My Sweet Bitch Ch. 02

Author's note:

[For 'Carl']

Okay, there might be a couple more stories in this vein, since people seem to like them. And yes, Jaspar's a bit of a prick, who needs an urgent wake-up call. But for those of you who deeply dislike him, stick with it... I promise, it'll be worth it. Go into it with a dark sense of humour, and trust me to sort him out. ;-)

*****

It was Saturday morning. I'd spent a brilliant week fucking Carl, and I was getting quite a taste for it. First thing in the morning, I had him take care of my morning wood. After that, I had a shower, while he made eggs and bacon for breakfast. All that free range bacon was costing him a fortune, and I think he'd started borrowing money from his parents so he could afford to keep me in the style to which I was (now) accustomed, but that wasn't my problem.

Of course, he couldn't afford to eat bacon and eggs himself, so his breakfast was a single piece of toast. It'd help keep him in shape anyway. Before I'd taken him on, he'd eaten a load of crap. Now, he could only afford to buy crap for me.

Still, I thought, as I watched him eat his dry bit of toast, at least he wasn't with that abusive bitch of a girlfriend of his anymore.

"What've you got on today?" I asked him, talking around a mouthful of bacon.

"Nothing," he said. "I thought I'd play some God of War and—"

"Meeehhhhp, yeah, no, mate."

"What do you mean?"

I shot him a look, warning him to keep his tone respectful. "I mean, no 'Station for you, until you've gotten this place tidied up."

He looked around. "Tidied up?"

I gestured with my fork as I chewed. "Yes! this place is filthy." I dropped my cutlery and pulled a crumpled list from my pocket, smoothing it out on the table. "Here, I made a list for you last night."

He frowned. "Is that my mail?"

I picked up the torn envelope I'd used to write the list on. "Oh, yeah. Your new credit card turned up."

"Where is it?" he asked.

"Yeah, don't worry about that, mate, you've got work to do." I held the list flat with one hand while I forked eggs into my mouth. "First, I want you to rent one of those steam cleaners and clean the carpet and all the furniture."

"How am I going to afford—"

"Shut up." I glared at him and he shut his mouth and gave me a sulky look. "And don't give me any fucking attitude. You really are a crap slave, Carl." I shook my head and carried on. "Right, once you've done that, I want the kitchen cleaned. Take everything out of the cupboards, clean the shelves, and put everything back."

He sighed heavily. Christ, his passive-aggressive bitching was really getting on my nerves, but I carried on anyway.

"After that, do the dusting, and that should take you through to dinner." I shoved the list at him and the force of the movement made it scoop up in the air, so it landed upside down in front of him. He flipped it right-side up and looked at it glumly.

"Okay?" I said to him.

He nodded.

"Oh, I'm sorry, have I gone deaf?"

"Yes, Master," he said quietly.

Christ, he was such a fucking sad-sack. Here I was, giving him all this effort and attention, and all he could do was sulk.

"Now, the good news is, you don't need to make dinner tonight."

He looked up, hope in his eyes.

"In fact, tonight I'm taking you out, so get yourself scrubbed up and good to go by 6 p.m."

His hope turned to wariness. I guess he realised he'd be paying. Oh, how he made me laugh. Well, it was what he wanted after all, wasn't it? I got up from the table, leaving my dirty plate there for him to tidy away.

"Where will you be today while I'm cleaning?" he asked.

I gave him a dark look. "Who the fuck is asking?"

He dropped his head. "Sorry, Master."

"Six p.m. Be ready."

I grabbed my things from my room and shoved his new credit card into my wallet. That was going to come in handy, assuming it tapped. Then, whistling, I left the flat to visit my new girlfriend; his old girlfriend, Violet.

*****

When I got back to the flat later that evening, I was pleased to find Carl on his knees, waiting for me on the freshly cleaned carpet. He was wearing a nicely pressed shirt, but no trousers.

"What's going on?" I asked. "Why are you in your underwear?"

He kept his eyes cast down. "I didn't want to get my trousers damp."

I was impressed. Maybe he wasn't such a crap slave after all. Still, I didn't overly like seeing him half-naked.

"Get up and cover up those hairy legs. And next time you shower, shave properly, for fuck's sake. Nothing more off-putting than fucking your hairy ass."

He got to his feet and pulled his trousers off a nearby hanger, carefully pulling them on while I watched. He really did need to shave. The more I fucked him, the more I found anything masculine about him quite disgusting. But that could wait. Tonight, we were going to have so much fun.

