Chapter 13
Nora Dines with Her Father

Nate was less than thrilled with Nora's plans for the evening, but there was no stopping them. Getting in front of Nora's Daddy was kinda like stopping to tie your shoe in front of a steamroller -- not smart. He took her home, and they necked a while, then he departed for home.

Nora decided that Daddy rated a better than average turnout, so she did the whole dress thing, a nice cocktail dress in blue with a wide skirt that de-emphasized her hips, and matching heels, all left over from the Homecoming Dance. What a waste THAT had been...

Seven o'clock came, and Jorge knocked on the door. Nora didn't make the dapper little man wait; she went out the door with a final nod to her mother, who was hopping from one foot to the other, trying to figure out what kind of advice to give her daughter for this interview...

The limo ride was accomplished in complete silence; Nora and Jorge had nothing, really, to say to one another on this evening; Nora was going to see it all for herself. The house was imposing; a finely built black woman in a maid's costume that managed to be utilitarian while exposing a bit of cleavage and a good bit of leg opened the door for her, and called her 'Miss'; there was a deference there, a respect for her, apparently JUST because of who she was. This struck Nora as pretty ironic, but she went with it.

Armand met her in what was apparently a library; her father was tall, dark, powerful-looking; he radiated another kind of power, just in the way he said, "Thank you, Leticia." He turned to Nora, and greeted her by holding her right hand in both his and delivering a quick squeeze. "Have a seat." Nora gingerly settled in an overstuffed leather chair. "A drink? Some wine, perhaps?"

"I'm not old enough, Daddy."

"Nonsense. In your own home?" The pair eyed one another, and Armand shrugged. Obviously, Nora wasn't ready to do any serious trusting of her male parent. "A Coke, perhaps?"

Nora nodded. "Please."

Armand thought about it, and hit a switch on his desk. "Consuela?"

"Master?"

Armand ALMOST visibly flinched; well, she'd learn, anyway... "Please bring my daughter a Coke. In a refrigerated, unopened can. Bring a glass, and an ice bucket, too."

"Yes, Master."

Armand settled in a chair opposite his daughter; this was going to be more difficult than anticipated. "I suppose you're wondering why I initiated this meeting after all this time..."

"Well, yes, Daddy." Nora waited, staring him down.

Armand steepled his fingers. "With the onset of your relationship with Mr. Adams, it appears that you have made the transition into young adulthood, and your mother's largely solitary task is complete. That being the case, it is time to complete your introduction to the real world."

"I see. What does that mean, exactly, Daddy?"

"It means that I have stayed out of the way while your mother taught you her concept of what is right and proper -- which I agree with, in the main. She taught you concepts such as fairness, and justice, and respect -- things I'd have watered down too much. So you know what is right..." Armand picked up a snifter of brandy and made the liquor whirlpool in the glass before taking a sip, "... but you're a babe in the woods where reality is concerned. I intend to teach you to protect yourself from your more noble impulses and to broaden your experience."

There was a knock, and a beautiful Hispanic woman in a black French Maid's frock that left virtually nothing to the imagination entered, bearing a tray. With a nod to Armand, she offered the tray's contents -- the Coke, presented just as her father had ordered -- to Nora. When Nora reached for the can, the woman withdrew fractionally, and murmured, "I can open it if you like, Miss."

Nora shrugged and nodded. Consuelo placed the tray on a side table and opened the can. "Ice, Miss?"

"Please."

Consuelo used tongs to place three cubes into the glass and poured, then again offered the glass from the tray. This time, Nora took it and sipped. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Miss."

"Consuelo," Armand rumbled.

"Master?" Consuelo's regard shifted from Nora to Armand as if a light switch had flicked, or a spotlight swung from one to the other.

"Tell Velma thirty minutes, in the dining room. Inez can assist in the service." Raoul was gone, the woman could take up the slack. "You will supervise."

"Yes, Master." Consuelo withdrew; Nora got a look at her face as she closed the door, and wondered what caused such seriousness. Something her father had said had caused the woman concern... Nora put two and two together, "Inez is new?"

Armand nodded. "Very. She has been here in the house for some time, but not as a servant; her husband held that position until I sent him away for being inept. Inez asked for and got a job fulfilling as many of his duties as she is capable of, and I believe that she will be an improvement, but she is currently inexperienced."

"... And making her responsible means that this maid -- Consuelo -- can be punished for Inez's mistakes..." Nora mused.

"Correct." Armand nodded approval. Nora wasn't an absolute fool... "Would you care to take a look around?"

"Okay."

"Bring the glass, if you like." For the next half hour, they wandered from room to room, Armand pointing out this or that to his daughter and answering questions. Finally, they arrived at the dining room, where a tall, blond man with a hard blank face waited. "This is Jason, my assistant. If you discover that you have needs and I am not immediately available, feel free to transmit them to him and he will see to their fulfillment. He is my right hand in many things."

Jason tilted his head slightly, as close as he came to a bow, while frigid blue eyes examined her, "Miss." Jason seated Armand at the table, then circled it and seated Nora. Finally, he went to the wall intercom unit and spoke quietly for a moment, before moving to a sideboard and extracting a bottle of wine. Nora and her father sat across from one another at the center of a long table that could probably seat twenty; obviously, the seats were chosen to create an intimacy that sitting twenty feet from one another would not have accomplished. Jason brought around a bottle, a white, for Armand to approve; he nodded and Jason went through the entire opening procedure, including the taste test. Jason didn't ask; he filled Nora's glass, too. Nora weighed her options and decided that she could merely refuse to touch it -- there was water available -- so she allowed it without comment. Pouring complete, Jason seated himself a few chairs down, an act that proclaimed, "I'm not just a servant."

