"Oh Marcus, can you believe it? Mistress Merrick is to hold a Ball." My Lady squealed like a young girl, holding the now crumpled invitation to her breast.
"It is marvellous, my Lady."
"It says she is to exhibit a recently silver collared slave to serve as entertainment." She squealed again, spinning on her heels and sending her pink skirts spiralling. "Only two days to prepare. Who else shall be attending?"
"I have a list of names ready for your inspection."
"What shall I wear?"
"Your wardrobe is prepared with attire suitable for the event -- a formal, indoor affair I believe."
The girlish glee fell from Lady Leopold's face as she read further down the letter. "'The owner is permitted one slave of any collar to accompany them.' Only one! This is simply terrible. How can she force me to choose between my angels?"
I thought to suggest the newest slave in her collection. A boy of twenty, blond hair, blue eyes and well bred: George Breeston abandoned by his wealthy merchant father once his true nature to love and submit to both sexes was discovered. Only his father's position in society swapped the noose for mere disinheritance. Had Lady Leopold not found him, the rope would have been the kinder option.
He'd arrived at the household in a ruined suit, no doubt paid for at the expense of his father. He had been timid and well-mannered from the start, a little naΓ―ve and fearful of his desires. I gave thanks to whatever deity led him into Lady Leopold's path. Had a pimp or Molly House owner found him first they'd have exploited and soiled his sweet soul. Now wearing a green collar, he had been re-Christened Raziel.
"Marcus."
"Yes my Lady?"
"A competition is in order. Inform the trainers to prepare my boys for play and send them to the garden."
"Yes my Lady." I bowed and went to my work.
*
I am Marcus Tillston, attendant to Lady Leopold since my retirement from slavery. Poorly chosen, I lasted only three months until I took a trainer by force. Upon being discovered, with the man on his knees, servicing my cock as I beat his arse with his own belt, I was punished for a week: tied naked to a garden statue of Apollo, my wrists bound behind the God's neck, my feet balanced on his plinth and the discus with which he'd accidently killed his lover Hyacinth, lodged between my buttocks. I was repeatedly bought to the peak of ecstasy, but never allowed release, by visiting Lords and Ladies, trainers, servants and occasionally slaves for entertainment.
Twice more I seduced my trainers, bending the rules and their wills until they broke. I thought I had wanted to be dominated and found myself dominating. With my owner threatening to terminate my contract, Lady Leopold rescued me, offering me a reprieve.
She allowed me to work as a trainer in her household. Highly unorthodox, but I climbed my way up quickly, surprisingly apt in my new employment. I became my Lady's personal attendant and head trainer.
Her Ladyship had a contrastingly sweet, almost childlike, innocent appearance, disguising her sadistic nature very well. Her slaves were all male and loved and cared for as treasured pets. The abused or unfortunates or orphans, scared of their desires or shunned because of them, found safety and a place where their submission was celebrated.
I entered the servant's quarters. All downed tools and stood at my presence. "I need at least three trainers to take the boys on a walk. Her Ladyship is expecting them in the garden."
"Yes sir."
*
"My Lady, your angels approach."
Under the shade of a fruiting apple tree, Lady Leopold sat straighter in her seat and rested her drink down on the small, round table at her side and watched as her boys and their trainers ascended the lawn. Wearing nothing but leashes attached to their collars, the ten slaves crawled elegantly beside and behind one another. Only their downcast eyes prevented them from looking like a pack of wolves, all beautiful, fit and well groomed. They were trained equally, but their individual experiences and skills as a slave showed in who followed who up the lawn and which colour collar they wore.
Lady Leopold gestured to the trainers who unclipped each of the leashes one by one, then bowed and retreated. Not to the house, but out of sight should my Lady have need of them.
"Ah, my beautiful angels," My Lady held out her hands and her boys surrounded her feet, kissing and licking her fingers, palms and wrists. Michael, tall when stood, had chocolate brown hair that matched his dark eyes, hard muscles rippling from head to toe and nipples as dark as his cock. He wore a silver collar, the highest class of slavery. He bent and kissed her Ladyship's slippers under her skirts. She swatted away his attentions with a giggle. He snuck my Lady a secret smile before returning his gaze to the grass staining his knees.
My Lady sat back and absently stroked the curly, strawberry blond head of Gabriel and addressed them all. "My dear beauties, I have marvellous news. Mistress Merrick will be opening her house to hold a Ball in honour of a slave reaching silver collar status. Though it pains me dearly, only one of you can attend by my side. I thought we could hold a little contest."