The Family Business Ch. 02

The third slave was muscular, compact, short but lithe. She was fair-skinned, freckled all over, and nearly completely hairless. Her only hair was a short pixie bob of bright red hair. She sported a few tell-tale scars on her arms and back. It was those very flaws that would have sent her off-lot in just a few days if I hadn't grabbed her. "It says here you were a gladiatrix."

"Aye, I was, sir, " she said in thick Hibernian brogue. "I fought in the southern league for three years. Won or tied every match. I was fucking headed to the big time, sir, Division fucking one! But then my ludus went under -- financial mismanagement or some such shite. They sold me and the rest of the girls off for practically nothing. I know fuck all about being a pleasure slave, sir. But I figured you might need a bodyguard."

Jojo spoke up. "Mister Rayburne has adequate security, slave." Down, boy.

"What I need is an office staff," I said. "Can you do that?"

"Anything's better than being ass-fucked by horny old goats, sir."

"Good to know," I said.

Jojo had done a pretty good job, I decided then and there. Isabella and Aine were obviously smarter and better traveled than your average pleasure slave. Cassie -- that was more difficult to read. She tested well if you believed her scores and she might just be able to keep spirits high. Anyways, I gave the three one final glance and then took Samantha aside into a nearby conference room. "So what you do you think?" I asked putting up my feet.

She shrugged. "They're better than the bimbo brigade. Isabella is actually pretty well spoken. Aine is bright if you can get past the fact she swears enough to make a sailor blush. Cassie I think I can get used to. Certainly they're better than any of the other candidates. They'll do."

"Good. If you have problems with any of them, let me know and we'll see about getting replacements."

She nodded. "That's very generous of you, Ty."

"Generous? More enlightened self-interest. I need this office running smoothly, Sam. You know, this is not a job I wanted. My father gave me C.C.'s as a surprise graduation present. Can you believe it?"

"Nothing your father did surprises me. He has a mad impulsive streak about him."

I laughed. "True enough. C.C.'s may have not been my dream, but now that I've got it, it's a point of family pride to have it succeed. You're part of that now. You are my office manager as well as my..." I trailed off.

"Personal assistant?" she offered.

"Exactly. I know you can do this."

She smiled. "Thanks for the confidence, Ty. Question -- are these company girls or do you want to assume personal ownership?"

I considered. "Leave them company girls for now. I kind of like the idea that you're my only slave."

Sam rolled her eyes but then betrayed a wicked little smile. "What a romantic."

She looked then so beautiful, so radiant -- a faint flush against her perfect skin. I thought I might never be able to take my eyes off of her. But duty called. "Back to the grindstone. Oh, do you still want to go shopping tonight for office uniforms?"

"As you wish, Ty."

"Tonight it is, then. We should take the girls with us. Get you all fitted together," I said.

"Sounds like a date."

I laughed. "It sounds more like an expedition."

...

There are scores of worse ways to enter a room than with four naked slave girls following close behind you. I walked into the House of Erato with my cadre in tow. The establishment displayed slave garb of all sorts ranging from the drab and durable to exotic harnesses and designer domination gear. I walked past the classic marble of the house's namesake muse and the giant placard which read "For the demanding dominus, listen to your muse."

The obligatory soft cithara music played in the background as I took in the enormity and variety offered here. I had been here before, of course, but always as a kid being dragged by my dad during his errands. I got not three steps in when a sales person wearing a name tag which read "Hello, my name is Veronius" appeared in front of me. "Good day, sir, is there anything I can help you with?" he chimed. Veronius was a handsome enough gentleman dressed all in black sporting a warm and practiced smile. I had only been at C.C.'s two days, but I still had enough experience to recognize Veronius as exactly what he was -- a hungry salesman. Veronius could smell blood in the water. We weren't here to shop. We were here to buy and that made us exactly the sort of Veronius wanted to know better.

I made his day by saying, "Actually, yes. These ladies need four matching wardrobes. Something fairly high end -- professional, presentable. Can you help us with that?"

Veronius kept his smile. Samantha leaned over and whispered something in the salesman's ear. I didn't catch it and it couldn't have been more than two or three words. Whatever it was, it worked immediately. Explosively. "Absolutely, dominus." Veronius clapped only once and the House of Erato was instantly at my disposal. We weren't serviced out on the showroom floor. We got the private room in the back. Slaves, servitors and Veronius himself swirled around me in a maelstrom of modeling and marketing.

Myself I took a seat. I simply sat there and over the next two hours watched my own personal little fashion show. I rarely spoke as outfit after outfit was paraded before me. When I did speak, it was usually in short succinct judgments.

