Irene would have felt pity for Nickel if her crotch weren't still throbbing in pain. Lord Snow's pills helped but they couldn't make the most sensitive part of her anatomy completely numb. She still didn't know if there would be enough scarring to interfere with her pleasure, or worse, if she had sustained permanent nerve damage.

Later in the day, Lord Snow came back to the kennel and spoke with the slaves. "Do I have to buy another whiphand or will you maintain order on your own?"

He was looking at Peach. It wasn't difficult for Irene to figure out why he had brought Nickel into the kennel.

"I'm sure that you'll be happy with our behavior," Peach said. "There won't be any fighting here."

"Any hint of a problem and my next whiphand will make Nickel seem like Florence Nightingale in comparison."

"Yes, sir."

He left.

Cherry looked at Peach. "You leave us alone and we'll leave you alone and no one will every have to get p.u.s.s.y whipped again."

"You just stay out of my way," Peach replied.

"Everyone is going to stay out of everyone's way," Irene said, "or I'll make you the centerpiece in an entertainment designed around unusual punishments. When I asked Lord Snow to borrow the crucifixion frame from the professor, he told me that the prof has a whole collection of exotic punishment devices to choose from. If the crucifixion frame is any indication, those devices are no joke. Lord Snow's guests might be well amused by a demonstration of all the different ways that slaves can be made to suffer for a few hours."

None of the slaves had any reply to that.

It wasn't an idle threat.

After a few days, the kennelman removed the st.i.tches from Irene's labium. Her entire v.u.l.v.a was still sore to the touch, but it wasn't giving her constant pain any longer. She couldn't see it, but she a.s.sumed that it was still mottled with bruises.

Lord Snow hadn't asked her to organize any more entertainments, but that wasn't unusual. He and Lady Snow had an abundance of reciprocal invitations and might not need to host another major event for a month.

In the meantime, Irene amused herself thinking of various ideas. She had staged a couple of games but had not yet experimented with scripts or role-playing. A number of fun possibilities came to mind. She would be ready when he asked for another event.

He frequently brought the other slaves up to the manor for informal entertainments after small dinners. When he had only one or two gentlemen to entertain, they retired to the billiard room after dinner and he had a slave or two in attendance to provide service as desired.

Irene wished that she were included in those casual affairs. She wanted to feel a man inside her again. Since coming to Lord Snow's manor, she had only been f.u.c.ked the one time that she had deceived Lord Snow in the dark. It had been wonderful, but her a.s.s had paid a heavy price for her deception.

She would give almost anything for a chance to sport with him freely and openly, but she had decided that she would no longer try to nag or tease him into losing control. Mostly because it had never worked.

About two weeks after Nickel was taken away, Tamarind came to Irene's cell and told her that Lord Snow wanted her in the pleasure room.

Irene hoped that he was going to order her to design another entertainment. She was eager for something to do.

He was standing in the center of the room when she entered. "How are you feeling?"

"A lot better. I don't feel any pain now."

"Do you think you suffered any permanent damage?"

"I don't know. It feels all right, but I can't be sure until I actually try to service a man."

Lord Snow was breathing deeply when he said, "Maybe we should find out, then."

Irene looked at him with hopeful eyes. He seemed to be saying what she wanted to hear, but she was afraid that her desire was making her misinterpret his words.

But he wasn't just teasing her. "What position would be most comfortable for you. I mean, considering that we aren't sure how it's going to work."

"The usual way. Me on my back and you on top." The missionary position was, in fact, not the best first position. Better would have been her on top so that she could control the speed and depth of penetration and avoid pressure on her v.u.l.v.a if she began to feel pain. But she didn't want that. She wanted to be f.u.c.ked in the most intimate way face to face with Lord Snow while he drove himself as deeply into her as possible.

He gestured to the bed.

She flung herself on her back and spread her legs wide, grinning like the devil, silently inviting him to have at her.

Have at her, he did. He stripped his clothes off to reveal his rigid c.o.c.k, ready for action.

