Owners by the Dozen (Slave of the Aristocracy Book 4) Page 9

“But she’s not the bad risk that you think. She’s not a spendthrift. If you lend her the money, she will pay you back with interest. I can promise you that you’ll not take a loss on your investment.”

  “It’s only nine thousand plaqs,” Lord Snow said. “You know that it’s not about the money. If it weren’t for all the reasons that I listed, I’d give her the money as charity. But it would cause more trouble than it would be worth.”

  “If you won’t do it, then I’m going to keep looking for someone who will help me.”

  Lord Snow pursed his lips. “This is a bad idea, but if you’re really determined to pursue it, then you should talk to James. He might be sympathetic to your wishes.”

  “Why would he be sympathetic to my wishes? He hates me.”

  “He doesn’t hate you. He was devastated when you sold yourself into slavery. I don’t know if that wound will ever heal. But he doesn’t hate you. I’m not sure that he knows how he feels about you. He’s caught in a complicated emotional tangle. But I do know that he’s going to see your request for money in a different light than I do. He might refuse, but he might not, either. Of all the lords in Westmouth, he’s the one most likely to agree.”

  Irene didn’t know what to say to that. She had no appetite for seeking out her former husband. The last time that she had seen him was when she was standing naked and chained on the auction block. Strangers were bidding on her. She had expected that he would bid, too, determined to buy her at any price. Instead, he had turned his back on her and walked out of the auction. He hadn’t waited even to see who won the bidding.

  Now, almost a year later, confronting him would take more courage than she had.

  “As long as I’m here, do you want to fuck me?” she asked Lord Snow.

  “More than ever,” he replied. “But I don’t own you any more. Not since I lost you in that poker game to the professor.”

  “You know that he cheats, don’t you?” she asked. “He keeps pre-arranged hands up his sleeves and slips them onto the top of the deck before he deals.”

  “The bastard!”

  “The city is full of bastards,” she said. “I’ve got half an hour before I have to start walking back to my apartment in the lower quarter. I’d like to fuck you again. My owner won’t mind. It’s part of the deal when I’m negotiating with a gentleman on his behalf.” George had never told her that in so many words, but she was sure that it was true.

  “You can give me an hour and an half if my driver takes you home.”

  They put the full ninety minutes to good use.

  She was driven back to her apartment in a lovely post-orgasmic haze.

  That evening, she was in the mood to dust off a few tricks from the less-used corners of her repertoire. She showed Tim that he had more erogenous zones than he ever realized. She blew his mind along with a few other parts.

  It was quite enjoyable for both of them.

  * * *

  “Did Jim tell you about the big commission that he got?” Jack trailed his fingers down Irene’s back, leaving a track through the dew of perspiration left by their lovemaking.

  When he had first bought her, his lovemaking had been quick and perfunctory. Now, after she had shown him what good love was like, he was a much slower, more attentive lover.

  “You mean the car that Sir Anthony Rackem left for him to restore?”

  “Yeah. The thirty-two Imperial Interceptor.”

  “How’s it going?”

  “It’s a thing of beauty, that’s for sure. But Jim is spending a hundred percent of his time working on it. I have to do all the work for all his other customers. I don’t think it’s good for business for him to make his regulars wait for days while he works like a slave on that Interceptor. People are complaining.”

  “Did he get paid up front for it like I suggested?”

  Jack shook his head. “I don’t think so. Or if he did, he sure didn’t get enough on deposit. He keeps dipping into the register to buy parts for the Interceptor. I haven’t taken a deposit to the bank in three days because he needed all the cash to re-chrome the bumpers and hubcaps. And the air cleaner. You can’t even see the damned air cleaner unless you pop the hood but Jim insisted that it had to be chromed. Like Sir Anthony is ever going to see anything in the engine compartment.”

  “I hope this works out for him.”

  “Yeah. He wants to have the restoration done by the end of the month. I’ll sure be glad when that thing is out of our hair and Jim can start pulling his weight again. I mean, it’s his business, I just work for him, but I’d hate to see him go under because of that stupid Interceptor. He’s a good guy.”

