Mindgames Ch. 15

Chapter 15: Windows

Present day, several weeks later

Animal hurried through the corridor towards his apartment. He was without inspiration and almost grateful that no students or assistants had bothered to show up. Surveying the revel room, he had been surprised at how much progress he had made in the last few weeks. The first two panels were finished, the third almost done, and the fourth and fifth well started. On a whim he had decided to leave the revel room until the softer evening light, and in the meantime . . .

Imagining how he and Rose would pass the afternoon, he smiled with one side of his mouth, scaring a rag who lowered her eyes and scurried past. He was like a houseboy recently, constantly aroused, as he thought about what he and Rose had done, what they might do. Rose had always been a good fuck - of course, he never would have kept her if she hadn't been trained properly - but now, increasingly uninhibited . . . Yesterday, in the revel room, the way she had looked at him from across the room before she walked over to the supply closet, swaying her hips as she went, her invitation unmistakable. He had no idea what he had said to his students. He had locked the closet door and taken her standing up, kissing her - it was amazing how she had learned to kiss, how sensual it was - and the cries she had made into his mouth had pushed him over the edge.

What would they do today? He walked faster, thinking over the possibilities. Lying on top of her, her arms over her head, his arms on top of hers, rough and fast. Or, in an armchair, holding her legs open with his, touching her as she writhed against him.

The apartment was empty when he arrived.

Rose was supposed to be finishing the last of the yellow ochre pigment. Where was she?

He heard laughter coming from the courtyard, Rose's laughter, loud, not her usual shy giggle. He looked through the sliding glass door. She was sitting on the ground, the mortar and pestle between her knees. And she was shaking with mirth.

Near her, Raul, the hall monitor, was spreading mulch with a rake. But as he was doing so he was saying something to Rose and gesticulating wildly with one arm. Animal slid open the door.

"So that night, who should show up on her doorstep but Penelope, ten pounds heavier and her hair dyed black!" Evidently this was quite a punchline, because Rose practically convulsed. "So she . . ." Raul stopped suddenly when he saw Master Animal out of the corner of his eye. He flashed Rose a baleful look before he fell to his knees.

Animal frowned. Why he had never heard Rose laugh like that?

He looked hard at Raul. "You are dismissed."

Raul quickly touched his forehead to the ground before he stood and hurried out through Gabriel's apartment, leaving his tools and mulch where they lay.

And Rose. She was looking at him as though she would speak.

"Yes?" Animal said coldly.

"Master," Rose said softly, seriously, all laughter gone although she was still damp around the eyes where tears had leaked out. "If Mistress Tabitha sees that Raul has not finished here, she'll punish him, and he . . ."

Animal's anger deepened. What did Rose care about Raul? "Would you like me to interfere?" he asked sarcastically.

"If it pleases you, Master."

Animal glared at Rose. Was this boldness? Or did she really not see his stern face, his hand on his whip? No, her eyes were down as she knelt in front of him, next to the mortar and pestle. Why was she kneeling? Gabriel wouldn't like that. But Gabriel wasn't here. Animal wished Rose would look at him.

When she did look up, trust in her luminous gray eyes, he softened. He turned on his heel and went back into his apartment before he melted altogether. He scribbled out a note on paper in his sketch pad, tore it out, and took it to the courtyard where Rose had returned to the mortar and pestle. "Take this to Mistress Tabitha," he commanded, holding the note out to her.

"Thank you, Master," Rose said, rising to take it. But Animal drew his hand back. "Don't dawdle," he said roughly. "I don't want you talking to Raul." At Rose's hurt, confused look he faltered, and indicated her tools on the ground. "You were supposed to finish mixing the pigment this afternoon." He bit his lip in frustration - his excuse sounded stupid even to him. But he had no need of excuses. He glared, ignoring the tears, not of laughter this time, welling in Rose's eyes. He handed her the note at last, and went back to the apartment as Rose exited through Gabriel's quarters.

When she was gone Animal felt foolish and at loose ends. He went back to the courtyard and looked at the tools left scattered by both Raul and Rose. A jar half-full of yellow pigment was carefully placed in the shade. Really, Rose had worked hard these last weeks to mix the ochre. Animal picked up the pestle, still damp from her grip. Funny how the pestle seemed to be Rose's now, although he had made it himself years ago, under his mentor Solis's tutelage. He sat on a bench, grabbed the mortar and began to mash, taking up where Rose had left off, the old familiar rhythm calming him.