"Not bad."

"No."

"Perhaps."

"Do you actually like that?"

"I don't think so."

"Maybe."

"Perfect!"

That was almost my entire contribution to the proceedings. I was out of my element and I knew it. Samantha and Veronius never stopped -- a fracas of fabric, faultfinding and flattery.

"Oh, this won't do at all. Its positively frumpy. What is this? Hazarat?"

"Donatella. Frumpy? I think the green really brings out your eyes."

Finally Isabella could tolerate silence no longer. "Do you have anything from Justinian? I always had good luck with him."

Veronius smiled. "Oh, yes. And with your figure, madam, you can carry it off. Antony, fetch the Justinian summer and winter rack!"

So Isabella joined the fray after a only a few minutes of nervous uncertainty. It turned out my older slave knew a lot about fashion. Most of what they said was arcane to me.

"I was looking for something a little closer cut. You know -- less Carden, more Monte Joy. Not risqué but revealing. Do you have any Bello?"

"Bello is so played, my dear. Marcosa is where all the action in halters is at."

"This isn't bad but do you have it in Cerulean?"

"Cerulean -- with your palette? I think we should veer towards burgundy."

"Do you think so? I don't know. Ty, what do you think?"

My name. I heard my name. "Not bad," I remarked.

"We can do better than that!" And they were off again. The experience was far from unpleasant. The four slaves had been marched in quite naked. Modesty in the private room would have thus been absurd. So, for me, I basically spent roughly the duration of a movie watching four attractive women try on lingerie and the like. I've been to movies a lot worse.

In time, Cassie also became caught up in the energy of the moment and happily bounced around. She knew nothing about designer clothes but she did try her absolute best to be sexy while modeling what was offered. She largely succeeded. I spent a fair percentage of the viewing... well, let's say I was firmly interested.

Only Aine never got into the swing. The red-head did as she was told. She even liked some of the clothing. But there was no love for the proceedings. She spent the whole affair ready to leave.

In the end, I probably spent more than I should've. Dad's "walking around money" mostly walked away that night. I could probably get reimbursed for most of it. I caught myself with that thought. Probably reimbursed? It's laughable really. Of course I could get reimbursed. My business. My money. These were expenses for company girls after all. I could almost justify it.

Owner, I reminded myself. I owned C.C.'s. I didn't work for my dad.

Still, I'll confess that this sort of excess made me feel more than a little guilty. I must be careful. It would be easy to fritter away what had been given me. Regardless, tonight I was celebrating and this seemed fitting. Today had been the day I had finally calculated my present income. My college friends had been right -- I was loaded.

I'm paid strictly on a percentage of sales and exact revenues vary by season, of course. But I could reliably assume I'll be making at least five million denarii this year and maybe as much as seven. Assuming I save only half, I'll be a millionaire in four months. In two or three years, if I'm prudent with my earnings, I'll be among the wealthiest men in Cythera City. This is why I skipped lunch. I had to be sure my figures were correct.

Honestly, I had never known just how rich we were. Father was frugal almost to a fault. He kept me poor in college because he did believe it built character. He was probably right.

So tonight I indulged myself. I have no complaints. This was a bargain. What I got for my money was attire for my four ladies. The outfits ranged the gamut from sexy professional to daring formal wear. There were notes of practicality as well -- cold weather clothing and the like. And if the whole leaned a little more to skin-tight leather, well, I'm only flesh and blood.

After our shopping excursion, we all went to dinner together -- a nice little continental cafe. I learned that Isabella could speak Gallic and really knew her wine. She guided me through the maze of Madeira, Pinot Noir and Cabernet. But mostly tonight, I listened as my four recent acquisitions chatted about their own acquisitions. Afterwards I returned Isabella, Aine and Cassie back to the guest rooms. Their almost empty cells were now festooned with wardrobe hangers and shopping bags. I said my good nights and received a sweet little peck on the cheek from Cassie.

It was once more late when Sam and I arrived back to my motel room. If the room had ever seen an adequate place to live, now with all of Sam's new wardrobe filling the closet and draped over the table and dresser, its faults were only highlighted. Gods, I should buy a house.

I was more than a little lost in my own thoughts when Sam brought me back to the present. She kissed me. Not a playful little peck. Not a nibble on the ear. Not a quick touch of lips. No, I mean she kissed me.

She entwined with me. She pressed herself against me. Her lips were red and ravenous. I could still taste a hint of cabernet and chocolate. I answered her kiss and I feasted. We stayed locked together until finally we fell upon the bed in a tangled mess.

