White Sheets - Prologue. Prologue: 13 years ago

He was still cowering in the corner he had fled to when Mistress Amaya's seizure had begun, when the paramedics lifted her body onto a stretcher and carried her out of the room.

A woman with a slightly different rank insignia on her red and white paramedic jacket returned and gave him an appraising look before addressing Mistress Amaya's guests: "What about the two slaves? That one over there is probably in shock."

"They are not our slaves to care for." The woman with the sapphire jewelry replied with a roll of her eyes. "And that one, from what I've heard, is supposed to be tough."

The doctor nodded, her face neutral. "Whatever you say, Sister. If I'm needed..." She bowed her head in greeting, and the three guests of Mistress Amaya greeted back.

He watched as the doctor left, his knuckles having turned white, so tightly was he clutching his own knees. His mistress, whom he had served for only a few weeks, had just died before his eyes, and fear spread through him. What would become of him now? She had threatened to send him back, but had she already finished the papers for that? He didn't want to go back, never ever.

"Danica..."

The woman with the sapphire jewelry sighed. "Don't look at me like that, Jess..."

Jess, the woman with the motley embroidered flowers on her blouse, grimaced. "Do you know to what extent Amaya has family?"

"She has an older sister." interjected the third woman, whom Mistress Amaya had loudly and joyfully greeted as Belinda at the beginning of the evening. She brushed her red-dyed hair out of her forehead. "But she left Denser's Port a few years ago, and if I remember her correctly, she'll be anything but happy to find this left to her."

Danica nodded with a sour expression. "I tend to agree. But I'll tell you one thing right now, I'm definitely not buying any of these."

"Since when did you get so superstitious?" Belinda grinned and he cowered a little more. She had been watching him with interest throughout the evening, and although he found her unlikeable from first sight, the thought of being bought by her was more enticing than being sent back.

"I'm not superstitious," Danica rebuked her sharply. "But I have no ties with Amaya's family other than friendship with Amaya herself. I owe them nothing. And that fellow there," she nodded her chin in his direction, "has also been offered to me for sale before. I can do nothing with such slaves."

Humbly, he bowed his head. Though he couldn't remember Danica, that didn't have to mean anything. For her he was a whore or a living toy- for exactly that reason Mistress Amaya had bought him- and by far not all women wanted something like that, he had understood that quite quickly.

For a moment there was silence in the large dining room, and no sound came from the rest of the house either. A strange smell hung in the air, but the thought of it faded as the ancient grandmother clock in the entryway struck a muffled eleven o'clock.

"Ladies..."

He winced and raised his head as Bertrand, the butler, began to speak.

"Since I have no instructions to the contrary, I'll point out that the guest rooms and all the other amenities my mistress has assured you are still available."

"Thank you," Danica said coolly. "I would indeed like to retire to bed."

"Of course, miss. Please follow me." Bertrand bowed his head.

Jess and Belinda were left a little indecisive.

"Oh, damn." Jess muttered finally, and he winced again. "I was actually thinking of taking the pretty blond one, but... that seems kind of impious."

Belinda snorted and turned to face him, causing him to lower his gaze back to his knees. "Amaya invited us to eat well and have fun. Eating well, we did."

"Belinda, you can't..." Jess' protest was drowned out when Belinda suddenly said right in front of him:

"Stand up, boy."

He obeyed, shaking all over; his loincloth was rumpled and smeared with chocolate sauce. "Miss?" He kept his head and eyes lowered, and completely incoherently noticed that she had squeezed her clumsy feet into too-small sandals.

"You're under orders to take care of your mistress's guests tonight, aren't you?"

"Yes, miss." he replied quietly, and fortunately flinched only slightly when she slipped her hand under his loincloth to grope him.

"Well, how about you comply?"

"Here, miss?" Terry had forewarned him that this could happen, but sexually servicing a woman in front of others was something he was used to. Probably that's why his voice was the only thing about him that didn't tremble at the moment.

"No. Oh, please." She gave him a firm squeeze and then let her hand slide back, where she gripped one buttock a little too tightly. "One of the guest rooms."

"Yes, miss." He nodded curtly, feeling her fingernails dig into his skin as he started to move.

Only when the door of the guest room closed behind them did she let go of his butt cheek.

"What's your name?" she asked, pulling him closer by his collar.

"Ri- chrm. Remy, miss." His buttock throbbed dully where she'd pinched it.

"Remy..." She dragged out his name with a smile, and though she actually had a pretty face, he suddenly found her disgusting. Her dyed red hair, her red lipstick, her red fingernails, her red glittery sandals, and the tattoo of red ink that stretched down from her collarbone and was almost in full view thanks to her generously cut blouse. Red was definitely not his favorite color.

"Miss?" he asked softly as she licked her lips and reached under the front of his loincloth again. Mistress Amaya had told him before he did anything wrong he should ask, so he did. "How may I serve?"

His mistress- Belinda's friend- had just died in front of them all, but she was thinking about sex.

"Bend over the bed." Suddenly her voice was rough and he swallowed.

"Yes, miss." That smelled like toys- of whatever kind. The fluffy carpet rustled under his bare feet and was pleasantly soft under his knees, but no matter how soft the material, his knees would protest sooner or later. He bent over, rested his upper body on the white bed sheet, and with a mental plea to the Great Mother to have mercy on him, he closed his eyes.

Belinda knelt behind him and flipped aside his short loincloth. Seconds later he received a slap on the butt, first on the right, then on the left, and the sharp pain made him gasp.

No spanking, please, he thought, and was surprised when she kissed his butt afterwards. He got goosebumps when her fingernails scraped across his back and thigh at the same time, and shuddered when she started nibbling his butt. And then he couldn't suppress a whimper as she bit down- hard and over and over, sometimes here sometimes there, while her fingernails dug into his skin.

"Hmm, little darling, I feel this is going to be an exciting night." she purred, drawing wet lines on his butt with her tongue.

"Yes, miss." he groaned in surrender, clawing at the sheet as she bit down again. It would probably be more exciting to see in what condition he would leave this room.

She purred again and used her teeth to pull the butt plug out of him, which he had been wearing in preparation for a little show with Terry. "Take." she ordered him in a mumble and he bent an arm backwards to accept the plug.

The black thing gleamed wet in the soft light of the bedside lamp. It was quite narrow, but all the longer for it, and he dropped it on the sheet with a suppressed yelp as Belinda sank her teeth into his flesh unpleasantly close to his anus.

Great Mother, why?

He stared at the stain the plug left on the white sheet. Pretty soon, more stains would be added.

Because that's how it always ended: with stained sheets.