Rose returned a very short time later, out of breath. "Clean up," Animal said, standing up, "and then come to me." He stalked over to the divan chair in the center of the courtyard. Kicking off his shoes he stretched out on it, watching Rose as she gathered up the bags and jars and tools and took them into his studio for storage.

And then she came to him, tentative, nervous, standing before him, looking down. Where was the bold girl of the day before, the one who had lured him into the supply closet?

She was never nervous with Gabriel, Animal thought with annoyance. But then, Gabriel was always kind to her. Never snapped at her, or moved his hand to his whip. Didn't even have a whip, and wouldn't know how to use one. Of course Rose wouldn't fear Gabriel. If he owned her he'd ruin her . . . But Gabriel did own Rose; the Bearer had given her to him, told her to treat Gabriel better than she treated Animal. His fists clenched.

And then Rose was falling to the ground before him, on her knees, her forehead touching the dirt. Why was she doing this? Animal generally allowed her to speak without begging permission, had since Gabriel's arrival. He didn't like her down there.

"What?" he tried to say, but it came out more of a bark.

"Master," and Animal could hear her tears, "I'm sorry I didn't finish mixing the ochre."

Why would she say that? She would have finished if Animal hadn't interrupted her. But then he remembered, he had scolded her for it. Maybe Gabriel was right, he thought with a sinking feeling; maybe he was a brute.

"It's okay," he said. Rose still didn't look at him. Where was the trust he had seen in her eyes when he offered to write a note to Tabitha? Why did it disappear so quickly?

The answer was obvious, Animal knew: whether he was a pansy or not, his moods were a danger to her. It was important that she remember the power he wielded over her. Unlike Gabriel, he didn't ruin slaves, he prided himself on that. But still . . . He sighed.

"Did Mistress Tabitha read the note?" he asked, trying to remind her that he was . . . what? Kind?

"Yes, Master," Rose said, her voice low, her eyes still downcast. "She said she would not punish Raul." Good. What more could Rose want from him?

But he said, to his own surprise, "I didn't know that you and he were such good friends." His voice sounded sour, even for him.

Rose shrugged, still looking down. "He's always been very good to me, Master. Helps me when . . ." She stopped, and started again. "Never takes advantage of me."

"You have feelings for him, then?" Animal asked. He was aware that sometimes happened among slaves, acting out a pale imitation of human love. It had never occurred to him that anyone belonging to him, that Rose would . . . He felt an odd, sinking feeling in his stomach.

"No, Master," Rose said. Animal expelled his breath, relieved. Rose looked up at last, and continued, "Raul cares only for Wendy, Mistress Tabitha's housegirl. He would never think of any other slave in that way."

Animal frowned. But Rose was still looking up at him, and although her eyes were guileless, the slightest smile was twitching on her lips. Was it possible she was teasing him? Would she dare?

"Should I do that for you?" he asked her. "Take on a houseboy, and give the two of you a sleeping mat the in the spare room, and let you . . ." He broke off, shuddering.

"Would he be handsome, Master?" Rose asked. And now Animal was sure . . . almost sure . . . that she was teasing him. He pulled her towards him.

"He would be ragged looking," he growled. He lifted her so that she was on top of him and they were lying length to length. "But he would know just what you like." He kissed her. After a brief hesitation Rose kissed him back.

She was delicious. He loved the feel of her against him, chest to chest, groin to groin, legs to legs. He pulled away from her lips so he could look at her. The boldness hadn't appeared, but the fear was gone. He moved his legs between hers, separating them. "Like a good slave, he would care about your pleasure before his own," he said, putting his hands on her lower back, and then moving them down, resting them there, feeling her warmth. He held her like that, massaging her slightly, until Rose made that sound of hers in the back of her throat, and gyrated on Animal as his hardness poked at her. She shifted so that it hit her in just the right spot. That sound again.

