Chapter 3
Life Below Stairs

Inez Hernandez was furious! Her fool of a husband, Raoul, had angered Mister Armand, so now her beautiful Bianca was going to have to chase around after the red haired puta for a week! That the child would be exposed to multiple sex acts was a given; after all, it was the puta's job! Inez didn't fault the puta for this -- Mister Armand had brought out the whore in her and was merely putting it to good use. Some people just had roles in life... But Bianca was a beauty, and parading her in front of Mister Armand and Mister Jason was an invitation to disaster. And Inez would have to school Bianca, or the girl would do or say something stupid and make matters worse... Damn Raoul!

Raoul's stock had been falling with his wife for some time, but this was a new low. When they'd met while still in school back home, he'd been dashing and fiery and impassioned; only after they had been married did Inez realize that Raoul's 'passion' was bad temper, and he had large quantities of foolish pride and stupidity to go with it. But by then, they had Bianca, and besides, Inez was a good Catholic woman...

Still, Raoul's evil temper got him out of jobs as quickly as his smooth charm got him into them. Things got worse and worse as the employment situation weakened at home, until finally Raoul just couldn't find anything at all. But Inez had come upon an idea, and one fine day they'd crossed the border to the States on a day trip and had never looked back...

That little plan ushered in a new era of prosperity for Raoul's family -- until the bar fight. Despite the loss, Raoul had given better than he got, and some white guy (Inez worked hard at her Americanisms, so the simpler 'gringo' was banished to the back of her mind...) had been cut, bad, and the policia started sniffing around... Raoul was between jobs (again!) and they were living on Inez' pin money, which wasn't enough to run on. Inez was waiting for the INS to come and tell her that Raoul was in prison and she and Bianca were on their way back home when Raoul came home with Mister Armand and Mister Jason in tow. The deal, whatever it was exactly, had been done before Raoul came home, but for once Raoul had done something right. The trio moved into the relatively palatial servant's quarters of Mister Armand's mansion and Raoul went to work, ostensibly as a downstairs butler -- but Mister Armand had strange tastes and sometimes even stranger duties for her husband...

Still, Mister Armand's methods were familiar and almost comforting to Inez; he bound Raoul to him with the threat of the deportation of his entire family and a possible stay in prison for Raoul. That was the stick. But the carrot was a place to work, a nice place to live, and a little money to blow periodically on a vacation home. Mister Armand had gotten them all counterfeit green cards, (Armand would have laughed at that -- the cards were real, in order to protect himself from nosy Feds, but having Raoul think they were counterfeit was useful...), so Inez could walk the streets here with her head held high.

Similarly, Inez had no issues with Armand's methods in general; he was a man of power, and he did the things men of power did -- that was all. If anything, Armand was a bit subtler, more refined, less brutal than say, the local mayor in her hometown. In Inez's experience, the law was a fiction; men of power were a law unto themselves. Mister Armand was like that, and Mister Jason did what other men of power's chief lieutenants did -- he cloaked himself in his master's power and saw to it that things happened in accordance with his master's will, while enjoying what benefits his position allowed. That Raoul might periodically do something at Mister Armand's behest that some considered 'illegal' was of little concern to Inez -- it was more important that Mister Armand be pleased than Raoul concern himself with someone else's arcane concept of right and wrong. This was the way of the world, in Inez's view; as long as she did not present an obstacle to Mister Armand or Mister Jason, life would continue to be good.

Still, Raoul managed to fuck up regularly, keeping himself from being promoted and regularly landing himself in the doghouse with Mister Armand -- and, more important -- Mister Jason! For Mister Jason was Boss, second only to Mister Armand, and was Raoul's direct supervisor, in any case. Besides, if something needed doing whose legality was somewhat... questionable... Mister Jason would generally be there to direct and supervise (something Inez was thankful for -- that idiot Raoul would get himself jailed over some stupidity, for sure, without somebody keeping an eye on him!) One day, Raoul's usefulness to Mister Armand would be at an end; on that day, Inez vowed, Raoul's usefulness to Inez and Bianca would ALSO be at an end. Recently, Inez had decided that, good Catholic woman she was, five years as an Americano had taught her that some things were not to be borne -- she would throw herself on the limited mercy of Mister Jason and Mister Armand and wangle herself an official job as a cook and maid, and shut herself of Raoul. She'd been doing little things for years, helping Cook out and filling in when there were parties; Mister Armand loved Mexican food, and Inez was a good cook who did things the old-fashioned way -- he knew who ground the masa and made the fresh flour tortillas he enjoyed so much... Inez was happy to do it, too -- it staved off boredom and provided a little pin money.

Raoul's idiocy had begun to rankle more and more as time went on; recently, it had become almost insufferable. Why? Because Raoul wasn't the only one who paid for his mistakes...

It had all started several years before, only about six months after they had come to Mister Armand's house. One day, Mister Jason had appeared at the open door of their little rooms and announced, "That husband of yours is... irritating."

That doesn't sound so bad, but Inez had been instantly alarmed. Mister Jason carried with him an aura of dangerous, poorly contained power everywhere he went. When she locked eyes with Mister Jason, that aura was palpable.

