The Magical Mind of Mistress Brusierce
Summary:
Her eyes are cold – icy blue – and her hair is warm yet sharp. The voice that falls from her perfect pink lips resembles the sound of a harp. The back of her hand is covered in ink and yet her words are short and scarce. Look to the floor and drop to your knees for Mistress Brusierce.
Mistress!Brittany and Slave!Santana
Chapter One
There were three rows of them – the slaves – all lined up on the stage like school children, their clothes second hand and their feet bare. All twenty-one pairs of eyes were cast downward at the floor as twenty-one pairs of ears waited for the auction to begin. Twenty-one living bodies; all clean and untouched with one exception. Dark, raven hair curtained the exception's face as her head bowed. Her shirt was torn – filthy – and her arms were covered in bruises and whip marks.
"Hand me the flyer." Brittany mumbled to the woman next to her who turned her head to face her and handed her a folded sheet of paper from between her index and middle fingers, "Thank you."
Brittany delicately unfolded the flyer and looked over it, her perfectly manicured nails brushing the page lightly as her fingers straightened it. Her brow furrowed at the words printed across it and she let her pink tongue brush across her lower lip.
Slave Auction
All new and unused slaves up for bidding Saturday the twenty-seventh at four PM.
Bid now for a clean, smooth, willing slave and you won't regret it.
"All new, huh? What nonsense." Brittany muttered and handed the flyer back to the woman next to her – Josephine Redditch.
"They are all new." Josephine told her and she shook her head before subtly pointing toward the battered girl in the third row, "Minus one. Pity."
"No one's going to bid on her." Brittany said, crossing one leg over the other, "Poor girl. She'll have to go back to the St. James house and live with Jesse. I almost feel bad for her."
"I don't." Josephine said firmly, "She'll get what she deserves just like the rest of them."
"Hmm," Brittany hummed, ignoring the comment as she watched Jesse St. James, auctioneer and slave dealer, walk onto the stage and position himself in front of the microphone. He cleared his throat and smiled slyly.
She wasn't even planning on showing up at the auction today; Josephine convinced her it'd be a good laugh. However, Brittany never found anything resembling slavery amusing. She'd owned her first slave at eighteen – a personal slave – who attended to her every need, mainly sexual. And, in nine years, she'd owned three more slaves, all of whom lived in her home. She'd owned four slaves in her legal lifetime and, yet, was the most powerful, most wealthy, most professional and most feared slave owner of all – she was the famous Mistress Brusierce – and there was no slave owner, slave dealer or slave that ever mistreated her.
"…so, get your money ready folks. First up, we have Johnathan Thompson. Age twenty-four. We'll start the bidding off at ten dollars." Jesse began as the first slave, an attractive young man, stepped forward. And so the auction began. Slave owners from near and far raised their paddles to bid on the slave and Brittany watched, lips pursed and face neutral as her arms crossed over her chest and rested below her breasts, "Sold for one hundred and thirteen dollars to Master Smythe."
Johnathan stepped off the stage and stood to the side as a woman off stage placed a sticker on his chest with the words Master Sebastian Smythe – One hundred and thirteen dollars written on it. He kept his eyes downcast as the auction continued. Slowly, the rows began to disappear as the slaves were all bought one by one. Now, there were only five slaves left on the stage as the rest all stood off stage with stickers on their chests holding the name of their owner.
"Next, we have Santana Lopez. Age twenty-three." Jesse stated and a few protests were heard at the sight of the beaten girl.
"She's not new! She's been beat!" Master Tronson called from the back row of seats. Brittany's neck craned toward him and she caught his eye, watching as he gulped and sat back, "My apologies. Continue."
"She's a feisty one." Jesse told the crowd and Santana kept her head bowed, "We'll start the bidding off at five dollars."
"Five dollars." A man from the second row said, raising his paddle and Jesse nodded.
"I hear five dollars, do I hear ten? Ten dollars."
"Ten dollars." Another man called and Brittany recognized him as Artie Abrams – the cruelest slave owner she'd ever met although some would assume she was crueler than he.
"Ten dollars over here. Do I hear fifteen? Fifteen dollars." Jesse said and the first man who bid stuck up his paddle, "I see fifteen dollars, do I see twenty?"
"Thirty dollars." Artie called and Jesse was taken aback.