Nora decided it was time to go on the attack, "So, where is it?"

Consuelo arrived, followed by a darker, heavier Hispanic woman carrying a tray. This must be Inez... Nora examined the pair; Consuelo was a thin, light-skinned woman with a model's build and a classical Spanish complexion and features; Inez was heavier, more robust, older, with tawny skin that suggested a lot more Indian blood. Inez was dressed totally differently than the other staff Nora had seen; instead of one variation or another on a servant's livery -- even a cliche like Consuelo’s -- she was done up as a peasant, in a white cotton peasant blouse and a wide, dark skirt. Odd.

Even more odd was what occurred the moment she detected Jason in the room! Whipping the tray to a sideboard, she snatched at the neckline of her blouse, tugging it down until it rode under a pair of large, heavy round breasts. Then she made to pick up the tray again, obviously red-faced and shaken, and gamely turned to approach the table.

"Stop!" Jason commanded. Inez managed not to spill the soup and stood there, frozen. Armand, whose back was turned to this activity, absorbed Nora's look of shock and turned to see what was going on. As he absorbed Inez's state of undress, Jason murmured, "Sorry, Sir. I gave Inez specific instructions as to what she was to do when she entered a room with me in it."

"I see." Anger and amusement warred in Armand, but amusement won out; Nora needed to know what went on here, after all. Besides, Inez was SOOO entertaining...

Inez was awash in humiliation and embarrassment. The men, well, they were men, and they both had the right to use her, let alone see her nudity. But there was a young girl here! Inez frankly couldn't think of a thing more embarrassing than to have those shocked and curious eyes dwell upon her exposure...

Jason offered to put a patch on things, "I can override the command..."

Armand shrugged. "Too late, I think. Besides, it's instructive." He turned back to Nora, who was watching the poor woman shake, "We do things a bit differently around here." Nora shifted her attention to her father and nodded, thoughtfully. Armand turned to Consuelo, "Alert the Wench -- she will deliver dessert."

Consuelo nodded. Jason waved his hand, "Continue." Inez lurched into motion, and delivered Armand's soup, then rounded the table and delivered Nora's.

Nora found that she couldn't resist looking at Inez's heavy mounds as they went pendant while she bent before her to deliver the bowl. "Thank you, Inez."

Inez started, but replied, "You're welcome, Miss," in a soft, Spanish accent.

Armand looked on, amused. Nora was doing quite well, he thought. His mind returned to the conversation before the service interruption, "Where is what, Daughter?"

Inez, backing away, froze, and hissed a gasp at another shock! Lord Armand's daughter!? She'd heard rumors of such a legendary creature, but as far as she knew, the girl, if she existed at all, had never put in an appearance here in the several years she'd occupied the servant's quarters... She gazed at Nora in frank wonder.

Armand chuckled. "Usually, servants are impassive; Inez, however, is an open book, something I'm learning is wildly entertaining..."

"I see that," Nora observed, turning to the older woman. "No one is more surprised at my presence here than I am, I assure you," she added, smiling warmly.

Inez, reassured, bobbed her head and darted off, pausing to curtsey before Jason, whose teeth were showing. "Try not to spill anything."

"Yes, Master." Inez pattered out. A bemused Nora noted that she was barefoot. There was a weird dynamic, here, with Jason, too...

Nora gathered herself in. "Where is the dungeon, Daddy?"

Armand chuckled. "After dinner. No reason to spoil your digestion."

In the hall, Inez repositioned her blouse. "Is that REALLY Lord Armand's daughter?"

"Yes," Consuelo replied curtly. She hadn't decided whether Inez's pattern of goof-ups was going to get her thrashed or not. Certainly with both Master Armand and Jason in the room... "It IS her first visit; I've only seen her on Master's surveillance videos, before..." She waved Inez along. "We need to prepare for the salad course..." She frowned. "Generally, we try NOT to react to every little thing said and done in our Master's presence!" she scolded.

Nora smiled and applied herself to the soup, which was Mulligatawny, a curried, creamy, chicken-broth concoction that tasted wonderful. After a few spoonfuls, she asked, "I didn't notice Consuelo curtseying to Jason..."

Armand nodded. "Jason's position confers upon him supervisory control over all of the inside servants, as well as dozens of other things, but recently we've branched out into new territories, such as chattel slavery. Inez is unique in many ways, not the least of which is the fact that while she is my employee, she is a slave to Jason. There are reasons for this that may require explanation at some point, but for now, let's just say that they are victims of a unique set of circumstances."

"Isn't slavery illegal?"

"Strictly speaking, yes; however, if one voluntarily gives up one's civil rights... This is distinctly new, largely because it doesn't conform to my normal preferences for the conduct of a relationship -- but I have recently discovered that some people just prefer to handle things simply -- simple goals, simple behavioral requirements, simple needs... Inez is new to the situation, but has a certain fatalistic temperament; while there might be some question of coercion in her case, ultimately, I don't think she sees it as an issue." Armand returned his attention to his soup.

"Are there others?"