Inez was no longer the softly rounded beauty she'd been at fifteen; time and pregnancy had thickened her waist and padded her ass, while sliding her fat tits down her chest a bit. Given the procession of beauty queens that Mister Armand had flowing through the house, she'd never considered herself to be in any danger of attracting anyone's attention. She was wrong. And she learned it that afternoon.

Mister Jason had stood there, with that look on his face. A person who had not been exposed to him much might have thought that he was calm, but Inez saw the dark fury in his eyes. Inez put down her sewing. "What has Raoul done?"

Gradually, it came out. Raoul had exceeded his authority in dealing with a tradesman -- one who was in Jason's pocket. The nature of the offense shielded him from Jason's ire -- he couldn't justify it with Armand, so he couldn't punish Raoul directly -- but someone MUST be punished; it was an essential part of Jason's makeup. And no one would be safe until Jason's anger was slaked -- even Inez knew this. Jason's quiet rant ended with the words, "I am about ready to put him on the street and call the INS."

Inez knew a threat when she heard one. Jason had carefully avoided adding "You and your daughter, too!" Inez knew that there would be a reason for that... Carefully, she engaged his eyes and asked, "What can I do to help?"

Jason was off. "You can control the fool, that's what! I hold YOU responsible for pounding sense into his stubborn, stupid head, and when you fail, YOU will take the heat right along with him! Do you understand?" His eyes grew even more dangerous. "Come here!"

Inez didn't bother to get to her feet; she went straight to her knees in front of the chair and walked on them to within his reach. She knew what was coming -- Mister Jason's ego, his masculinity, had been injured; he would avenge himself upon Raoul in as personal a manner as he could manage. Inez was a practical woman; she'd seen the mayor of her village stand by watching and making comments while an adversary's wife was gang raped at his order. She was now hostage to Raoul's behavior, and Mister Jason wouldn't be happy until he had delivered a lesson...

Jason's eyes lit. The bitch KNEW what was coming! Roughly, he grasped a handful of her thick, black hair and tilted her head up. "Do you suck cock?" he asked, then continued without awaiting an answer, "You do now! Get it out!" Reaching behind him, he locked the door and flicked it shut, one-handed. Raoul had a key, but so what? He'd kill the greasy little sonofabitch and tell Armand he'd attacked him with that toad-sticker of his... While Inez fumbled with his belt and zipper, Jason shoved his other hand into her peasant blouse, collecting a soft, fat mound capped by a thick, brown nipple. He squeezed the nipple between his fingers a bit and it firmed, noticeably. Intrigued, Jason hauled at the neckline of the blouse to get a look at his find.

Inez, looking up, caught his eyes and the quick inhale that went with the flash there. Jason was pretty taciturn, and hard to read, so perhaps no one else in the world knew what she discovered in that moment; Jason was a tit man! Big, natural tits -- not little pointy model mounds, and not unnaturally protruding silicone-filled bags -- no, Jason had an eye for big fat, soft, round, cushy jugs that rolled around a bit and were capped with a sizeable nipple that he could tweak and tease and pull and nip... Inez let go of Mister Jason's belt, undid the tie at her cleavage and crossed her arms, snatching at the cap sleeves of the peasant blouse and tugging. When her hands returned to his fly, the blouse was a pool around her waist, her whole torso forced through the neckline. The hand buried in Inez's hair shifted away to collect another fat globe. "You little bitch," he breathed in awe, while touch and sight relayed impressions of her areolas crinkling, thickening and elongating the nipples until they were the size of his pinky fingers to the first joint. "Hurry up, I want to feel your mouth on my cock!" he hissed.

Inez finished with the belt, snap, and zipper, and Jason's slacks pooled around his ankles. Inez began to get alarmed; the cock tenting Mister Jason's boxers looked bigger than Raoul's... She worked the waistband over the taut erection and gasped. It was HUGE! Inez had some experience at desultory cocksucking, but it wasn't big with Raoul, so she'd never had any reason to get excited over it. THIS, however, was going to be a challenge... Raoul had a reasonably decent 5 inch cock that tapered from a wide, thick base to a relatively narrow tip; Mister Jason appeared to be half again as long, much more cylindrical, and capped by a slightly fatter mushroom head. All in all, it was nearly twice anything that Inez had experienced! And Mister Jason wouldn't accept half-measures... She lowered her lips over the velvety head, nearly twice the size of Raoul's and the thought flickered through her head that this was a bit more satisfying than the narrow tip that her husband presented... She'd SEEN cocks like this before -- at that memorable rape scene, for instance -- but never touched, and certainly never tasted, one!

