Perfection-14
- PERFECTION
- by Xenarra
Chapter Fourteen
There were people touching her. At first she thought they were just mosquitos, but when she tried to brush them away, they gently held her hands still. She wished them away, but it didn't work. She could still feel their hands on hers. She willed herself away, but that didn't work either. Her mind wouldn't let her go away unless someone was hurting her. These hands weren't.
"What is your name?" a soft feminine voice asked.
"Slave," Constance mumbled.
"Don't you have another name?" the voice insisted.
"Slave," Constance said again.
"What does that mean to you?" a second soft voice asked. Constance knew better than to speak, she wasn't allowed to talk. She didn't want to be beaten, so she remained silent. She heard the two women talking, but the words didn't make any sense, so she went back to sleep.
"Based on what Master Robert said," Darrien began, "I'd say that what we have to do is to work from what she knows and move her toward less familiar territory. In this case, all she knows is that she is a slave."
"I don't agree," Lyrrane interrupted. "I think she knows more than that. I think she's been treated like an animal and trained not to speak. I bet if we ordered her to answer a question, she would."
"There's one way to test that," Darrien replied. She shook Constance until the girl opened her eyes. "Slave, this is your mistress. You must obey me exactly or you will be punished. If you understand me, blink your eyes twice."
Without thinking, Constance blinked her eyes. She lay on the bed, still bound hand and foot, and looked at her new Mistresses. They were beautiful, but then all her Mistresses were. She wondered if they were going to hurt her then, or wait until later. Either way, she would lose again.
"Hey, it worked," Darrien said to her companion.
"Well, don't stop now, let's get busy," Lyranne responded.
"Slave," Darrien began again, "I want to call you by a name. Tell me now what month you were born in."
Constance could not answer. She was torn by the need to answer and the desire to avoid punishment.
"Slave," Darrien spoke more forcefully, "that was a command. You must answer. What month were you born in?"
"May," Constance told the women.
"Very good. Your name for now is May."
"Good thing she wasn't born in February," Lyrrane whispered, giggling.
"Shut up and let me work," Darrien giggled back.
"May is a girl's name. You are a girl. You must answer my questions like a girl. You must speak in sentences and tell me as much as you can. You are to call me Darrien. Do you understand?"
Constance hesitated for a moment, looking for the trap. There must be a trap. These women were being nice to her. Nobody was supposed to be nice to her. When she didn't answer, both women took hold of her hands and squeezed them gently.
"May, my name is Lyrrane. Do you understand us?" the woman asked gently.
"Yes, I understand," Constance choked out, then she lost consciousness. She couldn't understand who these women were and why they were so loving. She left them behind, and went back home for one last visit.
While she was unconscious, Darrien and Lyrrane removed the girl's bonds, cleaned her up, dressed her wounds, and took her into the bathroom where they propped her up on the commode. The feel of cold porcelain on her warm thighs brought Constance back to consciousness.
Beginning in the bathroom, the women reacquainted Constance with the fundamentals of living in civilization. They did not press her for details of the past, merely instructed her as to what was currently required of her. By the time Sarrena arrived to relieve them, they had managed to get Constance to use the bathroom, to eat some food at a table with silverware, and to walk from place to place rather than crawling. Constance was still uncommunicative and unmotivated, speaking and moving only as instructed. But there was obvious progress occurring.
Sarrena had brought a simple dress for the girl with her. It took all three women to clothe Constance. Limp limbs and watery joints proved very hard to manipulate. Once she was in appropriate, if brief clothing, the two tired ladies left, and Sarrena took over.
Under Sarrena's patient tutoring, Constance learned to dress and undress herself, to shower, and to answer simple questions with rote answers. Sarrena was even more kind and patient that the others had been, and Constance responded quickly under her guidance. While the lack of awareness in her eyes told Sarrena that Constance was still somewhere else, the lessons seemed to be learned more and more quickly as time wore on.
Only one major setback occurred during the retraining period. All three women were relaxing together in front of the small television during a transition break. Constance was seated with them, though her eyes wandered the room, incapable of focusing on the screen.
The show was one involving a late night car theft. When the thief was surprised by a loudly barking dog, Constance swung her head in the direction of the screen. Her eyes focused on the dog for a split second, then she let out a long, terrified scream. She sprang to her feet and ran to the bathroom where she scrambled into the shower stall and sat cowering on the floor in a fetal position, leaving a bewildered trio behind to collect their wits and follow rapidly after her.
