WICKUS Chapter 4 The Family Dinner
This is a story of erotic fiction meant for adult readers over the age of eighteen years.
Written by Jean-Christophe (Chris): February, 2013 Read all my stories at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Jean-Christophe_Stories
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Chapter 4: Wickus, the slave.
After Master Thandiwe had dismissed me and I'd retied my loincloth around my waist, I hurried downstairs to the kitchen. I was in a heightened state of anxiety for I knew instinctively that I would be on the receiving end of Gerd's acidic tongue and that in all probability I would feel Mistress Mandisa's crop across my shoulders.
I've only been a slave in this household for two weeks and yet I already know that fear and cruelty reign supreme in this household. Like all the other household slaves I live in fear of our Master and his faithful agents, Mistress Mandisa and Master Uuka. Our Master allows his African housekeeper and her groundsman husband great latitude in their control of us. Mistress Mandisa is never parted from the leather crop whose sting is akin to that of a thousand wasps. It is her symbol of authority and she wields it to great effect.
Master Uuka on the other hand has eschewed the crop for the leather whip known colloquially as the litupa. It too is a fearsome instrument of discipline and I have screamed under its searing pain as Master Uuka spurred me and my fellow slaves to greater effort when working in the grounds of our Master's home. Formerly known as the sjambok whip, the litupa is made from hippopotamus hide - although some litupas are made from the flexible penis of a hippo bull - and even the lightest touch can induce much pain and raise an angry, red welt on an unprotected back. Master Uuka is skilful in its use and he knows exactly how much force to apply so that our backs aren't shredded and our ascetic appeal lost. Needless to say, we take great care not to incur the wrath of either Mistress Mandisa or Master Uuka.
Gerd on the other hand is a different matter. Although more mature and aged somewhere in his forties he is, like us, merely a slave and subject to the same rules of behaviour and discipline that govern the rest of us, He carries no symbols of authority other than his vile temper and corrosive tongue.
I have been told by my fellow slaves that he was once the employer of our Master who somehow acquired him as slave. Popular rumour among the younger slaves is that our Master "elevated" him to the role of house steward to act as our supervisor without giving him any real power. I was told Master did this to taunt him with the loss of his former authority and to impress upon him that he is now just a lowly slave. That could well be true!
Nevertheless, despite Gerd not having the right to use the crop, cane or whip on us, he is very free with his open hand and all of us have had him slap our faces with teeth-rattling force.
Of course, there are those memorable occasions when, for some reason, Gerd upsets Mistress Mandisa and we gleefully watch as she loudly berates him with her tongue and flails his back and shoulders with her crop.
All this has made Gerd a twisted, bitter individual who delights in the suffering of others especially those of us who work directly under his supervision. He possesses a mercurial nature and his mood swings are unpredictable. One minute he can be all sweetness and light praising us and the next he can be overbearing and bullying condemning us and recommending to our Master that we receive a caning. Master usually accepts Gerd's recommendation and in the fortnight I have been in the household I have witnessed many punishments; most nights, I have seen some hapless slave taken down to the basement for a caning or a paddling. Indeed, I have been taken to the basement on three occasions and tonight, after Master has dined, I have to present myself for another caning. Needless to say, I am very apprehensive and I don't want to give Gerd any grounds to complain about me to Master who would, in all probability, add to the ten strokes sentence that he has already decreed for me.
I am very aware that I am running late and that I should have reported to Gerd punctually at 6.30 PM for the allocation of this evening's duties. One of Gerd's duties is to select which slaves are to serve in the dining-room and our Mistress has decreed that each diner will be attended by his or her own slave. Tonight there are four family members eating in the dining-room and it will be necessary for Gerd to allocate four slaves to attend them.
Gerd has already selected three slaves and I am to be the fourth slave who'll attend on Master Thandiwe. There is a ritual to be followed in preparing us for service in the dining-room. The first part of that ritual is that we are taken to the slaves' ablution block where we must empty our bladders and void our bowels. When on duty, serving our Master and his family, no dispensation will be given to us to attend to any unexpected calls of nature. Once that is done, we have to shower and when dry, to oil our bodies with a sweet smelling lotion to mask our body odours. I have been told the smell of a white man can be offensive to some Blacks who liken our body odour to that of dairy produce or well-ripened cheese.
Finally we don our loincloths and these are always chosen by our Mistress to complement the colour theme for that particular night's dinner. Mistress has impeccable tastes and has acquired several dinner settings of different colours and patterns. And the loincloths we wear always match or complement her choice of a dinner service for any particular night.