Jason moved her on past discovery and into challenge, returning a hand to her hair and pulling her onto him. Inez knew alarm, immediately. Deep throat, with Raoul, wasn't an issue; she could accommodate his length in her mouth. Mister Jason was a different matter, altogether; she began to gag, and there were a couple of inches out there, beyond her lips! Instinctively, she backed off, and Jason let her, only to drive her forward again an instant later. They settled into a pattern: Impale, gag, retreat, impale, gag... It went on and on and on, until suddenly Inez realized that she wasn't always gagging; instead, Jason's mushroom cock head was passing through the abused opening at the top of her throat -- not always, but about every other stroke. She was awash in her own spit, generated by her multiple attempts to retch; it poured down her neck and chest, and coated Mister Jason's pubes, wetting him to the balls. Inez looked up to see Mister Jason's face slowly reddening, his nostrils widening. Suddenly, all she could see was his pubes; he pinned her head to him, while his cock swelled and pulsed, pouring his seed down Inez's spasming throat, throwing his head back in ecstasy and hissing "Yessssss!!!"

Inez hung there, pinned, for centuries. Little sparks flashed before her eyes, against a dimming background as consciousness waned. Mister Jason let go of her and she dropped back, collapsing onto her back, semi- conscious. Jason threw himself prone atop her; she came slowly back to herself to the feel of his hard hands mauling her nipples. "I ought to fuck you, too. It would serve the little bastard right if I got kids on you. You'd better give some thought to birth control; next time he pisses me off I'm going to feel your cunt -- and maybe your ass!"

Inez said nothing, and didn't move; she was still trying to recover from the languor that lack of oxygen had imposed upon her. But if Mister Jason had gone looking for pussy, he'd have found hers wet and receptive. Instead, he slapped her -- not terribly hard, merely to make a point -- and announced, "Get control of that little bastard of a husband of yours, or I'll be back!" Rising, he rearranged his clothing, turned and strode out, leaving the door open and her still lying on the floor.

That wasn't the end of it, of course. Inez braced Raoul with his mistake, and went as far as telling him that Jason had visited her, raising Hell and making threats -- but left out the throat rape. Raoul thought it was humorous until she got angry and cut him off for a week. Eventually, Raoul made an appearance before Jason to mend fences -- which told Jason pretty much what Raoul knew and what he didn't; Jason knew that if Raoul knew that he'd molested his wife, he'd have made a fool of himself gunning for Jason and perhaps forced Jason to kill him. Therefore, Raoul didn't know -- and if Inez was going to keep Jason's actions to herself once, she'd do it multiple times...

Two weeks later, Raoul stepped in it again over some errand Armand had sent him on -- Inez didn't know what it was, but damage control had been required. Jason found her in the sitting room of their quarters and left her draped over a chair back, exhausted, with a bright red ass and a cunt full of semen, but treasuring the memory of three wild orgasms. Two weeks after that, punishment for some peccadillo of Raoul's left her kneeling in her own bed, cum leaking from her distended ass and bright red whip weals all over her back -- but yes, she'd orgasmed THEN, too! After that, it was open season; Jason stopped seriously looking for reasons -- except perhaps for reasons to send Raoul out of the house for a few hours...

Inez continued to punish Raoul by withholding sex; the primary reason was to hide whatever marks Jason left on her -- but the secondary, unacknowledged reason was that her abuser provided such incredible sex mixed with his abuse that Inez wasn't terribly interested in Raoul's less-inspired efforts; why fight for one orgasm, when she could be carried along to several? Raoul, faced with this lack of interest, began to wander, using his position to obtain relief from those lower on the totem pole than he was, using much the same tactics as Jason was. Armand's denial of the Wench's services struck home with Raoul, therefore.

This slowly deteriorating situation had been going on for just over four years, but the threads were seriously fraying... Inez's hold on Raoul had weakened quite a bit -- another denial atop a long series was just life as usual, and Raoul had learned to cope, in any case, so he was drifting further and further out of control. Six months before, after a more outrageous screw-up, Jason had therefore dealt with Raoul directly, using the tools that he knew Raoul would respect; he'd physically beaten the smaller man into submission and then anally raped him, a common practice for Jason that backfired somewhat in Raoul's case because of the effect that it had on Raoul's self-image. Raoul was effectively off-line for several days afterward, while he worked to cope with this total violation of his machismo, and for some time after he was alternately furtive and vicious. A month and a half later, Jason tried another tactic, one that was ultimately worse; he'd beaten Raoul senseless, bound him, applied a ring gag, and throat fucked him. This made Raoul a cocksucker in his own eyes; it took days to pry him out of his room, and nothing could remove the shame. Jason shrugged and gave up on THAT. Besides, Armand had upbraided him severely for the acts, in the process revealing that he was fully aware of Jason's diversions with Inez...

