I shifted from foot to foot as I waited in the hallway for the men and reached up to touch my hair tentatively - I kept worrying that the ornate updo was going to come down without warning. Patrick wasn’t kidding when he said a slave-girl was going to do my hair and makeup either; she was pretty but her tiny black slip dress with shackle-esque jewellery made her stand out as distinctly different and special. The collar piece around her neck had caught my attention first, the platinum metal covered almost the entirety of her neck and matched her bracers. I hope mine doesn’t look like that. Something more subtle would be nice, especially if the men wanted me to wear it all the time.
The door behind me opened and I jumped to attention, clasping my hands behind my back and smiling warmly at the two men. Mr. Harris stepped out first; his salt and pepper hair was neatly styled, his beard grown out slightly but still well kept, and he wore a shiny black suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Patrick stepped out behind him, his tall lithe frame in stark contrast to Mr. Harris’ powerful build. Patrick’s shoulder-length brown hair was swept back in deliberately messy waves, his stubble unshaven, and wearing a black and gold brocade suit without a tie. He wrapped an arm around my waist and Mr. Harris gave my hand a quick squeeze as we set down the hall to the car, his glacial blue eyes had an unnerving glint in them.
“So where exactly do rich perverts meet up?” I asked as I slid across the leather seat of the Maybach Pullman. The privacy of the car was unmatched; the partition between the backseat and the chauffer ensured that we wouldn’t be overheard.
“The Palazzo Della Felicita, a fifteen-million-dollar mansion also known as the Palace of Happiness,” Patrick said with a smirk. “Where else would we go - a motel near the seven-eleven?”
“No, that’s where you go when you’re meeting the sketchy drug dealer your friend sets you up with. Or a hitman. But I didn’t really expect a mansion either.”
“It’s practical,” Mr. Harris added. “There’s more privacy, and there’s more control of who can and can’t come in since we have a gatekeeper and a doorman.”
“What do you mean ‘we’?” I asked.
Patrick answered, “Members pay fees, we affectionately call them ‘handler fees’, it pays for upkeep, services that the property needs, and allows slaves and pets to live there full time.”
Wow, that’s a lot, I wonder how much the fees are. I didn’t ask more about it; I was already overwhelmed with the answers I had. The ride through Washington was long and quiet, it wasn’t until we were suddenly coming up a long, narrow driveway shrouded by massive trees that I glanced out the tinted window and spotted the mansion. It was smaller than I expected; only sixteen thousand square feet, two upper levels and a basement, entirely white, and every window glowed a warm yellow against the dark sky.
The car came to a stop and a short minute later that a man in a black waistcoat opened the door and ushered us out, I turned to thank him but Mr. Harris kept a firm hand on my arm and guided me up to the massive double doors.
“Don’t speak to anyone,” he murmured in my ear. “Not the help, or other Masters, or the slaves. Not unless you’re spoken to directly.”
“Oh okay, I’m sorry,” I mumbled.
The other man at the entry greeted my bosses with a curt nod and opened the doors for us, his dark almost black eyes roamed over me and made me lean into Patrick uncomfortably. His hand rubbed up and down my exposed back as we stepped into the lively foyer; the massive double staircases flanked the front doors and framed the archway into the dining hall, off to the left was an all wood-panelled room with heavy red velvet drapes hanging over the archway, and to the right led down a hall that I was quickly steered away from.
They led me into the panelled room, the very first thing I noticed was the girl standing against the far wall; she was naked, her hands clasped in front of her, extremely long black hair pulled back into an ornate ponytail, and slender with well-defined muscle tone on her stomach. Her tan skin shone in the muted chandelier light, probably from body oil, I couldn’t get close enough to tell, but I could see the exquisite diamond collar that clung to her neck.
I gazed at her for a long time, I don’t know why I found her so fascinating since she didn’t move, but something was interesting about someone standing completely naked in a room full of formal wear. The men gazed at her appreciatively and Patrick whispered something to Mr. Harris, before I could realize what was going on he left us and approached the woman. Patrick led me away and into what appeared to be a modern-day ballroom.
“Is he coming back?” I asked quietly as Patrick handed me a champagne flute.
“Eventually, but Eloise is waiting for her Master and Jon to punish her,” Patrick replied with a shrug.