Rose pulled away this time. "My slaveboy wouldn't be wearing pants," she said slyly, and undid Animal's belt. Then she waited, looking at him. When Animal nodded his permission she pulled his pants off, trailing her hand along his inner leg. Her touch woke up his entire body. She did the same thing with his underwear, gently easing it over his hips, his erection, and down his legs. And then she was laying on top of him, her clit against his shaft, her juices warming him. Animal held her head, pulling her in for another kiss.

But Rose pulled back. "With my slaveboy, I would be in charge," she said. She waited for the nod of permission from Animal. He gave it, lost in the power of her excitement.

Rose kneeled up and guided Animal into her. His eyes swam. Slowly she lifted up and sank down, lifted up and sank down. Animal knew that there was not enough friction on her clit to push her close to the edge. But not so with him. His heart hammering, his breathing ragged, he was gathering. Rose pulled up, and stayed there, only his tip within her. "With my slaveboy, I would set the pace," Rose said, a wicked glint in her eye.

Animal reached his hand toward her, to touch her. "But he would help you along," he said.

Rose shook her head and batted his hand away. So beautiful. "He would want to," Rose said. "But I would say no." Animal put both his hands behind his head. He looked at her, drank her in, as she slowly, slowly sank down on him, and then slowly, slowly rose up.

The sensation was exquisite. Rose had been on top before, of course, but always Animal had grasped her hips, pushing her up and down like a sack with a hole in it. She had never been in control.

Animal became acclimated to her slow movement, and matched it with a slow thrusting of his hips. It was as if she was riding not just his cock but his brain. He was ready to peak. Rose stopped at the top. Animal breathed out hard, the denial exciting him even more.

When he had calmed down she rode him again. Up and down, each time slower than the last. Rose's excitement was equal to Animal's own, but he knew she would not explode without direct stimulation to her clit.

She stopped. Looking Animal straight in the eye, she moved her own hand to her center. "With my slaveboy I would take my own pleasure," she said.

Animal was transfixed as Rose touched herself with her finger. He should stop her; he had not given her permission, not exactly. But Rose's eyes closed and she crooned with pleasure, and he could not catch his breath; he was lost. She pressed the back of her hood down so that her clit was against Animal's penis, and as she moved up and down on him it rubbed her. And then she was crying out, and Master Animal was crying out, and it went on and on, her spasms gripping him, massaging him, and he exploded into her. And just before they rested against each other he was kissing the top of her head, and then he was too tired, and she lay on him, and it was delightful.

Mariah remembers

It was Master Brandon's mother who announced to Mariah that her time with Brandon was over. Mariah put down the feather duster she was using and picked it up again, unsure if Mistress Yvette meant that she would be leaving immediately or if she should finish her task. "There, there," Mistress Yvette said. "It's nothing personal. It's just time to let Brandon make his own mistakes."

"Yes, Mistress," Mariah said. Fleetingly she wondered what it would be like if it were personal.

Mistress Yvette did not bring Mariah back to Mistress Desiree for a new placement, but to the Exchange. When in her surprise Mariah stopped in the doorway and protested, Mistress Yvette stared at her. "I thought she would have told you, since you were a favorite. Desiree closed the training center. Said she'd done her share and earned a rest. True enough I suppose."

Mariah felt shocked, and then unexpectedly bereft, and then scared. She had hated Mistress Desiree, of course. She hated them all when she allowed herself that luxury. But Mistress Desiree had taken some care in Mariah's placements, and perhaps had protected her from worse treatment.

Mariah hadn't realized that she had remained motionless in the doorway, until Mistress Yvette raised her whip. "Of course, if you make me punish you you'll be taken for a torture cunt at the Exchange." Mariah followed her to the Exchange master to be registered.

Present day

Animal half-woke from his doze. The warmth of Rose's cheek passed through his shirt to his chest. Her arms rested around him, her legs were between his, and her belly was pressed against his sated cock. He floated on the sensation of her. With Gabriel and Mariah not expected back before dinner, and an hour until the light would be right for painting, they could . . .

"Rose!" Animal blinked his eyes open at Gabriel's exuberant shout. "Are you still out here?"

Rose lifted her head, confused and mostly asleep, as Animal groaned. The sound attracted Gabriel, but the back of the divan faced his door and he couldn't see them. He hurried over as Rose slowly pushed herself up. "You've got to see the book I found! It's ancient recipes with . . ." He stopped short as he saw them at last. "Oh," he said, reflexively backing up.

