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Bosom Bondage Buddies, Part 2

by Brandy Dewinter

The first chapter of this part is actually a replacement for the last chapter of part 1. When combined, they make up one long adventure. When I finished with part 1, I still had too many ideas to let Brandy and her amazing friends just go away, so I picked up where the main story line of the first part left off.

Chapter 23a - Mistress Raven and Slaves

The next morning I dressed in a midnight blue lace blouse and

a snug leather mini while Kelly chose a cheerful ice-blue sundress.

Having carefully cleaned my earposts twice a day as the holes healed

during the previous week, for the first time I was able to wear the

shining gold loop earrings. We climbed up on our impossibly high

heels and swayed arm-in-arm out to meet Rocky to be greeted by

heartfelt applause in appreciation of our appearance. Kelly readily

confirmed the relationship Rocky and I had defined the night before

and we made plans for the day. Our masculine lover was going to have

to go back to the Pacific Northwest so we took him to brunch on the

way to the airport. We laughed together at the envy in other men's

eyes for Rocky and at the envy in other women's eyes for our beauty

and our massively handsome date. Finally we were at the airport,

working to maintain the cheerful mood and avoid a tearful good-bye.

Kelly and I placed matching lipstick marks on his cheeks before he

went down the jetway, the difference in our lipstick shades

demonstrating that two women had been involved, and I wondered who

would be the first to let him know about them.

"Well, Kelly, this has been an eventful few days," I said as

we waited for his plane to pull away from the gate. "Did you ever

think this would be the result of your challenge?"

"No," she laughed, "if I had a million guesses I'd never have

used one to predict we would be standing here, dressed so

beautifully."

Then she whispered to me, "and I wouldn't have guessed how

excited I'd get at the thought of bondage, let alone the actual

experience."

"Now that's one I would have guessed," I whispered back. "I

always thought you'd like it if you ever let yourself try."

"Really?" she said. "All along I've been priding myself on

having done a lot better job of recognizing your fantasy than you did

of recognizing mine. Here I thought you were just lucky, but you

really did know me better than I knew myself."

"Oh, there's not a thing wrong with the fantasy you recognized

for me. It's perfect. I wouldn't have believed how effective you

could make it, though, if I hadn't been there all along," I grinned as

I hugged her.

By this time Rocky's plane had been pushed back from the gate

and there wasn't much purpose to staying around any longer, but we

wanted to enjoy the day rather than just go home, so we bought an

underground paper from a seedy vendor and started looking through it

for ideas.

"So, beautiful, what's it going to take to keep you excited,

now that you've been through such an incredible set of experiences?"

Kelly asked.

"You do just fine at exciting me," I assured her, but I had to

admit there were ideas in the paper that looked interesting. Kelly's

breathing had roughened as she looked at some of the advertisements so

I knew there were some that had captured her attention as well.

"Pick something," she suggested.

"What about this one?" I asked pointing out an advertisement

that read:

Bondage Party! Master/Mistress and Slave Couples Only No Nudity, No

Pain Slaves must be kept on a leash at all times!

Kelly's breath froze at the audacity of my selection, but I

could see an excited flush flood to her cheeks and her nipples popped

up so hard I could see them through the dress and corset that she

wore. The party was at a surprisingly upscale hotel in a city about

an hour's drive away from our home, so practical anonymity was

achievable. According to the advertisement, we would also have a week

to get ready as the party was the following Saturday night.

"Oh, Brandy, you're too much. I couldn't go public as a

slave, in bondage."

"Once upon a time I would have said that about going public as

a woman, yet here I am," I countered.

"What would we wear?" she asked, obviously wanting to go, just

offering arguments in order not to seem too eager.

"I could wear what I'm wearing now, with my thigh-high spiked

boots," I said, then continued. "With, I think, the addition of an

elegant domino mask for mystery. You, on the other hand, need some

more appropriate attire."

Kelly gulped but made no further comment, already surrendering

control to me. I took her arm and we left the airport, going by a

costume store that was open on Sunday. In it I found the mask I

wanted, dark, glossy, with large enough openings to emphasize rather

than conceal my beautifully made-up eyes. We picked out an innocent

white mask for Kelly as well, but it was not my intention to let her

wear it all the time. She would be as exposed in her fantasy as I was

in mine, disguised only by the unbelievable circumstances rather than

a real mask. On the other hand, my own mask would add to my

authority, making her even more subservient to my mystery.

We also found a slave outfit for Kelly, right out of an

adolescent fantasy novel, though her spectacular figure was

emphatically adult. Her costume was made of diaphanous white nylon,

with a shockingly abbreviated skirt held up by a halter-style top slit

to her navel. She would have to keep her head up and shoulders back

all evening or the top would fall away from her bust, leaving her

exposed. As it was, only her glorious figure allowed her some degree

of confidence as her outthrust tits pushed forward within the fabric

to hold it in place. Our next stop was a shoe store, where we found

her some sky-high white sandals with golden ankle straps to complete

her outfit, except for the bondage devices. I already had a plan for

those, but I wouldn't tell Kelly what it was.