“That’s a pretty name,” I murmured. “Does Mr. Harris see a lot of other women?”
“You’re a nosey one tonight, aren’t you?” he asked with a laugh.
“A bit, but I’m just curious, y’know? He never really opens up to me about stuff like this, he doesn’t even have sex with me outside of the three of us.” I shrugged and sipped at the strawberry champagne.
Patrick’s warm amber eyes gazed at me intently, the burning heat obvious. “Of course, and I’d be extremely pissed to find out that he was. Jon doesn’t keep pets or slaves, he’s a trainer and a procurer of sorts.”
I bristled, a procurer? Excuse me? “What do you mean by that?” I asked with more hostility than strictly necessary.
“Not what you think,” he said quickly. “I mean that the women he initially sleeps with usually end up here, no matter where he finds them, he has a sixth sense for it.”
“Okay, well where does that leave you and me?” I asked suddenly.
He shrugged and leaned back against the pillar behind him. “That remains to be seen; I might take you on as a pet, and if that’s the case there are logistics we need to work out.”
I was even more confused than I had started. Patrick quickly whisked me onto the dance floor and into the bustling crowd, I leaned against him as we danced, the band’s music filled the room and if not for the glimpses of fetish wear and naked flesh I could have easily mistaken this for just a really fancy upper-class party.
“You’ll need intense training,” he whispered close to my ear.
I gazed up at him for a moment, intrigued. “And why do you say that?”
“Because I expect certain behaviours, and I don’t mean that I want you to change in everyday life, but at these events, in a submissives position, you need to be and act a certain way.”
“Oh, I see how it is, you want to change everything about me,” I said with a breathy laugh.
He chuckled and his hands slid down to grip my ass. “Not at all, Miss Morrison. But I do have to say that the dress I chose looks stunning on you.”
“What would you expect then?” I asked quietly, my lips barely brushing his as he bent down.
“Unwavering obedience would be the ultimate goal,” he replied. “Knowing that even in a place like this if I told you to get on your knees that you just would is the type of behaviour I want to instill.”
“Would it always be sexual?”
“Not always, eventually when you’re fulltime you’d have other tasks to do during the day, but I have a lot I want to do to you in the bedroom before then.”
My surprised laugh was cut off with a kiss. There was nothing explicitly weird about kissing Patrick, but in the environment that we were, and outside of sex it felt different. I didn’t have much time to dwell on it or the lovely sensation of his soft mouth urging mine open before our attention was commanded by the MC and everyone was directed to watch the stage in front of the windows.
We watched as people evened out in the crowd, some people disappeared and without warning, most of the lights went out. I clung to Patrick’s arm as the stage lights went up and revealed a row of ten women, all different ethnicities, heights, weights, but all equally naked with their hair pulled back in some way. Like the girl who did my hair and makeup, they wore the collars with wrist braces, and their heels matched the gold material. My lips parted as I stared at them in awe; there was something otherworldly about them, none seemed uncomfortable or unhappy in any way, and most were openly smiling. I don’t know why I thought they wouldn’t be happy to be here, but it was certainly a jolt to the system to see these beautiful women all ready and willing to be used as sexual objects.
Murmurs went through the crowd and I noticed several of the men gesturing to them and seemingly debating their options. Off to the sides two towering people in bird-like pewter masks flanked the stage; their masks covered their faces completely, and the beaks in the center extended so far that they looked misshapen – they were hideous and somewhat frightening to look at. They appeared to act as the auctioneers in a way though, as they would gesture to a girl and when she was bid on and purchased, they would guide her off the stage straight to the panelled room away from the crowd.
There were several rounds of bidding, and true to Mr. Harris’ words men also appeared at one point to be put up for auction, they went for equally high prices, and they wore thick decorative cock rings. A hand on my shoulder made me jump and I spun around to come face to chest with a broadly smiling Mr. Harris.
Patrick glanced over and grinned at him. “Eloise was well mannered I’m assuming?”
“She’s done quite well considering she hasn’t been here very long. How’s the stock?” he asked as Patrick shifted me to Mr. Harris’ arm.
“Decent, nothing I would bid on, but expect Paul or James to be in contact soon enough for some assistance.” Patrick checked something on his phone and frowned. “Shit, I’ll be back, keep her out of trouble.”