"Right, are my clothes ready?"

"Your... your clothes?"

Of course, I'd forgotten to ask him to iron me a shirt.

"Look, Bitch, I can't do all the thinking for the both of us. Get your lazy ass in the bedroom, find me a shirt, and iron it!"

I shook my head at him, and he hurried off to do as I'd said while I took a shower. By the time I got out, he'd put out a freshly pressed pair of black trousers and a maroon button-down shirt for me.

"Where exactly do you think we're going?" I asked. "Jeans'll be fine."

"Should I change—"

"No. No, you're perfect as you are."

He glanced up, and I laughed at his huge, liquid eyes. "I mean, you're dressed perfectly for what I have planned. Clearly you're not 'perfect'. Honestly, you're barely human."

He dropped his eyes again. "Yes, Master."

"Now put these in the wardrobe." I shoved the trousers at him.

Once I had jeans on, I sprayed on some cologne and came back to the lounge. A moment later, there was a knock on the door.

Carl came out of the bedroom and paused there, staring at the door.

"What?" I said, dropping down on the couch. "Fuck's sake, open it!"

He opened the door and stood there in shock as he saw his ex-girlfriend, Violet, standing there in a slinky dress that clung to her like a second skin.

"What are you doing here?"

She pushed him out of the way by smacking the back of her hand against his chest and stalked up to me. I put my hands on her waist and gave her a nice, long, wet kiss, squeezing her ass as I did.

We separated, and she looked up at me, her eyes shining. She had long dark hair that fell down past her shoulders and she was tiny, propped up on four-inch heels.

"Right, let's go. Bitch, call the Uber."

Clearly still in shock, Carl pulled out his phone and called a cab for us, while I teased Violet's nipples through her dress.

"You're a total fox," I said to her, while she stroked a hand down my face.

Over her shoulder I saw Carl simmering and gave him an evil grin. This was going to be a fantastic evening.

*****

The restaurant wasn't that fancy, and Carl was definitely overdressed. So was Violet, but that was because we were planning on going out clubbing afterwards.

"Table for three?" asked the waitress at the door.

"Well, two and a half," I joked.

Man, I loved watching that muscle in Carl's jaw twitch.

The waitress led us down to the back of the restaurant and sat us at a table by the wall. I made sure Carl sat with his back to the access routes, since he'd be needing to get up and down a lot.

Once we were settled, I could see Carl had questions. He held it in until the waitress brought our water and then exploded.

"What is this?" he hissed to Violet.

She reached out and touched his cheek. "Oh, sweetie," she said. "I don't have to explain myself to you."

"What happened to 'last one on gets fucked'?" he asked.

She tilted her head. "Would you like me to fuck him?"

"You know what I mean!" Carl shot back.

"I thought you had him under control?" Violet said to me. "Do you need me to step in?"

"Carl, shut your damn mouth," I snarled. "I'm not like you, I don't let people turn me into their bitch."

Carl's eyes blazed. He looked as if he was about to stab me to death with his fork, but I knew him better than he knew himself, and the best way to deal with him was to give him something to do.

"Carl, see those people there?" I asked.

Confused, he turned to follow the direction I indicated with my head. A group had just come into the restaurant and were waiting for someone to come and seat them.

"Go over there and take their coats and hang them on the rack by the door."

"What?"

"You heard me."

Stiff with anger, he got up and walked towards the door. Violet took my hand as we watched him take the restaurant patrons' coats and hang them up, and she gave me a smile of approval.

"Better. But you really shouldn't let him talk back like that."

Of course, the restaurant staff were confused about Carl being their volunteer doorman, but before things got too odd, an older man came into the restaurant with a much younger guy; a kid around our age, in his late teens/early twenties.

I watched with curiosity as the older guy bent his head to talk to Carl as Carl took his coat, noting Carl's deferential posture.

Violet leaned into me. "A man and his boy," she said. "See the way his boy follows him, always two steps behind?"

We watched as the two made their way to a table nearby. The younger guy pulled out a chair for the older guy, then took a seat opposite him, giving him a beatific smile. He looked as if he was in love with the older guy. I didn't get it. The kid was hot. I mean, objectively. He could have had anyone. Why'd he choose this guy?

By the time Carl got back to our table, the sulk had gone out of him.

"What'd he say to you?" I demanded.