Armand had detected the activity almost immediately, but he let it pass without comment because he wanted to give Jason the freedom to operate without his actions being limited by the knowledge that his employer and mentor was observing -- but Armand saw EVERYTHING that went on in his mansion; Jason's attempts to avoid detection by killing one camera circuit activated another that he was unaware of. This kind of thing amused Armand greatly; for him there was nothing better than setting someone up to think that they were getting away with something, then filming their antics. Jason actually surprised Armand in the mode of his dealings with Inez; Jason's normal pattern was to be uniformly vicious with his victims, testing them to destruction by inventing and implementing torture after torture in a rapid sequence until they cracked and became mindless putty -- and sex had very little to do with it, except as a source of pain and humiliation. Jason's pattern of activity with Inez was different, however; certainly he beat her and the sex was brutal -- Armand suspected that Jason was constitutionally incapable of being gentle. But the physical violence was mild, almost recreational, and the emphasis was on sex. Armand was fascinated; he was unable to figure out what hold the stocky little Chicana had on his chief henchman; seldom did one of Jason's little projects hold his interest for more than four hours, much less four years.... There were a couple of certainties in the situation, however; it was deteriorating rapidly, and forbidding Jason the use of Inez wouldn't stop it. Raoul was the primary point of failure -- the man was as vicious as he was stupid, and that made him too blunt an instrument for most of Armand's purposes in the first place; acquiring him had been a mistake. Perhaps this new tactic of exposing his daughter to various dangers and humiliations would be effective; certainly efforts with his wife had failed... And as for forbidding Jason his pleasure, that was unwise. Jason would be driven to disobey, driving a wedge between himself and Armand -- something Armand preferred to avoid; good help was SO hard to find, and Jason was one in a million, being as savvy and intelligent as he was vicious.

There was one hole card out in the situation, however, and Inez was holding it. Despite Jason's admonition to pursue birth control, Inez hadn't, for two reasons: First, she was a good Catholic woman, and the Pope said it was a bad thing. And second, because she could not have hidden it from her husband forever, and the realization that she was using birth control would have brought all kinds of ideas to Raoul's jealous mind, some of which had a basis. Inez had merely hoped and prayed and exercised what little control she had over the situation to ensure that Jason didn't use her when she was fertile.

Six weeks ago, however, she'd failed totally; Jason had decided that he would assault her womanhood and she'd been too slow to react to come up with a way to divert him (usually, complaining of excessive tenderness in another orifice sufficed to divert him to it via reverse psychology; Jason would have been mortified to discover just how manipulable he was using that tactic). Suddenly, the riding crop he'd been using on her went flying, his hands settled on her tetas from behind, and he had entered her, quickly, and subjected her to his usual pounding attack, something that lasted through two orgasms before he emptied his cojones into her. And three weeks ago, her monthly failed to occur...

All of this flickered through Inez's mind as she entered her daughter's bedroom. "Bianca, Sweetheart, we have a problem."

"Mama?" Bianca looked up from the television.

Inez settled onto the bed, sighing. "Your father has angered Mister Armand. Since punishing him or punishing me is ineffective, now they've come to you."

"What? How?" Bianca's eyes popped.

"Papa refused to come when the puta called him, telling him Mister Armand wanted something. Now, since Papa wouldn't do it, YOU get to follow the puta around for a week, cleaning up after her."

Bianca rolled her eyes. "She's a slave, Mama. You SHOULD be calling her 'the Wench'."

"'The Wench' may be WHO she is, but WHAT she is is a puta, a whore," Inez asserted.

Bianca eyed her mother sidelong. "Mama, I don't think I'd point fingers." Bianca had discovered her mother and Mister Jason some time back. Mister Jason hadn't seen her, but Inez had, and it had led to a whole series of mother-daughter conversations. Bianca knew why punishing her mother had been ineffective -- 'punishment' no longer truly described the activity...

"Well, she will be doing what she does. You're going to see..." Inez sighed, shook her head.

"Mister Jason fuck her?" Bianca asked rhetorically.

Inez's hand flashed out, but Bianca ducked, and continued, "I've seen him with YOU..." Inez took another swing, but it was reflexive.

Inez grumbled, "I'm not happy about you being exposed to... that. But I don't think Mister Jason uses the puta." She looked vaguely pleased, then frowned. "Mister Armand doesn't just sex his women, any more than Mister Jason. They both do a lot more. Terrible things. Abuse. And if one of them takes an interest in you..."

Bianca rolled her eyes. "Oh, Mama! If Mister Armand liked young girls, we'd know it. It will be all right. I can handle it."

"Well, maybe," Inez agreed reluctantly. "Still, you will be exposed to... unpleasant things."

"When?"

"Tomorrow morning, from six until seven, then again after school," Inez replied.

Bianca shrugged. "I'd better go to bed, then."

Inez got up and left, shaking her head.

Elsewhere in the house, Jason was upbraiding Raoul: "Your time in our Master's house is growing short, fool! What possessed you to ignore instructions coming from Him?"

Raoul shrugged, attempting unsuccessfully to appear unruffled. "I figured the slut was merely overreaching herself. It was an honest mistake."

"She re-couched the requirement in order to ensure that there was no misunderstanding! And you STILL insisted on assuming that she was merely lazy! I've almost become resigned to your stupidity, but when you expose it to the Master in this manner..." He shook his head. Perhaps he should beat the fool again? "Now, your daughter will pay the price of your disregard -- you realize that she will receive a somewhat... unprecedented sexual education during her tenure as the Wench's servant..."

Raoul released a chunk of his anger, "If she is molested in any way...!"