As I enter the kitchen, I see the three slaves already allocated to serve at tonight's dinner wear loincloths of delicate duck egg blue with gold trim to perfectly match the exquisite porcelain dinner service that Mistress has chosen for tonight's dinner. After I have been in service for longer, I will learn that Master Thandiwe's favourite colour is blue and that his mother has especially chosen that colour for his welcome home dinner.
I am barely through the kitchen door before Gerd berates me for being late. I'm not given an opportunity to speak and he hurries forward to viciously slap my face for being late. Even Mistress Mandisa is displeased with me and applies her crop to my back. Tears fill my eyes; it is so unfair and the injustice of it all overwhelms me; but then, there is nothing neither fair nor just about slavery. I am late because Master Thandiwe had used me to shower and dress him for dinner. Neither Mistress Mandisa nor Gerd make any allowance for this and I'm not given an opportunity to explain my tardiness.
Gerd wastes no time in preparing me for my duties. Of course, there is no time for me to empty my bladder and Gerd tells me should I need to piss during dinner then I must suffer the consequences of my late appearance and work with a full bladder until the family have left the dining-room and retired to the lounge. I am clean - I have just showered with Master Thandiwe - and Gerd has one of the other slaves, Koos oil my body. Koos works swiftly in evenly coating my torso, arms and legs with the oil. When he applies it to my back and shoulders, I wince as his hands glide over the new welts placed there by Mistress Mandisa's crop. Koos is aware of my discomfort and his touch is gentle so as not to add further to my pain.
Next, Gerd hands me my loincloth which I pass between my legs and tie off in a knot on either side of my waist. I take my place alongside the other three slaves, Koos, Jacobus and Wessel and wait for further instructions. I hear Gerd tell Mistress Mandisa that he will go to Master and report my late arrival with the recommendation that I be punished; at the same time he'll tell Mistress that dinner is ready to be served.
Mistress Mandisa nods in approval and comments.
"The new, slave boy needs to have his white ass striped good!"
Master Thandiwe:
My mother has inherent, exquisite taste. For her, fine dining is an art form that demands her fullest attention to detail. And of course, as a backdrop to that, the environment must be conducive to good eating, fine wines and sparkling conversations.
The dining-room is necessarily large as my father entertains extensively among his friends and business associates. Always the perfect host, my father depends very much on my mother's presence to add elegance and sophistication to these occasions. My mother has the happy knack of engaging with people and it is she who keeps the conversations flowing around the table. She can instantly put the shyest guest at his ease and involve the most introverted in the animated discussions taking place around the table. I know my father relies heavily on my mother's unquestioned skill as the "perfect hostess" which has contributed enormously to the success of his career.
The background to all this is the dining-room itself and, like the rest of the house, my mother spared no expense in furnishing it. She eschewed bourgeois pretension for understated elegance and the room itself is testament to my mother's inherent good taste for gracious living.
Everything about my parents' home is exquisite, from the understated decor to the beautiful furnishings that grace every room. And to complement all this, there are priceless paintings and works of art discreetly displayed throughout every room. Given all this magnificence, it's not surprising therefore that my father would want to use it as a backdrop to the most beautiful and expensive slaves that his money can buy. Each household slave, with one exception, is himself a wondrous objet d'art and that exception is Gerd, who has seen better days.
Control of the slaves is shared between my parents. My mother, as Mistress of the house, ensures that the slaves deport themselves with true humility and respectful subservience at all times. It is she who sets the house rules and protocols that they must live by. And as a conscientious and caring person she takes a personal interest in her slaves. She ensures they are at all times clean, well-fed and remain healthy.
Each morning, one of her first duties of the day is to have the household slaves stand before her. Each slave must remove his loin cloth and, in the first instance, present his nude body for her visual inspection. Should she consider it necessary she will then have a 'hands-on' examination of the slave to check that any cuts, bruises or other injuries are only minor? She pays particular attention to the slaves' genitals to ensure that they are clean and remain healthy. Even the punishment stripes of the cane or the crop are closely scrutinized to ensure no lasting damage has been done to the slave. Finally, the slave's teeth are checked for soundness and he is questioned about his bladder and bowl movements.
My mother maintains a medicine chest for her slaves and dispenses medication and first aid should it be needed. On those rare occasions when a slave is ill, she sends for a doctor who specializes in the treatment of slaves. He also visits the house twice a year to give each slave a thorough medical examination and to ensure all the slaves are current with their tetanus and influenza vaccinations.
