On the Auction Block (17 page)

“I don’t give you much pleasure,” he
said.

“So what? I’m your slave. You have no duty to
give me pleasure. No obligation to my feelings.” She winced as her
attention turned to her abused buttocks. “You know what you should
do now?”

“No. What should I do?”

“You should order me to tear this bandage off
my ass and crawl back to the whipping bench. You should order me to
give you the cane so that you can beat me all over again. Last
night you laid nineteen strokes on me. Tonight you should lay on
twenty. You should stripe me cruelly in a slow, measured cadence so
that I feel each stroke individually and suffer as much as
possible. You should make me scream in agony for a long, long
time.” Her voice caught and slow tears began to roll down her face.
Her body began to shake in terror.

“Why should I do that?”

It was hard for her to force herself to
speak. “Because you can. Because a slave’s feelings mean nothing to
you. Because it will help you stop thinking of me as a person.
Because if you cane me deliberately instead of in anger, if you
cane me as simple physical exercise to limber your arm without any
concern for my terror and suffering, then you will realize that you
have no reason to feel guilt.”

He looked at her for a long time.

She prepared her mind for the coming ordeal.
In her thoughts, she rehearsed tearing the bandages from her wounds
and crawling off the bed. Her fingers twitched in anticipation of
his orders.

She pressed her face into her mattress so
that he would not see the tears flowing from her eyes. Not see that
her face was blanched with terror.

“Do you know why I’m not going to do that?”
he asked.

“No.” The word was muffled because it was
spoken into her mattress ticking.

“Because I paid a hundred-thousand plaqs for
you and I can’t afford to lower your value with any more
scars.”

That was the only acceptable reason for not
caning her again.

“But don’t worry,” he said. “As soon as your
ass can take another beating, I’ll take the paddle to it. And the
flogger and the strap. I’ll make you sing your songs of suffering
and dance your dances of agony. I’ve come to enjoy hearing you moan
and shriek while you quiver and writhe. I never thought that I
could develop a taste for another’s pain, but life is full of
surprises.”

He hadn’t mentioned the cane. She wondered if
he would soon develop a taste for the sight of blood and scars. “I
will try to give you good return on your investment, then,” she
said into her ticking.

He laughed bitterly. “You better. I need to
get as much return as possible on everything that I own right
now.”

She turned her head to look at him again.
“That bad?”

“Sir Drake has bled me white.”

“You can sell me. I’m worth a hundred
thousand on the block. I can keep you from bankruptcy for a
while.”

“Don’t be foolish. I’m not an idiot. I’d
never get myself in so deep that I’d risk going bankrupt. You think
that I’d risk being sold as slave myself?” He sounded annoyed.

“Are there male slaves?” Flame had never
thought about that before. Some aristocrat’s tastes ran to men
rather than women, but she didn’t think that there were enough of
them to support trade in male slavery. They were more likely to
want to bugger each other. In her experience, all slaves were
beautiful women between the age of fifteen and forty.

“Of course there are male slaves. You think
that the only slaves are pleasure slaves? Men and undesirable women
are labor slaves. They are sold into mines, factories, farms, and
shipping. There aren’t a lot of them because it’s usually cheaper
to hire help than to buy a slave, even a cheap one. But the worst
jobs – the dirtiest and most dangerous – can’t be filled by
volunteers so we buy slaves for fodder.” He looked at her curiously
and waited for the penny to drop.

She wasn’t stupid. She realized the
implication of what he was saying. She wouldn’t be a pleasure slave
forever. In another ten years, she would be getting close to forty.
However hard she tried to remain attractive, she would no longer be
able to compete in an auction against younger, prettier slaves.

There were no old pleasure slaves. None.

But there weren’t any old labor slaves,
either, because they didn’t last long. A few years after she was
sold as a labor slave, she would die of heatstroke picking berries
or choking on coal dust in the bottom of a mineshaft or being
washed overboard from a fishing trawler in a gale.

When she had sold herself into slavery, she
hadn’t thought ahead to the ultimate destiny that she had fixed for
herself. She had not thought past being violated by her new owner
and his friends a few times. She had been ignorant and foolish.

“How much do labor slaves fetch on the
block?” she asked.

“A thousand plaqs. Maybe two. Never three.
They’re not an expensive investment. It costs more to feed and
house them than to buy them. They can’t do much work if they are
starving to death or dying of pneumonia.”

She smiled wryly. “You should sell me soon or
you won’t get your hundred-thousand plaqs back.”

“I wouldn’t get it back if I sell you now.
Not even close. You fetched that much because you were a novelty.
We all watched a lady place herself in slavery. That was
astounding. But the next time you’re on the block, you’re going to
be just another slave being sold by her owner. I’d be surprised if
you fetched much more than thirty thousand.”

“So you lost seventy thousand when you bought
me?”

“As soon as I took you off the block.”

“Why did you pay so much, then.”

“I thought that you were worth it. I still
do.”

“Because my screams are so sexy and I writhe
so seductively when I’m being stung by the paddle.”

“Yes. And also because you can tell me how to
behave like a proper aristocrat.”

“Is becoming a knight that important to
you?”

He looked at her in shock. “Of course.”

“Why? It’s just a title. You’re already a far
better man than the knights that you’ve been entertaining.”

“You mean the knights that
you’ve
been
entertaining.” He smiled. “You’re developing a bit of a reputation.
A dinner invitation from Mr. Dodge is becoming a hot ticket among
the minor aristocracy. It seems that I could have a successful
career as a pimp.”

“They should know. Pimping his slaves is the
most popular hobby of every gentleman that I ever met.”

“A pimp is only as good as his whore.”

“Then I’ll try to be the best whore that a
slave can be.” She appreciated his conversation. It helped distract
her from the pain in her ass.

