Read Online The training of Ophelia (Masters of the Mansion Series) by Suzanne Steele - Free Book Online

or the cool thing to do. It was a calling. Nothing more………nothing less………..
     
     
     
     

    Master Richard Baron
             Hushed whispers could be heard throughout the ballroom as servants and Masters alike snuck peeks at Master Richard and Ophelia. He sat with his tie loosened, his shirt out of his pants, and he held her in his arms. He looked down on her as if she were his newborn child. Her head lay limply against his breast. It was as if they were in their own world; none other existed.
    It was evident that they were bonde d and it was highly unusual for Master Richard Baron to bond with anyone…
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

Chapter Twelve
    Ophelia
    I awoke to bright sunlight streaming through the large picture frame window and the sound of landscapers perfecting the grounds. I looked over to view slave Selena standing in the pose that the slaves stood in; when awaiting direction.
    “Your coffee is here and your bath is run, Miss Ophelia.”
    “Just hand me the coffee, Selena. I am brushing my teeth and finishing this article today with any luck,” I muttered, “I will be sleeping in my own bed tonight.”
    It was time to finish this article and get on with my life, sans (without) Richard.
    “As you wish, Miss Ophelia.”
     
     
     
     

    Master Richard Baron
               Master Richard sat eying Master William as he spoke.
    “I’m not shocked, I never saw Barbie as slave material anyway. I’m sure that all of her confidentiality clauses and paperwork are up to par.”
    “Absolutely, they are legal and air tight; so that the rumors and speculations become nothing more than just that, rumors and speculation.”
    Master William smiled a sadistic smile, there will be the standard ‘departure lecture;’ on the woes of those who have tried to make trouble for The Mansion .
    “ Very well,” Master Richard said, turning his attention back to work. Master William took this as his cue to exit and rose leaving the office.
     
     
     
     
    The Mansion had seen more than its share of disgruntled women; women who had come in believing that they were going to be the one . They, in their minds, were going to be the one woman that was different.
    T hey would come and be adored. One of the Master’s would be smitten with them and they would have their place of royalty and prestige in the BDSM community.
    Or so …… they fantasized…… But being a slave was not about royalty. It was not some cool thing to do. It wasn’t a fashion statement to wear a collar and it most certainly was not a way to try and get in with the upper echelon of the BDSM community.
    Barbie was nothing more than another spoiled little princess , who used her looks and manipulation tactics to be the Alpha female wherever she ventured.
    Here at The Mansion that was not—nor would it ever be the case.
    The Mansion had seen more than its f air share of women such as this—women who just did NOT get it . They had no understanding of the ‘heart’ of a slave. Being a slave was not something that you did, it was literally who you were. It was a part of your being. It was the very core of your being; the essence of who you were. And to disrespect the calling of slavery by attempts of topping from the bottom was simply unacceptable.
    It was not only unacceptable—it was downright disrespectful. It was disrespectful to the Masters and disrespectful to the very essence of The Mansion and all that it stood for.
    Generations of Masters and Mistresses , had walked these hallways and corridors. They had been faithful to keep the secret code of the ‘ The Mansion’ . There was strict and regimented protocol within these walls.
    The re was history here. The blood, sweat, and tears, of the hierarchy were within the corridors of this sacred place. You either got it or you didn’t; it was just……. that……….. simple……
    Barbie had taken the time and precious resources of the Masters and Mistresses and she had wasted it;