"The bidding's been raised to thirty dollars, do I hear thirty-five?"
"Forty dollars." The first bidder called and Artie sighed.
"Sixty." he called and Brittany's eyes snapped to the first bidder, Trevor Harrison, who shook his head.
"Sixty dollars going once," Jesse said and Brittany's eyes widened, "Sixty dollars going twice," this poor girl was going to go to Artie.
"One thousand dollars." Brittany called out in a panic and everybody's head snapped in her direction.
"One thousand dollars bid by Mistress Brusierce. Do I hear one thousand and five?"
"Not worth it." Artie muttered, shaking his head.
"One thousand going once. One thousand going twice. Sold! For one thousand dollars to Mistress Brusierce." Jesse announced and Brittany watched as Santana wrung her hands in fear as she stepped off the stage and had a sticker stuck to her chest. Jesse proceeded to auction off the other four slaves and Brittany licked her lips, eyes set on her new slave who's face she had yet to see.
The girl, Santana Lopez, was skin and bone; a skeleton of a woman.
"You shouldn't have done that." Josephine muttered as the last slave was sold, "She's trouble, that one. You've made a horrid mistake."
"We'll just see."
The auction was over. All twenty-one slaves had owners. Santana Lopez had an owner that wasn't Artie The Ass Abrams. Brittany was still seated as all the owners paid for their slaves at the stage while Jesse took their money greedily. She watched as each slave was chained before they were led out of the auction by their new owner. She watched from her seat – the only one still seated – as Jesse's men chained her new slave around her wrists. She slowly rose from her seat, as the last owner paid, and made her way toward Jesse, purse slung over her forearm while she folded her hands and approached the curly haired, smug man.
"Mistress Brusierce, so nice of you to attend." He said with a sly grin on his lips as he tucked his money into the pocket of his vest.
"Don't flatter yourself, St. James, it's not attractive." Brittany said calmly and Jesse's smile slowly fell. He cleared his throat and nodded.
"That's one thousand dollars, Miss Pierce." He told her and Brittany reached a hand into her purse, pulling out her wallet and opening it. She plucked ten one hundred dollar bills from the cash in it and folded it, handing it to Jesse before putting her wallet back in her purse, "You're going to regret this. Your new slave is a bitch."
"And so are you, Mister St. James so, I guess one plus one makes two." Brittany shot back and her eyes pierced into his. He swallowed and looked down at his feet, "I'll be going now."
"Yes, ma'am." Jesse said, "Enjoy her."
"Hmm," Brittany repeated her neutral hum from earlier and walked slowly up to Santana who's head was still cast downward, her dark hair still a curtain across her face. Brittany stopped in front of the woman and reached forward, pulling the sticker off her chest and letting it rest on the tip of her index finger, handing it to the woman who placed it on her slave, "I'll need the key for these chains." She informed Jesse's men who nodded, "Now."
They scrambled to get the key off the small table behind them and handed it to Brittany who ran her tongue across her teeth and glared at them, contempt plastered to her expression.
"Eyes up," Brittany instructed Santana who's head raised slowly. Brittany's face remained neutral as her blue eyes danced across the woman's thin, beautiful face. Her eyes were a dark chocolate brown and her lips were full and shapely, "Follow me."
Brittany spun on her heel and made her way toward the front door of the auction building with Santana following close behind, her chains clinging and clanging softly as she moved. Brittany moved slowly and gracefully down the front steps of the large building, her heels clicking as she did while bare feet made small splashes in the puddles on the stairs behind her. A pale, delicate hand reached into her large purse and pulled out her car keys. She clicked the unlock button and her black Nissan Juke unlocked. She pulled the passenger door open for Santana and turned toward her.
"Hands." She said simply, watching as Santana raised her chained hands. She cleared her throat and unlocked the chains, taking them off and throwing them into a nearby trash can, "Do you speak?" she asked earning a gulp and a nod.
"Yes, Mistress." Santana replied, licking her dry lips, "I'm sorry, Mistress."
"That's alright. Get in." Brittany told her and watched as she climbed carefully into the car, bowing her head and staring at her lap as Brittany closed the door. She made her way around the front of the car toward the driver's door and pulled it open, throwing in her purse and letting it rest on the center console as she climbed into the car. She lifted her purse and placed it at Santana's feet, "Seat belt."