Armand nodded, swallowed, and amplified, "One. I'll let you ask her the details of her disposition yourself; I'm still at a loss, in some respects. I had to divert one of the staff to duties as an overseer; slaves require closer supervision."

"To keep them in line?" Nora asked.

"More to keep them feeling gainfully employed, supported, and protected."

Nora nodded, sipping from her water glass. Armand smiled to himself; the wine was there as a temptation -- the longer Nora took to try it, the more impressive her restraint was to him. Jason had furthered his objective by not asking before pouring Nora's glass; to a certain extent, the man was a mind reader...

In the kitchen, Velma supplied the Caesar salad, and Inez collected the tray. "Concentrate upon delivery," Consuelo instructed, "and I'll concentrate on pickup. Stand still." Inez did so, and Consuelo rearranged her blouse again, re-exposing her breasts. At Inez's disconcerted grunt, she announced, "I'll not have you holding up food service every time we appear in the entrance to the dining room! It's a short trip, and God knows I've been all over the house, nude, executing MY Master's wishes..." She turned peremptorily and led Inez out, Velma's chuckle echoing behind.

"Consuelo refers to you as 'Master'," Nora inquired, "Is she the other slave?"

"No," Armand replied, "Consuelo has chosen to refer to me that way, and I have chosen to allow it -- but she is an employee."

"Daddy, I get the impression that NONE of the employees are just that..."

Armand laid down his spoon and steepled his fingers. "Perhaps. However, some of them may leave my employ voluntarily at any time, risking no more than, let us say, a bad reference." Nora interpreted this as follow-through on a threat of blackmail -- which was absolutely correct! Armand read that understanding in her eyes. "Others... may not, for one reason or another."

The salad course arrived, Consuelo preceding Inez around the table, whisking the soup plates away and placing them on the tray as Inez delivered the salad. Inez's breasts were again exposed; the woman seemed to be dealing with it until she made to pass Jason on the way out. Jason stopped her, making her hold the tray while he fondled her right breast, deliberately, for several seconds. Inez, bright red, glanced behind her at Nora. Jason frowned and grasped her hips, turning her until her position no longer hid his activity, then resumed mauling the breast. Armand vouchsafed the activity a small smile; Nora merely watched, her face expressionless. In a moment, Jason let Inez go, and she hurried from the room. Armand waited until she was gone to observe, "Yes, Jason WAS deliberately humiliating her. Inez is being punished; both Jason and I believe that the mental component of discipline is the most important one. Your presence provides a fine opportunity to humiliate Inez, powerfully bringing home her condition to her."

"Should I stop?" Jason asked, oriented more toward Nora than Armand.

"It's not... required."

"Inez is so artless," Armand mused. "She's a joy to watch; the play of expression..."

"You enjoy this?"

"Yes." Armand was forthright about it. "Making people obey me against their will is a particular pleasure of mine..."

"It IS... interesting..."

"Inez offers a level of visible response that exceeds that of most people; it's no surprise that Jason is taken with her," Armand observed.

Consuelo was a good deal less severe with Inez as they returned to the kitchen. "They're playing with you," she observed. "I thought that I might be held responsible for your reactions, but I see now that my Master and yours are using Miss Nora to taunt and debase you. You realize that, don't you?" Consuelo’s eyes laughed.

"Yes. What do I do?"

"You serve, and you suffer. That's what you do. This is your lot in life." Consuelo couldn't help her grin. "Maybe you can contrive to enjoy it..."

Velma was finishing grilling the blackened swordfish, and began arranging the presentation decorations on the plates. "Yo' gonna have to suck it up, Honey... They gonna play wit' yo' as long as it's fun. An' yo' want it to BE fun -- yo' don' wanna piss 'em off..."

Inez sighed and began to assist Velma. "I guess. But they embarrass me so..."

"And they enjoy watching you squirm, no end!" Consuelo observed, grinning.

Velma moved to the grill, and Inez passed plates as she speared the swordfish steaks and placed them into the pre-arranged presentations. "Here ya go, Honey. Salad don't last long. Bes' git goin'!" Inez collected the tray and moved out, Consuelo moving to precede her.

"So, this is what you do?" Nora asked.

"Well, for recreation, perhaps, when I'm not doing other things..."

Consuelo and Inez arrived and began making their rounds, retrieving the salad plates and delivering the main course. Nora watched the pair serve her father, and a glint came to her eye. Consuelo collected her salad plate and Inez bent to place the swordfish -- and Nora very deliberately raised her left hand and palmed Inez's heavy right breast, squeezing gently. Inez froze and her eyes popped as they swept from her master to Armand and the girl. "M-Miss?"

Nora smiled gently and released the breast. "Gotcha..."

"Ooooohhhh!" Inez backpedaled and rushed around the table to curtsey before her master perfunctorily, then almost ran from the room.

She'd barely hit the door when Armand's booming chuckle began echoing in the dining room. Nora smiled widely and murmured, "Like that?" Armand could only nod, unable to speak, and even Jason showed his teeth, which Nora found a bit scary. Nora picked up her wineglass, and daring her father with her eyes, took a sip. Armand regarded Jason with a raised eyebrow, and turned his attention to his swordfish, shaking his head.

They ate in silence for a bit, then Nora resumed her questioning. "Doctor Beckman says you're hard on women..."