Jason waved dismissal. "That is not the point of the exercise; she will be as much a virgin at the end of her tenure as she is now. But she will certainly be less virginal in her outlook, having witnessed the things that she undoubtedly WILL witness."

Raoul sneered, "Well, if it cannot be avoided, at least I can anticipate that she will learn a few things that her mother has apparently forgotten."

Jason's face froze more than it's already expressionless wont. "Perhaps she is withholding her efforts awaiting someone worthy of them."

This was a bit much. Jason watched Raoul's face reflect the new doors that suspicion opened in his mind. It was an ugly sight. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing. Perhaps only the fact that if your sex life is not what it should be, it might be a reflection of your performance." He sneered. "It seems that nowadays you can only get your satisfaction from those who are defenseless before you. One has to wonder whether you are unwilling to perform properly, or unable." He paused a moment, then got back on track, "The subject at hand, however, is your performance of your duties as your Master's servant, not as a husband. I'm tired of putting up with the poor quality of your efforts, and I suspect that even the indignities that your daughter will suffer over the next week will be insufficient to teach you anything. If that is the case, your days of comfort in our Master's house are numbered..." Jason turned from the dapper little man with a wave of dismissal, and stalked from the room, fuming. Dammit! Tonight, he couldn't even abuse Inez! And the Wench was sacrosanct; her part in this was that of the injured party. Consuela? No, Jorge! Armand had effectively denied him any sexual abuse of the chauffer (who WAS bisexual; it wasn't as if he was Raoul, and capable of insanity over a little butt-fuck), but he COULD slap him around a bit...

Armand, having watched the interview on a monitor in his office, shook his head. Perhaps it WAS time for Raoul to move on. Physically disposing of him would be unpleasantly complicated... Perhaps... Armand began turning scenarios over in his mind. One thing was clear; the optimum situation would be one that allowed Inez to remain in his house -- the daughter, too, for now. The idea that the woman could replace her husband in most of his 'indoor' duties occurred almost immediately; however, he and Jason needed to discuss certain aspects of THAT, too, for Armand had never used Inez -- but he would, if she were a servant; it was more or less a requirement of her employment that he impose his will upon her in a direct, physical manner, periodically. Given the fact that Jason had an unusual fondness for the woman, there could be complications... Armand had detected the suspicions that Jason's uncharacteristically foolish remark had triggered in Raoul as easily as his majordomo had; If Raoul actually caught Jason in the act in the near future, it would be difficult to impossible for Armand to justify favoring Jason in the resulting altercation, despite the fact that Raoul had more or less visited the whole thing upon himself... Armand shook his head. Things were getting complicated here at the Wilson mansion...

"Wife!" Raoul roared, entering his quarters.

"Husband?" Inez replied, in no less warning a tone. Raoul's recent reverses at the hands of Jason had even further eroded her respect for his manhood; the response was almost a direct challenge.

"Have you been sleeping around on me? Offering your body to others while I was absent?"

Inez's face shuttered. After a moment's recovery and examination of the content of the accusation, she affected outrage, "Of course not! I'm a good catholic woman and wife!" Inside, she was consoling herself with the limited truth of the denial; it had never quite come to that -- she'd never actively offered herself to Jason. No, he'd always come to her, always been the aggressor... She shied away from a close examination of just how easy she had made those attacks on occasion...

But Raoul has seen enough to confirm his suspicions, accurately or not. "Adulterous slut!" he roared, wading in, "I'll teach YOU!" The ensuing altercation between them was unprecedented in its violence; recent events had eroded Inez's respect for her husband to the point that, rather than merely enduring them, she returned his blows, giving as good as she got. When Raoul finally retired to the couch, it was ostensibly because he preferred not to share a bed with an adulteress, but more accurately because he didn't want to reveal the extent of his injuries; among other things, he was smarting from the effects of not one but two solid kicks to the testicles.

The altercation attracted the attention of others on the servant level, too. No one actually made to enter the Hernandez's rooms, or even called attention to themselves, but several gathered outside in case the sounds began to indicate the serious injury, or worse, of one of the participants. Notable among this group was Jason, who stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists until things quieted down. Such was the level of his agitation that the other observers slowly faded away -- including Jorge, who sensibly went into hiding, robbing Jason of an outlet for his frustrations.

For the wench once known as Felicia, Tuesday morning too quickly followed a night of pleasant dreams, brought on by the evening's accomplishments. Her Master had used her ass for quite some time before dumping his seed in it, while obviously enjoying the plight of the woman who had once been his wife... The whole episode led to the realization that despite the fact that she'd never set foot in it, the woman Sharon was mistress of this house; the only odd thing about it was the fact that Master had apparently never realized this. Afterward, Master had sent her to Charles, her overseer, with instructions that he was to see to it that she was used further. Sir (she referred to Charles as Sir, by convention; he was her Training Master) used her thoroughly once before retiring to bed and once at three o'clock, allowing her to sleep across the foot of his bed rather than banishing her to her cage.

A finger gently poked her and a soft voice murmured, "We-ench... We- ench..."

Wench opened one eye. "Go 'way -- it's still dark."