"Yes, Mistress." Santana nodded, obeying her Mistress and putting on her seatbelt. Brittany swiftly pulled hers on and clicked it into place before starting the car and pulling out of the parking spot.
"How long have you been a slave?" Brittany asked, hitting her blinker and sighing as she stopped at the red light.
"Since I was four, Mistress." Santana replied.
"And where did you get those bruises?"
"Mister St. James, Mistress."
"What did you do to make him hit you?" Brittany asked, curious that this girl really might be trouble.
"I spoke without being spoken to, Mistress." Santana replied, fiddling with her dirty fingers
"I see." Brittany said, nodding slowly as she watched the traffic light, "What are you good at?"
"Housework, Mistress. Cooking and cleaning." Santana replied.
"Hmm, well, I already have three slaves at my house for that." Brittany said, turning left as the light went green, "How are you at yard work?"
"I worked in Mister St. James' garden, Mistress. He said it was satisfactory." Santana replied and Brittany nodded.
"Well, my yard needs some work and satisfactory is fine by me." She said, "You'll work in the yard."
"Yes, Mistress." Santana agreed before looking out the window. Brittany chanced a glance at Santana as she made a right turn. The girl's hair was long and messy and needed a wash – as a matter of fact, the girl needed a wash; desperately. She needed a new set of clothes and she needed a haircut. There were a lot of things this girl needed and Brittany made a mental note to have it all done before Monday when Santana would start work.
Her house was rather large and, at the front gate, there were two lion statues roaring proudly with their marble chests puffed up. Mistress Brusierce was known to everyone as The Lion of Lima. There were gorgeous trees lining either side of the long driveway and the garden was beautifully large. Santana peered out of her window and felt her eyes widen at the sight of the garden. Brittany practically read the young woman's mind, "You'll attend to the yard in sections so it's not too much work. Blaine will help you with that." She told the girl as she parked in front of the living room windows and shut off the car, "There are no chains here. No unnecessary punishment. You will share a room with Mercedes and you will be awake at eight a.m every morning. Lights out at nine thirty p.m. Tomorrow we'll go over your contract after breakfast. Once we get inside, I'll show you to your bedroom and then we'll get you cleaned up for dinner. Understand?"
"Yes, Mistress. Thank you." Santana said with a firm nod and Brittany nodded as well, opening her car door and climbing out with Santana following.
"Follow me inside." Brittany said, walking up the paved front path toward the front door, turning the door knob and pushing the door open, "Come in."
Santana nodded and walked inside before Brittany followed and shut the door, "It's beautiful." Santana breathed and Brittany smiled as she removed her blazer and hung it on the coat rack as she removed her heels and moved them to the side with her bare foot, "I'm sorry, Mistress. I didn't mean to speak out of turn."
"That's alright." Brittany forgave the girl who swallowed her nerves and began to fiddle with her fingernails, "I'm home!" Brittany called into the house and footsteps were heard coming from two different parts of the house – upstairs and beyond the foyer. A big, beautiful black woman appeared at the top of the staircase while two men walked into the foyer – one with gelled back hair and the other with delicate hands and hair with volume.
"Welcome home, Mistress." The boy with the gelled hair greeted and Santana's first instinct was to look at her feet.
"Hello, Blaine. Kurt. Mercedes." Brittany greeted them and moved to the stairs, "This is Santana, she's going to be working in the yard. Mercedes, she'll be sharing a room with you. Blaine, draw her a bath in the guest bathroom, please and Kurt, get Santana a spare change of clothes from the linen cupboard. Santana, follow me."
"Yes, Mistress." Santana obeyed.
"Right away, Mistress." Blaine said.
"Yes, Mistress." Kurt said, moving across the foyer and disappearing behind a wall while Blaine followed Santana and Brittany upstairs with Mercedes behind him.
As soon as the four of them reached the top of the stairs, Blaine made a right turn towards the guest bathroom with Mercedes following him. Santana swallowed again and followed closely behind Brittany as the blonde moved up another flight of stairs onto the third floor, "This is your new bedroom." She informed the girl as she reached the top. Santana blinked furiously as she got into the room and her jaw fell open, "This is your bed." Brittany said, patting the bed on the far side of the room.