My father is the head of the house - in that regard we are a very traditional family - and his role is very much that of the "pater familias". Ultimately full authority over the slaves falls on his shoulders and it is he who passes judgement on the slaves' behaviour and either rewards or punishes them.
Tonight, at dinner, we eat from the most exquisite dinnerware and drink the finest wines from expensive, sparkling crystal goblets as the dining-room slaves serve us. Three of these slaves are obviously well versed in serving their Master and his family. Poor Wickus is less so and is yet to acquire those skills. The four, youngest slaves stand unobtrusively, at display, alongside each of us and maintain a discreet silence as we eat. Yet, they anticipate our every want and step forward, unbidden to assist us. Napkins are discreetly unfolded and placed on our laps, wine glasses topped up without prompting and the empty plates quickly removed between each course,
The room despite its large size has a warm intimacy about it and it is made more so by the subdued lighting from several large candelabras strategically placed throughout the room. These cast a warm, golden glow that has an unintended effect on the four, young slaves included my body slave, Wickus.
As the semi-naked slaves stand rigidly at display, the candelabras cast flickering shadows on their oiled and stressed torsos; this play of light and shadow entrances me and I find I'm guiltily looking at the slaves with a new found lust. When they do move, this same candlelight glints in the highly reflective, rolled stainless steel, neck collars they wear around their necks. The slaves provide a feast of eroticism and the presence of so much semi- naked, male beauty works its magic on me. Beneath the table, my cock is the hardest that I can ever remember and I'm afraid the meal will finish before it has time to subside.
We finish our first course of a delicious, light French onion soup and the four slaves move quickly and silently to clear away the plates and cutlery prior to serving us the main course. I watch as Wickus walks towards the kitchen carrying my plates with great care. The consequences of him dropping and breaking one of my mother's cherished table settings would be too dire to contemplate. My gaze is centred on the curves of his shapely ass. As he walks, I salivate at the undulations of his buttocks and despite his loincloth I catch sight of the red stripes of his most recent caning showing through the diaphanous material. And as I look at the rippling muscles in his crop- marked back, I reflect that soon I must add my own stripes to his ass to assuage my father's anger with him and to show that I am capable of managing and disciplining my own slave. I have Gerd to thank for this and darkly, I plot my revenge.
The four slaves, supervised by Gerd return with the main course which consists of my favourite meal of tender roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, baked potatoes and green vegetables. Obviously, my mother has chosen the menu with me in mind and her chef, Marius - superb cook that he is - has truly surpassed himself.
Marius is a white slave who'd once been the owner of a five-star rated restaurant in iKapa. Marius is a genial, portly slave aged somewhere in his fifties and how he became a slave isn't exactly clear. However, rumour has it that he was an undischarged bankrupt unable to repay his creditors and had been sold into slavery to offset some of their losses.
By good fortune, my mother was told about him by a friend who'd recognized him in the local slave- pens as the former restaurateur. Mother had successfully prevailed upon my father to buy Marius at astronomical cost but he has certainly repaid my father's investment in him many times over during the years he has seen service within my mother's household. My mother's reputation as a hostess and the success of her dinner-parties is further enhanced by Marius's culinary skills and artistry.
The meal is delicious and the meat is so tender that it almost melts in my mouth. As I eat, I survey the five slaves serving us. The four younger ones are superb creatures and I watch the steady rise and fall of their muscular chests as they breathe in deeply. Their stomachs are flat plains of ridged muscle and when they stand in profile their pert, curvaceous asses stand out in sharp relief.
Two of those slave asses I know very well!
The slaves I refer to are named Koos and Wessel who are aged in their early to mid-twenties and they have been in service to us for about eight years. Their exact ages would be known only to them but are of no interest to me or my family. Slaves don't celebrate birthdays or any other family festivals such as Christmas or Easter. These only serve to distract them from their primary purpose of serving their owners' needs and a slave's attention must be forever focused exclusively on those needs.
As a young teenager entering into the wonderful, mysterious world of sex, I'd experimented with Koos and Wessel. At first, this took the form of simple masturbation and as my confidence grew, I expanded my sexuality further by using both slaves' mouths and asses. It would be impossible for me to say with certainty how many times I fucked them. Suffice to say that it was a daily occurrence until I moved away to University.
Tonight, I look at both asses and fondly remember the many pleasures they have given me over the years. But I have eyes for only one ass tonight and that is the one belonging to my slave, Wickus. I can't take my eyes away from it and I wait impatiently for bedtime and the chance to sample its delights.
