The Trainer (32 page)

Jeff licked his lips again, and shot a
glance at Chris. He looked back at his handsome owner and said,
“I—I was afraid. I didn’t know what to do. You seemed to like her
so much—and she could get me in trouble—”

“Get you in trouble! Jesus Christ, what the
hell did you think we were in? I asked you, Jimmy asked you—and
again, when Eve called back, we asked you again! Why on Earth did
you lie to us?”

“I thought—I was scared! I didn’t know what
to do—I didn’t want to get her in trouble—I thought she’d just
return them! I don’t know!” Jeff looked like he was about to cry
again. He kept looking at Chris, who was ignoring him, and then
back at his masters. “But I didn’t do it! No matter what she says,
I didn’t do it!”

“Did Robin accuse him?” Jimmy asked.

“No, actually,” Chris answered. “I had to
prod her for a few minutes, and then she still had trouble
imagining it. I will tell you one thing—I certainly didn’t tell him
that she accused him.”

“Supposition,” Jimmy said.

“Fine talk from a man who didn’t recognize
circumstantial evidence.”

“I think I need to think,” Eric said
suddenly, turning away from Jeff. “I think we’ve waited on dinner
long enough. I don’t like this—it doesn’t sound right. Let’s eat,
and figure this out afterwards, okay?”

“Fine. You’ll stay, Parker?” Jimmy saw
Chris’s nod and turned to Jeff. “And you’ll stay right here, boy. I
don’t want to hear the creak of a floor board from downstairs.
Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” he whispered.

It was always awkward having dinner with
strangers, being an unwanted guest. Everyone was nervous.
Discussion topics were slim, and friendly comments forced. But
Chris felt much better.

The boy would break because he was guilty.
There had been a moment at the beginning, when there was that shred
of doubt—just the off chance that instincts can lead you wrong. And
it was also tricky interviewing under duress. Hurt them too much,
and they’ll tell you anything. It was a fact of life—hell, spies
and soldiers knew it. And they had far greater motives to hide what
they knew.

The desire to hurt lingered, as it always
did when this mood was upon him. But it wouldn’t take much to
finish the job. Chris looked up, focused on Jimmy, and realized
that Jimmy had asked him something.

“Please forgive me, my mind was wandering,”
he said. “Jet lag, I suppose.”

“No problem. I was asking if you’d like a
different wine. I noticed you haven’t tried the one we poured.”

“Actually, this is a fine vintage—an
excellent choice,” Chris said. “But I’ve had to cut down on
drinking, and I think my fatigue wouldn’t go well with a glass.
Please don’t take offense.”

Very civil. Actually, he wanted a drink
almost as much as he wanted a cigarette. A single malt scotch,
straight up, would be lovely. He drank some mineral water and
waited for the return upstairs. It had been a long day.

It took exactly two hours after they
finished lingering over dinner. One hour was wasted as the two
owners argued over who, if anyone, should be hitting their boy.

“Gentlemen—please. Let’s try to solve this
without any more direct compulsion,” Chris said.

“Now’s a fine time to come up with that
suggestion,” complained Jimmy.

“There is something to be said for using a
two-by-four to get a mule’s attention. Now that we have it, there’s
only one thing left.” He turned to Jeff, whose condition had not
exactly improved in their absence. “Jeff, we all now know that
you’re lying. We know that if you had seen Robin—or anyone
else—take those earrings, you would have answered your masters
truthfully on the day they asked you about it, isn’t that
true?“

“Yes! I mean, I would have.” He looked at
his masters with a desperate plea. “I told you, sirs, I didn’t know
what to do!“

“Why not?” Chris asked. He raised his voice.
“What took priority over telling your masters the truth?”

“I didn’t wanna get her in trouble!”

“What?” Jimmy asked incredulously. “You
hated her guts!”

“Oh,” Chris said, rubbing his wounded
knuckles. “That was another lie, wasn’t it?”

“No!” Jeff scrambled up, kicking the chair
back, his hands covering his genitals. “You keep away from me!
Master, don’t let him—he’s fucking crazy!”