All Constance would say for hours after that was, "No dog, no dog." In time, the need for sleep caused by the nervous exhaustion of the experience caught up with her, and the women were able to transfer her sleeping form back to the couch. Constance did not awaken to use the bathroom as she had learned to do, proving to the women that they had to start over from the beginning, reteaching the lessons so painstakingly learned. The television set remained off from then on.
The second time, the lessons were learned more quickly. Constance still did not exhibit much awareness, but by the time the auction rolled around, Garrett was able to walk arm and arm with a new, improved Constance into the spacious clubhouse. The tastefully appointed room was filled with men and women in all sorts of dress, all milling about, exchanging greetings and enjoying the ample refreshments.
Just as they walked in, a small bell was rung, and the crowd began to gravitate toward the front of the room. Sarrena and Darrien glided toward Garrett, who let out a whistle of appreciation; each woman was absolutely radiant.
"Here," the women said as they attached name tags to Garrett's jacket and Constance's dress. "The red tags are for dominants, the blue for submissives," Darrien explained. "We're wearing green ones because we're on staff for tonight. We've taken care of the rest of her paperwork already."
"Have you tried to tell May what's going to happen?" Sarrena asked.
"Yeah," Garrett answered disgustedly, "I told her she would get a new Master tonight. She just stared at me. At least she's not a total wreck now. I mean, she does use the facilities when she needs to. But I don't understand why she doesn't snap out of this trance she's in. She's clean, she's been fed regular meals, had a good place to sleep, and nobody's bothered her. What's keeping her from talking? I feel like I've got Mrs. Potatohead here."
"Mr. Harris," Sarrena said, "are you getting tired of having May around? Maybe tired of not being able to sleep in your own bed? Perhaps a bit upset because you lost your big story?"
"Yeah, well, maybe," the man responded. "Its just that I've tried to help her, but I can't get through."
"Well, that's why you brought her here, isn't it?" Sarrena pressed. Garrett nodded. "We're going to make sure that she gets placed with someone who can help her. Master Robert spent most of the afternoon lining up potential bidders who could really bring her out of this successfully. Right now, we've got to get her set up in a display position so they'll want to buy her. She's got to show herself off to attract bidders."
The women spirited Constance off, leaving Garrett to wander toward the front with the others. Approximately half of the group, mixed men and women, had been grouped behind a red, silk rope. They were busily removing most of their clothing, leaving only beach attire which they wore in lieu of undergarments. After they stripped, they gave their clothing back to their Master or Mistress, then assumed a pose which was intended to invite, entice and excite the audience.
Under her dress Constance wore a very modest one piece swimming suit which allowed only her legs and shoulders to be bare, thus covering the majority of her scars. Darrien and Sarrena helped Constance remove the dress, placed the name tag on the fabric under her left breast, tied a ribbon at her throat, signifying a submissive without a Master, and made her kneel with her legs spread wide and her back straight.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Dr. Robbinson and I am your host for the evening," a voice boomed over the loudspeaker. All eyes turned to an average sized man in a crisp white tuxedo who commanded the microphone and the floor. "As the auctionees are preparing themselves, I would like to take this opportunity to remind you all of this evening's rules."
"First," Dr. Robbinson continued, "we are all here to have fun. If something is wrong, please see one of the staff members. They will help get the problem fixed quickly so everyone can get back to enjoying the evening. Secondly, you should all have your packet of money by now. If you missed the registration table, you are missing a name tag and a packet of money. Without those, you won't be able to be sold or to bid."
"Dominants, you are responsible to see that I receive a card containing all the pertinent information concerning restrictions, either for your submissive or yourself, before the auction begins. Those cards are also at the registration table. Before the actual sale begins, we take ten minutes for the bidders to take a good look at who they're buying. You can ask any question of anyone that you would like. They have the right to choose how much of your question or request, if any, they want to respond to. The bidders are not allowed to touch the participants in any way, at any time prior to final sale. As usual, unless specified, the contracts are for one hour and must be filled within the next week. All conditions must be mutually agreeable to both parties.
"One more thing, and this is more of a warning. You may be tempted to bid on someone even if you don't have enough money. Perhaps your motives are honorable," a bit of laughter and low chatter broke out. Dr. Robbinson waited until it quieted back down before continuing. "Or you may just be trying to be a pain. Regardless, if you can't pay up, the person you bought is off the hook and you must fill in. Anyone, dominant or submissive, who tries to pull something like this is always sold as a submissive with no restrictions. So I would suggest that you know exactly how much money you have before you start bidding.