The fifth slave is Gerd! However, he is hardly a figure of masculine beauty; in fact, quite the opposite is true. His greying, sandy-coloured hair is thinning and his rounded, stooped shoulders seem to accentuate his protruding, rotund belly. Gerd wears an identical loin cloth to the younger slaves and thankfully it covers his flabby ass-cheeks hiding their ugliness from my view. As I look at Gerd, I am repulsed by him and wonder how my father can keep such an ugly slave in his household. But I suppose it has something to do with my father's need for revenge against his former white boss. Yes, it would have to be that. Certainly my father doesn't keep the surly Gerd for his good looks or pleasant nature.
My anger with the devious Gerd continues unabated. I deeply resent his unfair treatment of Wickus and his sly attempts to have my father add to the young slave's punishment. I am biding my time and looking for a chance to take my revenge on him. I am coldly determined that Gerd will be punished along with Wickus and that his punishment will be the greater of the two.
Gerd's dining-room duties are essentially those of my mother's house steward. It is his responsibility to ensure the younger slaves under his control serve each course with the minimum of delay between them. And foremost among his other duties is that of the wine waiter. He has to pour the wine into our crystal goblets and to ensure they are never empty. And it is he who serves the coffee with our desserts. Of course, this feeds his ego and inflates his air of self-importance. Pathetically, tonight, the slave, despite his inbuilt sullenness, is at his most pompous worst. I can barely conceal my contempt for him.
Nevertheless, my mind is at work thinking of ways to "fabricate" a situation whereby Gerd offends and is punished. As I watch him go about his duties a germ of an idea plants itself into my mind.
We finish the main course and our slaves step forward to remove our empty plates. I have noticed there is a pattern in the way Wickus serves me. He places a full plate before me from my left side and removes the empty one from my right. It appears very controlled but it is a reflection of my mother's impeccable, good table manners.
Wickus is at my side and he leans forward to remove my empty dinner plate. His ass is provocatively poised just inches from me tempting me to reach out and touch it. The urge to do so is strong and I struggle to resist the temptation out of respect for my parents and my brother. But his delicious, curvaceous buttocks do taunt me.
His proximity to me is unsettling. His semi-naked body is just inches away from me and I see the outline of his generous sized genitalia through the sheer, translucent material of his loin-cloth and, interestingly, I see that he is semi-aroused. It requires all my willpower to resist the urge to fondle him. Wickus has a delicious, scent about him emanating from the perfumed lotion coating his body. For some reason he is sweating slightly - could he be thinking about his impending caning - and the pheromones his fear release intoxicate me with their manly smell.
Beneath the table my own cock strains uncomfortably within the prison of my undergarments and its erratic throbbing borders on the almost painful. My need for release is desperate and uppermost in my thoughts is the one that this beautiful white 'boy' is now to serve me as my slave.
Once more, I watch lasciviously as Wickus walks towards the door into the kitchen. And once more, I am entranced by the way his ass cheeks work in perfect unison as he gracefully walks away from me.
Suddenly my father's word cut through my lust-filled thoughts. He too is looking at Wickus's ass but for a very different reason to mine. Mine are filled with the erotic thoughts of the pleasure it will afford me later; my father's thoughts are of the pain they must soon endure.
"Tell me Thandiwe, do you still think you are capable of delivering a sound caning to your slave? Or now that you know your slave a little better, are you having second thoughts about that?"
My father is testing me to see if I have the resolve to punish Wickus. Much depends on my answer. I'm aware that Gerd stands slightly to the left of my father and is smirking at my predicament. Somehow, he senses my reluctance to inflict pain upon Wickus and he obviously believes I'm not capable of doing so. If I fail my father's test, then control over Wickus will be returned to Gerd and I will have to defer to him. I am determined this won't happen and that Wickus will be answerable to me and not to Gerd.
"Sure Dad, I can do that. Immediately after dinner, I will cane Wickus to prove to you that I'm capable of managing my own slave."
"I'm pleased to hear you say that Thandiwe. A Master must be in control of his slaves at all times. And I think the time is right for you to assume the responsibility for your own slave. I have been thinking of allowing you to take one of the younger slaves with you when you return to University to serve you as your body slave. Does that appeal to you?"