"Ah, yes, the good doctor. I can't decide whether he injured me or did me a service." Armand chewed reflectively. "I attract a lot of carrion, scavengers. Your mother would probably call them 'gold diggers'. They are like remoras, that pick clean a shark's teeth, or jackals, clearing the leavings from a lion's kill. I attract women who want the cachet of being Mrs. Armand Wilson, and who will do whatever they deem necessary to accomplish that goal." He took another bite of swordfish. "Well, I am not tolerant of scavengers; either you are in my pride, and follow my lead to accomplish my goals, or you are prey."

Armand sipped his wine. "I toy with scavengers, for my amusement. I allow them to approach and sniff the spoils, and then I exact a price for their participation. As they commit themselves, I demand more and more from them, until one morning they awaken to the fact that they have no self-respect, or I eat them -- figuratively, of course."

"Is this physical?" Nora asked.

"Some of it is," Armand agreed, "But much of it is mental and psychological warfare. I drive them to debase themselves to the point that they either sicken from the realization of just how low they have fallen, or they totally break and begin to thrive on abuse. In either case, I'm done with them at that point, because they either leave or they cease to resist effectively, making the kill a bore. Yes, I abuse them, physically and mentally, but I seldom hold them against their will, except in the midst of a scene; when the greedy little pigs come back for more, that’s their OWN choice -- I merely crank things up a couple of notches and watch them overcome their unwillingness, their disgust, their horror, grasping for the phantom prize at the end of the road."

"What do you do?"

Armand shrugged. "First, I shock them. I outrage their sensibilities. I warn them that there are depths to be plumbed, and only the strong survive. I know you've seen the videos, so you are aware that your mother is regularly used as an object lesson to bring home the point that the waters run deep, and there is a riptide. Some of them get smart at that point, but not many. Then I make demands. First comes humiliation, then abuse, then various combinations. Eventually, they wake up and look at the pig in the mirror and realize that I've already dined on their self-respect." He sipped his wine. "Some snap; they come to enjoy the pain and the humiliation. Believe it or not, they're profitable; usually, they can be sold, happily, to the highest bidder at auction -- a pimp, or a collector."

Nora shuddered. "And my mother?"

Armand leaned forward, serious. "Your mother is a special case. Certainly, I prey upon her, on a regular basis -- but she is a helpmeet, too. She is not and never was a scavenger; although I bind her to me with bonds of financial welfare, there are other ties, and she participates actively in furthering several of my projects -- among them, YOU!"

"Me?"

"You. I watch you and your mother VERY closely; little happens in your lives that I'm not instantly apprised of. I have chosen to stay in the background in order to allow you some semblance of a normal childhood. Think about it; even the little peccadilloes that have occurred tonight at this table would be potentially damaging to your mental and psychological health at say, eight -- perhaps even ten or twelve. These things -- worse -- happen in this house all the time; it's just not a good environment for child raising. So I left you in your mother's care and provided you both a limited income -- almost enough and not too much -- so that you would absorb the tenets of current morality and learn the value of money. Would you be surprised to learn that I spend more money on the surveillance team that watches over you and your mother than I give her to feed and clothe you?"

Nora was -- in fact, she was shocked! "Really?"

"Oh, yes. How much do you think it might cost to have you covered so deeply that despite the spur of the moment nature of the act and the uncontrolled location, I have video footage of your defloration?"

"You have WHAT?"

"You heard me. Want a copy?"

Nora gaped. This was... just... incredible! "Daddy, that's AWFUL! You're a voyeur!"

Armand took another sip of wine, and smiled wryly, "I guess I am..."

Nora thought back to the previous Saturday night. Gawd, she'd been a total slut, begging for it! And Daddy said he knew she'd seen the videos -- undoubtedly, he'd seen what she and Nate did while viewing them... It just got more and more embarrassing...

Armand nodded. "You showed quite a bit of your mother's buried sensuality that night. Off and on, though, a bit of me pops up..."

Nora covered her face. "How much..."

"How much do I know? I haven't read your diary, but I've watched you write it. I know when you changed bra sizes, and I know when you stuffed the cups because you couldn't fill them yet."

Nora's face froze in awful suspicion, but Armand shook his head. "My interest is purely parental in nature. Sex is something I leave to young Mr. Adams."

Relief flooded Nora's features, then they darkened again. "About Nate, Daddy -- or about Nate's mother, actually..."

"That the boy has risen above his mother's sad state says impressive things about him," Armand rumbled. "Oh, yes, I know what she is, and what she does -- and I know that young Nate has taken her negative example and learned from it."

"I have trouble believing that his race is not an issue with you..." Nora began.

"Is it an issue with YOU? We've spoken of this. I WILL NOT interfere unless he treats you poorly; if it results in little brown grandkids, so be it. If you date him because you are fond of him, that's fine; if you date him to spite me, you're wasting your time." He sat back and picked up his wine, chuckling, "Hell, I don't care if you're just using him for sex!" He took a sip. "You appear to be serious; so does Nate. If that is the case, I approve -- you could have done MUCH worse." He paused, then: "Are you aware of how I came into wealth?"

"Uh, I think so," Nora replied. "Your uncle?"

