After the Bighorn, Chapter Fourteen The Case advances while slaves serve.

 After The Bighorn, Chapter Fourteen

Patrick Masters’ Narrative.

It had been a productive day in our preparation for the patent trial in Frick Steel vs VanRijn Patent Aggregators. We had worked at the Frick Steel office throughout the morning, with Richard Thornton and Dana Winter setting an example of hard work without bickering. Their rivalry seemed to have settled down into one of co-operative competition which spurred the other two associates to do the same. J Augustus Frick IV, and young Zach Frick led the Frick Steel internal team and working together seemed to be the theme of the day. Zach Frick quelled a couple of mutinies by some of the older Frick Company lawyers who objected to the prominence given to the younger, energetic group. He seemed to have a particular trouble with Dana Winter, but she avoided trouble by not blowing up at him.
In the mid-afternoon, Augustus and Zach Frick and Richard Thornton and I met with the VanRjjn team at a neutral site. Their working together did not seem to be as harmonious as ours, which I was glad to see. I gathered that they did not share a common space and communication between the groups was poor. Vansittart and his younger associate seemed less on top of things than the local lawyer Barbara Quigley and her team. Quigley was accompanied by the male associate I had encountered in court on Monday. From her attitude, I gathered that his role was to listen and carry her briefcase. There was the same class divide with Vansittart and his minion.  J Augustus Frick was able to get Vansittart and Quigley snarling at each other; I gathered she thought he should do more preparation and review of materials; he thought she should work the local levers of power more to their advantage. We came away with some advantages gained, because the two principals on the other side could not coordinate.
After returning to the Art Deco Frick Building, we quickly briefed the rest of the team. Dana Winter suggested that Richard Thornton and I accompany her to the bar at the Marriot across the street for further briefing.
In the bar it was over air-conditioned. The clothes of the waitresses, designed to elicit tips were thin and somewhat skimpy. Service however was slow. I suggested that someone go and fetch our drinks from the bar. After a quick look around, Dana sighed and rose to do this service.
As Dana collected the tray of drinks from the bar, Zach observed that she looked quite natural in a serving role, “though she would have to lose that jacket. Her silk blouse would be enough to get her some good tips.”
Richard looked a little uncomfortable.
“She is a colleague, a respectable woman, a lady.”
“Don’t tell me you would not like to see her in a shorter skirt, without the jacket, in a nice thin piece of silk. You are a man after all; she is a desirable woman.”
Thornton looked uncomfortable but said nothing as Dana returned with our drinks. As she distributed our orders, she had to dip into a type of curtsey beside the table. She was very graceful. Even a professional woman knows how to be attractive and serve men. It is instinctual, I think.
We reviewed our progress, then Richard Thornton and Dana Winter left for dinner.
“But I will pay for myself, it is not a date,” she informed him. Thornton looked disappointed.
Zach drove Augustus Frick and me back to the Frick Mansion. He garaged the car, while Augustus and I went directly in throug the front door.
There were two kneeling kajirae inside the foyer; we gave them our briefcases.
“Let me show you the walled gardens before dinner, it is a quiet sheltered place within the grounds.”
I assented and we entered the gardens by a locked gate. Inside we encountered Chelsea Frick. She was calmer than I would have expected after Wyandotte Frick, the new head of the Family had deprived her of her handmaids. She seemed more docile than I thought she would be.
She greeted us with a smile and welcomed us to the garden.
“There is a group of the new slaves being exercised, Kailieka and Jade have charge of them. Mrs Crandall is here in the gardens too.”
The presence of Mrs Crandall, the new housekeeper brought in by Wyandotte Frick when he had replaced Chelsea’s murdered father, went a long way to explain Chelsea’s docile demeanor. Mrs Crandall tolerated no nonsense.
“If you will excuse me, I have to go and dress of dinner.”
Chelsea smiled and walked towards the house. The presence of Mrs Crandall explained Chelsea’s desire to be elsewhere, I thought.
We walked through the treed garden, Augustus Frick pointing out flowers and shrubs of interest.
“And that is the maze, full of little private spaces and nooks, very convenient that it is just off the ballroom.”
Walking further down the path, we came to a lawned space where the girls were being led in stretching and flexibility exercises. They seemed happy to be outdoors after nearly a week in the kennels in the cellar. There were four of them, of different sizes and shapes, all lovely. I recognized two, the one who had been whipped for refusing to remove her clothing, and the short mouthy one, the one who was half yappy mouth and half boob. Frick cleared his throat.
The girls all dropped to their knees. Frick spoke to Jade.
“Why are these girls outside?”
“Master, it is because they are ahead in the Gorean Language lessons. Because they were ahead, we put them to the post with the phalluses for some training?”
“How did they do in that training?”
“Reasonably well, for beginners, Master.”
“How did that one do?”, asked Frick, pointing to the tallest girl; she had 10 inscribed on her breast.
“Very well, Master, or at least adequately.”
He crooked his finger.
“Come, into the maze, demonstrate what you have learned.”
The girl, who wore a white collar, looked terrified, but rose and followed the distinguished lawyer.
I looked over the rest. I remembered Nineteen. She had been mouthy before she learned the imprudence of such behavior. Short, but full of hip and breast, she looked like an ancient fertility figure from the prehistoric middle east. I pointed at her.
“Heel the master to the maze, Nineteen, and be attentive to your lessons.”
Once we entered the maze, I put her before me, so I could watch her as we found a little nook, complete with a stone bench and small statue.
I sat on the bench, “pleasure me, Nineteen.”
She was adequate, growing more enthusiastic as she proceeded. I decided she need not be punished for her performance, although she would need improvement.
As I made to return to the house, I returned her to Jade.
“She was not bad, she needs more training.”
“Yes master.”