I scoffed and the men snickered as Patrick left the room. I leaned into Mr. Harris, but it felt wrong, he wasn’t cold per se, but he wasn’t a warm and cuddly as the other man. I couldn’t help but wonder what had shifted between the two of us because if you had asked me two weeks ago, I would have easily said I preferred Mr. Harris, but he had quickly become more distant as Patrick tried to monopolize more on my time privately.
“Can I ask you something?” I asked quietly, trying not to disturb the bidders.
Mr. Harris cocked an eyebrow. “Why not.”
“Am I supposed to assume that at some point things will stop between us and it’ll just be me and Mr. Rosing?” It had been eating at me, and I didn’t expect Patrick to give me a straight answer.
“Yes,” Mr. Harris answered simply. “I don’t keep pets, or slaves, I get bored very easily Lydia - it’s nothing personal. The few things you and I do privately were agreed upon with Patrick beforehand, the only exception was the first time. Even then he wasn’t pleased with me approaching you first.” He paused and tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “But I think I’d like to keep you around a while longer.”
Wow. That was not at all what I expected. “Patrick never told me that we would be exclusive…”
I immediately realized my mistake when Mr. Harris’ eyes hardened, and the glacial blue became infinitely colder. “You do not call him Patrick,” he warned. “Not here, not at the office, or anywhere else we say so. I think we’ll find a private room later and show you exactly training will entail.”
My eyes widened and I nodded helplessly, my heart started beating faster and despite my inkling of fear I was filled with excitement. I glanced up at the stage and caught the two masked people wrapping of the auction. People shuffled around and for the first time I noticed just how much I stood out in the room; most other women wore silver or gold, their dresses were very short and loose - slip like, their heels all towering stilettos, and almost universally wore ornate collars. Male slaves were easy to spot; they wore circlets around their heads, their shirts open revealing bare chests and long dangling chain necklaces.
Mr. Harris guided me around the mansion slowly, his hand on my back the entire time but rarely addressing me. He stopped to chat with other Masters, they would assess me but rarely said anything. I quickly lost track of time as we admired the art on the walls and erotic displays of group sex and public masturbation. I could feel him shift every time we stopped to see something else; the slightest change where his touch would become softer and he’d hold me closer, almost as if he wanted to play with me but couldn’t. Eventually, he guided me to the dining hall for dinner with two other men - Master O’Connell and Sir James. I was told to remember them as I would get to know them when I eventually stayed at the mansion.
Intimidating wasn’t the right word for them, nor was frightening, but their demeanour was brisk towards me at best. I found out that they stayed at the mansion full time, they seemed to run the place almost, and my training would be overseen by Master O’Connell directly. I couldn’t complain about that; his dark ebony skin, warm green eyes that felt like they pierced my soul, and powerful muscular physique were all things that appealed to me.
Dinner moved quickly, people came and went from our table, I was introduced to slaves and pets, and other Masters. It was a long while before Patrick joined us again and almost immediately, he dragged me in the direction of the staircases.
“Patrick,” Mr. Harris said as he reached out to the man. “There was an incident, and I warned her she was going to be punished again.”
“Tomorrow,” Patrick said as he glanced down at me. “We’ll have the whole day and want to put the whips to use. But tonight, I want to have some well-tempered fun.”
Mr. Harris nodded but I noticed the shadow of irritation cross his face. Patrick pulled me upstairs and led me to a room in the East wing; the bedroom overlooked the expansive yard, the furniture was all hardwood, a four-poster king-size bed, silk sheets, red velvet curtains, and black plush carpet covered the floor. The walls were a crème colour with warm-toned crescent moon wall sconces.
Patrick seized me in a tight embrace as his mouth met mine, his tongue skimmed the edges of my teeth and teased my tongue. I moaned and sunk my fingers into his hair, the silky strands curled around my fingers luxuriously. He pushed the straps of my dress down and it fell to the floor around me. He pulled back slightly and I noticed the rapid rise and fall of his chest, and his heavy-lidded eyes as his gaze roamed over my nakedness.
“You are only to call me Master from now on,” he warned as he took a step toward me. “Jon is your trainer, and you will respect him, but he will never be with you sexually without me. I decide who touches you and how they touch you. If you have a problem like that you need to tell me now so we can cut the shit and leave because I don’t want anything else.”