"Now, take a break, talk to the auctionees, and listen for the bell. When it rings, we'll get this show on the road." Dr. Robbinson turned off the microphone and made his way through the crowd to where Garrett was standing.
"Mr. Harris, good to see you," the doctor said, extending his hand. "I see the girls registered you as a dominant. I trust that's alright."
"Uh, yes, well, I don't really know. I feel rather out of place here. I'm not really sure why you wanted me here."
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize you hadn't been told more. You do understand the auction procedures, don't you?" the doctor said as he led the reporter toward the crowd behind the rope.
"Well, almost. I guess that these people," he said gesturing to the crowd behind the rope, "are going to be bought by these people," he said as he gestured to the group in front of the line.
"For the most part, yes. But everyone who wanted to bid, got some money, whether they were going on the block or not. Here's yours," he said pressing a thick envelope into Garrett's hands. "I broke one of my own rules and stacked the amount in your envelope to make sure you can bid on just about anyone who appeals to you. Or, if the bidding gets too steep, you can always pool your money and split the time with one or more other people."
"What exactly do these people do during their hour?" Garrett asked as he looked at the men and women posed in front of him. The dominants had retained most of their clothing and stood firmly in place, arms crossed, various restraints and whips dangling from the leather belts at their waists. They joked with the other dominants and answered questions briefly but completely, putting an emphasis on how effective their work was. The submissives were kneeling, backs straight, and speaking only when spoken to. Some teased the person asking them questions, but most resorted to changing their postures instead of directly answering questions.
"The primary rule around here is no sex for money. That's illegal and doesn't have any place in a club such as ours. Much of what happens, happens with very little clothing visible. But no sex, as such, is allowed. We also don't allow anyone to be truly hurt. If both parties agree, it's possible there may be some bruises. But that's the extent of the allowable damage.
"It's a little hard to tell everything that happens as much of it takes place off club premises. Of the sessions I've observed, spanking is by far the most popular. General bondage, with or without discipline is also common. It ranges from a very long, gentle back rub, to a dominant making a submissive crawl around the building in the dark for being rude during the evening. I guess the only boundaries, other than the rules about no sex or lasting damage, are those of the imagination."
"You know, I don't think I could hit someone, especially a girl. When we first talked about this, I understood why a person would want some outside control, if it was helpful. But why would anyone agree to being hurt on purpose?" Garrett asked.
"That has a lot to do with what makes a dominant dominant and a submissive, submissive. Dominant people have a drive to control others. This is probably about the mildest form of expressing this drive. Frustrated dominants become wife and child abusers or abuse their bodies with drugs or alcohol. Submissives need some outside control to function. Those who can't find a person to provide the control tend to turn to religion or the military to furnish an outside structure.
"To answer your question," Robbinson continued, "a submissive places the control of his or her body in the hands of a dominant. That means that the submissive is willing to accept and trusts the dominant to apply reasonable discipline within limitations to achieve the feeling of being controlled. The amount of discipline and the limitations vary from person to person. But all submissives will push the dominant until the brakes are applied. Those brakes are what make the submissive feel safe and secure. Without those restraints, the submissive feels like an out of control locomotive headed for disaster. They have difficulty at work, in other relationships, even managing their time. When there are outside checks, the submissive person feels cared for and safe and functions so well that no one could tell the difference between them and anyone else.
"So, you see, a submissive would not only accept the occasional spanking, they would actually seek it. But not all dominants are good at dominating. Some are out for personal gain in some way, others actually have more submissive tendencies but feel that they have to control others to be successful. Either type of dominant is not a Master or a Mistress because they don't really control their slave, they merely perform the minimum level of damage control which will allow the relationship to continue. These people are really dangerous because they only give enough to keep the slave hooked, yet never address any of the slave's problems or try to help their submissive to become more independent. If anything, they want the opposite someone dependent upon them takes less effort to control.
"A Master or Mistress, on the other hand, is motivated by the need to help others using the talent of exterior control. The best Masters are those who communicate so well with their slaves that the needs of both are met while the slaves continue to grow and improve. Good Masters know that bright, intelligent, creative slaves serve to support their masters, while dependent, robotic slaves only drag a Master down. Successful Masters put the time into the relationship which will build and strengthen the slave, and the results they achieve are impressive.
