Owned And Owner (14 page)

Ow! Damn.
Nipples again.

I soothed the twice-yanked nubs with my fingers and pleasure surged. I ran my fingers along the chain, which was small but very solid, and touched the rings in my nipples, which didn’t open. The sink was across the room, and I was here. My heart calmed down. Excitement and a strong thin undercurrent of fear slowly seeped away. My thoughts began to revolve.

I tried to sort out my two personas, the brainy mouse and the destructive brat. All the contradictions made my mind whirl. Which part was real? How could I tell? I had to arrange them safely into the slave I needed to be. How could that happen? I had to work on this…

A last slanting glimmer of sun edged the books with orange light. The room darkened, and the field in the
holo
display brightened in contrast. The words revolving through my head were swinging through longer and more erratic orbits, until I hardly knew their meaning. Gradually, leaning on the desk, I let my eyes lose focus and my mind also. I was at the bottom of a field of plants. A bright and incongruous chain held me safe.

Arleben
walked into the kitchen and stopped dead.

‘
Pav
, are you feeding that female again?’

Pav
straightened up, looking sheepish.
‘Just a taste.
See? She likes it.’ The slave settled down on her mat by the wall, licking her lips. ‘Who’s a good
jeedy
, then?’
Pav
said in a cajoling tone.

‘Of course she likes it,’
Arleben
said, nettled. ‘She’s not supposed to have it.’

Pav
went back to the stove. ‘It won’t do her any harm to have something with some flavor occasionally.’

‘Her diet is perfectly nutritious. If it’s plain, that’s the way Garid wants it.’
Pav
was humming as he stirred, and didn’t answer. ‘You’re spoiling her, you know,’
Arleben
said grimly. ‘She’ll get out of hand if you let her stay in the kitchen all the time.’ The woman curled up on her mat, her chain jingling softly.

Pav
opened the oven door and tested something. The smells in the kitchen became richer and more complicated. ‘Garid said she shouldn’t be left alone all day. She keeps me company. Much handier than a cat; they’re always getting under my feet.’ He eased the door closed, and adjusted a control. ‘And when she needs to be walked I get a chance to get outside for a change.’ He looked over his shoulder at the little creature. ‘Don’t I, little one?’

Arleben
eyed the woman sharply. She responded to
Pav’s
words with bright eyes and a pleased wriggle, but didn’t make any attempt to verbalize.
Pav
looked at
Arleben
, and sighed with exasperation.

‘Don’t worry, I haven’t taught her to speak.’

‘I hope not,’
Arleben
said repressively. ‘She can’t be trusted not to use
Ranize
either, remember.’

‘Yes, I know.’
Pav
stirred. ‘When I was plugging her yesterday she let out a squawk that sounded like one of her words. So I muzzled her and told Garid when he got home. I know what’s
what,
you don’t have to lecture me.’

‘You should have punished her. She’ll never learn otherwise.’

‘Garid took care of it. I leave it to him; you know he enjoys it.’
Pav
began grinding a supply of
takt
meal for the woman’s porridge, and said above the machine’s hiss, ‘Look, I’ll take care of any harnessing, plugging or hobbling you like. But I’m not going to hit her.’

‘You cannot train an animal without striking it.’

Arleben
had looked after both dogs and
jonthes
– he had even helped train a very rare horse – and used corporal reminders as necessary when training them. When the woman misbehaved he had no compunction about giving her some carefully placed blows. He left the more severe punishments to his employer, of course,
who
tended to do the job all over again when he got home.

But he knew
Pav’s
stubborn look, even from behind. Remembering his errand,
Arleben
found the solar screen repair file he had left on the sideboard, and went back to work.

An hour later he was back with a package in his hand. The woman was on her hands and knees, sniffing the air and looking at
Pav
, who was paging through
holos
of a variety of appetizers, all in reddish hues. There was a party coming up, and
Pav
liked to color-coordinate his dishes. The
holos
each had their own aroma, and the air was a wild confusion of garlic, redfish, cinnamon and chili peppers.
Pav
went to check ingredients and absently patted the slave’s head as he passed her.
Arleben
frowned thoughtfully, and decided to have another go. He was a persistent man.

‘
Pav
, have you read the file on her?’

Pav
emerged from the storage cupboard. ‘What? Why?
No, not as such.
I know what’s in it, more or less.’

‘She’s a criminal,
Pav
. She’s very destructive. We simply cannot let her get out of hand.’

Pav
sat down at the
holo
controls again. ‘She’s on a chain practically all the time; how can she get out of hand?’

‘She’s just biding her time.’

Pav
snorted, and moved on to another display.
Horseradish.
Arleben
sneezed. ‘If you indulge her she’ll think she can get away with anything,’ he insisted.

Pav
shook his head. ‘Honestly, man, you’re paranoid.’

‘You’re not taking this seriously enough. Garid knows what he’s doing.’

Pav
hitched his chair forward a little, and didn’t answer. There was a rigid set to his shoulders.
Arleben
pursed his lips, and then shrugged. It wasn’t their first disagreement; they’d been at odds many times over the years.

He pulled a chair up next to the slave, the mitts in his hand, and said, ‘Paw.’ She held out her right hand at once, and he tried the new mitt on her. He made sure all her fingers were neatly and separately slotted, adjusted the brown leather around her wrist, and locked it on. Then he began with the other mitt, while she turned her hand around and tried to wiggle her fingers.

‘What’s that?’
Pav
asked.
‘New mitts?’

Arleben
glanced around.
Pav
was coming out of the pantry again. ‘Garid and I have been designing them for her. I’ve just got them from the fabricator.’ He took off the second mitt and handed it to
Pav
, who peered up inside it.