"Thank you, Mistress. Thank you so much." Santana said gratefully.
Brittany's lips pulled into a surprised smile, "You're very welcome, Santana." she said, "Now, this chest at the foot of your bed is where you'll keep your clothes once we've bought you some. We'll go shopping after you've finished work on Monday."
"Mistress, thank you." Santana said as tears welled up in her dark brown eyes, "I've never had a bed before."
"I want you to be comfortable. This is your home now." Brittany said, purse slung over her forearm, "Now, you'll take a bath and I'll have Mercedes wash your hair. Tomorrow Kurt will cut it for you. Is that alright?"
"Yes, of course, Mistress." Santana nodded her head frantically, still in shock that she was being given a bed and new clothes.
"Good. Come with me and we'll get you washed up." Brittany said, moving past Santana as a small, salty tear slid down a tan cheek. She walked back down the stairs and Santana followed eagerly behind her, "Mercedes, would you wash Santana's hair, please?"
"Of course, Mistress." Mercedes said with a nod, giving Santana a friendly smile as Kurt walked into the guest bathroom with a large t-shirt, sweat pants and fresh underwear for Santana.
"Thank you, Kurt. Just put them next to the tub. Blaine, make sure it's warm, please. It's going to rain tonight." Brittany instructed earning nods from her slaves, "Kurt, you may leave and start dinner."
Kurt nodded and left the bathroom, touching Santana's shoulder soothingly on his way out. Blaine finished the bath and Brittany felt the water, nodding at him and ordering him to leave.
"Santana, disrobe, please." Brittany instructed and Santana hesitantly began to undress, revealing her bruised and whipped body. Brittany's eyes ran over the whip marks and noticed they were fresh, barely a day old, "Mercedes, before you wash Santana's hair would you bring me the first aid kit?"
"Yes, Mistress. I'll be back in a minute." Mercedes said, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.
"Sit on the edge of the tub." Brittany told the beaten girl who obeyed and moved slowly towards the bath tub, seating herself on the edge and placing her hands in her lap. Brittany opened the cupboard under the sink and pulled out a razor and shaving cream, "This'll be a bit cold." she informed the girl, shaking the shaving cream before lathering the girl's legs with it. She began to shave the tan limbs gently as Santana watched with interested eyes. She'd never been shaved before this – only waxed under her arms by Mister St. James which was excruciatingly painful and made her cry which she was later beaten for. Brittany fully shaved her legs before moving her hands away from her crotch and helping her stand, "When Mercedes gets back with the first aid kit, I'm going to disinfect these wounds. Tomorrow we'll give you a bikini wax. It'll hurt but, Kurt's very good so, it shouldn't hurt as much as it usually would. Is that alright?"
"Y-Yes, Mistress."
"You may say no, Santana. If you prefer we can shave your bikini area, Kurt's good at that as well."
"I'd prefer that, Mistress. Mister St. James waxed me under my arms and it was horrible. I'm sorry." Santana said and Brittany shook her head.
"Don't apologise. You being comfortable is very important to me. I won't make you do anything you don't want to do. Okay?"
Santana was surprised. She'd heard horrible rumors about Mistress Brusierce and this woman before her was not living up to them. It warmed her heart to discover that her new Mistress had a kind nature, "Okay, Mistress. Thank you." she said just as the bathroom door opened and Mercedes walked back in with a first aid kit in her hands.
"Here's the first aid kit." Mercedes said, handing the box to her Mistress and stepping back, folding her hands in front of her and looking at her feet.
"Thank you, Mercedes. Santana, turn around please. Mercedes, come hold her hand. This'll sting." Brittany said as she took out the disinfectant and licked her dry lips. Mercedes took hold of Santana's small, boney hand and felt the brunette squeeze it tight as Brittany disinfected all of her wounds. The fresh, open wounds stung the most and brought tears to her eyes, "The sting goes away." Brittany hushed as Santana whimpered, "I'm going to have Mercedes put a healing cream on all these cuts after your bath, alright?"
"Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress." Santana said, blinking away her tears. Brittany placed the disinfectant back in the first aid kit and took out the healing ointment, placing it on the sink and shutting the first aid kit.
"I'll leave you to bath." Brittany said, "Be gentle with her, Mercedes. She's come straight here from the St. James house. You know what she's been through."
