or so it seemed to me. Mr. Reiser spoiled me in so many ways, and too much, I was certain, or I wouldn't have dared questioning his decision to send me to Hathaway High School, for one thing. It was a school for slaves and that was what I was, and I certainly had no business crying to my Master about my treatment there. I was a faggot and a cocksucker, and I wasn't the first slave, male or female, who'd ever been raped and I wouldn't be the last. I was probably one of the few who'd cried on her Master's shoulder afterwards though.

I should have been strapped for it, in my honest opinion, and doubtless Mercy would have attended to it herself. I had little doubt the woman was experienced with keeping a teenage negra in line, even if the negra in question was really a boy. A woman like her would have standards of a higher sort than many Masters and she'd pride herself on presenting a well disciplined household. Our Master was undermining her authority in that respect, or so I feared. These were very much the thoughts I had, despite my happiness at Mr. Reiser's attentions and his seemingly odd treatment of me. At times he terrified me, like the evening before when he'd spoken of running away and showed me the auction house in the cellars of that club. Other times he seemed to delight in bringing me pleasure, with his words or touch. Emotionally, I was up and down constantly, and I found all of it very confusing.

"I picked up some things for you today," Mr. Reiser said. We were standing in one of the smaller bedrooms.

There were four bedrooms in the house, including the large master bedroom, and slave quarters above the carriage house that had been coverted into a garage, but they were unused. This bedroom had been set aside for me by Mercy, although I didn't think I'd be using it very much. At least not for sleeping. The walk-in closet I would use though, as well as the dresser and vanity. It was a nice room, dressed in baby blue and white, but impersonal as yet and I decided to decorate it soon to make it more comfortable, with permission, of course.

"Is all of this for me?" I gasped at a small pile of cardboard boxes and several plastic bags sitting near the bed.

"Hopefully some of it will even fit you." He smiled and waved his hand. "Take a look."

I did look and found several outfits, skirts and blouses, a full length dress, and some underthings. Lingerie from Victoria's Secret, and I was reminded of my camisole and I promised myself to wear it for my Master soon. There were shoes as well, several pairs of high heels, higher than I would have picked, but no worse than the leather boots my mother had bought for me. It was fun opening the packages, rather like my birthday, and I couldn't help smiling with giddy excitement.

Mr. Reiser had me try everything on for him, of course, and I caught Mercy looking in on us through the open doorway. She neither smiled nor frowned and I chose to ignore her as she retired to her own room for the evening. I was busy putting on the dress that Mr. Reiser had picked out, a very real evening gown of all things, and it probably had no business being on a teenager. But the gown fit me wonderfully and even with my lack of breasts neither of us could find anything to complain about. I rather enjoyed the look in my Master's eyes as he sat in a nearby chair and watched.

The dress was blue, but such a dark shade that it looked black, and covered with fine sequins that shimmered when I moved. It seemed to cling to me like a second skin, conforming to every contour of my body and I removed my panties somewhat belatedly as they were altogether too obvious beneath that exquisite design. It was ankle length and slit in the front, halfway up my dark thighs, and the gown showed off my ass wonderfully, and my flat little tummy and narrow waist. I wished I had bigger hips, but they didn't look bad. The back of the dress was open to the very top of my ass, to the small dimple at the beginning of my buttocks, and the front was a deep V so that even without full breasts, my smooth brown skin looked soft and inviting, and my swollen nipples showed clearly when I turned the proper way.

"God." I swallowed hard and I couldn't believe what that dress was doing for me. I looked beautiful.

"Whew," Mr. Reiser let out a deep breath and smiled at my reflection in the mirror. "Put on the shoes. There should be a pair that match."

I found them; a pair of leather slings the same color as the dress, with three inch heels and they ft me perfectly. My Master had evidently done his homework before he'd gone shopping. I put them on, fastening the delicate ankle straps and stood up carefully, afraid I'd break them somehow just standing there and ruin everything. The heels pushed my ass out nicely, causing my to arch my spine and tilt my hips invitingly. I told myself to keep my head high and my shoulders back. I had a habit of slouching slightly, since I was always self-conscious about my chest.

"Shoulders back, Dani," I whispered, checking my posture in the mirror and chancing a smile at Mr. Reiser as I turned around for him.

"Mmmm..." He had his arms crossed and he lifted his right hand to his mouth, looking me up and down like an art critic.

"Is this okay?" I asked, suddenly afraid it wasn't and my heart was thumping. I giggled nervously, waiting and waiting.

"You're excited," he observed, and I blinked at that, not understanding at first.

"Oh ... Oh!" I looked down and realized I had the beginnings of an erection. Even though I wasn't fully hard, my penis was obvious beneath that dress.

"I'm sorry, I'll ... uh..." I frowned, thinking he didn't like it. I was spoiling it for him. "Maybe I can wear a thong, or..."

"No." Mr. Reiser chuckled and shook his head. "It's perfect, just like that."

"Like this?" I looked down at myself again and my penis had actually softened again with my rising panic, but even so it was there and noticeable. The dress was just too perfect for my body.

"Oh yes, that's exactly what I want from you," he told me. "I want a girl with just a hint of something else, something hidden and waiting for me. That's what I like."

"Alright." I swallowed hard and tried to smile, but I was still anxious that he might be unhappy. "But, what about other people, I mean..."

"Shhh..." He smiled into my eyes. "I like that too. Wear that dress tonight. I want to show you off."

"Yes sir." I smiled back and it was easier now.

"I told Mercy to make sure there was makeup in the vanity. Go ahead and make yourself beautiful," Mr. Reiser told me. "I'm going to change real quick. You make me feel underdressed."

"Really?" I giggled and nodded. "Okay." And I sucked my bottom lip, posing for the man as he gave me one more long look. He was very happy, I thought.

I was hardly an expert at applying makeup, it wasn't a skill I'd been allowed to practice very much growing up. The good thing about being sixteen though, is that very little makeup is actually required. Of course, being a very pretty boy like I was didn't hurt either. I found some lipstick I liked, a shade of sienna that seemed to go well with my complexion. Some dark blue for my eyes, although I had no idea if it was supposed to match my dress or not, I rather hoped so because I liked the effect. Some mascara to give my eyelashes a little substance, and some perfume. Some Chanel #5 in a tiny crystal vial that smelled like so nice it gave me goosebumps. It was such a small bottle, I only used a tiny amount, deciding I had to make it last as long as possible.