"Boy, come over here," I said to my slave who stood by the door he'd just closed, eyes wide, looking terrified. Of course, he wasn't really a boy. I just called him that. He timidly walked to me, still carrying my glass of wine. "Put that next to my bed," I said, stretching lazily. He'd done alright on this, his first day. Now it was time for him to learn his last duty of the day. He set the glass down on the bedside table, then resumed his usually stance, standing in wait, looking at the floor.
"Do you remember this morning when you arrived all dirty like all the other slaves?" I asked with disdain. He nodded. "Then you were bathed before you were presented to me?" I continued. He nodded again. "I want to make sure the shower didn't miss any spots. Take off your clothes."
Without looking at me, he turned away and pulled his shirt over his head. I turned up the lights as he was unzipping his faded blue jeans, the ones I'd picked out for him. He stepped out of them, folded them and set them next to his folded shirt by his feet. Then he did look at me for direction. I crossed my arms over my chest and waited.
He hooked two thumbs under the waist band of his briefs and pulled them down awkwardly. He stayed bent to fold them, and when he straightened up he held his hands together, hiding what he could of his manhood.
"Hold out your arms," I ordered, demonstrating by holding out mine like a bird. He followed my instructions and I walked over to him. He was looking down, and probably wishing he could crawl into a nice hole somewhere. I examined his left hand.
"There is dirt under your fingernails," I said, annoyed. He nodded. I went round and slapped both his ass cheeks in succession, hard. "Answer when I talk to you, boy," I said angrily. "I've told you once already."
"Yes, Miss Angelica," he said. I went back to his left hand and traveled my scrutiny all the way up his arm to his shoulders.
"You'd better not have lice, boy," I said as I looked at the back of his head. He had longish dark straight hair. I checked out his right hand. Those fingernails were dirty too. "Put both hands on the back of your head," I said to him. He did so. I pushed his hair back from his eyes and he flinched away from my touch. I walked round and slapped his ass twice again, then went back to his front.
Again I pushed his hair out of his eyes and this time he didn't move and inch. I looked into his face, trying to decided whether or not I liked it. His eyes were hazel, and he had long lashes like a girl. He had nice lips, but they were chapped and dry. He'd nicked himself shaving, I could see. He had a strong jaw and long eyebrows. A few freckles scattered here or there.
"Smile, I want to see your teeth," I said. He forced a smile to show me his teeth. Surprisingly, they weren't bad. I looked at his chest. I could see his ribs through his skin and his shoulders weren't much broader than his hips. His nipples were little and pink. He had a thin scar over his mid-section that I'd ask about later.
As I got lower, he began to fidget uncomfortably. I went down on my knees and examined his feet. They were furry, and so were his legs. I noticed the muscle there, like on his arms and back, and, well, most everywhere, from labor, not a workout. His skin was tanned from being out in the sun all day, doing whatever he'd done before he was given to me as a birthday present. I think he was a farmhand.
At last, I checked out his dick. It didn't disappoint me. I gauged that it would be about seven inches when it was hard. His balls hung low and furry. I pushed his legs open and his breathing rate increased. I ducked my head and looked but didn't touch. Every part seem disease-free. I crawled around to look at his ass and the backs of his legs. He had old white scars on his back, but his ass was scar free, but nothing special. He had a flat ass, to be exact.
"Alright," I said, gaining my feet. He stooped, reaching for his underwear. I smirked. "Sit on the bed, as you are," I commanded. He sighed audibly. I slapped his ass cheeks four times each angrily, then strode over to a set of draws. I withdrew my nine-tails leather whip and held it up for him to see. "This is what you get next time, ungrateful boy. Do you want me to send you back?" I asked, running my fingers through the soft tails of my whip.
"No, Mam," he said, shaking his head.
"Then change your fuckin attitude. Sit on the bed." He sat on the edge of the bed, setting his hands in his lap over his gear. "You sure are fuckin skinny, boy," I said as I began to undress. I unbuttoned my red blouse, almost as red as my hair, and dropped it to the floor, watching his reaction. For the first time that day, he wasn't looking at the floor. He was watching me, and quickly looked away when I saw him doing it.