Armand nodded. "My uncle bequeathed his estate to me, despite the fact that he had two sons. Those sons -- my cousins -- were jackals; Uncle Nathan recognized that if he left his fortune to them, all that he had built would be lost before the birth of the next generation, most likely, let alone any possibility of there being anything left upon their attaining their majority. My cousins were lazy and spineless, and money poured through their hands, so my uncle left them each a small trust, and the majority of his fortune to me, in whom he saw some promise." He smiled grimly, "One of my first tasks was to defend the will against shyster lawyers in their employ, something at which I succeeded. One of the pair managed to weasel a lump-sum payout from the executor, and is currently destitute. The other learned from his brother's mistakes, but we are not friends -- but then, we never were; when we were growing up, they were too busy grasping for the next expensive bauble, provided for free by their doting parents, to bother with the poor relations..."

Armand set down his glass and steepled his fingers. "Whether you choose to believe it or not, THAT is the primary reason that you were not raised in the lap of luxury; I wanted to raise a predator -- or at least a principled sheep -- not a jackal."

To say that Nora was just swallowing this would be to overstate the case. "And now?"

"Now, as far as I am concerned, you are an adult," Armand responded. "You are sexually mature, and near to attaining your majority. You have a sharp mind, and the will to use it. And when I look upon my daughter, I do NOT see a jackal. You may still be prey to such as I, but you have long teeth and sharp claws in your own right; I don't expect to see you pulled down anytime soon." Armand tapped his forefingers together. "Right here at this table, you have displayed considerable skill at adaptation. I'm proud of you." Turning to Jason, he directed, "Ring for dessert."

"What's next?" Nora asked.

Armand picked up his fork and began toying with a carrot flower left upon it. "This is a time of change. Soon, you may spread your wings and fly to other climes, making your own way, and leaving your parents behind -- but for now, I think that you and your mother should return home..."

"Home?" Nora's nervous system took another shock as she realized just what her father was proposing. "Here?"

"Yes."

"Mother, too?"

"Your mother has performed the task set for her; you are as prepared for life as she can make you. Now, it is time for her to return to my house."

"Daddy, I doubt that idea has made her top ten list."

"Nora, your mother doesn't return to me again and again JUST to pay the bills or JUST because I will allow nothing less; we have a relationship -- one that each of us derives benefit from. Your mother has been somewhat neglected for some time, because I dared not stoke her fears too much and spark a reflection in you -- but that time is over."

"According to Mom, daily exposure to you almost drove her insane, Daddy!"

"Well, there is some truth to that, but I was young, and intense, and I had only one toy to play with. I'm older and wiser, now, and have other outlets for my aggression."

"She's free right now. She might not..."

"She is NOT free, and she never has been! You know it, and she knows it! Divorce didn't free her -- nothing can! Do you know why? Because ultimately, she doesn't WANT to be!" Armand declared.

Nora shut up. Daddy was right. Protestations otherwise aside, Nora's gut had been telling her that all along. Further argument was pointless, because she would merely be the Devil's Advocate; she didn't really believe in the position.

Dessert arrived, sherbet and light cookies borne on a tray by a leggy redhead who was totally nude. "This is the Wench. She is the slave we discussed earlier," Armand said. The Wench, serene in her nudity, delivered sherbet to her master and the young woman she recognized from videos as Master's daughter, then knelt to Master's right, rather than withdrawing. Armand turned to her. "You met Sharon today, Wench; what did you think of her?"

"Master? I discovered that my original mission here was a failure before it began; the woman Sharon is Mistress of this house, whether anyone cares to admit it or not."

Armand's jaw dropped. This went FAR beyond anything HE expected! Shaken, he spent a moment gathering his wits, then turned to address his sherbet. "Um, perhaps you're right. I was just telling my daughter something similar..."

Surprise was general. Jason rocked a bit, blinking. Nora sat open mouthed, as much at her father's reaction as the beautiful redhead's bald statement. Only the Wench was serene.

For some time, there was only the clicking of spoons in the bowls, as father and daughter entertained their own thoughts. Finally, Armand looked up at Jason, "Have this cleared. The Wench will attend us; my daughter has questions for her, I believe." Jason nodded and Armand rose; Jason stepped to Nora's chair and withdrew it for her. Nora circled to her father's position, and Armand murmured, "Shall we continue the tour? You wanted to see the playroom, I believe..." The pair walked out, trailed at two paces by the Wench.

Shortly, they were there. Nora was amazed; the place was DEFINITELY a dungeon -- it had just about all of the trimmings, including some obvious torture devices. There were chains and blocks and places to tie, strap or handcuff people, along with various whips and other implements that Nora had no name for, but a very clear idea what their use was. Alongside these exotic items, everyday items took on sinister overtones -- that turkey baster, for instance... Nora thought she recognized a douche bag, but -- so big? And that chair... The thing seemed to be a cross between a gynecologist's examining table and God knew what... Nora shuddered. As a distraction, she asked, "So, you're a slave?"

"Yes, Miss," the Wench replied. "I am the lowest of the low in my Master's house."

"And what do you do?"

"Whatever my Master desires. His description of my primary duties is to act as a vessel of pleasure for his houseguests."

Nora's eyes snapped around to the Wench's. "Really?"

"Yes, Miss." The fact that Nora was the first houseguest that the Wench had encountered since her enslavement was as highly apparent to the Wench as it was NOT apparent to Nora. Nora glanced at her father, but he said nothing.

"Do you have other duties?"

"On occasion, I am privileged to supply my Master's needs when they come upon him and some more worthy target is unavailable. And my duties require me to be proficient in a number of sexual acts that a free woman might be disinclined to pursue. I train regularly under Sir, my overseer."

Nora couldn't get over the expression of absolute serenity on the Wench's face as she made these answers. "Aren't you being used as a sex object?"

