"..which means it's doubly difficult now, especially with having two inexperienced slaves instead of Aaron. I'm also getting arthritic so I can't correct them like I used to do," Francine Sullivan sighed dramatically to her nineteen-year-old daughter as Mary tried to smile sympathetically... and failed.
"It's just for two weeks, Mom. Dad's gonna be home before you know it and Aaron is only going to be in the hospital for a month, right?" Mary reminded her mother as she ate her pasta. A bit bland, she noticed.
"Stupid mutt got so reckless climbing trees, I'm gonna have him chained to the tree and flogged raw!" Francine growled.
"Mother, he's in the hospital. Let him recover first before you start beating him senseless. You don't want the Slave Safety Guild after you again, do you?" The young college girl replied testily, pulling back her golden blonde hair.
Her mother gave her a bitter glare. "Please, those morons are soft. Slaves need a firm hand," she reminded her girl. Francine eyed her youngest, appraising her appearance. "I shouldn't have sent you to the Remington academy, they go poisoning your mind."
"Mother!" Mary signed exasperatedly.
"Well they do," Francine dug in. "Look at your clothes, jeans and tank tops that show all your tummy! I've raised an elegant young lady for eighteen years and the University unmade you in just eighteen months."
"Mom, it's comfy!" Mary was getting annoyed by her mother. Her dad has gone off for a business merger for a month and the family's old slave was hurt. Mary had decided to move in with her mother to have an extra pair of hands along with her personal slave. "Besides, I've seen you strip down to your bra when you are disciplining Ella and Rachel."
"Because I don't want my tops to get sweaty," Francine sniffled. "This outfit is unacceptable in public... unless you are going to tear your lazy slave's ass."
Mary sighed. She just continued to eat her pasta.
"This tastes like cardboard, by the way," Francine declared as she made a face. "It's your brat, isn't it?"
"You were the one who wanted Ella to work the gardens instead of the kitchen," Mary replied. "Mickey isn't that familiar in the kitchen. I usually make the meals in our apartment."
"Our apartment? Don't you mean your apartment?" Francine raised her brow. "We bought him for you so you'd have someone who would serve you. Paid a pretty penny for his ass too."
"Mom, Mickey's smart, he has other responsibilities instead of menial work..." Mary began but Francine just went ahead and rang her bell.
Mary watched as the handsome eighteen-year-old boy peeked out in his fancy suit. She had to admit Mickey looked cute in those dress pants and shirts. His curly black hair was a mess and his green eyes were rapidly moving between his mistress and her mother.
"Boy, have you not heard of the concept of seasoning and salt when it comes to food?" Francine growled at the lad.
"M-my apologies Ma'am. Ma-mistress Mary usually makes the food, I'm tasked with chopping the meat and vegetables and cleaning the dishes and the kitchen." He peered over to his beautiful mistress to back him up. The old matriarch was scary.
"He's good at cleaning mother, Ella should deal with cooking if-" Mary was cut off by her mother's hand.
"When was the last time your mistress disciplined you, boy?"
Mickey shivered at the question, turning his head to meet his mistress's gaze. Mary looked at her boy. "Two weeks ago."
"I asked you, boy. Not my daughter. When did Mary last discipline you?" Francine repeated, enunciating each syllable.
"When we left for college eight months ago," the boy mumbled.
Francine turned to her daughter. "Why did you lie?"
"I didn't lie! Mickey you stupid boy, you got spanked two weeks ago for making me miss the new episode of Felch!" Mary snapped at Mickey.
"Boy?" Francine looked over to Mickey, making eye contact.
"It was just six swats standing up," Mickey confessed.
"Uh-huh..." Francine stroked her chin. "Have all your punishments from your mistress been just six swats? Were it over her knee?"