"As you look around the room, you can probably pick out dominants and submissives, but watch the slaves to pick out the good Masters. Happy, confident men and women who present themselves well are secure in their relationships with their Masters and Mistresses. They are getting the control they need, as well as being encouraged to become all they can.
"See that man over there?" Dr. Robbinson pointed out a tall man with a dark beard. Garrett nodded. "He has been coming up to our club for the past few months and has made a remarkable transformation. He knew enough of the basics to get a household set up which handled an amazing number of slaves. Since he had recruited many of them from personal ads placed in college newspapers, he had a very intelligent bunch of women all looking for help on particular problems. He found a woman who I had trained years ago who held the household together in a sort of sorority situation. But things weren't really clicking something wasn't quite right. He played a lot of games, and his women sensed that there was something missing.
"Well, he lost one of his new recruits in a fairly embarrassing scene after she had only spent one day with him. After that, my former slave, who really ran the household, suggested that he spend some time up here with us. He's come up about 15 times now for a weekend or more. The first few times he came, he brought a different woman. I worked with them, helping them define their goals and work out training and living patterns. Now he brings one or more of them, just for rewards. The changes in his women are remarkable. The man is a natural Master all he needed was some direction. He's one of the dominants I've talked to about buying May. I think she could come out of her shell with him.
Garrett studied the tall man. The woman on his arm certainly seemed happy enough. The short redhead was laughing and teasing a tall, dark dominant woman behind the rope. The raven haired beauty smiled slightly, then turned to address a questioner. Both the Master and his slave seemed relaxed and at ease.
The remainder of the ten minutes Dr. Robbinson spent pointing out the three others he had primed to bid on Constance. Garrett listened to the descriptions of their skills and training styles patiently until his question could not be denied any longer.
"But I don't understand why May has to return to a Master/slave relationship? Won't she just get worse once she's owned again?"
"I sincerely hope not. It has been my experience that like riding the proverbial horse, a slave who has had a bad experience must get right back up and try again. I have a feeling that the right Master can bring our May back from Wonderland. It will take patience, but it could be a fantastic investment."
"I've got to go now, and get things started. Have a good time." With that and a pat on the back, Dr. Robbinson was gone.
Garrett spent a few minutes looking over the men and women posturing behind the rope. He spotted Constance who still maintained her rigid posture. She stared blankly ahead, ignoring the questions she was asked. Garrett felt an overwhelming urge to protect her well up from deep within him. He hadn't realized until that moment just how much she had come to mean to him. He gave her one last look, then headed for a chair as the bell sounded. Most of the chairs had a cushion on the floor next to them. Everyone grabbed a seat, dominants in the chairs and submissives on the cushions. Darrien brought May over to Garrett and helped her get comfortable on the cushion before the auction began.
Dr. Robbinson got the crowd's attention and they quieted to a dull roar. "We're going to break from the usual form in several ways tonight," he began. "First off, I'm not putting any of my slaves up tonight, so someone else will have to start."
"I'll go," came a male voice from the back.
"Alright, that problem has been solved. Next, I'd like the dominants to lead the submissives to the block whenever possible tonight. You'll find out the reason for this later. So, let's get started."
A muscular man with thick brown hair made his way to the front of the crowd. He wore a pair of tight jeans which accented the muscles in his butt and calves. His upper torso was bare, aside for the thick mat of hair which covered his chest and upper back. His husky arms bespoke of hours in a gym, while his graceful walk and running shoes indicated a more well rounded athlete. When he mounted the two foot high wooden platform next to the auctioneer, he turned his clean shaven face to the audience. From the cheers which greeted him, it was obvious that this young man with the cleft in his chin was popular with the ladies.
"My name is Bart, I'm visiting from Little Rock." His baritone voice had a southern drawl.
"Alright, ladies and gentlemen. You see before you Bart." Dr. Robbinson jumped right in. "Bart is 28 and allergic to yuppies. He is a dominant, and according to his card, he enjoys administering bondage and discipline to well endowed willing ladies. He is not interested in water sports, transvestites, or adults that can't carry on an intelligent conversation. Pretty stringent, aren't we Bart?" The crowd laughed, and the man on the block smiled and nodded.