"Miss, I AM a sex object -- it's my job. And I enjoy my job immensely."

Nora gingerly parked herself on the arm of what she fervently hoped was a normal chair. The Wench took a quick glance at Armand and knelt before her. Armand wandered around, pretending not to be listening. "How did you come to be here, doing this?" Nora asked.

"I came to my Master's house as many women do; I was looking for a rich husband to keep me in luxury. I was a model, but things had peaked; modeling is highly age-dependent. It was time to use my looks and the small amount of fame I possessed to find a man capable of keeping me in the style to which I'd become accustomed. In my mind, it was a transaction; I was to be decorative, and provide a minimal amount of sex, and he was to pay for my clothing, spas, travel, jewelry -- you get the picture. The stereotypical pampered wife thing."

"I was used to men coming to me and paying for the pleasure of my company -- not sex, normally -- usually dinner and a nightclub, or some other event. Merely being seen in my company increased the desirability of some men to other women. My Master did not approach me in this manner, however; I was required to make the first move. This made him more desirable to me, fool that I was. I did what was necessary to obtain his attention, and we had dinner -- and that was it. This was surprising and disturbing to me; it was an indication that I was losing my touch. I pursued another date, shamelessly, and my Master indicated to me that my mere presence wasn't going to be enough to raise me above the pack in his eyes; I began to see that the shoe was on the other foot, and I was the petitioner. This was strange, different, unusual: I wasn't dispensing my charms, I was offering -- it was a totally different mindset. When it became apparent that nothing else would do, I offered sex -- and my Master took me harshly, brutally. He ravished me, but afterward, he indicated that if I cared to pursue things, I could see him again."

"How do I explain this? Being used, instead of being the one doing the using, was incredibly exciting to me! During the act, I suffered pain, and afterwards I was sore, but it was the most exciting sex I'd ever had! Always before, I dispensed sex in order to control a man -- to get something expensive, usually. The only thing I stood to gain from sex with my Master was another chance to see him, and probably to be brutalized again. I had no control; I was fighting for crumbs!"

"My Master continuously upped the ante; each time we met, he would want a new, different, more degrading act. He would abuse me; later, he would demand some outrageous act of obedience, or he would punish me. But I always did it -- not that it kept me from being abused for general principles... Early on, I met your mother; my Master used her as an object lesson in what I was getting into, identifying her as his ex-wife and using her ruthlessly in my presence to bring home to me that I was powerless and that he controlled everything -- that there was no escape unless he willed it. Instead of being repulsed, I reveled in the realization; somewhere about then, I became in my mind what you see before you in body -- his slave. My Master continued to push: oral sex, anal sex, fisting, enduring the effects of these devices, humiliations such as orally servicing business associates or giving cunnilingus to his secretary -- things no self-respecting woman could endure! But I HAVE no self-respect; I'm a vessel. I do whatever my Master wills." The Wench's eyes took on an evil glint. "Yesterday, I gave oral sex to your mother!"

Nora sat there for a moment, frozen. Armand had whirled from his examination of various floggers for wear, but it was too late... Nora's pulse raced for a moment, but she got things under control, somehow. Following hard on the shock was the realization that she now knew what her mother had refused to discuss about her meeting with her father. "So THAT was it!"

Armand shrugged. "That was part of it. You may as well tell her the rest."

The Wench's expression was positively creamy. "My Master forced HER to give ME cunnilingus, too!"

"Daddy?"

Armand shrugged again. "I needed something new to get her past this thing she had over enjoying sex. Yesterday was the first time another person actually physically participated in one of our sessions. Always before, your mother was either a witness or the sole participant while another merely watched. She... did well, from what I could see. I needed something that she would be absolutely certain to be unwilling to do, but unable to resist, given sufficient pressure. The Wench was pliant and available..."

"Daddy, you're awful!"

"Probably."

"She seemed fine, to me, after... I think we met my Master's goals." After a moment, she continued, "My Master offered me this position because he considers me a broken thing -- that he has shattered my will. Actually, my will is his will, and I am extremely happy with my lot."

Nora gathered her scattered wits. "You're not a model any more..."

The Wench shrugged. "But YOU see me -- ALL of me! That's MUCH more than most did while I was modeling..." She got up and turned slowly -- yes, she'd been a model, all right. She moved from one display posture to the next. "You can see parts of me that others have been privileged to merely glimpse -- as closely as you like!" Abruptly, she bent over, spraddle-legged, and reached between her legs to spread her labia open.

"Uuuhh, okay. Let's not do that, for now." Nora had gotten distinctly uncomfortable in record time.

"Certainly, Miss." Immediately, the Wench was poised, demure, standing hipshot before her with her hands clasped before her bare pudenda.

"I notice that you shave," Nora observed in an attempt to recover control of things.

"The hair is thin, there. Besides, many find the nudity more exciting." The Wench shrugged.

"Daddy says his victims tend to come here of their own free will," Nora asked, "Did you?"

"Oh, yes. Many times. I think my responses were unusual, but I've little doubt that others considered things that went on in here as paying the dues for benefits to come." The Wench paused. "By the time I started coming here, the things that occurred were to me merely tests of my devotion."

Nora glanced at her father, who shrugged. You wouldn't catch HER in here, for ANY supposed benefit! Nora fingered a whip handle idly, then realized what she was doing and recoiled as if it had burned her. "Shall we move on?"