"That I needed better training, and that I should tell you to talk to him after dinner."

I glanced up to see the older guy looking over at me. He nodded, and I nodded back. It was instinct to return the gesture, even though I felt stupid doing it.

He thought Carl needed better training? Who the fuck did he think he was?

But as I watched his boy quietly, politely, and respectfully eat his meal, pouring his master wine from the bottle they'd ordered, everything about him poised and graceful, I realised I really had done a crap job with Carl so far.

Carl's shirt was ironed, but the collar of it was curling at the corners where he hadn't spent enough time getting it flat. His hair was too long and needed a cut, making him look like the unkempt slob he was. There was no... grace, to him. He was clumsy. Unfinished.

Annoyed at having my failings pointed out, I fumed as I ate my meal, leaving Violet to torment Carl, my only contribution to the conversation occasionally kicking him under the table when I thought he was giving her attitude.

When I was done, I got up to use the bathroom, leaving the two of them to it.

I was in the middle of taking a piss when the older guy came into the bathroom. He took up a position beside me but didn't make a move to use the urinal.

I felt heat creep up my neck until my face was burning, standing there while he just watched me relieve myself. When I finished up and packed myself away, I started past him, pausing when he spoke up.

"You've forgotten to wash your hands."

No, I hadn't forgotten, but for some reason, him saying that made me ashamed of the fact I was about to walk out of there without doing it.

My face still hot with embarrassment, I grabbed some soap from the dispenser and washed my hands as thoroughly as I'd ever done. While I did this, he fetched a handful of paper towels and handed them to me as I shook the excess water off my hands.

"I always find," he said, "that one makes less mess if one shakes one's hands towards the bottom of the basin."

I looked at him, confused, and he took the damp paper towels from me and tossed them in the bin, then came back to the sink.

"May I?" he said.

I frowned at him. "May you what?"

"Here." He grabbed both my hands and shook them in a tight movement. "See. A short shake means less mess water spread about for someone else to clean up."

He let go of my hands and I shoved them into my pockets. He was well over six foot, likely six four, six five, and I was five ten. He was also built solid, while I was a skinny university student. Him grabbing my hands like that had made me feel like...

"Your boy," he said, interrupting my thoughts. "I take it you're new to the world of slave mastery?"

I didn't want to have this conversation. "I gotta go." I tried to push past him, but he put out a hand, barring my way.

"Apologies, I didn't mean to insult you," he said. "But I see such potential in you. I'd like to make you an offer."

"An offer?"

"I'm a very experienced master, myself." He held out his hand now for me to shake, and I took it. His handshake was firm and warm and he had a hell of a grip. I squeezed back harder, just to make it clear he wasn't intimidating me. "My name is Mr Kleine."

"Jaspar," I said.

"Jaspar...?" he waited for me to tell him my full name.

"Redcliffe," I said.

"Well, Jaspar Redcliffe, here's my very limited offer. I would like to take you on as my apprentice."

"Apprentice? I'm in the middle of a BA, I don't need an apprenticeship—"

"As a slave apprentice," he said.

"You mean, you want to teach me how to be a master?" I asked. "Like you?"

He smiled benignly. "A slave apprentice, yes."

"What's involved?" I asked.

"You've seen my boy, Sam?"

"The guy you came in with?"

"Yes. Your boy, he doesn't have quite the same charm, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yeah, I would agree," I grunted. "He's a crap slave."

"To learn how to be a good slave, one must have a good master," said Kleine. "A disciplined master, a kind, fair hand. And appropriate correctional punishment, of course."

I grinned. Punishment. That was more like it. "Yeah, I haven't figured out the best way to punish him yet. He's a surly fuck."

Kleine considered me. "I'm staying at the Bell Grange hotel. If you'd like a lesson in slave mastery, I would be happy to teach you."

A lesson, huh? "How much would that cost?" I asked. I wondered if he'd take Carl's credit card.

"If I'm right about your potential, the pleasure will be mine."

"You're not some crazy, going to try and fuck me, are you?" You couldn't be too careful these days.

He chuckled. "I should ask the same of you, Jaspar Redcliffe. A pretty boy like you, with a boy of your own, and those come-fuck-me eyes."

Old prick, teasing me like that. I didn't overly like being called 'pretty' by anyone, never mind another man, but he probably thought every guy younger than him was 'pretty'. But other than his bad choice of words, he radiated sincerity, and there was nothing threatening about him.

"Okay. I guess I'll see you later."