‘I see. A glove inside, fastened to the palm.’

‘And the palm very stiff leather. She won’t be able to touch her fingers together at all, even inside the mitt. “No opposable thumbs”, that’s what Garid said.’

Pav
bent down and felt the hand that was already confined in its mitt. ‘That’s what he’s getting, all right. This ought to make you feel safer from the
Ranizen
terror.’

‘It does indeed.’
Arleben
accepted the teasing with good grace. ‘And the mitts will protect her hands when she crawls.
Which will be most of the time, if Garid keeps these kneepads on her as much as he has been.
’

Pav
frowned. ‘Surely it’s not healthy for her knees to be kept bent all the time?’

‘That depends on what sense you mean,’ said
Arleben
. His voice took on a pedantic tone, and
Pav
smiled wryly. ‘On a physical level, no, it wouldn’t be healthy all the time. But we put her joints through the full range of motion every day when she’s exercised. And we’re scanning her body on a regular basis to make sure there are no problems.’ He began installing the other mitt. The woman was on her knees holding her hand out submissively, her eyes following the conversation, but with no light of comprehension on her face,
Arleben
was glad to see.

He continued, ‘On the other hand, yes, I think it is healthy for her to be kept down on the floor. She’s an animal on this planet, and the sooner she understands her status, the less likely she will be to create trouble and disrupt the household.’ He had fumed when he read of the woman’s wanton destructiveness on Raniz, the blatant disregard for property and good order. Punishment was important; control was vital.

Pav
was back at his pots, and
Arleben
could tell that any further efforts would be wasted. He made a final check on the mitts, got up and put the chair back where it belonged. ‘After you walk her, bring her into the view room, will you? Garid will be home in an hour.’
Pav
nodded.

It was easy to see that the woman did crawl more readily now that both knees and hands were protected. She used the area reserved for her, and obediently kicked dirt over the wet patch.
Pav
noted that it was about time to till the area and bring in fresh soil. The garden was doing well from the manure she was providing.

Later the two men stood back and inspected the creature fastened spread-eagled against the wall in the view room, her toes just off the floor. They’d followed
Garid’s
instructions to the letter. She was tightly harnessed. This included a narrow crotch strap that held dildos in both orifices. Her labia, opened up by the strap, were hung with weights, as were her nipple rings. A snug bridle encased her head, and held a ball gag in her mouth; dark straps framed her feverish eyes.

‘There,’ said
Arleben
, running an eye down his list, ‘we’ve taken care of everything.’ He examined her engorged nipples and labia closely. ‘That’s quite a reaction.’

Pav
smiled. ‘She loves it, no question. You know, I’m glad
Garid’s
found what he wanted. I used to wonder…’

‘You used to have your eye on him; don’t tell me.’

‘Don’t tell my cluster, either.’ They laughed.
Pav
pulled the waist strap another notch tighter, smoothed it out and said in a different tone, ‘I don’t mind doing this for him,
do
you?’

Arleben
said thoughtfully, ‘No. It’s a little bizarre, of course. I don’t think I would do it for an employer I didn’t know well.’

‘Me neither. But we know he’s a good man, no harm.’
Pav
looked the woman over from head to foot, and shook his head. ‘I still don’t get the attraction.’

Arleben
shrugged. ‘I know. Why people like what they like. I knew a man who was aroused by the machines at building sites…’ They left the room. The woman attempted to wriggle against the straps that held her; her chest heaved. She tried to move her hips but they were fixed too tightly to the wall. A whispery moan escaped her, and vanished into the empty room.

Garid was right that she was always in heat. The level of arousal ranged from mild to volcanic, but was never wholly absent. And increasingly Garid did not allow her release. In fact, he had begun teasing her for longer and longer periods, delighting in her helpless urgency. That evening he kept her close to the edge for hours, till she was crying and only the gag could keep her from pleading with real words. In these states she often became frantic enough to disobey him, or to scream through her gag if she was too restrained for disobedience. The stripes he applied then were even more fuel to her fire. He satisfied himself as frequently as he liked in her mouth, and watched her simmer.
That night again she knelt, tightly bound between his legs, labia and nipples still hung with weights.
Her flesh was marked and red, tears of hunger and frustration traveling down her face, her mouth full of him.

The Sound of the Lock

As time went on, my master seemed to focus more and more on arousing me, and less and less on satisfying me.
It was torture, exquisite and unbearable. The first few nights that he chained me up in my kennel without making me come I stayed awake for hours, sure he would come back.

So it was not surprising that I began to play with myself, when I thought no one was looking. Mind you, after an intense session I was always prevented from touching myself; my hands were chained to my collar, my knees spread, sometimes my nipple rings tied to the ceiling of my kennel, I suppose to torment me further, and to keep me from turning over and humping the floor. They didn’t try to keep me immobilized all day, however. I did get a terrible whipping the day my master noticed my juices soaked into one of my mitts. After that I knew he was looking for evidence, and I began trying to be careful. I could sometimes manage it against my forearm, if my mouth was free to lick the evidence off afterwards. But
Arleben
or
Pav
caught me more and more frequently as they began watching for the infraction. The result was always immediate immobilization, sometimes some painful swats from
Arleben
, and angry scolding that I imagine consisted of something along the lines of, ‘Just wait till your master gets home!’ When he did get home the punishment generally included the offending area, and was very unpleasant. The beatings were enough to make me very, very sorry, and to make me decide that the pleasure was simply not worth the punishment. When he applied hot sauces to my cunt, however, and left me writhing in torment for hours, and burning afterwards for a day and a half, I was truly convinced.