"Certainly."

In the hallway, Nora asked, "How soon do you expect this change of address to occur?"

Armand looked vaguely amused. "As you've indicated, your mother may require substantial convincing. As a result, I've set no particular timetable."

"I don't see her feeling safe, here," Nora ventured.

"I'm not certain that I want her to -- except perhaps under certain conditions. I have yet to decide whether I will require that we remarry, or merely bring her in close while continuing my other entertainments. There are certain freedoms granted by the fact that we are both technically single."

"Require, Daddy?" Nora inquired skeptically.

"Require." Armand merely looked at his daughter, poker-faced. "That's how it happened the first time..."

Any response Nora might have made at that point would have appeared stupid, so she decided not to pursue it. Armand continued, "It has occurred to me that your mother's experience, while varied, has been limited. I've been thinking of broadening her horizons..."

"How?"

"Well, there was the Wench... Other men..."

"Daddy, that's diabolical!" Nora burst out.

"You say the sweetest things," Armand grinned, "Where did you learn to phrase a compliment like that?"

Nora found that she couldn't help but grinning back. "You're not serious, right?"

"Well, she DOES need a basis for comparison. On Sunday, I threatened to find her her own black stud, or maybe two or three. Her reaction was significant, which is usually an indicator that we'll both be entertained by the result..."

Nora remembered Sunday morning well; her mother had gripped the phone so hard she thought it was going to break. "Daddy, that was a negative reaction!"

"Daughter, your mother's initial reaction to virtually ANYTHING is negative. It's a given in our relationship that I'll override her initial objections, and she'll come around, eventually -- if only for a brief period."

"Brief period?"

"Usually while her eyes roll up and she makes animalistic noises."

"Daddy!"

"See? You CAN be baited!"

"So you're not serious, then?"

"I didn't say that..."

They were proceeding down a back hallway. They passed an open door where Nora got a brief impression of occupancy. In a moment, however, that brief impression was confirmed when a voice called out from behind, "Wench? Will you be needing me any more tonight?" The trio turned, and Nora beheld a young, but well proportioned Mexican teen female.

"I don't know yet, Hon. Why?"

"I was hoping to go to bed."

Armand entered the conversation, "She should be all right. If she makes a mess, you can clean it in the morning."

"Thank you, Sir." The girl was all respect.

"Goodnight." Armand turned.

Nora watched the girl hang in the door, trying to decide whether further response was required, before ducking back into her rooms. Nora looked a question at the Wench, who replied, "That's Bianca, Miss. She's Inez's daughter. Part of her mother's current punishment is having her clean up after me for a week, and be exposed to my various excesses."

"Kind of a lower than low thing? And how bad has THAT been?" Nora shifted her eyes to her father.

"It's been pretty quiet, except for Deep Throat practice day before yesterday..." the Wench replied matter-of-factly.

Nora's eyes swung back. "Is that what it SOUNDS like?"

"Well, probably. I failed to hold down Master's seed Monday night while..."

"Wench, a little editing of the non-essentials, please..." Armand admonished.

"Uh, anyway, I practiced on the back porch Tuesday afternoon with four of the Yard Boys. They got in about two rounds apiece. Bianca got to watch and help clean up..."

"Wow!"

"It was fun, mostly, but I got a little worn out at the end..."

"So Bianca watched you give eight blowjobs?" 'The things that happen around here...'

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. Since swallowing semen was the big thing, towards the end when my mouth got tired, the guys would fuck me, then come around front to shoot down my throat. That was more fun, if you know what I mean..."

"Ummm, yeah." Nora blushed. "How did Bianca handle it?"

"Pretty well, until she got all excited and rubbed herself off on a chair arm. She left then, pretty embarrassed, poor thing," the Wench related, grinning.

"Welllll..." It WAS a live sex show, for God's sake! "Daddy, was that smart?"

"I've been back and forth about it. Frankly, though, I'm not aware of Bianca complaining."

"She's treating it as a graduate course in Sex Ed," the Wench laughed. "I guess her Mama and Jason gave some pretty intense early classes, anyway."

"Wench! Must you?"

"Master?"

"If I'd realized what an awful gossip she was..." Armand shook his head. "I sent Inez's husband away not JUST because he wasn't performing satisfactorily, but because he had come under the impression that Inez was cheating on him. The pair of them were basically at war, disturbing the peace around here. Inez is being punished because there was a basic truth to the accusations; she had been committing adultery with Jason for some time. Some might characterize it more charitably as fatalistic acquiescence to a series of brutal sexual assaults -- and to be fair, that more closely describes the facts that the mere assertion that she is an adulterous slut. But that did not suit my needs -- or hers, for that matter. Jason is being punished for his part of this, too, and I have little to do with it; you see, Inez is pregnant..."

The Wench hissed a gasp, and Armand rounded on her. "If I hear that you have spread this tale before the principals, I will give you a gallon-size hot oil enema and make you retain it while I flog you until your screams can be heard down the block!"

The Wench's eyes widened and she mouthed "Yes, Master," but it was so quiet no one could hear.

"Daddy, this is like Peyton Place, or Dallas or something!" Nora laughed.

"It USED to be fairly quiet, except for the occasional bout with one of my toys in the playroom!" Armand exclaimed. "Now..."

"Well, if you're going to bring Mom in here, things had better settle down -- or maybe you should provide a lot of visible distractions until she gets a grip!" Nora cautioned.