"Eleven p.m," he said. "No later. I have things I need to do tomorrow morning."

"Sure."

He gave me his room number and I left the bathroom, bemused at what I'd just agreed to.

When I got back to the table, Carl was sitting in front of his untouched dessert, while Violet was halfway through hers. My place setting was empty.

I dropped down into my seat. "What's going on?"

"I told Carl he had to wait for you to come back before he could eat," said Violet.

"Where's mine?"

She looked out over the restaurant. "It hasn't come yet, but it can't be far away."

Carl kept his head down; I guess he knew what was coming, because he didn't react when I grabbed his plate and set it in front of me. He'd ordered the tiramisu, and as he watched, I dug my spoon into it and took a mouthful

"Delicious," I said, smacking my lips. "Nice choice."

Carl snuck a glance over his shoulder as Mr Kleine joined his 'boy' back at their table behind him, and I snapped my fingers under his nose.

"Hey, pay attention."

"To what?" he asked quietly. I saw a waitress heading towards us with my apple pie, and quickly dropped what was left of his tiramisu back in front of him.

"Enjoy."

He picked up his spoon, and with his back straight, took a small spoonful of food, eating it carefully as if it was something far more precious than it was.

I watched him for a moment, suspicious at his change of attitude, but my own food was calling to me. As I scoffed it down, I noticed Violet watching me.

"What?"

She glanced at Carl and shook her head, going back to her own meal.

*****

I dropped Violet back at her house, and then drove up to the Bell Grange Hotel, parking in the garage under the building.

"I'm going to be about an hour," I said to Carl. "While I'm gone, I want you to sit here and behave yourself."

He pulled out his phone to open a game and I took it from him.

"Please, let me keep it!" he pleaded. "What if something happens and I need to call you?"

He had me there. I handed it back to him. "Okay, you can keep it. But if the battery goes down more than five percent before I get back, you won't have it for the next week."

He said nothing, and I left him in the car, sitting in the dark, huddled into his jacket.

When I knocked on Kleine's hotel room door, his boy, Sam, opened it.

"Good evening," he said. He was so fucking polite, I was instantly jealous of Kleine. Sam had a feminine face and short hair, his lips full like a girl's. He'd be an amazing fuck.

"Please, come in, Sir." He moved out of the way to let me in, and I walked into Kleine's suite. The room was huge; more of an apartment, really. It was big enough to hold an entire lounge suite, a king-size bed, a writing desk, and presumably a separate bathroom behind one of the doors that led off the main room.

Sam shut the door behind me as I walked into the middle of the massive space.

"Nice room," I said, and Kleine chuckled. He was sitting on the couch, smoking a cigar.

"Good to see you, Jaspar," he said. "Have a seat."

I sat opposite him and he handed the cigar to me. I'd never touched a cigar before, but I wanted to impress him by showing I could inhale it without coughing.

Kleine's eyes widened as hot smoke scorched my throat and sent me into a coughing fit of epic proportions. I bent over, seeing stars, and he plucked the cigar from my unresisting fingers.

"Not a cigar smoker then," he said mildly, puffing on his stick of death.

I shook my head, my eyes watering.

"I'd explain retrohaling to you, but I'm afraid that's a skill that'll have to wait. Sam."

Sam came over with an ashtray, and Kleine sat his cigar in the hollow provided. Sam took the ashtray away, and Kleine's gaze settled on me.

"You're five minutes early," he said.

I shrugged. "Figured it's better to be early than late."

"That's good," said Kleine as Sam handed his master a drink. "I'd offer you one," the older man said to me, "but I feel it would be better if you were sober for our lesson."

I shrugged. I was a little jealous I didn't get to taste the good stuff, but then again, the cigar hadn't been overly pleasant. His booze probably tasted like paint stripper.

"Tell me what you know of slave mastery," said Kleine. He took a sip of his Scotch and held it on his tongue.

"Ah, well." I blew out a long breath. "I just know some guys are born bitches, and some guys are born to use those bitches."

Kleine swallowed his Scotch and said, "An accurate, if somewhat crude assessment of the art. So, tell me about your boy, Carl."

"He's my roommate. He was dating my girlfriend before I started dating her, and she was using him as a cum dump for her harem. It was upsetting him, so as a favour, I offered to one-to-one bitch him, so he didn't have to put up with it anymore."

Kleine nodded slowly. "So, you were saving him from a worse situation?"