  “You think he could go under?”

  “He was talking about getting a loan to tide him over until he gets paid. I’d never borrow money for anything. That’s flirting with bankruptcy.”

  Irene’s blood ran cold at the word. “He’s married, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah. To Martha.”

  “What’s she like?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Is she young? Pretty?”

  Jack laughed. “Nobody’s called her young in twenty years. And nobody ever called her pretty.”

  “Do they have daughters?”

  “No. Two sons.” Jack looked at her. “Why all the questions?”

  “When I hear about someone going bankrupt, I start wondering if there’s anyone in the family who could get sold as a pleasure slave.”

  “I don’t think it’ll come to that,” Jack said. “Jim’s not that stupid. Anyway, if he goes under, there’s nobody in his family who’d be sent to auction. No one in his whole clan would make a decent pleasure slave and people like Jim don’t get sold in the labor market. He wouldn’t bring enough to pay for his debts. He’s worth more free and working.” He kissed Irene’s naked back. “What’s happening with George’s niece? I heard that you were trying to keep her from getting pressed into slavery.”

  “I’ve been hitting dead ends. Nobody is going to give her a break.”

  “That’s rough. She’s a good kid. George was so proud of her going to university. She worked so hard for it. She deserves better than getting auctioned off before she graduates.”

  Irene was grateful that her face was turned away from Jack so that he couldn’t see her flush with guilt. There was one avenue that she hadn’t pursued. She had been telling herself that her ex-husband, Lord Fortson, wouldn’t be any more likely to help than Lord Snow had been. But that was just a cheap rationalization. The truth was that she didn’t have the guts to face him.

  She was going to let Adele get sold into slavery to save herself the humiliation of begging James to forgive her.

  She deserved to be beaten bloody for that.

  She slid down to Jack’s crotch and began licking him clean and trying to suck him back to life.

  That’s what she was good for. Sucking cock.

  In a couple of minutes, he began to moan in earnest and she put her guilt aside to concentrate on his pleasure.

  * * *

  Ox brought a friend to dinner. “This is Joel.” The name echoed around the room. Ox always spoke at full volume.

  Joel stared at Irene’s tits while she told him that she was glad to meet him.

  Ox hefted a bag. “I brought some sandwiches from the shop over on Market Street. Some beer, too.” Bottles clinked when he waved the bigger bag in his other hand.

  Joel kept staring at Irene’s tits while Ox set the sandwiches and beer on the table.

  Irene was beginning to wonder if Joel had even seen naked female breasts before. If he had been one of her owners, she would have offered them to him to play with, but that was Ox’s prerogative so she said nothing. Instead, she held her shoulders back to keep them thrust out for Joel’s visual pleasure.

  “Dig on in.” Ox gestured to the sandwiches that were piled on a plate in the center of the table. He handed bottles of beer to both her and Joel.

  Irene ate one full sandwich – two halves – to be polite but declined a second. Ox and Joel ate the rest.

  She drank the one beer that she had been given. The two men drank three apiece.

  They spoke little while they were eating.

  As the men were chewing the last of the sandwiches, Irene decided to break the ice. “Have you known Ox for long?” she asked Joel.

  Joel swallowed. “He says that you let him fuck you in the ass.”

  “That’s right. As much as he wants.”

  Joel’s eyes grew big and he raised his gaze from her chest briefly to look at her face and assess her honesty. Then he dropped his eyes back to her tits.

  “He can also play with my tits as much as he wants.”

  “What about me?” Joel asked.

  “That’s up to Ox. I take my instructions from him.”

  Joel looked at Ox.

  “Go ahead,” Ox said.

  Joel pounced on her tits like a cat on two fat mice, hands outstretched, fingers spread. He squeezed them hard enough to be uncomfortable.

