Chapter 26
Stick Gets Some Consolation and Inez Moves

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

"Master?" Inez asked, confused.

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

"Yes, Master."

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

"Yes, Master."

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

"Yes, Master."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay."

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

"Ready."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you know what about?" Sharon asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No underwear?" the Wench wondered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why? What evidence DO you have?"

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

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

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

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

"Me?"

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

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

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

"Armand!"

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

"No!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, okay. Yeah."

"Have you made any comparisons?"

"Huh?"

"With me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Armand! We're NOT married!"

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

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

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

"Y-yes, Armand!"

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

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

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

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

"Armand!"

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

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

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

"Ummm..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Vagina?"

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

"Wow! Nasty!"

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

"Ewwwww!"

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

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

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

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

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

"Master has some grounds..."

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

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

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

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

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

"Entertaining guests, Mistress..."

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

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

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

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

"So, boys? Girls?"

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

"No?"

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

"... Who is apparently the premiere 'free woman' in the house!" Sharon interjected. "She's still my daughter, though, and answerable as such. Go on..."

"Sir, in training. The yard boys, also in training..."

"Yard boys? Training?"

"Boris the Gardener, Ed the Carpenter, and Nick and Phillippe... I practiced deep throating them on the back porch the other day."

"All of them?"

"Twice."

"Impressive."

"Yeah. I guess the only person I've actually seen in the line of duty was... you!" The Wench's laugh tinkled.

"Hoooo, boy!" Sharon covered her face.

"Wasn't that bad... So what else happened?"

Sharon sighed. "Well, apparently MY video arrived today. I got to see it draped over Armand's lap, bare-assed... He kept playing with my ass, rubbing it... I was SURE he was gonna spank me... If you can get a cramp in your ass, I think I came close..."

The Wench shifted down to Sharon's ass cheeks without instruction, grabbing handfuls and digging deep. "So, how was it?"

"Embarrassing. Hot. Watching it leads you to the impression that I had a good time..."

"Did you?"

Sharon sighed. "When I wasn't scared to death. They... challenged me. At one point, I had a cock in my mouth, one in my ass and one in my... pussy..."

"So, um, you watched the whole thing while Master played with your ass? Did he do anything else?"

"No." The monosyllable was short and freighted with disappointment.

"So THAT's why you looked so frustrated when you walked in..."

"Yeah..." The Wench's thumbs were deep in the area of Sharon's crotch, causing her labia to move gently while her fingers dug into her ass cheeks. The movement had replaced her surreptitious grinding of her clit into the table top, and it sure felt good...

The Wench gave it few moments, slowly shifting the focus of the massage from Sharon's ass cheeks to the digging of her thumbs in the hollows between her inner thighs, then climbed off the table. Sharon was just dealing with her disappointment at the ending of the edge-on attentions to her crotch when the Wench took more direct action, running three fingers along her labia and attacking her half-stiffened clit with the tip of the middle one. "Hey! Felicia!" she yelped, starting up.

The Wench put her left hand in the center of Sharon's back before she got her hands under herself properly and she half-collapsed, going flat above the waist with her ass slightly elevated. "Oh, take it easy -- you KNOW you need it! Doesn't it feel better, having someone else do it?"

Those fingers were going like mad, and Sharon's pussy was a swamp -- but her brain was still working. "Stop, now, Felicia -- it isn't right!"

"There's nothing wrong with a little masturbation; besides, I've had my tongue in there! What's the big thing with a couple of fingers?"

"I'm not..." Sharon was finding continued struggle to be hard to find the resistance for.

"A lezzie? Neither am I. And a little finger diddling won't change that, either. How many times did those bruisers make you cum yesterday?"

"Two... uhhh... maybe three..." Sharon's ass was slowly presenting itself of its own accord.

"See? Relax, Mistress! This is my job! Let me do it!" The fingers were positively humming. The Wench kicked a small step-stool into place, mounted it, and shifted the grip of her left arm to pin Sharon by it wrapping around her wide hips.

Sharon couldn't move any more. She couldn't think. Everything was focused on the dance of Felicia's fingers along her clit and her labia -- the sliding, rotating, buzzing contacts; the Wench kept shifting things, ensuring that everything was new every few seconds. Armand could have brought her to orgasm by touching her the right way, she'd been so aroused; she had no defense against THIS! Her ears were roaring, her face suffused with blood, and it was like the eyes of her mind were inside her vagina, looking out at the fingers flashing past the gaping opening while they teased the delicate nerves...