The unexpectedness of my father's offer takes me by surprise and momentarily I am speechless. When I'd let to go to University my father had been most generous. He'd given me a new car as a means of transport, he arranged for me to stay in a students' residential apartment building adjacent to the university and he'd given me a most generous allowance to ensure that I wanted for nothing. Many of the students living in my apartment building had their own slaves staying with them and how I envied them. It was a real "status symbol" for a student to have his own personal slave to take care of all his needs and I'd often thought about asking my father if I could have a slave of my own but always I'd hesitated.
My father isn't the most approachable of men and so I'd always been a little afraid to broach the subject with him. But now he is offering me a slave to take back to College and immediately I think of Wickus. The idea excites me and I'm overwhelmed by my father's generous offer. Perhaps, in making the offer, my father finally sees me as mature enough and ready to take on adult responsibilities.
As we talk, the four slaves return with our desserts and place them before us on the table and then take up their silent places at our sides. Gerd pours coffee for my mother before moving to my father then me as the older son and finally to Isivile. As Gerd pours coffee into my cup, an idea for my revenge on Gerd finally crystallizes in my mind. I will act upon it shortly. But first, I must accept my father's unexpected offer.
"Dad, I'm overwhelmed! But sure, I'd love to have my own slave live with me at College. Most of the other students do and as you know the building is set up to have our "live-in" slaves reside there with us. Thanks Dad and I accept your offer. It will be great to have Wickus with me."
"Actually, Thandiwe, I didn't have Wickus in mind. I think he's too new and raw to slavery and not yet fully trained. I see him as too much of a handful for you to train and you don't want any distractions to get in the way of your studies. No, I had some of the other fully trained slaves in mind. I was thinking of a slave like Danie or Theunis. "
"What about Willem?" My mother suggests. "He's a well -trained, loyal and most obedient slave. I think he'd be the perfect servant for you, Thandiwe."
All three of the slaves mentioned by my parents are eminently suitable and if I'd not seen Wickus and fallen under his spell, I'd have been hard-pressed to choose between them. But I am inexplicably drawn to Wickus; however I know now isn't the time to argue with my parents. I have two months in which to train Wickus into my ways and to convince my parents that Wickus is the right choice as my personal slave. And so, I remain silent.
"That's settled then Thandiwe. When you return to college a slave will accompany you."
"Thanks Dad this is a most unexpected present."
"Thandiwe now that it's been decided you are to have a slave of your own you'll need to understand the necessity to use punishment as a tool in your training of him. The slave needs to understand that the Master's word is law and any non-compliance with it is unpardonable. You have to raise a slave's consciousness to such a level that he expects to be punished whenever he disobeys or offends you. You know the old grandmothers' saying about sparing the rod and spoiling the child. Well that applies equally to a slave. You never spare a slave the cane if its use is warranted."
"I won't Dad! I'll prove to you over the holidays that I can control a slave. I promise!"
"Good son, I'll be watching closely! Remember always Thandiwe, there are no rules in a Master/slave relationship other than those the Master puts into place. And remember it is you - the Master -who sets the rules to reflect your lifestyle, your desires and your needs. Your slave doesn't have any input other than complete obedience to those rules you set as the benchmark. Everything he does is to be done at your bidding. Thandiwe, always remember that, in your future dealing with all slaves."
"I will! Thank you for the advice, Dad!"
Wickus is standing silently at my side as we discuss my father's unexpected gift of a slave to me. I look at him to see how he's reacting to the idea of accompanying me back to College at the end of the summer. His face is expressionless and betrays no emotion at all. I wonder about his thoughts. Would he welcome the chance to leave my father's house and come live with me at University?
"Hey Dad, now that you've given Thandiwe his own slave," my brother Isivile asks impetuously, 'what about me. When can I have my own slave?"
"Isivile, when I consider you're ready and responsible you'll be given your own slave. But that day is still some way off."
"But Dad, you've given Thandiwe as slave," Isivile asks truculently, "and why can't I have my own slave?"
"For the reasons I've already given, Isivile! And you forget that Thandiwe is older than you. In the meantime you have Jacobus to look to your needs."
"But Dad ...."
"That's enough, Isivile!" My father's impatience is showing. "That's an end to the discussion. Let's hear no more about it. I'll decide when you are ready for your own slave."
As always, my father has the final say, His word is law in our household and like me Isivile knows when it is prudent to remain silent. Nevertheless, Isivile sits surly-faced across the table from me and sulks.
But the time has come for me to put my plan of revenge against Gerd into action. Brusquely, I order him to.
"Gerd, top up my coffee cup!"