The next week passed quickly. Since I wouldn't really be able

to drive the pickup anymore, I dressed as Ran one day and sold it,

replacing it with a wine-red 300ZX convertible much more in keeping

with Brandy's style. It seemed so strange now to go out in public

without makeup and wig, and wearing low-heeled shoes. I had become

accustomed to being taller since with my normal heels I was

comfortably over six feet, and I was forcibly reminded of how much I

disliked being short. Even under Ran's boring outfit I wore garter

belt and stockings, but I couldn't wait to get home and change into

more familiar, feminine clothes. I had also scheduled another

appointment at the nail parlor as soon as I realized I would have to

shorten my nails for the day, so before Kelly even got home that

evening I had my nails redone and was back to my normal, elegant

appearance.

The business arrangement we had invented, where Ran worked at

home and Brandy went into the office worked very well. Using Ran's

voice, I set up appointments with Brandy for the clients who were due

for a review and then kept them as Brandy. My clients, typically

successful businessmen, were more than happy to be attended to by such

a beautiful young woman, but I was surprised to see an equal pleasure

on the part of the one woman client I met with that week. She lost no

time in letting me know it was about time Ran had accepted a woman in

a responsible position, any jealousy at my beauty buried beneath a

militant feminism I hadn't previously recognized. I supposed "we"

might lose a few female clients who were put off by prettier women,

and I was truly prettier than most of the women who had devoted

themselves to business success rather than feminine wiles, but we

might gain others who were pleased with a firm that had a woman

apparently in charge.

These meetings allowed me the time to run errands during the

week as well and by the time Friday afternoon rolled around, I had

picked up Kelly's new bondage items. My first impulse had been to go

with heavy black leather implements, complete with metal studs, shiny

buckles, and obvious locks. That might have been appropriate for a

large, darkly sensuous woman like Brandy, but Kelly was too petite,

too angelic for that stereotype of bondage. Instead, I had chosen to

focus on lightweight, golden bonds that would reinforce her apparent

helplessness, showing her to be too weak to break even small chains.

Nonetheless, the bondage would be real, the chains I had chosen were

more than enough for her strength, even if Rocky would have hardly

noticed them if they had been applied to him. Then it turned out

there would be another reason to have new bonds for Kelly.

We had continued our evening walks, though of course I was now

always Brandy, and we were joined regularly by Billie Jo. Since she

was fully aware of our amazingly effective incentives to lose weight,

we talked freely with her while we strode along. That Friday evening,

Kelly brought up the impending party.

"Guess where we're going tomorrow night," she grinned, excited

by our outrageous plan.

"With you two, I couldn't begin to guess," Billie Jo chuckled.

"Mistress Brandy and I are going to a bondage party, I'm to be

her slave," Kelly said with surprising pride. I knew it excited her,

but it was always a little unexpected to realize she truly enjoyed

proclaiming her love for me through her bondage.

Billie Jo came to an abrupt halt, staring at Kelly, then at

me. "You're kidding," she accused.

"No," I laughed, "it's for real. Want to come along? A

mistress can always use an extra slave."

I had offered in jest, but the instant flush and hard nipple

points Billie Jo displayed showed real interest, though she didn't say

anything. We had stopped when she did and for a long moment no one

said anything. Finally Kelly broke the ice.

"I think she does, Mistress Brandy," Kelly chuckled.

Billie Jo still said nothing, certainly she didn't deny it, so

Kelly and I began to plan Billie Jo's involvement just as though she

had agreed. We took her arms and pulled her along with us as we

talked.

"Let's see," I mused, "if I'm wearing black and you're wearing

white, I think Billie Jo needs to wear bright red, don't you?"

"Yes," Kelly agreed, "but in the same style as all your slaves

wear, right?"

"Oh, certainly," I agreed. "I'll get your outfit in the

morning, Billie Jo. All you need to do is come over to our house

tomorrow afternoon. We'll take care of the rest. However, we will

need to use your car. Make sure it's full of gas."

Billie Jo nodded in acceptance of my direction, surrendering

just as Kelly had to my leadership. It wasn't until we started this

conversation that I remembered we had never bound Billie Jo to our

bed. She had always been free, never experiencing the complete

release possible when completely helpless. One of these days we might

have to rectify that as well, I mused, though I knew Billie Jo thought

herself fulfilled by the members of her massively masculine stud

patrol, or by occasional evenings with Kelly alone.

"By the way," I said, "we need different names for the party.