"Perhaps," her father returned. "You should know that I'm going to be quite insistent, and may employ somewhat less than subtle methods to persuade her to come live under my roof. Depending upon how resistant she is, you may find this place, with all of its imperfections, to be a safe haven by comparison to what will be occurring at your present abode, especially since I intend that the pair of you enjoy the relative peace of the north wing, at least until your mother settles in."

"Oh, those nice rooms with the water view?" Nora asked.

"The same."

"What about Nate, Daddy?"

"Daughter, if I think about it for a bit, I can enumerate all of the sex acts the pair of you have enjoyed. I'm not so stupid as to believe that you intend to stop! Young Mr. Adams is welcome, until and unless you deem otherwise. The pair of you may need to use good sense about homework and such, which is another reason for your mother to be available." He looked at his watch. "I request that you allow me to brace your mother with the news of her change of venue; in the meantime, I believe that it is time you went home."

"Okay, I guess," Nora replied dubiously. "You'll have your work cut out for you, however you handle it!" The trio made their way to the front entrance; Jason having alerted Jorge, the car was waiting.

"Good night, Daughter. I trust you enjoyed your visit?"

"Yes, Daddy. It was... interesting." Jorge handed her into the back seat, and the limo slid away from the curb.

Sharon started pumping her the minute she hit the door. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"What happened?"

"Daddy and I talked, and I got the grand tour. We had dinner..."

"Nora! Come on!"

Nora grinned. "Daddy told me basically what he told you, I think; he stayed away from me to keep from messing me up as a kid. A couple of things went on while I was there that kind of lent credence to the story..."

Sharon frowned. "Like what?"

"He's breaking in a new maid... Do you know Jason?"

"Evil looking blond guy? Face like stone?"

"That's him. Apparently they had a real soap opera thing going on in the servant's quarters; Jason was doing somebody's wife, and the husband got suspicious. Daddy sent the husband away, and made the wife a maid -- but she's enslaved to Jason! Very weird. Anyway, they were punishing her by embarrassing her in front of me..." Nora grinned.

Sharon's eyes narrowed. "How?"

"Oh, making her show her titties while she served, Jason feeling her up -- that sort of thing..."

Sharon sighed relief; they could have raped the woman over the table; if Nora grinned in the face of THAT, her father's influence would have been certainly showing... "What else?"

Nora's eyes suddenly WERE predatory. "I met the Wench..."

'Oh, Lord!' Sharon went white.

Nora showed her teeth, looking amazingly like Jason, "We just talked. But it was an interesting conversation..." Sharon couldn't keep her eyes up, but Nora chuckled, "It isn't the end of the world, Mom! If Daddy sticks your nose in some woman's..."

"Nora!"

"...Well, it doesn't make you a lesbian! Even if you liked it!"

"Nora!" Nora just stood there, looking at her with a crooked smile on her face. One EVENING with her father... "I think he's ruined you already!"

Nora shrugged. "I don't, but I can see his point. The maid has a daughter a couple of years younger than me... I guess she's seen a few things... Anyway, he seems to consider that you did a good job of conferring the basics, and now he's going to put me through finishing school."

"I WON'T have him including you in his sick sex games!" Sharon erupted.

Nora shrugged. "Sex doesn't seem to enter into it. Daddy made it clear that my sex life was my own. Although I guess it's pretty public!"

"What?"

"Daddy says he spends more money on people to watch us than he gives you for child support! From what he said, if I want to re-live Nate's and my first time, he has a video around somewhere -- DESPITE the fact that it happened at Tenisha's!"

"Oh, Lord!" Various scenes in her recent past flickered through Sharon's mind.

Nora was examining her own memories. "It wouldn't make a good first impression; I got incredibly hot and basically begged Nate..."

"It's all blackmail material..." Sharon shuddered.

Nora shook her head. "I don't think so. I think because he couldn't BE here, he did the next best thing... Anyway, maybe he'll back off with that, now that he's going to be around more."

"That's ALL I need!"

Nora thought about pursuing it, but just shrugged. Things were quiet for a minute, then Sharon asked, "Is there one?"

"What?"

"A dungeon."

"Oh, yeah!" Nora nodded. "Daddy calls it 'the playroom', but it's a dungeon, all right! I think I'll plan to stay OUT of THERE!"

"Did he tell you about his women?"

"Yup. He calls them 'carrion' and 'scavengers'. Basically, to hear him tell it, he's having fun while punishing them for being greedy gold diggers." Nora shook her head. "He paints a pretty convincing picture. According to him, they can leave any time -- only their own greed holds them."

"Hmmph. I see. And am I carrion?" Sharon rasped.

"Nope. Daddy says he messes with you to keep you in line, but you're a part of his organization, not an outsider looking to suck his blood. Daddy says you're valuable to him, but that your current job is over, so it's time to change things up a bit. He mentioned broadening your horizons."

"My current job?"

"Raising me," Nora grinned.

"Oh. I thought it was the charity thing," Sharon replied. "So HE thinks it's all over, huh? With his massive experience in parenting?" She grimaced a bit as a new thought occurred to her, "Broadening my horizons, huh? Like he did yesterday?" Nora tittered, and Sharon went white. "He didn't, uh, mention anything in particular..."

Nora feigned innocence. Apparently, Daddy was right; Mom had a REAL funny look on her face, and Nora KNEW what she was thinking...