He had been stalking toward me, I moved back with every step he took and as my knees hit the bed I stumbled and fell down against it. I stared up at him as he stripped his jacket off and started working on the buttons of his dress shirt. There was no wavering from me; I had very little knowledge of the world I was suddenly in, but I wasn’t willing to give it up.
“I want to be here, Master.”
He grinned and threw his shirt to the floor before tackling me back on the bed, I squealed and wrapped my arms around him. He quickly had his pants off and his cock was pressed against my thigh. He slid down me and pushed my legs apart, pulling them over his shoulders before I could do anything and his mouth found my sex. I writhed against his mouth as his tongue explored my pussy, his stubble tickling my thighs and his thumb circling my clit.
I gripped the sheets tightly and cried out as he suddenly latched onto my clit and sucked hard, two fingers drove into my willing pussy. The waves of pleasure that rippled out from his touch made me shiver and suddenly his fingers pressed hard against my g-spot, I wailed and arched my back as I came, a flood of wetness bathing my thighs and his face. My chest heaved as he moved up to me and I kissed him eagerly, my tongue sweeping his wet mouth and tasting myself on him.
“This is the last night that you’ll be allowed to come without my permission,” he murmured against my collar bone as he kissed his way up and down my throat.
“Even when I’m alone?” I asked with a giggle.
“Lydia if I catch you masturbating without my permission your ass will be black and blue for an entire week.”
I shuddered and he took advantage of my distracted state to bite my hardened nipple, I yelped, and he laughed cruelly.
“Hands and knees,” he ordered suddenly.
I rolled over and pushed myself up without question, I was barely in position before he was inside me. I sucked in a sharp breath as he stretched my pussy and moaned as he slammed into me savagely. He pushed my shoulders down until my cheek was pressed against the cool sheets, he paused briefly to pull my arms back and held my wrists tightly as he continued to fuck me.
My eyes rolled back, and my mouth hung open as he bottomed out with every thrust, the prominent curve of his cock raking against the sweet spot. Sparks danced behind my eyes every time he hit my cervix and familiar pressure started to build quickly, all too soon I was coming again, my pussy tightening on his cock as I screamed into the sheets. He only sped up and slammed into me harder, the sounds of his laboured breathing and obscene skin on skin filled the room and drown out everything else. It was easy to forget about the dozens of people downstairs.
His movements started to become jerkier and with a long groan, he sheathed himself in me completely as he came, his release filling me with the familiar warmth. He quickly got off the bed and went to the bathroom while I laid in a sweaty pile of fluids on the bed, trying to catch my breath. I pushed myself up and tried to ignore the pang of sadness that he didn’t stay a minute or so longer.
“Close your eyes,” he called from the bathroom.
I giggled at the absurdity of his request but did it anyway and listened to him pad over to me until I felt the warmth of him standing close.
“Open.”
I opened my eyes and locked onto the jewellery box he held in front of him, inside sat three pieces; two thin platinum bangles with swirling patterns engraved, and a matching collar with plush leather backing, the collar had an O-ring on the front. I reached out and stroked the cool material gently. He helped me with the bracelets, which I quickly discovered couldn’t be removed without the small magnetic piece he had in his own patterned leather cuff. He tested the collar as well, but it was a little large on my neck and he said he would have it resized for me.
I examined the bangles up close as I got dressed and was startled as his hand pressed against my lower back. I turned to him and smiled warmly; I didn’t care about hiding anything from him right then.
“Thank you, Master,” I said as I kissed his cheek. “I mean it, thank you.”
The way his eyes sparkled made my stomach flip. “You’re very welcome kitten,” he said as he kissed my hair.
I sucked in a ragged breath as I was engulfed in the scent of his cologne; he hadn’t used that pet name before and it was almost embarrassing how quickly my body reacted to it. I tried not to dwell as he led us back down to the crowds and showed off my new shackles. Some slaves smiled knowingly at me and I even caught Mr. Harris cast Patrick a smirk as he joined us. I rested my head on my new Master’s shoulder as his arm wrapped around my waist, everything in the room seemed brighter and happier as I followed him around.
I was almost bouncing with excitement when he told me we would be coming back the next day, and at some point, in the coming weeks, I would spend extended time here at the mansion for training. I don’t know what I found more thrilling, the idea of becoming his in front of a crowd or just training to become his perfect slut.