Charles opened one eye. "Up, Wench. The child has limited time available to her before she goes to school. What time is it, Lass?"

"Six fifteen," Bianca related diffidently. "Is it all right to be here? Wench wasn't in her room..." There was no bed in the Wench's room; that was a big surprise to Bianca. The four by four foot cage that occupied the floor of the Wench's room didn't look too comfortable... And another thing: Mister Charles was obviously naked under the covers, as the Wench was, above...

"Yes, Lass, it's fine; it comes within the realm of your duties," Charles replied. To Wench, he added, "Take her to the Media Room and have her clean up your mess there, then get a shower and have her shave you. She needs to be off to school by seven."

Wench rose, knelt on the floor quickly, bowed her head from that position, rose, and withdrew. Once outside the room, Wench cupped a hand to her bare crotch, exclaiming, "We need to get to the bathroom, I'm in flood!" Bianca giggled and the pair raced to the nearby bath, Wench waddling around her cupped hands. Entering the bath, Wench seated herself on the toilet and waved Bianca into the bathroom. "C'mon, it's no time to stand on ceremony. Get me a washrag will you?"

Bianca took a washrag out of the cabinet, and shoved it under the faucet, turning on the hot water. "Why do you do this?"

"What, have sex?" Wench eyed the young Hispanic girl. Bianca was in the full flower of her youth; she was a perfect blend of her parent's best attributes, with the soft, round breasts and perky ass that her mother had at her age, but mounted on a leaner, tighter body. Bianca had her father's spark, layered over her mother's fatalistic temperament -- it made for a good combination. "I -- learned that it is what I do," the Wench finished lamely.

Bianca sat on the tub edge and looked down at the Wench's crotch. She was sitting open-legged on the toilet, letting clotted semen drizzle out of her openings. "Why do you let them abuse you?"

"Master showed me that I... like it."

"Really?" Bianca asked. "I understand the sex, kind of, but the other stuff?" She sat there a moment, then shook her head. "Well, Mama seems to like it, too..."

"Some of it is the man, Hon. I think maybe your Mama knows that." The Wench eyed the girl for a moment. "Jason?"

"Uh huh."

The Wench shuddered. "I don't see it -- your Mama must be worse than me! Jason is..." Another shudder.

Bianca shook her head. "I know; I've seen enough. But it's funny -- when he abuses Mama, it's like he's going through the motions. He just kind of gets her going. Then they have sex -- and Mama loves it, you can tell..."

Wench shook her head. "Damn. That's a surprise." She paused a moment. "I started out thinking I was going to bowl Master over, and he'd set me up for life. But he led me deeper and deeper, demanding more and more... Something broke; I realized that I needed HIM, not the other way around. And I would do anything to please him. Anything." She shook her head. "Master likes his women to struggle and fight. I... can't. I live to serve, now." She sighed. "I'm an occasional convenience to my Master; my role is to service his guests. Last night was a good night; he used me well."

"Did he beat you?"

"No." The Wench smiled. "He just used me. Then he sent me to Sir to use again, knowing Sir would keep me in his bed." She grabbed some toilet paper and dabbed at her vagina. "We need to hurry; you need to shave me, then go to the media room and clean up some vomit there. I should be out of the shower by then, and you can French braid my hair."

"Vomit?"

The Wench hung her head. "He went deep in my throat when he came. I... lost it." She raised her head. "I'll be training today. Master no doubt intends that you see it." She nodded toward the medicine cabinet. "Shaving gear is in there."

Bianca collected a can of foam and the razor, and turned to the Wench. "I've... never. Mama doesn't."

Mirth lit the Wench's eyes. "Well, I do. Your Mama might want to do it for Jason. But she'd better ask him first." She glanced at the sink. "Hot water. You smear the soap on and I'll hold things steady while you swipe at it."

Bianca ran the water, turning to smear the lather on the unfamiliarly smooth pudenda of the Wench. Embarrassment flickered across her features. "Don't you usually do this?"

The Wench smiled. "Yes. But I was told to have you do it, so that's how it will be. Get the razor." Bianca took it and bent her head to hide her embarrassment while she worked the upper slope. Wench didn't let her off the hook: "Feel it; make sure it's slick. I won't go out and have Master angry because it's scruffy." Bianca did as she was told, blushing furiously. "Okay," the Wench continued, "I'll stretch the lips, and you can work on that. Don't cut me!" The redhead was thin, and didn't have much in the way of outer labia, but she had long, thin, leathery inner lips with little round, dime-sized extensions that made natural grip points for the exercise. Bianca made a note to herself to really give herself a close examination in a mirror; she was pretty sure SHE didn't look like that down there... Biting her lip, she laid her left thumb along the bulge at the top of the woman's slit and started drawing the razor along the area on the outside of the Wench's right inner lip.

The Wench's eyes closed, and she hissed, "Easy, my clit is pretty sensitive!" Bianca let up on the thumb pressure, and the Wench asked conversationally, "Do you masturbate?"

"Um, yes." Bianca kept her head down, concentrating on her work as an escape from embarrassment.