Slave Juli’s narrative.

Off to Master Patrick’s office again. I do not know what Master Gerry Reiss will demand of me today. He has become less and less reluctant to look upon me as a slave and not the Juliet Chen he knew when I was a respectable Free Woman. Last night my Master, Patrick, sent me instructions from Pittsburgh as to how I should dress today. I am his; I dress as he instructs. I am wearing a yellow tube-top type thing, it leaves my midriff and shoulders exposed; of course it has no arms at all. The material is light, not silk, but something like it. It is gathered by elastics at the top and bottom and I surely jiggle when I walk.
I remember Master Woodrow Frick speaking of silk when we were on the Frick ranch, the Lazy F out in Montana.
“Silk is appropriate for a slave woman. It drapes her body nicely, clinging to her curves. It follows her movements; it does not catch on her body. It slides along her; it falls into a graceful pile when it slides off her. It is proper for dancers, for pleasure slaves. It is soft as she is soft, yielding as she is yielding. Women dressed in silk know that they are women, and they are designed to be soft and yielding. It is the proper clothing for slaves. Many free women in their delusions wear it, denying what it means. They are suitable for the collar.”
The rest of my outfit is comprised of a bright red wraparound skirt, short of course; and silver strapped sandals, the footbed is cork, rising to quite a high heel at the rear. High heels enhance a woman’s look, it tightens the bum and leg muscles. Of course, besides these advantages for men, it is hard or impossible to run in them. Of course, men put women in high heels. On Gor I am told, Free Women wear flat slippers. I bet some of them wear heels when they can get away with it!
In the lobby of Patrick’s building, I saw a group of women getting ready to go up the elevator. They did not seem to be dressed as lawyers but seemed respectable. I remember when I was a respectable woman. Now I am a slave. Would I change back now I have worn the collar for a time. I can honestly say I would not.
I wait until the guards at the security desk are not busy. I am a slave; I have to wait for free folk. As before, the female guard ignores more. However, the male guard does not. He leads me to the door to the stairs. I am not allowed to use the elevator. He follows me up the stairs. He is a few steps behind. He can look up my skirt as I climb. I am sure he enjoys the view.
When we emerge into the reception area of Patrick’s firm, the women whom I saw downstairs are waiting. Indignantly, Mrs Hernandez pointed to an alcove where extra stationery was kept. I knew what was expected. In the alcove, I knelt beneath the shelves out of sight until she had time to take me back to Patrick’s office, where I was to sort his mail.
It took some time for the reception area to clear. I could hear the gaggle of women in the area for some while. When it was quiet, Mrs Hernandez led me back to Patrick’s office. She knocked on the door, and Master Gerry Weiss bid her enter.
“It is Juli, Mister Weiss, come to sort the mail.” From her tone, she might as well have said, ‘that slut Juli”.
“Thank you, Mrs Hernandez. I will let you know when it is time to escort her out.”
He pointed to a spot on the floor.  “You will kneel there.”
So I was not to sort the mail immediately. He was enjoying see me kneel. I knelt in the middle of the floor. Master Gerry Weiss made a telephone call. I knelt and waited. He finished his call, walked over to the credenza, poured himself a cup of coffee, and regarded me.
“Straighten your back and put back your shoulders.” He regarded me for a moment, then went back to making phone calls. He did not offer me any coffee of course. The delicious smell filled my nostrils. It had been a while since I was given coffee. I knelt there.
There came a tap on the door. After a moment the door opened and Miss Jane Bennet, one of the lawyers, came in. When I was respectable and free and Patrick’s girlfriend, she sucked up to me. Recently she has treated me with disdain. She looked at me, confused. Master Gerry continued his call. Miss Jane Bennet just looked at me, barely dressed and with my collar clearly visible.