"Okay, Mistress, I'm gonna add a little something; I want you to cum big, now..." The Wench released Sharon's hips, wet her left index finger, and just teased the rosette of Sharon's anus.

"AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" The top of Sharon's head came off! Every muscle in her body locked -- except those involved in creating the powerful pulsations in her vagina and ass! "HRRRRGH! HRRRGH! HRRRGH!" she grunted through clenched teeth, her head up, eyes wild as the Wench released the climax Armand had built in her. The peak lasted almost thirty seconds before Sharon collapsed on the table, relaxed except for the gentle pulsations at her center.

"Damn," the Wench murmured, "I might have to give you another massage..."

"No... no..." Sharon put out a hand, but she was as weak as a kitten; if the Wench had forced the issue, she couldn't have done anything.

"Let's pop you in the bath, then," the Wench suggested, helping her climax-weakened Mistress up. "Lean on me..." Somehow, the pair made it to the tub. As Sharon slipped into the warm waters, she admonished, "I want you to promise me that you'll never do that again!"

The Wench considered a moment, and shook her head, "No."

"No?"

"No. I promised Master that I'd see to your needs. Sorry, Master comes first." She changed the subject, "Want me to wash your back?"

Bianca, grinning, followed her mother through the door of Jason's suite of rooms, stopping when her mother did at Jason's warning glance. Inez gently laid her armload of things on a couch and in almost a single motion stepped out of her skirt, folding it and placing it on the floor by the door. While Bianca was still bemused, the blouse followed the skirt, then Inez recovered the load of clothing and headed for the bedroom. Jason stopped Bianca with a glance. "You needn't assist."

"I volunteered."

"Very well, then." Jason went back to whatever it was that he was doing.

Bianca smiled and continued on her way. Inez had been puzzled at Bianca's reaction when she'd braced her with the move; Bianca had merely nodded and said, "I know." Even the fact that it was to be accomplished immediately hadn't fazed her. As Inez began carefully transferring her wardrobe to the closet bar, she murmured, "I can't understand how you can be so calm about all this..."

"All what, Mama? Daddy? I'm not sure that's set in, yet, but he did his usual fine job of trying to make me feel guilty for not being unreasonable..." She shook her head. "Mister Jason? He's YOUR problem, not mine -- and frankly, if you look at things closely, you discover that he's not THAT big a problem. I think, underneath all of the surface uproar, you're happier than you've been in a long time..."

"Bianca!"

"Oh, come on! Mister Jason has been having you for years! And when you're not stupid enough to give him a reason to punish you, things are pretty good, aren't they? Admit it -- I sleep in the next bedroom, you know!" Her mother blushed crimson, and Bianca added, "Daddy never made you make those sounds..."

"What about your having to answer to him?"

Bianca shrugged. "It's a totally different class of thing to how YOU have to. Thus far, he's shown concern and not made any unreasonable demands."

"Do you think that will continue?"

"Yes. He has what he wants."

Inez whirled on her daughter scandalized; Bianca returned the look, merely amused. "Well, maybe," Inez admitted.

Bianca chuckled. "I wouldn't let HIM see that look on your face, but I think you're right to be pleased. In his own weird way, Mister Jason is a catch!"

"Is he caught?" Inez wondered.

"Yes," Bianca replied. "It's why he's so brutal with you on occasion; he doesn't want you exercising any visible control over him. You need to be careful about that, and remember who is boss, because he can make your life Hell -- and a good bit of it is BECAUSE you have your hooks in a soft spot..."

Inez smiled fondly. "You think so?"

"Oh, yes. It's SOOO obvious from the outside. But you need to take what he gives freely; if you use your hold on him to demand more, he'll turn on you and do whatever it takes to regain your fear and respect. You can live on what he gives you -- THAT is more than you were getting from Daddy, too!"

The loads of hangers emplaced, Inez turned and padded through the main room, a serene expression on her face. Jason looked up and frowned as she passed. Bianca, watching, rolled her eyes; Mama could be SOO thick... When Inez got to the door and reached for her blouse, Jason growled, "That's taking too long; go nude."

Inez looked up, crestfallen. "Yes, Master." She glanced left and right in the hallway, looking for sources of embarrassment, and stepped out.

Bianca followed, shaking her head. "I warned you..."

"What?"

"You came through the room all self-satisfied. Mister Jason caught it, and nipped it. You need to concentrate on HIM and forget YOU!"

"He made me come out her naked because...?"

"Because you were all caught up in how good things were. They're not supposed to be good unless he actively gives you some reward; otherwise, you're supposed to be busy trying not to get in the way of his iron fist. Give him what he wants, but don't make it look too easy. If you do that, it will BE easy!"