Sam was clothed of course and that was entirely my fault. I began to undo buttons one by one from her elegant wine-colored blouse. There was irony here. I had seen her nude all day, but still as each button released it was like a moment of discovery. She undressed me as well: buttons gave way, clasps were freed, buckles undone. Soon there was nothing between us -- nothing except her collar.

I paused only to take in the sight of her. My head swam and not from the few glasses of wine downed earlier in the distant café. She was a vision of loveliness. She was a goddess of desire. My cock was rock hard and I was intent upon taking her.

Instead of allowing that, she instead took charge positioning me just as I was needed and I was eager to obey. I lay upon the bed as she straddled me. Her sex was placed within easy reach of my mouth. I could smell its musk, see the first traces of dew and pink as her orchid began to bloom. Just at that moment, as I stared almost hypnotized at her sex, I felt her take my own into her mouth.

That was all the instruction I needed. I began to return the favor and soon my entire world contracted down to two almost overwhelming sensations -- Sam sucking my cock and I tasting her cunt.

I licked and nibbled everything before me. Soon her clit emerged from its little hood and stood almost erect. I directed my full attention to it earning me a cock-muffled moan.

Her work on my sex was a work of art -- an expert combination of pressure, patience and precision. I must have seemed a clumsy rank amateur by comparison. I could see few details of her craft, but I could feel its unmistakable effects. I was hard as fucking steel. I knew I wouldn't last long and I had already fed her my cum once today. Her mouth was not where I wanted to release.

I was so close, if she didn't stop I was going to... She did. She paused at the perfect moment. "I don't think my mouth is what the dominus wants tonight," she said in a low sultry growl. Gods, could this enchantress read my mind?

She mounted me taking her new position slowly, gracefully, giving me just a moment to pull back from orgasm's immediate and inevitable edge. She faced me and during every moment of what was to come she kept her eyes locked on mine. They blazed like emeralds bathed in the fires of whatever Plutonian foundry had forged them eons ago.

On top, the slave took control and she used her position of superiority to great effect. She directed my still rock-hard member into her slick sex. I entered her easily, feeling then as if that was exactly where I belonged.

Her movements at first were slow and luxurious. She raised and lowered against me delicately and deliberately. She did all the work and I only watched afraid that if I moved even a muscle this feast would end entirely too soon. We had already fucked the night before. This was something else. This was love making. I confess that the sight of my cock slowly disappearing into Samantha would be a snapshot in my mind's eye that I would forever savor.

Purposefully, she increased her speed. She did not simply push up and down on me, instead she undulated on my member. She writhed and danced upon my cock. Her motions were a melody, a song in celebration of sex, and I was honored to be an instrument in her orchestra. With every passing heart beat, the tempo and momentum increased. With every passing moment, her movements became faster and faster. This was no desperate dance. This was carefully calculated art.

I could keep still no longer. I began to try for my poor part to match her rhythm. I grabbed her hips and found what leverage I could atop this motel bed to answer every movement and thrust. She led the dance and I remained eager to follow.

It was work now and the slick sheen of sweat glistened on her skin. Her face glowed with this glorious exertion. She began to breathe in and out and with every inhalation her breasts shuddered and shifted. Her hairless sex ground against the rough tangle around my cock's stem.

She found a furious rhythm and she kept it. I breathed deep. I could not last. The sensual onslaught of it all along my shaft was simply too much. I was enflamed with need. I burned! Gods, I was either going to come or explode! There was nothing to turn aside this now. And who would want to? I wanted to give her this. It seemed a small thing in comparison to all that she had given me.

She startled me when she spoke in the midst of her exertions. "Oh, dominus, I'm going to..." Her face flushed bright red. Was she coming? Were we really coming together? Wasn't that something that happened only in two denarii pulp porn? Life gives us a few perfect moments. Could this be one of them?

Regardless, we did. Together we had started and together we arrived. I came. No, I erupted! I sprayed my seed into her as hard. I stabbed deep into her warm depths and released all that I had. I closed my eyes and it seemed my entire body seized.

How long did this moment last? How long is the second of orgasm? It couldn't have been more than a heart beat. Or was it an hour? A day? A life age of this good earth? I had started this day drifting out of the world of dreams. And now it would seem, I would end it drifting back.

I have no doubt that at some point that night we stopped having sex. There must have been a moment. At some point we decoupled and cradled each other. Someone pulled a sheet over us. Perhaps we even said a few words -- sweet nothings about how wonderful it all had been. Did I tell my slave that I loved her? Did she only smile?

I am certain these moments must have been real. But honestly I have no certain memory. Instead, all I remembered was soft light, joyous warmth and her next to me.