"Of course, Mistress." Mercedes nodded and looked at the small girl with sympathy in her dark eyes as Brittany left the room, shutting the door behind her, "Climb in, sugar." she instructed softly and Santana lifted her foot, stepping into the bath and slowly lowering herself into the warm, welcoming water, "We'll wash your hair first. Tilt your head back, hon." Santana obeyed and tilted her head back while Mercedes got a small jug out from under the sink. She filled it with water and gently poured the water over Santana's hair, "I know how you feel, girl. I was sent to live with Mister St. James after my last owner put me back into the slavery system. It was awful. He beat me every time I said no to somethin'. Then there was the auction and Mistress Brusierce bought me."
"I've heard things about her." Santana stuttered out and Mercedes hummed in acknowledgment.
"I know what you've heard." She said, "I heard all those things too. I was terrified when she bought me. But I've been living here for seven years and she's never hit me or beat me once." Santana was shocked at that information; the Lion of Lima didn't beat her slaves? Somehow, she found that impossible, "Mistress doesn't hit. She punishes in a different way."
"What does she do?" Santana asked hesitantly, afraid to hear the answer as Mercedes massaged shampoo into her hair.
"She makes us work on Sundays or, if what we did was really bad, she takes something of ours away." Mercedes said, "She never hits. Mistress doesn't believe in violence; she doesn't like it. When she bought Blaine and Kurt, they were in as bad a shape as you. She takes in the weak and wounded slaves and gives them a home."
"Does she let you eat?" Santana questioned earning a shocked expression from Mercedes.
"Honey, of course. We don't eat with her – we're slaves so, the slaves eat together and Mistress eats by herself in her room – but, we eat three meals a day and she also doesn't believe in taking away a meal as a punishment. Mistress doesn't punish severely. If she does take away a meal as a punishment then, what you did was really bad and it's likely she'll be angry for a while. Mistress is a kind Mistress."
Santana inhaled a deep, relieved breath and exhaled on a shake. She was finally safe. She'd been a slave for nineteen years and she finally had an owner that would treat her as a person, "Thank you for washing my hair." She said and Mercedes smiled, "You're very kind."
"It's not a problem at all, sugar." She said, "You'll have a bath every night and you'll wash your hair every second night. Mistress likes her slaves to be clean and healthy. Sometimes Mistress has guests and she likes her slaves to be clean, fresh and well-dressed."
"Mistress is good." Santana stated as she felt tears well up in her eyes. This was her first bath since she was ten and she was able to have a lovely bath like this one every night. She would be able to have clean hair and a full belly when she went to sleep. And she'd sleep in a bed; she'd sleep in her bed. Her very own bed, "Mistress told me I'm going to sign a contract tomorrow after breakfast. And Mistress told me that every morning we must wake up at eight and every night we must turn off our lights and nine-thirty." She nodded, proud that she'd remembered everything her Mistress had told her.
"Tomorrow's Sunday. Sunday is our day off." Mercedes told the girl, rinsing her hair gently, "We wake up at ten on Sunday."
"You have a day off?" Santana asked, absolutely gob-smacked at the information.
"Mistress says we work hard all week and deserve a break. Sunday is our reward for working hard." Mercedes informed her and she gulped down her tears.
"Mistress is very good." Santana said and sniffled, "Mistress is good and kind."
"She is. Don't listen to the rumors about her. They aren't true." Mercedes told her, "They just come from other slave owners who are jealous of Mistress' wealth. So, they say she is a cruel beast that beats her slaves to a pulp for no good reason because they don't like that she's respected."
"That's not a very nice thing to say about Mistress." Santana said as Mercedes placed the jug down on the side of the tub and picked up a washcloth, dipping it in the warm water before lathering it with soap.
"It's not a very nice thing to say at all. You're right."
Santana was shocked for the umpteenth time this day; she'd never been told she was right. Ever.
Mercedes began to softly wash her dirty skin, watching as the filth disappeared with each swipe of the washcloth across the girl's body, "Thank you." Santana said with a small smile, "Thank you for being so very kind to me."
"You're very welcome, little bird." Mercedes replied and smiled at the small hint of happiness and relief on the girl's face, "You can relax now. You're very safe here. Mistress takes care of her slaves."