I watch as Gerd leaves my father's side and walks to the sideboard to retrieve the coffee percolator. Quite deliberately, he takes his time and walks slowly back to me. I see this as insolence on his part for he'd never show such tardiness to my parents. His action is provocative and shows his contempt for my youth. My need to bring Gerd undone only intensifies.
He is on my left and he slowly and sullenly refills my cup. It is a silent show of defiance on his part which isn't lost on me. The time has come for me to act.
First, I check that my parents aren't watching and then I slyly nudge Gerd with my elbow causing him to spill coffee onto the table-cloth. As the spilled coffee stain spreads across the pristine whiteness of the table-cloth, I pretend that my anger is real and loudly abuse him.
"You stupid slave, look what you have done! You clumsy dolt, you've spilt coffee onto my mother's tablecloth."
My loud outburst attracts my parents' attention; my mother is dismayed and she soundly rebukes Gerd for his carelessness.
Poor Gerd! He stands frozen in disbelief and fear. His offence is a serious one and he knows he will be punished for it. Personally, I take great delight in his discomfiture; this is payback for his attempt to have Wickus punished further and for all those other slaves who have suffered unwarranted punishments because of his tattletales to my parents.
And there's the added satisfaction in knowing that he is guiltless and that he can't protest his innocence without blaming me. This is something my father would never allow a slave to do - to attempt to shift blame for his crime onto a free man - and it would only add to his punishment. Gerd realizes the hopelessness of his situation and he remains silent and I see the frustration in his eyes.
"What happened, Gerd?" My father asks sternly. "Explain your awkwardness."
"Master, it was an accident! Master I didn't mean it to happen."
And then falling to his knees, he apologizes to my mother.
"Mistress, forgive me." He plaintively pleads. "Please. Mistress forgive me?"
However, there can't be any overlooking the seriousness of his offence and my father is in no mood to be lenient.
"Be silent slave! For your carelessness you will be given ten strokes of the cane. Immediately after dinner you will accompany Wickus down to the basement and there you will both remove your loincloths and stand at display and wait for the arrival of myself and my two sons to administer your punishments."
Gerd is still on his knees and crawls to my father's feet and pitifully pleads for mercy - a mercy that surely he knows can't be given. But I guess his fear of the cane overrides his common sense. I recall Wickus description of the pain that the cane inflicts and I'm glad that the odious Gerd is to share in Wickus's suffering.
However, I still haven't finished with Gerd and I put the second part of my plan into action.
"Dad, Isn't ten strokes of the cane far too lenient?
"Why do you say that, Thandiwe?"
"Well Dad, it seems to me that extra punishment is warranted. After all, Gerd has control over the younger slaves and he must set the example for them to follow. Tonight, if one of the younger slaves had spilled the coffee, you'd have sentenced him to ten strokes of the cane. Am I correct?"
"Yes you are, Thandiwe."
"Well then, because Gerd is the senior household slave shouldn't his punishment be greater than that given to a junior slave. It seems to me that his position calls for harsher chastisement."
"You are absolutely right. Gerd will receive an extra five strokes of the cane."
"Dad, I feel that is still too lenient! The punishment must fit the crime. Isn't that the gist of what you were telling me a few minutes ago about controlling slaves?"
"Well then Thandiwe, what punishment would you consider is warranted?"
"In view of Gerd's offence, I think the cane is too light a punishment. I suggest he be given ten strokes of the leather paddle."
I see the colour drain from Gerd's face at the prospect of a paddling. I also see something else reflected in his eyes - his new found fear of me. Overconfident, he'd challenged me over the control of Wickus. I responded to his challenge and I have won. Gerd is very much the loser as he is about to discover for himself in the basement.
"There's one more thing, Dad! Can I administer Gerd's punishment? I'm anxious to show you that I am capable of controlling and punishing a slave."
"Off course you can Thandiwe! I'm proud of you and I'm sorry I ever doubted your will to control and punish a slave when it is warranted. Tonight, you are proving to me that you are a true Master."
"Then let's finish dinner and once everything is cleared away Gerd can assemble all the household slaves in the basement to witness his punishment. That should serve as a salutary warning to him and them to take care in future."
Sadly, I must punish Wickus - that is unavoidable - and I must do so in a way that satisfies my father. But rather than all his attention being focused on my slave, I have diverted his attention to Gerd. Given my father's need for revenge against Gerd, I'm sure he'll be more interested in witnessing his punishment more so than Wickus's caning.
And personally, there'll be great personal satisfaction in asserting my authority over Gerd.
To be continued ....
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