on McKenna time, 3

One experience of my slavery here is the random presence of other people in the mansion. Mostly these are service people that Master M employs to manage his mini-mansion and grounds. The part-time nature of their work at the mansion means they are coming and going at all hours, irregularly and unexpectedly. It’s a bit of an open-house house.

This is the longest I’ve been with Master for a stretch of time, and so I’ve gotten a view of the cycle of work done around the mansion during the days of the week. As it happens, they’ve had their own view of me. In more ways than one.

Most notable, perhaps is Phyllis De Vries, the caterer. She is fifty-ish, short and plump with graying hair. She’s a terrific cook. She is a catering service of one, and I believe she provides meals and groceries to several estate-homes in the area. By nature she has a stern demeanor. Master M has told me not to be afraid of her, but I am. She seems cold, especially toward me. Phyllis is very protective of him and thinks of me as “not good for him,” which she has said to my face in her slightly Dutch accent.

The landscaper goes by just his last name, Jeffers. He’s working around the house and grounds every weekday morning till about lunchtime. He’s in his forties, I guess, nicely muscled, and has a habit of peering through windows as he’s working the gardens. The mansion has a lot of windows.

Maria is the woman who basically cleans the mansion inside. She’s there four days a week, perhaps six hours each day. Maria’s about my age, and she and I have hit it off in a way. Maria also does Master’s bed linens and towels.

It seems all of them are well aware of Master M’s lifestyle. It would be hard not to be — as he lives his dominance quite openly. And while they don’t know me well as yet, they certainly know what I am. And what I am to him.

This is interesting to me in the sense of a kind of old-world hierarchy. Now Master M is certainly not “old-world” nor does he run his life or his businesses with any privilege or sense of social strata. But these who work for him know he is the wealthy “landowner” upon which their income (at least partially) depends. They are protective of their place in the hierarchy with him.

So they are wary of me, the new girl, offended by what I do for him, defensive about my possibly taking over some part of their employment. They each, in their way, find it necessary to put me in my place. They do real work, the suggestion is, and I am simply a toy. I don’t argue with that. I know they have reasons to keep me “under” them.

Again, Phyllis is of note here: quite simply, she despises me. She refers to me in front of the others, so I’ve been told, as a “whore.” Despite what Master says, I am literally afraid to go into her kitchen. Even when Phyllis — or I should properly say, Ms. De Vries — isn’t there, I’m afraid she’ll detect later that I’ve moved something out of order as I’m reaching for a bottle of water.

So the whore stays out of her kitchen, even when I’m hungry.

Not so severely, but Mr. Jeffers distrusts me as well. I have enjoyed walking outside at times (until yesterday when it got cold). Tuesday I did so, and at one point I knelt down to look at one of the mum plants in front of the Great Room windows. Jeffers came up to me and said, “Don’t water them.” I had my bottle of water in my hand and perhaps he thought I was doing so. “No,” I said, “I wasn’t… I won’t.” Then I added, trying to thaw the moment, “I have no skill in gardening, and I admire how beautiful your work is.” He nodded but stood there until I moved away.

It’s Maria who is more open to me. I help her fold towels and sheets, and we get to talking. She’s been curious about my lifestyle. “People choose different things,” she says casually. “Who am I to judge?” I think she’s more open to me because she’s younger. She may be curious about my lifestyle herself. She is nice, in any case, and nice to me. She’s the one who tells me what the others are saying about me..

There are others too — one man in particular, whom I’ll mention in a future post. Also: delivery people, a fix-it handyman, a computer whiz kid from down the street. People are always dropping in.

It feels like an open-house house.

Somehow, Master McKenna executes my slavery in the midst of all this flurry.

There is no real privacy. Yes, in general, when he makes me nude, he keeps me behind closed doors, isolated from the service people. But also in general, he could care less if I am seen naked by them. He’s not at all concerned about my experience of being seen, just mindful of their experience, and possible offense, at seeing me in such states.

Most everything he does with me is in the Great Room. I’ve described it before: it is massive, the center-space of retreats and board meetings. It is his home office, conversation pit, wet bar — and his place for slave training. It’s so spacious it bears a slight echo. To me, it feels like he is doing me in the middle of a hotel ballroom on the mezzanine level of the Hilton.

The Great Room is also “porous” in the sense of having multiple entrances. They all have doors, but Master M never keeps them locked, and there are interruptions — knockings and bargings-in. Master may intend to protect their innocent eyes from my naked flesh, but they, curious, seem to find ways of glimpsing.

Ms. Phyllis hardly ever leaves the kitchen, but somehow has an urgent question for McKenna in the Great Room when he is administering corporal humiliation to my flesh. I don’t for a moment imagine her pleasure is in seeing my female flesh but in seeing my female flesh flogged and whipped. Indeed, I think she dreams of having the whip in her own hand some day.

And I’m sure I caught sight of Mr. Jeffers outside the Great Room windows watching the proceedings of my flogging. I couldn’t fail to note the irony that he stood at roughly the same place I had stood when admiring his mum plants.

But I said nothing to Master McKenna about peeping Jeffers.

Seems that mum’s the word for the slave girl finding her place in the hierarchy.

7 thoughts on “on McKenna time, 3

  1. It seems that Amanda and Master McKenna may both enjoy having you on display, though it seems Amanda does so more purposefully. The idea of you being flogged so openly in the great room, especially while Master McKenna is taking a business call, and house staff are walking in and out…is such a lovely image to me. Thank you for sharing your experiences, shae! XOXO

    Liked by 2 people

    1. thank you girlie boy… appreciated… I know that most of those who read about my life are not so interested in the people around me. and yet, they are parts of my life and witnesses to my slavery. so I feel I have to find ways of describing them and sharing who they are. I’m glad this came across well to you… and yes, McKenna’s world is interesting because of the hierarchy and the jealousies of those in it… it’s maybe the good thing about us as salve girls — we live at the bottom and don’t have to be worried about maintaining our level. 😉

      Liked by 1 person

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