"So, who would like an hour with Bart?" Several hands went up immediately. In a matter of seconds the price had jumped to twenty thousand dollars. It stalled there for a moment, and Dr. Robbinson chided the crowd. "Ladies, ladies, let's not be cheap. Bart's been here before and has a proven track record. I know he is the first and there are many more to come, but surely you can find a little more green money in your wallets for such a handsome young man."
The men in the crowd laughed their appreciation, Bart doffed an imaginary hat at the audience, and the women began bidding again. In the end, he went for $50,000. He took the money from the bidder, waved it over his head triumphantly, and sauntered back to his seat. "Not bad for the first dominant. Who's going to be next?" the auctioneer asked.
A tall woman with auburn hair and flashing green eyes made her way to the front leading two identical men. The men were short, not much taller than five and one half feet, but they were attractive, sporting platinum blond, new wave hair styles and shiny, silver bikini swimming trunks. When they reached the front, the two mounted the platform, then turned to be released from the chains attached to their collars. The woman reached for the microphone, then turned to address the gathering.
"I live in town and am a member of this club. These boys are Ryan and Brian. They are identical twins, not just look alikes. As twins they have some unique abilities, and have always pleased me. If you are not satisfied, let me know and I'll arrange suitable punishment. The pair is to be bought together and I reserve the right to be present during part or all of the hour if I so desire." She handed back the microphone, then pulled the chains to bring the men's faces down to her. "Be good boys," she said, then patted them on their rumps and released the lead chains.
"When are you going to go on the block, Mistress Pricilla?" the doctor teased. The woman declined to remark and retook her seat, a look of anticipation on her face. The bidding for the twins was brisk. The amount rose so quickly that several people had to drop out, their cash reserves not equal to the challenge. The pair was finally bought by a group of two ladies and a man who pooled their money to gain control. As their Mistress, Pricilla took the money for the twins' sale, a look of satisfaction on her face.
The auction continued in this fashion for a good hour before a break was called. Constance had not moved or reacted during the entire time. Sarrena came and took her to the bathroom while the crowd stood and stretched for a minute. Everyone retook their seats in anticipation of the next sale. Dr. Robbinson resumed the position as auctioneer, and spoke to the group.
"Earlier I told you we were going to break form tonight in a number of ways. We are about to do just that again. Let me tell you a short story. A woman I only recently met got involved with a dominant who wasn't very nice. This man kept her caged and reduced her brain to the consistency of tapioca pudding in addition to subjecting her to starvation and physical cruelties beyond belief." The audience looked stunned, as he continued. "A series of events led to the death of this man and the abandonment of the girl. She was found by accident, and spared the scrutiny of police and reporters by a very kind man. He didn't have anywhere to turn, and came to me for help. Garrett, why don't you stand up. You deserve a round of applause for your part in this rescue mission."
Garrett rose awkwardly and the resounding applause filled the room. He blushed and returned to his seat as the doctor continued.
"If you know me, you know that I always ask anyone who wants help two questions, 'What is it now? and What do you want it to be?' In this case, the woman in question was unable to answer those questions, so I was forced to look for the correct answers. What Garrett found was a starved, beaten shell of a human being with no ability to function. What he and I and others wanted her to become was a healthy, vibrant, functioning person.
"What we are about to do tonight is to continue the process we started three days ago. When Garrett brings this woman up, we are going to sell her to the highest bidder. She will be sold utterly and finally so that she knows beyond a shadow of a doubt who her Master, and her protector is. We will honor only real money, as this is a real sale. The money will be used to cover Garrett's expenses so far and to pay for the necessary clothing and other bills which will be required to help her get back on her feet."
The auctioneer's face grew serious. "This is not a project to be entered into lightly. Unless you have considerable financial resources and have a nearly unlimited amount of time, don't offer a bid. We are really breaking form tonight, but I think that as a community, we must rise to this challenge and provide this girl with a Master who can repair the damage another has caused." He pointed at Garrett, then gestured toward the platform.
Garrett rose and helped Constance to her feet. He slipped his arm around her waist, and they walked slowly toward the platform. Arriving in front, he mounted the platform with her, then stepped to the microphone. Without his support, Constance sank to her knees, her head slumping onto her chest. The crowd gasped, and Garrett caught her shoulders before she fell off the riser. He slowly brought her to her feet, and Darrien and Sarrena appeared from nowhere to support her. Choking back his emotions, Garrett turned to the crowd.
"This is May. We don't know where she's from. She doesn't like dogs. Please take good care of her." Tears streaming down his face, he fled the room.
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