When he finished his call, Master Gerry motioned her over. They began discussing the temporary data clerks that the Temporary Employment Service sent to work on my Master’s big case. Miss Bennet agreed that most of them were suitable and could be set to work cataloging exhibits immediately.
“And they know how to dress for an office too. Not like some.” She sniffed.
Master Gerry looked at her. “Juli belongs to Patrick, he can dress he as he wills.”
She did not say anything.
“Some women look well on their knees, do they not? Patrick believes so and I am coming around to his way of thinking.”
Miss Bennet did not say anything. I am sure that Patrick had sex with her when we were still courting and I was free. Some women do that to get ahead. I am sure that I am not the only woman that Patrick has bent over that desk, and that Miss Bennet was another. But she is free.
Miss Bennet looked at me. Although what I look like would be a juicy piece of gossip, I think she will keep it to herself until she sees a moment when it will be to her advantage to use it.
Master Gerry dismissed her and had me stand, with my hands behind my head.
“You look lovely today, Juli. Even lovelier without that top.”
I removed the top and he connected the chain to my collar, the other end to a concealed ring near the credenza. Patrick must have told him where it is. The chain hung down my body. Master Gerry moved it to the right and the left pressing it into my breasts, The feeling of the chain on my body, the weight hanging from my collar reminds me I am a slave, to be used as Masters wish.
Master Gerry had used the heavier of the chains Patrick keeps in the office. Master Gerry looped the chain around the outside of my breast, then underneath, raising it up. He did the same with the other. He let the chain fall, it made a soft clinking sound as it fell, a noise I now associate with excitement. He unwrapped the red skirt. His finger followed the chain down my body ending up in the hair near my sex.
“Patrick lets you retain your hair?”
“Master Patrick prefers it Master. Nicely trimmed of course.”
“If I owned you I would have you shaved, so you could hide nothing from your owner.”
“Yes, Master.”
“My wife, Myrna, used to show pedigreed dogs. On your hands and knees, Patrick tells me that slaves are regarded as beasts.”
“Yes Master.”
I was posed in a show dog position. The girls on the Lazy F are sometimes posed thusly. Master Weiss returned to his work, looking at me from time to time as he made notations on his legal pad. Finally, he took Master Patrick’s mail from the desk and put it in front of me to sort.
I commenced to putting the mail in order. One pile was personal, I would take that home with me; one pile was business, that would be handed to Mrs Hermandez; the third was the largest, junk mail.
Master Weiss looked up. “The junk mail can be placed in the shredding bin. Carry it in your mouth to the bin there, moving on your hands and knees.”
I am a slave. I obeyed, crawling, the chain clinking softly.
Master Weiss moved behind me. I held my breath. It had been over half a week since my master left, my slave fires were hot. He must have sensed that.
“You want to serve, Juli, don’t you. You are hot.”
“Yes Master, please master.”
Then with me still on my hands and knees, he put me to slave use. At first tentative, but then more insistently, almost savagely he took me. I believe he was shocked by the intensity of the slave orgasm, but he kept on until he was satisfied. I collapsed on the floor.
Master Weiss resumed his telephone calls while I knelt, a used slave, by his desk. The chain hung down my body and folded seductively over my left thigh. This was one of the things Tiffany the slave dancer had taught me when we were together in Montana.
Master Gerry Weiss had known me when I was Miss Juliet Chen and he was Gerry Weiss and Patrick’s friend. Now he had used me as a slave. How we had changed, how much had changed. I was likely the first slave he had known, what possibilities would it raise in his mind?
I put such things out of my mind. I was a slave, I did not need to consider such things. I had been used, used as a slave beast and I was content. I have come far since I was a respectable free woman.