Positioning himself between her thighs, he began to press slowly and carefully into her.

To h.e.l.l with that! She grabbed his b.u.t.t and pulled him deep into her c.u.n.t in one motion, raising her hips to meet his.

It felt wonderful to be filled with a thick, strong c.o.c.k. If there was a slight twinge from the scar on her labium, she didn't notice. She was too busy trying to get him deep enough that his pubic bone was pressing on her c.l.i.t.

As soon as he was nestled far inside, she began working her c.u.n.t muscles. She hadn't tried to exercise with the weights since her p.u.s.s.y had been whipped it would have been ridiculously painful but she found that she hadn't lost much tone. When she clamped down on his c.o.c.k and began to ma.s.sage it, Lord Snow moaned in pleasure. His moan rose and fell in syncopation with her pulsating c.u.n.t.

He began thrusting slowly and gently.

Her c.u.n.t was infused with waves of pleasure. She had never felt anything so wonderful. This was even better than when she had serviced him anonymously in the dark.

She came with all the power of a primeval G.o.ddess. Then, when he came two minutes later, she came again, just as powerfully as the first time.

She clutched him tight and hugged him close while he subsided and melted into her arms.

"It works," she whispered in his ear. "At least this time. We should make sure that it works every time. We'll have to do this again, maybe a hundred times or more before we can be really sure."

"I think it's my duty to ensure that you're okay," he said. "Over and over again."

"I want that so badly, you wouldn't believe it. I hope that you don't mind trying a lot of different positions, just to make sure that they all work."

"We definitely have to run a full diagnostic sequence."

"Whenever you like, as often as you like."

He rolled off of her and they rested for a long while. Then he began to stir and she gently rubbed his c.o.c.k until it was ready for a second test run.

That worked just as well as the first.

As did a third test run an hour after that.

"Lord Snow wants you to come to the manor tonight for after-dinner service."

Irene was astounded. Now that the floodgates had opened or more accurately, the gates to her s.e.x had opened Lord Snow had been using her every day. To Irene's delight.

But he had never given any indication that he intended to share her with his guests.

She didn't mind. If it was all right with Lord Snow, she would be happy to service a variety of c.o.c.ks. That was what a slave should expect from life. And it was pleasant enough. Each shape and size of c.o.c.k created its own kind of wonderful.

Then Tamarind clarified her situation.

"All five of us will be there. He's going to be playing games with the professor. That sick old s.a.d.i.s.t never wants service from the slaves, he just likes to ogle us between hands. It's as creepy as h.e.l.l. You know that he's imagining what you'd look like when he has you mounted in one of his torture devices. You can see it in his eyes."

Irene was disappointed. She wanted to be used, not ogled. But getting out of the kennel for the evening was better than nothing.

Most likely Lord Snow wanted her there so that she could listen to the professor talk about torturing slaves and get some ideas for new punishments that she could use in future entertainments.

She had little interest in that. She had only arranged to borrow his crucifixion frame because she had expected Nickel to lose the s.e.x games. In fact, she'd been prepared to fudge the scores if one of the other slaves had failed to beat Nickel.

Now that Nickel was gone, she had no intention of arranging any more brutal punishments.

Unless Peach or one of the other slaves started causing trouble in the kennel. Then she was quite prepared to take all the joy out of someone's life for an evening.

She followed the other slaves through the tunnel to the billiard room.

There was a games table with two chairs in the middle of the room and a variety of chaise lounges arranged around the perimeter. Each slave selected one of the chaise lounges and arranged herself decoratively on it. Apple explained to Irene that they weren't confined to the furniture, but could stand, stretch and walk about a little. They were, however, prohibited from making sudden movements that would distract the players and, above all, were not to speak, even at a whisper. They were visual decoration only. If they caused a distraction, Lord Snow might turn them over to the professor for chastis.e.m.e.nt.

None of them wanted that.

After a bit, Lord Snow and the professor came into the room and sat at the table. They joked and chatted as they distributed chips and shuffled cards.