"Well, this week, you might see things that make you want to. I'd do it in private, if I were you; somebody might get the idea that you're available," the Wench cautioned. The pair switched lips, and she continued, "Some women don't orgasm; some can only cum once or twice, and they're wasted. Me, any time I cum, it only whets my appetite for the next one." She caught Bianca's eye. "Women who can't cum and don't miss it aren't distracted, and can do big things in the world -- secure our place as equals with men. But the rest of us need a man -- or at least another woman... I've made my choice; others can do the big things -- I'll serve my Master. It gets me the kind of fulfillment I'm looking for..."

Bianca finished the other side during this soliloquy, so the Wench sat back, announcing, "Okay, we're done. I'll hop in the shower and rinse off while you get the mess in the media room. You know where to find the cleaning stuff, right?" At Bianca's nod, she added, "Hurry back, I want you to braid my hair pretty, like yours!" The pair parted, the girl dashing for the stairs.

Tuesday was a normal morning at the home of the distaff Wilsons. Sharon got up and prepared Nora’s breakfast and saw her off, as usual, before settling back with coffee and the newspaper. This was valuable research, not mere recreation; current events were an essential part of discovering leverage for Armand's corporate charitable contributions. Besides, it kept Sharon from going over the revelations of the night before...

Nora arrived at school relatively early, and glanced around for someone to ally herself with. The usual group hadn't arrived yet, but Tenisha Porter and Draper Travis were seated together, not holding hands, but touching from shoulder to hip, their privacy about them like a shield. She hung back for a moment, but Tenisha looked up and waved her over. "So, how's it going with Nate?"

"Good," Nora was momentarily pensive, then smiled. "Real good. Surprisingly good."

Tenisha eyed Draper for a moment, then ventured, "I'm surprised. He's been good, then? I know a bunch of girls who won't believe THAT!"

"Well, it's a difference in approach," Nora chuckled. "I give him positive reinforcement."

"Uh huh." Tenisha was dubious. "You seen him since Saturday night? Got any idea what he's telling his buds?" She speared Draper with a look.

Draper threw up his hands. "Don' look at me! I ain't seen him since yesterday mornin'!"

Nora smiled. "I believe that; he was with me last night."

"Damn, Girl!" Tenisha exclaimed, "His mouth gets running, you won't have any reputation left!"

Nora feigned innocence. "I didn't say we had sex!"

Tenisha snorted. "The Hell you didn't! It was right there in the tone of your voice!" She grinned. "Well, at least you won't be catching any shit from sistahs! Nate wasn't exactly a hot property...."

"Speak o' the Devil," Draper announced. Nate's ratty Chevette hit the parking lot; he and Stick Williams piled out. Various women scurried around, arranging it so that they weren't looking Nate's way, but he had one target only; he laid a hand on Nora's hip, nuzzled her ear, and murmured, "Hey, Baby."

Tenisha waited for Nate to start making noise, and Nora to peel his hand off; neither happened. Nate seemed perfectly happy to stand there with Nora leaning back against him. "So, Nate, no shit?"

"Huh?" Nate visibly shifted his attention from something -- the feel of Nora leaning against him? -- and answered, "Nah. Why? Don' need it."

Tenisha flicked a glance at Draper, whose eyes were laughing. "Wow!"

Stick Williams piped up, "Mus' be some good shit -- he won' even talk about it."

Nate flicked him a mild glance. "Ain't polite. Besides, no need to get you all jealous." His eyes flicked to Nora, but she let it ride; it WAS pretty mild, after all...

Stick shrugged. "I got Mary."

It seemed like EVERYBODY exchanged a glance after that remark; Fat Mary Nally wasn't considered a catch by the guys, and the girls were equally surprised that she seemed to have gotten a grip on the narrow black -- after all, they were about as different as you could get... Mary Nally was strawberry blonde, freckled, and rather unfortunately built, below the neck. She had small, pretty hands and feet, but there were layered rolls of fat on her torso that left her generally unappetizing. By contrast, Stick was tall and skeletal; fat was something unknown to him, physically. Draper opened his mouth, thought a moment, and shut it; the whole thing wasn't any of his business.

The group passed the next few minutes in quiet conversation before separating for first period, but later, the groups reorganized by sex to compare notes. The guys did it first, in the locker room after gym:

"So, Nate, you're lookin' pretty mellow, Man..." Draper teased.

"Yeh," Nate grunted. "I got no complaints; Nora's Mama even fed me last night. Shit, I might get fat, 'cept for the exercise."

Stick flicked a glance at Nate. "You two fuckin'?"

"Are you and Mary?" Nate challenged.

Stick flicked a glance at Teddy Frick, who was dressing on the other end of the bench. "I might be. Mary's kinda sweet, once you get past the excess baggage she's carryin'."

"An' Teddy? Where's HE fit in?" Draper asked.

"I ain't tellin'," Stick grinned, but he REALLY didn't want that pursued.

But Teddy got seriously brave, for him, and leaped into the breach. "Even Stick can't last forever. I keep her occupied while he recharges!"