  She sat still, hands in her lap, and waited for him to get bored. She suspected that she would have had a long wait if Ox hadn’t interrupted Joel after a couple of minutes.

  “Enough playing around. Let’s get to the real stuff,” he boomed.

  Joel looked at him and then unhanded Irene’s mammaries.

  “What would you like me to do?” she asked Ox.

  “We’re going to make our own sandwich,” he said. “Get your lube.”

  She fetched the tube from her bedside stand. When she returned, both Ox and Joel had shed their clothes. Both men were hard.

  “Lube your asshole,” Ox said.

  Her asshole was already adequately lubed – she knew Ox’s predilections and always prepared herself to be buggered when it was his day – but she applied more now because she had been ordered to do so. He probably liked seeing her finger her own asshole.

  “Now me,” he said and bent over to offer his asshole to her. He was going to be the meat in their bugger sandwich.

  She applied a generous amount of lubricating jelly to his asshole, not only around the outside, but pushing plenty inside as well.

  “Bend over the easy chair.”

  She bent herself over the back of the overstuffed chair. She kept it positioned well away from the wall for exactly this use.

  When she was in place, her ass on offer to the men, Ox pushed his dick into her. As always, he entered slowly, giving her time to adjust her sphincter to the intrusion. He was expert at this act.

  He didn’t begin thrusting, but bent over to press his chest against her back and offer his own asshole to Joel.

  Joel knew what was expected and pushed his cock into Ox.

  Irene knew when Ox had been penetrated. She felt the increased pressure against her butt and heard Ox groan in satisfaction.

  Ox waited until Joel began thrusting into him and then took up the rhythm and began thrusting into Irene. Ox didn’t add much force but moved with Joel so that most of the vigor that Irene felt originated with Joel and passed through Ox’s hips and cock into her ass.

  The motion gave her a most satisfactory stimulation.

  In a few minutes, all three of them were moaning in a three-part harmony. When they reached a crescendo, they came in order. Joel howled as he came in Ox’s ass. The stimulation drove Ox over the edge and his cock pulsed hard into Irene’s ass which drove her to a climax in turn.

  Ox collapsed on top of Irene’s back and Joel collapsed on his.

  The two men were heavy on Irene, but she didn’t care. She was floating somewhere over the rainbow.

  After a couple of minutes, Joel unplugged from Ox and staggered off in the direction of the bathroom.

  Ox remained in place for a minute and whispered in Irene’s ear, “That was perfect.”

  Irene whispered back. “I love sex. All kinds of sex. Thank you.”

  “Join us in bed,” Ox whispered and then withdrew and joined Joel in the bathroom.

  Irene went into her bedroom and lay on her bed, her asshole gaping and dripping with lube and cum.

  Joel joined her in a minute, lying down behind her. He rolled her on her side and slid one hand under her to grab her right breast. Then he laid the other hand across to grab her left breast.

  This time he didn’t maul them, but stroked them slowly and carefully, hefting their weight and caressing her nipples with his palms.

  A minute later, Ox lay down in front of her. He reached around to grab her buttocks and pull her hips against his crotch. Then he began kissing her. She grabbed his arms to pull her breasts against him, pressing Joel’s fingers between their chests. She kissed him back – long, deep kisses that lovers would share.

  Her hair fell aside and Joel kissed the slave registration tattoo on the back of her neck above her golden collar.

  Now she was the meat in the sandwich.

  The three kept necking and caressing each other for a long time.

  Predictably, Irene felt Joel’s cock stirring against her nether cheeks. To spread her cheeks and open her ass, she raised her leg and rested her bent knee across Ox’s hips.

  In a moment, Joel was sufficiently erect to penetrate her asshole.

  She could feel Ox stiffening against the front of her crotch. “I want you in my mouth,” she whispered to him. She was sure that he would prefer to penetrate her orally. He had never shown any interest in her cunt.

  He turned himself around so that his crotch was in her face and his face was in her crotch.

  She began licking and sucking his erection.