Poker was the game for the night. Five-card draw. The gentlemen had no interest in fancy foo-foo games. They were happy to face off against each other in the most basic showdown bet, draw, bet, and lay down.

The play proceeded at a break-neck pace and the piles of chips rose and fell as one of them gained advantage and then lost it. Neither man was able to bankrupt the other.

Irene inferred that the smallest chip was worth thirty-two-plaqs and the largest was five hundred and twelve.

The typical pot was more than a thousand plaqs. Lord Snow could afford to lose that easily enough, but Irene wondered about the professor. If he were truly a university professor then we was unlikely to be wealthy. Professors' salary scales tended to be modest.

Nonetheless, he didn't seem to worry about it. He laughed and joked with Lord Snow and happily ogled the naked slaves that lounged around the room.

They reacted by subtly posing in the provocative positions that he seemed to enjoy most. He watched most avidly when a slave clasped her hands behind her back and thrust her b.r.e.a.s.t.s out, or stretched her arms high over her head, or held her hands protectively over her pudendum.

The significance of the poses was obvious and Irene was willing to partic.i.p.ate in the exhibition. Posing like a slave who was being tortured was a long way from suffering the torture and, if it made Lord Snow's guest happy, then she was obligated to accommodate him.

For the most part, Irene found the evening boring and her boredom grew worse as the hour grew late.

She stretched by putting her hands over the nape of her neck and arching her back to thrust her b.r.e.a.s.t.s out.

The professor was watching and his smile grew wide.

"My dear friend," he said to Lord Snow. "The hour grows late. I propose that we make this the last hand."

"Very well. Ante up."

The professor dealt five cards to himself and Lord Snow.

Lord Snow fanned his cards one at a time as he looked at them. His face didn't change expression, but Irene had the impression that he was pleased. It was the way he held them. Carefully. Possessively.

Both men had about equal piles of chips in front of them. "Let's make this interesting," the professor said. "I'm all in." Even though he hadn't looked at his cards, yet, he pushed his entire lot into the pot.

That was the kind of dramatic, foolish gesture that gentlemen loved.

Lord Snow did the same. "I'll see and call."

"How many cards would you like?" the professor asked.

"I'll stand pat."

"My, my. You must have something nice. I require two cards, myself." The professor discarded two cards and drew two replacements from the deck.

"Having rashly neglected to save some chips for the second round of betting, what do you say to making the pot really interesting?"

"Sure. What do you propose?"

"I greatly admire your slave with the golden collar. She is quite lovely. Could I convince you to risk her on the strength of your hand?"

Irene's blood ran cold and she froze in position.

The professor smiled cheerfully at her.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't. Really." Lord Snow shook his head sadly.

"I understand," the professor said. "She is a lovely slave."

"How about one of the others?"

The other slaves looked horrified.

The professor laughed at them. "Maybe some other time. Tonight, only the one has my eye. A slave who merits a dog collar is special."

"I regret that I can't." But Lord Snow looked at his cards longingly.

"Such a pity. But if you won't risk all on a single hand, then our game will have to be over. I just thought that, since you drew no cards, that you had confidence in the hand that fate dealt."

Lord Snow raised an eyebrow. "What would you have that you could risk of equal value?"

The professor shrugged his shoulders modestly. "If you risk all, then I will risk all. I have five devices for female chastis.e.m.e.nt of my own design in my studio. That's my complete inventory. They are worth about a hundred-thousand plaqs. I would be willing to stake them all on my hand. My entire work for the last decade. If you won them, you'd not only have devices that would delight and amaze your guests, but I'd also have to begin designing and building new devices from scratch. I dare say, you'd be able to replace your slave at the next auction whereas I'd likely be old and bedridden before I were able to replace what I lost."

Lord Snow stared at the cards in his hand.

Irene glanced at the other slaves in the room. They were all terrified that Lord Snow would win a whole collection of fiendish torture devices to add to his pleasure room. They couldn't imagine him having a device and never trying it out on them.