"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."
The boys stayed silent in their submission, but I observed Uriel's Adam's apple bounce as he swallowed and Raphael's beautiful arse flex with anticipation.
Lady Leopold reached beneath one of her many skirts and unfastened a velvet draw string purse. She revealed a white marble, little larger than a quail egg and rolled it between her fingers. She smile wickedly and threw it. It landed mere metres away, clearly visible in the vast sea of green.
"Fetch."
Michael was first to react, turning and hurrying on his hands and knees with as much grace as possible. The others scrambled after him. They fought hard to reach him, Raziel at the rear of the pack. Michael won, picking the marble up with his teeth. He returned it to my Lady, dropping it into her offered hand. He panted open mouthed as she kissed his cheek. The rest of the Brotherhood returned to my Lady's side.
"Raziel." The fledgling slave flinched then went to kneel before my Lady. "Turn around and put your face to the floor."
Raziel kissed the grass and spread his legs giving my Lady a perfect view of his swaying balls, hard cock and twitching anus. My Lady pressed the saliva slick marble into him.
She threw another and this time the boys ran without instruction. Raziel gave chase as hard as the others, but as he neared the front Haniel, a black collared slave, crashed against him and they both fell to the ground. Ariel, who wore a red collar, one level up from Raziel, took the bead. As the last to return again, Raziel was forced to spread his legs and receive another marble.
The next landed in the grass and the boys fought more fiercely. Azrael took the lead and won his prize. Raziel turned quickly to stay ahead of the others. Gabriel, who wore silver like Michael, grasped the boy's ankle and he fell on his stomach with a yelp. The third marble was pushed inside him.
Another. Jophiel blocked Raziel for his fellow red collared slave, Remiel, to race to his marble. Again. The three silver collared slaves formed a wall to trap Raziel allowing Uriel, the third black wearing slave, to collect his marble.
I saw the pattern emerging. Raziel was a beautiful new toy, but unlike Lady Leopold, the boys had not yet played with him. They were working together to ensure his disgrace, anticipating his punishment. My Lady's boys were clever.
Eventually, Raphael, the third silver slave, took the last bead, leaving poor, beaten Raziel lying on his belly where Michael had pushed him down. The boy panted his way over and sat beside the already awaiting slaves.
My Lady petted Azrael's shaggy black hair, combing it free from his black collar. "Raziel, come."
Though defeated, Raziel went to my Lady with grace and spread his legs again. His chest heaved under her gaze. She pushed the ninth bead inside him. He sat back on his heels, his buttocks clenching.
"My beautiful boy, after today you will strive to never disappoint me again. As punishment my boys will have their first taste of you." A shiver of excitement ran through the kneeling angels. "But first," she placed a silver dish from the table to the lawn, "you have to return my gifts. Marcus."