“All right, Jeff, I won’t let him,” Eric
said, his voice tight. He strode over to Jeff and raised one hand
high and hit the side of his face with a resounding slap that sent
the slave reeling. “You did it, didn’t you, you little fuck? After
everything we’ve done for you—you coulda had a great life—but you
had to take care of the girl, didn’t you?”

“He’s very excitable,” Chris said, sotto
voce to Jimmy. The man with the pony tail had the decency to look
deeply ashamed. He blushed and coughed.

“I didn’t do it! I didn’t mean it! Master,
please!” Jeff was crying now. Jimmy pulled Eric off of him before
Eric’s hands had settled around Jeff’s throat, and Eric calmed
himself enough to face Chris.

“I guess we owe you an apology,” he said,
his beautiful lips pressed together tightly. He hated every
word.

“Oh, I guess so,” Chris agreed. “Not to
mention suitable reparations toward the property you almost ruined,
plus some suitable fate for your ‘good kid’ here.”

Jeff was blubbering, pressed against the
wall, insisting on his innocence.

“You might also work on getting a full
confession for the record,” Chris added.

“I don’t care,” Jimmy said. “I think we’ve
got some bigger decisions to make. We have to call Mr. Lu, first of
all—and what about Robin?”

“I care,” Eric snapped. “If Robin doesn’t
want to come back, that’s only natural. We’ll give her a good
recommendation, and won’t file any complaints. We’ll say it was an
amicable mutual separation. And yes, I think I’d like to hear the
whole story from this prick. Parker, you seem to enjoy this—why
don’t you stick around and help?”

“I’d like to, Mr. Parese, but I have a
client who is waiting for me. But if I may, I do have one parting
gesture I’d like to make to little Jeffy here.”

“I don’t think I want to watch,” Jimmy
muttered as he excused himself.

It was enormously unsportsmanlike to take
advantage of an opponent when he was down for the count. But he was
never my opponent, Chris thought, lifting a squirming and fighting
Jeff up to a standing position. Only my target. Unfair. Cruel.
Definitely not the mark of a gentleman.

“I told you Robin was my client, didn’t I,
Jeff?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” he sniffled, his right arm roaming
between his lower chest and his genitals. “Please don’t—”

“I left one thing out. I also love her
deeply.” Chris feinted with a right, and Jeff dodged directly into
the knee that slammed up between his legs, sending him crashing
against the wall. He instantly rebounded with a cry of agony, and
on the way down, Chris clipped him sharply on the back of the head.
He hit the floor, limp.

“Jesus, what was that?” Eric asked, coming
forward to bend down next to the boy.

“Knock-out,” Chris answered. “I didn’t want
him to suffer for too long.”

Eric looked at him with a mixture of disgust
and admiration. Chris sighed. It was a familiar look. “Most people
use whips and things in this life, you know,” the owner said. “You
play with knocking people’s heads around, you’re asking for
trouble.”

Jeff started to stir already, coming to with
an awful groan.

“Yes,” Chris said, nodding. “That’s true.
Especially if you pull the punches so much they’re not very
effective. Oh well. Now he’ll have to dig his balls out of his
liver and he’ll have a splitting headache. Tender my sincerest
apologies.”

He was almost out the door when Eric spoke
again. “You’re a sick bastard, Parker.”

“Yes,” Chris said, agreeing with him one
more time. “I’ve come to see that.”

“Mike, you’ll run Joan today and tomorrow,
and then until Chris gets back,” Anderson had instructed. And
Michael leapt at the chance. At last he was alone with his intended
slave. He felt as giddy as a bridegroom, and studied her schedule
late into the night in order to be able to supervise her
perfectly.

I think I’ve been watching long enough to
know how, he thought before he went to sleep. Now, all I need is a
few days for Anderson to notice how well I do, and boom, Joan will
be mine, and the training will have begun in earnest.

But it really wasn’t very different once he
got down to the actual work. Joan attended him in the morning, as
she was doing already; he followed her work with Vic, and checked
off tasks completed. Her exercises that day were not very
intensive—she was working on multiple task management, the same
thing that Tara had been doing toward the end of her training.

He did get to interview her alone,
though.

“So, tell me how exactly how you’re going to
be used when you get home,” he asked to start off.