"You said you would be teaching all afternoon," Animal growled, refusing to cover himself.

"No one showed up," Gabriel muttered, half turned away from them. "Mariah and I went to the library instead."

Rose looked uncertainly from Animal to Gabriel as she continued to disentangle herself from her master. "Found a book I thought Rose would want to see," Gabriel continued. "Sorry."

"It's fine," Animal snapped. Turning to Rose he told her, "Go clean yourself up, and then find Master Gabriel."

"Yes, Master," Rose said. She stood up slowly, and then entered Animal's apartment without a backward glance at him.

"Sorry," Gabriel muttered again, and practically fled to his own. Scowling, Animal found his pants, neatly folded on the ground with his underwear neatly folded on top. Carrying them, he stalked off to his shower.

Mariah remembers

The Exchange was well-organized. Master Victor set up separate areas for those most likely to be chosen as skilled laborers, factory workers, crafters, and, of course, house slaves. As Mistress Yvette had intimated, there was an area for torture slaves as well. To Mariah's relief, after a brief conversation Master Victor sent her to the corner for house slaves.

She was chosen by two men, Master Gregg and Master Pasquale. They were a striking couple; both tall and well-muscled, Master Gregg was ruddy and blond and Master Pasquale was dark skinned and shaved his head. They were devoted to each other but casually cruel to Mariah. They told her that they used only housegirls, not houseboys, to avoid developing any attraction that could come between the two of them. Having little interest in her, they liked to tease.

"What did the little pussy do all day?" Master Pasquale would ask in a baby voice.

And Master Gregg would answer in a sickly sweet imitation of Mariah, "I cleaned up from breakfast, and thought about fucking. And then I swept, and thought about fucking. And then I looked out the window and thought about fucking. And now I'm so tired from all my hard work and so horny."

"Ooh, poor little pussy," Master Pasquale would say. "So many responsibilities and so little fucking. Does little pussy want to fuck?"

There was an endless variation on this. Mariah was surprised at how annoying she found their treatment of her, although she had to admit that it was an easy posting as far as work went. Master Gregg and Master Pasquale both had assignments that kept them out of the apartment most days. Master Gregg was an accountant at the food exchange, responsible for calculating how much and what food to bring in from the fields and pastures, and Master Pasquale was a scribe. Both were neat and not fussy about their food, and they rarely entertained. The hall monitor had told Mariah, with a meaningful look, that most of their housegirls volunteered to help the hall in their spare time, by doing laundry for other households or assisting with heavy cleaning. Mariah merely shrugged, and the issue was not pushed on her.

Her masters' teasing generally continued as one of them fingerfucked her almost to the point of coming. And then he would stop, talk more baby talk, and walk away. When Mariah's body had calmed down the other master would molest her but stop before she came. A pause, and the other would take his turn. When she finally orgasmed the master who had carelessly pushed her over the edge was the loser in their game, and he would pout and punish her. Mariah tried to make sure that it was Master Pasquale and not Master Gregg who would do so. Master Gregg favored hot sauce and red ants and the like, while Pasquale generally used the strap.

Master Gregg surprised Mariah when he came home early one day, carrying an odd bouquet. Mariah leaned the broom against the wall and dropped to her knees. "You've been a naughty pussy," Master Gregg said from across the room. Mariah blanched. Did he know about the unauthorized walks she took, almost every day? But he continued, "It's not nice for little pussies to play favorites." He gestured for her to approach him. As she did so, he took a pair of gloves out of his pocket and put them on, then pulled from his bouquet a long thin plant that looked like mint with spikes.

"Hold out your hand to me," he commanded her. She gave it to him, palm down. He turned it over and scraped the plant along the length of her lower arm and inner wrist. It tickled. And then it itched. And then, to Mariah's horror, little red bumps appeared on her skin and it burned.

"Have you ever seen stinging nettles before? Master Gregg asked her. Mariah could only shake her head. Master Gregg put the plant down and took off his gloves. He led Mariah to the armchair he favored and sat her on his lap.

He knew her reactions well and aroused her efficiently. But when he was squeezing her nipple with one hand and teasing her pussy with the other, Mariah wriggled on him and he hardened beneath her. They both froze for a second, and then Master Gregg sprang up. Mariah fell to the floor.