"And he'll stop making me parade around naked?" Inez's half of the procession was moving furtively, watching for signs that she might be exposed to others at any given moment.

"Outside like this..."

"Why does he do it in his rooms?"

"To keep you from getting too uppity, for one thing -- that's why we're here. But you miss the other reason -- because he likes it!"

"But I'm old and fat..." Inez blustered.

"You're beautiful to him, Mama. You should know that."

"No. Impossible."

Bianca stamped her foot. "Wake up, Mama! What YOU think you look like is irrelevant! It's what Mister Jason thinks that's important!"

"Okay, okay! Let's get inside!" Inez zipped around the corner into their old rooms. Visibly relieved to be out of sight, she headed back to her old bedroom for the next load. "Master has said that you will be moved as soon as the construction is complete. In the meantime, will you be all right here?"

"I'll be safe," Bianca insisted. "I always have. Besides, I'll get a little peace and quiet..." Examining the contents of the closet, she remarked, "There's not much left..."

"You're right. I can take this. Thank you!" The quick kiss on the forehead and the tone of Inez's voice conveyed gratitude for more than just carrying a load of hangers... Bianca watched her mother load up and depart, smiling fondly. "Silly goose..." she murmured to herself as her mother disappeared...

Things had settled down at Mary's. Mary had given Teddy a blow job that blew his mind, and then taken on a revived Stick doggie style before the boys departed; it had been great, and Stick was too tired and satiated to be too concerned over further discoveries regarding his sexual orientation. Mary had a fine glow, too; Stick always did good work, and this time, fresh recovery from Teddy's ball-draining blowjob meant that he had the endurance required to bring her to a half-dozen climaxes while Teddy kissed her and mauled her breasts. It had been incredible, but it wasn't over when Stick gushed into her; instead, he motioned Teddy to replace him while he came around front to be licked clean. The fact that she was sloppy from Stick's spend was only a convenience when it came to taking Teddy's thick cock, and he quickly rode her to another mutual climax. Teddy was fairly quick, but Stick had already ridden her to the point of being a quivering mass of flesh; she couldn't have kept up with a long bout, anyway... Satiated, she collapsed into bed, considering herself a lucky girl...

Teddy wheeled his car along Stick's street. Stick eyed him and murmured, "Look, Man, I don't know how we're gonna play this in public yet, but I want ya to know we're tight."

"I know. We can do whatever. Maybe it's best to play things the way they really are, sort of. You're in charge. I'm your ride to Mary's, or whatever... Yeah! How's this? I do your errands -- personal boy, or whatever, in return for you letting me get an occasional piece from Mary."

"Not too complimentary to either of ya."

"Well, maybe, but it's close enough to the truth that it's easy to put over..."

"Yeh."

"I'll put it to Mary in the morning, and if she's okay with it, we'll run it that way for now."

"Awright." Stick squeezed Teddy's leg. "I ain't ready to swap spit with ya, an' I dunno if I ever will be -- besides, this wouldn't be the place to do it. But we're tight, okay?"

"Okay."

"See ya tomorrow." Stick let himself out of the car. His first instinct was to glance around, but being furtive would cause others to think dangerous thoughts, so he went boldly up the steps to his family's apartment.

Sticks twin younger brothers were roughhousing in the living room, while Pop lounged in his easy chair watching TV. "Where the fuck YOU been?" his father demanded. Stick's mother stuck her head out of the kitchen to get the answer, too.

Stick was half-surprised; usually, he didn't get this kind of attention. "I went to see Nate's Mama in the hospital."

"Where'd the car come from?"

Stick frowned. Obviously, Pop hadn't left his chair, recently... A look around caught the twins sharing a knowing glance. "Ted. Friend of a friend."

"You been seen in it a coupla times lately..." Pop prompted. "White boy, this Ted? What's up wit' that? Where's Nate?"

"This ain't a good time to talk about it," Stick said carefully.

Pop was all ready to come surging up out of his chair when he caught Stick's fixed attention on his younger brothers. "Huh," he grunted. Turning his attention on the twins, he rasped, "You two little shitheads, go wash up and get ready for bed! Git!"

"Aww, Pop!" they chorused. Obviously, they were being uninvited from something interesting... Reluctantly, under the combined glares of their mother, father, and older brother, they backed out of the room.

Mom finished wiping wet hands on her apron and settled her somewhat dowdy butt on the couch arm. Stick reflected distantly that maybe Mom's size was one reason Mary wasn't so bad... Mom wasn't absolutely huge, but she wasn't small, either. "Where you want me to start?"