Santana nodded and inhaled a deep, shaky breath as the woman continued to gently cleanse her body. As soon as she was done being washed, Mercedes helped her out of the bath and dried her with a big, fluffy towel before rubbing the healing cream onto her wounds and then proceeding to help her dress, "I've never had these before. What are they?" Santana asked, holding the pair of white, cotton panties in her small palms.
"Underwear." Mercedes told her sweetly before she blinked, nodded and stepped into the garments.
"They're comfortable." She said with a happy smile, "I like underwear."
Mercedes let out a chuckle, "Me too, girl." She said, "Come on, arms up, let's get you dressed. Santana obliged and stuck her arms in the air, letting Mercedes put the shirt on her. It was soft and large, hanging loosely over her shoulders, "Mistress has lots of spare clothes in her linen cupboard for her new slaves. That's why it's so big. She just gets the large sizes because she doesn't know what size her new slave will be."
"This is also comfortable. It's nicer than my other shirt," Santana said, looking in the direction of her old, raggedy, torn shirt laying on the floor next to the door, "Much nicer. And there are no holes in it."
"Yeah, aside from the arm and neck holes." Mercedes teased earning a small smile, knowing the girl understood. She lifted the pair of black sweatpants from the side of the tub and handed them to Santana, "Put these on."
"I get pants?" Santana asked, eyes wide as she looked at the garments being handed to her.
"Of course you get pants. It's almost winter so, it's very cold. Mistress doesn't want her slaves to get cold." Mercedes told the girl who nodded and slowly put on the pants. The hung loose on her hips and she watched as Mercedes pulled on the strings and tied them into a bow.
"It looks like bunny ears." Santana observed and Mercedes smiled.
"It does, huh?" She replied, "Okay, lastly, socks. Put these on your feet so they don't get cold." She said, handing two white socks to Santana who gratefully took them and sat on the edge of the tub, pulling the socks onto her already cold feet, smiling happily as their warmth embraced her toes.
"I must thank Mistress for clothes." She said, standing and holding her arms at her sides, "I must thank Mistress for my bath and for my underwear and my pants and my socks. I must thank Mistress for my new shirt. Mistress is very kind for giving me clothes."
Mercedes didn't say a word – she was once where Santana is, broken and confused by the new, kind treatment of her Mistress. She was shocked when she was dressed in warm clothes, fed a hot meal and placed in a warm bed on her first night with Mistress. And she's been forever grateful for Mistress. Watching as Santana's eyes welled with tears broke her heart and she pulled the girl into a soft hug, "There, there, sugar. You're safe now."
After the delicious dinner of spaghetti and meatballs, Brittany walked Santana to bed and very quietly told the girl not to worry about waking up on time in the morning, "You look like you haven't slept in years." She said earning a very grateful:
"Thank you, Mistress." From the tired, full, warm slave. Brittany smiled and gently brought the covers up and over the dozing girl, shutting off the bedside lamp and standing from the bed, "Goodnight, Mistress." She heard from the bed and looked down at the slave.
"Goodnight, Santana. Sleep well." She said, moving to the staircase as Mercedes sat down on her bed, "Don't bother waking her in the morning, Mercedes. Let the little bird sleep."
"Yes, Mistress. Goodnight." Mercedes replied.
"Goodnight. Sleep well."
"You as well, Mistress. Thank you." Mercedes said earning a soft smile before Brittany descended the staircase and made her way to her own bedroom. She turned off the hall lights and opened her bedroom door, walking slowly inside and shutting it behind her. With her arms above her head, she yawned as she walked toward her bed. Resting atop her pillow were her pajamas which she picked up and unfolded. After undressing, she redressed into her loose t-shirt and pajama pants before climbing into bed and shutting off her bedside light.
Brittany hadn't even planned on showing up at the auction today and, yet, she returned home with something she'd keep until the day she died. She just didn't know it yet.
A/N:
Hi, all! Please note that this is an AU story so, if there are any inaccuracies then they are intentional. The reason for this story stems from a bet with my best friend who bet me that I couldn't write a story that receives over one thousand reviews so, I'd be forever grateful if you could all help me prove her wrong. I don't like to beg but, I'm saying please – she always wins our bets and I'd really like to win this one… please. Thank you!