  The six-nine position isn’t the best physical arrangement for oral sex because the tongue is on the top side of the penis rather than the bottom and the angle of penetration isn’t quite right, but it’s not bad, either.

  For Ox, the psychological effect of having his dick in Irene’s mouth while he could stare through her crotch to see Joel’s dick thrusting in and out of her asshole was terrific. He was incited to start licking Irene’s cunt.

  It wasn’t the best service that she had ever received. Ox was much better at eating cock than cunt. He worked too hard at her clit, treating it like a little dick, and ignored the rest of her vulva. But his ministrations were enthusiastic and sincere. They were sufficient to bring her to a second climax.

  She worked her sphincter to get Joel off and used her tongue and lips to suck the cum out of Ox.

  The three-way orgasm wasn’t quite simultaneous, but it was close enough to thrill all of them.

  When their gasps had subsided back into deep, slow breaths, Ox re-arranged himself to put his head next to Irene’s and Joel’s. In a few moments, both men fell asleep.

  Irene listened to the two well-satisfied men in her bed and fell into a contented stupor. Not quite sleeping, but not entirely awake, either. Just floating on the fluffy edge of consciousness.

  * * *

  “This is my last three days of freedom,” Adele said. “My bankruptcy proceeding is scheduled for Tuesday morning. Is there any hope left?”

  Irene shrugged. “I tried to borrow money from one of my previous owners, but he refused.” She was still hurting from a feeling of betrayal.

  “Why? I’d pay it back as soon as I could.”

  “A couple of reasons. It turns out that he’s a bit of a coward. He’s a lord and Drake is only a knight, two ranks below him, but Drake is rich enough to intimidate even a lord. Lord Snow doesn’t want to make an enemy of him over something that he considers trivial.”

  “My enslavement is trivial?”

  “It is to an aristocrat. He’s not only a bit of a coward, but he’s also cold-hearted. Common women get enslaved every day. He says that he can’t save them all. And if he saves one, then desperate women facing bankruptcy will never stop hounding him, begging for loans. He’s not entirely wrong about that, you know.”

  “Did you tell him that I’d do anything for him if he gave me a loan? He can treat me like a slave, have any kind of sex with me that he wants for as long as it takes until I repay him?”

  “I didn’t say that out loud, but it was understood. Hell, I spent half the afternoon giving him sex just to thank him for listening to me beg on your behalf. Gentlemen always assume that they’ll get sex from commoners if they want it.”

  “Sir Drake’s son sure found it easy to get sex from me.” Adele’s tone was bitter.

  Irene felt sympathetic. It was easy to say that Adele had been foolish to think that an aristocrat would marry her, but sometimes gentlemen did marry commoners. Especially ones who were as beautiful as Adele and intelligent enough to obtain a university education. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “So I have no hope.”

  The utter despair in Adele’s voice chilled Irene’s blood. For the first time, it occurred to her that Adele might kill herself to escape enslavement. Unbidden, a vision of the beautiful girl throwing herself from the cliffs into the ocean below the God’s Finger cliffs filled her mind.

  She wondered how many other girls who had been driven into bankruptcy by slavers had cheated them out of their ill-gotten profits by destroying themselves.

  Suddenly the possibility of suicide seemed very real.

  She could live with the guilt of letting Adele be enslaved, but she didn’t think that she would ever get over letting the young girl kill herself.

  She took Adele into her arms. “Don’t despair. We have three days. I’ll try again. Okay?”

  “Try what?” Adele’s tone remained dull, hopeless.

  “I have one more trick in my bag. A desperate measure, but this is the time for desperate measures. I need a full day. Can you get your uncle George to trade days with Luke so that I can have Sunday off?”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Talk to another lord. One that I haven’t seen since I was enslaved.”

  “You know another lord?” Adele’s eyes showed a bit of life.

  “A pleasure slave meets a lot of lords.”

  “But you’re just a slave. What’s different about this one that he would listen to you when the last one didn’t?”

  “Because, before I became a slave, I was married to this one.”

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