"You ain't been in jail; should I worry?" Pop grunted.

"Nope. Been real good, actually."

"Where's Nate?"

"With his girlfriend, probably."

"WHAT?" Mom's eyebrows almost disappeared into her grey hairline.

"Nate's gotta girlfriend. Collected her ass at the Prom."

"I ain't heard nuthin' 'bout that..." Mom was a call center for the rumor mill...

"She ain't local. She's white."

"Whoa!" Mom was floored. "No shit? That's..."

"Unbelievable? You got THAT shit right! She's fuckin' rich, too!"

"Watch your mouth, Boy!" Mom got out reflexively, but her mind was elsewhere.

"This got anything to do with his Mama?" Pop asked.

"Well, I figure Rodday is gonna get his ass kicked..." Stick replied.

"It WAS Rodday, then?"

"Nora's Dad thinks so. An' he ain't the kinda guy you fuck with..."

"Stick! Dammit!"

"Sorry, Mom."

"Nora is...?"

"Nate's new girlfriend."

"Awright, back to you -- and pasty little white boys!" Pop reined things in. "Where YOU been, if you ain't been with Nate?"

"I, uh, gotta girlfriend, too."

"What? Another white bitch?"

Stick glared, but confined his response to one word, "Yeh."

"How's THAT work?"

"Her an' Nora are friends."

Mom and Pop shared a glance. "Awright, where'd this Teddy come from?"

Time to try out the new line, ready or not... "You ain't gonna like this..." he grunted, eyes on his mother.

"Y'all go ahead, anyway."

"Mary -- my girlfriend -- she'd been workin' on Ted for awhile, tryin' to nail him down -- but he's chicken, so even though he likes pussy, he was workin' hard to stay outta the trap. But she had him addicted, an' everything was goin' good until I came along..." Stick eyed Pop sidelong; if it flew, opinions of how good or bad it was would be split by sex... "Now, I got it sewed up, an' Ted has lost his supply; him bein' the way he is, there ain't nothin' else on the horizon..." Pop was starting to see it coming... "I need to get back an' forth, an' maybe a few other things. Ted ain't exactly a workout for Mary... I give him sloppy seconds every once in a while, an' I got a ride, a math tutor -- whatever..."

Mom was aghast; Pop was trying to keep a straight face. "That's disgusting!" Mom erupted, and Pop echoed the sentiment, but the look on his face while he struggled to pretend disapproval was something that it took all of Stick's willpower to keep from laughing at.

"Yes, Ma'am." Stick went for humble.

"Is this girl just a slut?" Mom demanded.

"No, but she does what I tell her. It ain't like Ted puts her to work; he's 'bout this long..." Stick measured out Teddy's penile length pretty accurately, without bothering to relate his girth.

"STICK!" Mom's eyes almost departed her head.

"Rose, go inta the kitchen; you done lost it, here..." Pop directed. Mom puffed up some, but it was true; she wasn't gonna say anything worthwhile in her current state. She went off muttering under her breath. Pop saw her out of sight, then chuckled. "By mornin' she'll have this turned around positive, but right now, she's lookin' at it from the female end. So, you're puttin' horns on this poor little fuck?"

"Yeh. Mary gives him a little, an' it's icing on the cake for her -- but if she had to make do with him, it wouldn't be enough. So I got control, an' he's a convenience for us both."

Pop chuckled. "Well, they're out there. You hear 'bout it, but generally you don' see it. What's the bitch look like?"

"Pop!" Stick looked pained. "Well, she's heavy..."

"No surprise..."

"Kinda a redhead."

"Doughy, then?"

"Yeh."

"Well, you'd hurt yourself on a scrawny bitch. How is it? I mean in general -- I figure the pussy is good..."

"It's okay. Her momma don't approve, but her daddy figures if she's happy, other shit don't matter."

"You usin' a rubber?"

"She's on the Pill."

"So she SAYS!" Pop grunted. "Besides, if she sleeps around, you can get bad shit."

"That's not a problem. She's got the two of us an' Ted ain't dippin' nothin' else. She had to work hard to get him, let alone me, so it ain't like she's passin' it around; bein' heavy..."

"Fat," Pop grunted, "Call a spade a spade. Girl's fat."

"Awright, fat, then!" Stick glared. "She don't draw a line, okay?"

"Awright awright... Good for you?"

"Yeh. I'm havin' a ball. She's Nora's best friend, so we jus' kinda grew the old group."