He wrinkled his nose. “I guess that’s the job
description of a pleasure slave.”

“But you still haven’t told me why a title is
so important to you.”

“I thought that was obvious. So that I can
own property. Only titled aristocrats are permitted to own
property.”

She was confused. “You do own property. You
own me. You own your car and your furniture and your clothes. You
own a lot of property.”

“I mean real estate. Land. Buildings.
Commoners can’t own real estate. Only men who have a social rank of
knight or higher can be landed gentry. I can’t own my own house. I
have to pay an exorbitant rent to Baronet Norbit for this place.
His family has owned all the property on Norbit Hill for three
hundred years. And I pay a crippling rent to one aristocrat or
another for every business that I own. I want to own my own house
and my own business properties and never pay a sterling chip to a
landlord again.”

She had never thought about where James’
money came from. He had inherited a fortune. Now she realized that
what he had really inherited was land. The fortune came from the
rents. “When you’re a knight, you’ll buy properties to rent out to
other commoners?”

“Of course.”

“Just like every other aristocrat.”

“No. I know a way that I can do it better
than they do.”

“How’s that?”

“They rent property for a fixed price. As
much as the market can bear. But they misread the market and, often
as not, charge more than a business can bear. They drive commoners
out of business all the time. I won’t do that.”

“Because you’re going to charge less?”

“No. I’ll end up charging more. But not by
charging a fixed rent like everyone else. I’m going to collect a
portion of the business income as rent. A successful business will
pay more and a struggling one will pay less for the same property.
I’ve done the math. Fewer businesses will go bankrupt and I’ll
still make more money than the traditional landlords. I’m not going
to kill the geese that lay the golden eggs; I’m going to nourish
them. And then collect a lot of eggs.”

“But only the struggling business will go for
that. As soon as a business starts to make a lot of money, it’ll
leave your building and move to a property with a fixed rent.”

He was surprised at her insight. She had a
better head for business than she knew. “No. They’ll have to sign a
long-term lease. The penalties for early termination will be
significant.”

“And they’d be signing the lease when they
were just starting out, before they made much money, so they
wouldn’t worry about that clause.”

“Exactly.”

“Until it’s too late and their rents are
going through the ceiling.”

“But when their rents get that high, it will
mean that their business is booming and they can afford to pay it.
All the other landlords don’t care if their tenants succeed or
fail. I’ll be the only one who wants his tenants to get rich.
Win-win.”

“Then I guess we better make sure that you
are benighted.” She dared say that only because she believed him
when he said that he didn’t want to cane her again.

He laughed at her pun.

She sighed in relief. And then sighed from a
fresh wave of pain radiating from her ass.

* * *

Flame was working hard at learning how to
squeeze things with her cunt.

She no longer had to put her fingers inside
to feel the muscles working. Now she knew how to squeeze them when
she was sitting, standing, or lying down. She settled into a
routine of squeezing the muscles in her cunt as hard as she could,
ten times, as often as it occurred to her, which was several times
a day. She felt like she was getting stronger, but it didn’t seem
like quite enough.

Though her ass was scabbed over and healing
it still felt rather sore.

Dodge was sorry that he had caned her, but he
was not so sorry that he was willing to forego her sexual services.
He began fucking her the third day after the caning and continued
to do so every day after that.

He did not restrain her for a while but he
still preferred to bend her over and take her from behind, which
meant that he was banging into her bruised buttocks with his
hips.

Sometimes he let her lie on her back. That
was much better because, when her legs weren’t tied down, she could
raise them and lift the bruised part of her buttocks off the
bed.

She took the initiative one afternoon when he
took her into the pleasure room. He had already shed his pants
before she said, “Mr. Dodge, with your permission, I’d like to try
something a little different.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ve been working on a variation in the
usual way of servicing a man and I’d like to see how well it
works.”

He was rampant and ready to rut. “What do you
mean? What kind of variation?” He sounded irritated. He had no
desire to fool around with any experiments. He wanted to get down
to business now.

“I want you to lie on the bed and let me
service you. I will do all the work. You won’t have to do anything,
just lie still.”

Dark skepticism clouded his features. “This
better be worth it.”

For the sake of her aching ass, she dearly
hoped that it would be. With the damage from the caning only half
healed, even a brisk paddling would be pure torture.

“All I want is to be able to service you
better than you’ve ever been serviced before.”

He got even harder.

She was making promises that she prayed she
would be able to keep. Mr. Dodge wasn’t her lover and he wasn’t her
husband. He was her owner and he would make her pay with hours and
days of pain if she disappointed him.

But she had to find out if all her exercising
was doing any good or if she were only wasting her time and
effort.

She was sweating lightly, afraid of the
gamble that she was taking, when she laid Dodge on his back on the
mattress.

She straddled him and slowly lowered herself
to impale her cunt gently with his cock.

He moaned in frustration and began arching
his back to thrust against gravity.

She put her fingers on his lips and said,
“Shh. Don’t move. Just lie still and let me do the work.”

He groaned but obeyed her instruction.

She began working her cunt muscles, massaging
his cock without moving her legs or hips.

He moaned again.

She couldn’t tell if he was expressing
pleasure or frustration so she kept on working, redoubling her
efforts to squeeze him hard.

To her surprise, she was feeling considerable
pleasure herself. His cock was rubbing her in a place deep inside
that no cock had ever rubbed this hard before. When she began
adding her moans to his, hers were definitely a song of
pleasure.

She kept it up for a few minutes, but began
growing tired. She could feel the muscles in her cunt flagging. But
Dodge’s moans had increased in intensity and sweat was beading on
his hairline and flowing from his armpits. It didn’t matter that he
was exerting little physical effort; his lust was in high gear and
it was wringing the sweat out of his body.