Surprised laughter greeted this sally, and Nate responded, "Shit, Mary's that hot? I oughta..." Uncharacteristically, Nate stopped dead in mid sentence, flicking a glance around. "Come to think of it, I'm doin' just fine..." As a further distraction, he rounded on Draper, "So, how about you and Ol' Pancake Tits?"

Draper, called out, forgot to watch his tongue. "Ol' Pancake Tits has a FINE set of stiff nipples an' fucks like a goddamn..." His eyes popped, and he shut up, abruptly, to general laughter.

Nate glanced around, and murmured conspiratorially, "Okay, Man, it's just us -- an' Teddy, who I figure has a stake in things." Both Teddy and Stick nodded. "I figure we can brag a LITTLE if we keep it in the family..." This brought general nods, so he continued, "Awright. Nora is... well, HOT! She's a fuckin' miracle, an' there be a lot of just stupid motherfuckers in THIS school, to let ME get to her first!"

"Yeah, right!" Stick chortled. "Like you're fuckin' her!"

"Stick," Draper deadpanned, "Nate's fuckin' her. He took her cherry Saturday night. I WAS THERE!"

"Sheeit! You seen it? Damn!" Stick was wide-eyed.

"Well, I wasn't there for the main event, but I gave him the rubber, and Nora was s-," Draper trailed off at Nate's warning headshake. "The sounds came up the stairs while I was with Tenisha, Man, you don' fake those... That was one happy little b-". Another warning shake from Nate stopped Draper; he shook his head. "I woke up an' the world was turnin' backwards! I'm gettin' language lessons from Nate! Whatever happened to a ho's a ho?"

"Is 'Nisha a ho?" Nate challenged.

"Awright," Draper growled. "Ya made yer point, Man."

"Yeh, maybe, but I'm out here on this limb an' you ain't said shit! What happened when she took you upstairs?" Nate demanded.

"We ran dead smack into her Pa, is what!" Draper laughed. "But 'Nisha -- an' 'Nisha's Ma -- didn't let that stop us! You wasn't the only bruthuh pickin' cherries Saturday night!"

"Heh, I figured," Nate laughed. Then he turned eyes like gunbarrels on the other two. "So what the fuck is going on 'tween YOU two and Fat Mary?"

Stick shrugged. "Ain't no secret Mary likes dick," he began, "but it also ain't no secret she wants a steady supply. Teddy offered me a ride home when my ride suddenly turned up with a woman," he speared Draper with a look, "so she wouldn't be able to practice usin' her man-trap on him." He glanced at Teddy, who sat, mum, absorbing what would become the 'official' tale, and continued. "Well, Mary had some beer up at her place, an' we figured we was safe, there bein' two of us. Turns out we wasn't; Mary managed to get a piece or two from each of us. When the word went out that Mary was usin' her pussy to catch men, nobody mentioned the fact that it's pretty good shit..."

Teddy piped up, "She gives pretty good head, too!"

Stick nodded, grinning. Not quite as good as Teddy, but... "Anyway, I figure shit that works good is better than shit that just LOOKS good -- how many times you heard about hot-lookin' bitches that turned out to be worthless when it came to givin' 'em the bone?" He nudged Teddy. "Ted an' me got this deal goin' -- we both work her, equal time, keepin' her confused over which one o' us she wants. Everybody gets their share of fuckin'; everybody's happy. I can't lose -- in the first place, she's white, in the second, she has a nice crib, and in the third place there's the old saw, 'Heat in winter, shade in summer, an' a soft place to lie down year 'round!' "

Nate shook his head. "When you look at it THAT way..." He shrugged. "I got kinda lucky, that way, too -- I THINK."

"Whazzat mean?" Draper asked.

"Well, I figured we'd take shit from Nora's Mama, but she only seemed unhappy 'cause her Daddy was gonna give HER shit. An' that didn't happen! Nora's old man is some rich fucker, but him an' her ol' lady are divorced, an' he keeps her an' Nora on a short leash. Real rich folk stuff; they get spied on all the time by private dicks an' shit. Sunday, Nora's Daddy sent this big fucker to see me an' tell me that it was okay, me datin' Nora. 'Course, the other half was if I fucked up, I was gonna get my ass stomped. I got THAT loud an' clear, too." He shook his head, remembering. "BIG fucker. But, shit, if all I gotta do to stay out of the doghouse is be with Nora, I can't find no downside to it."

"No?" Draper wondered. "Sounds like waitin' fer an ass-whippin' to me..."

"Nah," Nate demurred. "I figure if she decides she don't want ME around, things'll go easy as long as I ain't stupid about it -- only way I'll catch trouble is if I decide to dump HER. But thing are GOOD -- why would I want to fuck it up?" He looked around the group. "Okay, so, we all got laid Saturday night. Anybody ELSE get any since?"

Draper raised his eyebrows. "You got pussy--"

"Last night. Twice. THEN her Mama fed me more spaghetti that I ever ate in my life!" Nate preened, to general grins around the bench.

Draper, shaking his head, glanced at his watch. "Hey, we better get outta here! I got a woman now; don' need detention!" The group began scrambling into their clothes.