"What 'bout Draper?"

"Him an' Tenisha linked up. Dunno where that's headed -- whether he'll drag her with him, or she'll drag him with her..."

"Happens, son. Pussy does that. Don' hold it agin him if it goes the other way -- 'specially since you an' Nate got white chicks. Awright, get outta my sight. I wanta laugh about this while I pretend I'm watchin' TV. Stay away from your mother 'til she cools down an' decides how she's gonna blab it to her friends." The pair grinned at each other and Stick headed for the bathroom to wash up, hoping Pop didn't plan to stay up too late -- sleeping on the couch was a pain when the TV was going...

"Boss?" Flood, Rodday's chief lieutenant, stuck his head in his office door.

"Yeah? Come in and close the door." The front room of the club that housed Rodday's business was noisy.

"Shorty just staggered in, Boss. Two guys jumped him and took his DVD player right after he did a demo for Rosalee. He'd been out of it since about three o'clock -- they locked him in a dumpster..."

"Did he know who it was?"

"Coupla of white guys. Tough stuff, according to Shorty."

Rodday looked skeptical. "Let's see him."

Flood stuck his head out the door, "Go get Shorty." In a minute there was a knock, and Shorty came in, leaning on one of the bouncers. He looked like he'd had it tough, after all, showing a serious fat lip, a couple of cuts, and a pronounced limp.

Rodday was impressed. "What happened?"

"I was picking up after showing Rosalee the goods, and these two white stiffs come along, askin' questions -- wanted to know what the fuck I was doin'. Next thing I know, they're using me for a punching bag. I was out a while, an' when I come to, I was in a fuckin' dumpster. Fuckers had latched the lid..."

"Any idea who they were?"

"I smelled cop, but cops don't kick your ass like that. Well, not if they ain't into something..."

Rodday rubbed his chin. "All right. Take him back and have one of the girls clean him up. By the way, did Rosalee come in?"

"No, but she ain't workin', either. 'Bout half the girls decided to go on vacation..."

Rodday shook his head. Well, it wouldn't hurt anything. With the independents off the street, traffic would shift to his girls. And when they came back after running out of money, they'd join the stable... "Flood, get a line on this..."

"Okay, Boss."

Jacobson wheeled up outside the Waverley Oaks plant. "Okay, you all set?"

"Si," Raoul nodded.

"Okay, gimme your ID and take this stuff..." Jacobson handed Raoul a new wallet.

"Why?"

"If you get caught, you don't want the trail to track back to us, do you? Mr. Wilson wouldn't be thrilled. This stuff says you're a Staffordshire employee. Don't worry, we'll take care of you, should something happen. This is just insurance." Jacobson grinned. "Misdirection, you know?"

"Oh, si."

"As a matter of fact, if you can, drop the thing somewhere on the way out... Cool?"

"Si, si, that makes sense..."

"Okay, I'll be here. Take your time and don't do anything stupid."

Raoul nodded and blended into the shadows. In seconds, he was over the fence, using Jacobson's layout to penetrate the perimeter. All was well...

It took Raoul fifteen minutes to get to the offices where the system targeted was, but Raoul had the guard rotation, the alarms, everything -- except... The office door was alarmed and Raoul set it off. As he seated himself before the computer and began starting it, two guards left the guard station, headed for the office block.

Raoul's afternoon of computer training got him through the substitution, and he cleared the office, but he picked up the guard movement in the hallway on the way out. Ducking around the corner, he held himself quiet, backed against the wall. Unfortunately, that wasn't enough; a guard came around the corner, picking him up instantly.

Instinct took over and Raoul's throwing knife flashed -- but the guard was young, athletic, and alerted; he ducked right, and the knife which WOULD have taken him in the throat buried itself in his shoulder. And unfortunately for Raoul, the flinch and the impact of the guard against the wall shifted his aim from Raoul's shoulder to his chest...

Jacobson sat outside in his car until the flashing lights came around the bend a half-mile away, then put his car into motion. The omission of the office alarm had been deliberate; Jacobson wanted Staffordshire implicated in the break-in, and Raoul off the street where he wouldn't be a threat to anyone. They had a mole at Waverley Oaks, and internal security was sniffing too closely; he wanted a nice, fat red herring to draw them off, if possible, and Raoul was a custom fit. He figured that in a few hours, he'd get a call from Raoul in jail, and with any luck, he could set up Raoul's bail and then invite him to return to Mexico, where he would be permanently out of the hair of employees of Wilson Enterprises. Yes, this was going well...