“Sir, I will be an upstairs maid. My duties
will be to service the rooms assigned to me, see that they are
clean and dusted, serviced with fresh linens and flowers, aired and
stocked with suitable supplies. I will answer to the housekeeper
directly, but will also be below the lady’s maids. During times
when Japanese or American guests are present, my services will be
required to make their stay more comfortable.”

“Is that it?”

“That was all I was told, sir.” She smiled
enthusiastically. “I’m quite looking forward to it.”

“So, you really don’t expect to be used
sexually?” Michael still had a hard time believing that.

“Sir—please forgive me—but my owner can have
any number of beautiful women at his service. He may purchase one,
or he may... make other arrangements. Why would he want plain old
me?”

Michael raised his eyebrows. “But you’re not
plain! I mean, you’re kind of chubby, but on you, it’s cute. And
you are attractive, especially when you smile.”

She blushed and made herself attractive.
“Thank you, sir. But in truth, I will be a maid, probably for
several years, if not all of my contract.”

“Well—what about guests? Sometimes in
America, a host will make their slaves available to the
guests.”

“I suppose that is possible, sir. But I’m
sure His Lordship will have proper arrangements for honored guests
as well. It might seem rather insulting to guests to be offered a
maid, after all.”

“I never thought of it that way,” Michael
mused. “And you want to do this for ten years. Why?”

“For the experience, sir. It’s rare to find
these large manors anymore, and few families can afford to keep
them staffed like this one is. It’s like living in a novel
sometimes.” Her eyes glowed with excitement and Michael found
himself smiling. “And so many in my family have done it—it will be
a grand tradition I’m carrying on. His Lordship is a good man, and
a good employer. I know I’ll be well cared for, and when my service
is done, I’ll be free to marry, or leave, or do whatever I
want.”

“What if you want to marry while you’re in
service?”

“Well, sir—it’s against the policy of the
house for maids to be married,” she said. She gave a little shrug.
“So if I did find someone wonderful, I would probably have to wait
until I had become a housekeeper’s assistant or perhaps moved into
another area of service—or he would have to simply wait for
me.”

“And... you won’t miss not having sex?” he
asked gingerly.

She lowered her eyes with a slight smile,
and when she raised them again, Michael felt a strange thrill he
didn’t at once identify. It actually took a moment for him to
realize that she had instantly aroused him—and it didn’t come
through his cock for a change. It was the way she moved, and the
way she drew her breath—and the sure knowledge that what she had to
say to him was something entirely new.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” she said, with
just the slightest of blushes. “But I shall almost certainly not be
celibate. As a member of a large household staff, I may be
fortunate enough to find a special friend or two with whom I may be
permitted to become intimate.”

“Other slaves?” Michael asked.

“Perhaps, sir. Or, free household members
who are not too above me in station.”

Michael blinked as he thought of that.
Slaves permitted to form relationships—sexual relationships!—under
their owner’s noses? Unheard of!

“Er—who would do the permitting?” he
asked.

“At first, the housekeeper,” Joan replied.
“If I advance in station to become a lady’s maid, I might become
directly answerable to the Lady of the house. Otherwise, I shall be
unworthy of her notice, especially over some minor matter.”

“It’s so different here,” Michael said. “Who
a slave has sex with is no minor matter in any house I’ve ever
seen.”

“I understand, sir. And indeed, in a smaller
household, it might be a different matter all together. But I have
the great fortune of being given the rare opportunity to perform
service of a pure nature. If my owners wish me to remain chaste, I
shall do as they request. But if it does not interfere in my duties
and I have not been remiss in any way which might cause me to be
punished, then it should not trouble them if I seek pleasure among
the other staff members. And of course, senior staff might wish to
use their status to order me into sexual service. But frankly, sir,
I think it’s unlikely I shall form a regular relationship in that
fashion.”

Michael shook his head. “It’s another
world,” he said. “And you really want this?”

“With all my heart, sir! Ever since I was a
girl, I was drawn to service, even before my parents told me about
just how powerful it could be. I have dreamed of this for many
years, and I look forward to my term. I can’t imagine anything
better!” Her face was bright, open, and eager, and he could hear
the breathless quality to her voice that exceeded even her warm
pleasure at imagining her sensual options among her future
workmates.