While I expect it to be fun, I don't want anyone to try and bridge

from the party into our personal lives. From now on, when you're in

your slave roles, you will address me as Milady Raven. Is that

clear?"

Nods from both of them confirmed their agreement.

"Now let's see, Angel is clearly the best slave name for you,

Kelly, but I'm not so sure what name I should give Billie Jo. Ah, I

have it, when you are a slave you will be Huntress and you will be a

devoted, but deadly hunting bitch, my own personal attack wolf. In

case I forget to mention it later, you will be allowed to snarl at or

even bite anyone but me who gets too close."

This time I didn't even ask for their agreement, taking it for

granted that they would comply with my wishes. I began to realize

that I had not fully understood the mistress/slave relationship myself

when Kelly and I had started on this journey. I had correctly

understood one aspect, that of the slave surrendering control of her

body to the mistress so that the slave could give herself fully to the

physical sensations of sexual exultation. There was a mental aspect

to the relationship as well, though, that would allow the slaves to

act outrageously without guilt or responsibility. This aspect was a

different sort of release for the slaves, one that didn't really

appeal to me since my internal inhibitions were more of a limit to me

than society's rules. Then I laughed as the incongruity of walking

along a street, dressed as a beautiful woman, planning a

mistress/slave relationship, yet thinking of myself as inhibited.

Maybe it was just that I didn't let society's rules limit me,

regardless of whether my own were more or less stringent, so I didn't

need the excuse of slave status to act as outrageously as I wanted.

For the remainder of our walk, Billie Jo was very quiet but

the blush never left her cheeks and I could see external evidence of

the wild fantasies that were running through her mind. Her breathing,

usually completely steady even during our brisk walks since she was so

wonderfully fit, stayed ragged and rough the whole way. Only when we

reached her driveway did she shake herself out of her stupor, visibly

getting a hold on herself.

"So, we'll see you about 3:00 tomorrow," I confirmed, not

letting it seem like a question, though she had never actually agreed.

She nodded and went into her house without a word, but the

hard points of her nipples shouted her enthusiasm and excitement.

Chapter 24 - Belles of the Ball

The next morning I donned my black corset and thigh-high

boots, deciding that I would wear my tight leather miniskirt and the

jacket to my leather dress, but not the dress itself, adding only a

wide black choker band to hide my throat. The corset forced my chest

up enough to offer just a hint of cleavage and the corset itself

concealed the breast forms, hinting at hidden secrets under the

leather jacket in a decidedly titillating way. Then I sent Kelly off

to get Billie Jo's slave dress and high-heeled sandals while I went to

the specialty shop for Billie Jo's bonds. I still hadn't told Kelly

what her bondage would entail, and didn't want her along when I picked

out Billie Jo's items, either. My plan, though, was for Billie Jo to

wear more traditional leather bonds in keeping with her hunting bitch

persona. I found what I wanted at the same specialty shop I had used

for Kelly's items, though this time the handsome clerk looked at me

with increased interest.

"Pardon me, ma'am, but I remember when you were in here

before. You seem to have interesting tastes," he said diffidently.

I looked at him for a long time without responding, fixing him

with a hard stare that made it clear he was little more than a bug to

me and that I was considering whether it would be worth my while to

soil my boot by squashing him. He wilted under my gaze, dropping his

eyes and nervously shuffling his feet.

"You will address me as Milady Raven, if you find it necessary

to speak to me," I ordered coldly.

"Yes, Milady Raven," he meekly replied. "I'm sorry if I

intruded."

His embarrassed shyness was, if anything, increased after my

comment, but the instant tent pole in his pants showed how excited he

was at the strong personality I was practicing on him.

"Tell me, young man, how old are you?" I demanded.

"Twenty-one, Milady Raven," he replied. "I just got this job

after my birthday last week."

"And what do you find so interesting about my tastes?" I asked

with an elegantly arched brow, still cold in tone yet offering just a

hint of a possible opportunity for a further relationship.

"When you were in before, you bought delicate, beautiful

chains and bonds, as though for a softly feminine person. This time,

you have selected strong bonds suitable for a powerful person. It

seems like a contradiction," he explained.

"I use what is appropriate for each of my slaves, of course,"

I declared with an arrogant toss of my magnificent mane of hair,

dismissing his confusion and implying he was too stupid for my

attention. I opened my purse to get the money to pay for my

selections, but he interrupted me again.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Milady Raven, I should have known. It

would be a tremendous honor to be your slave, you must have many."

I nodded abruptly as I paid for my purchases, interested in

his obvious willingness to become subservient to me. In contrast to

the massive strength of Rocky, or even Dart Tanyon, who had interested

me when I was feeling feminine, this young man (only a few years

younger than me, but definitely much less mature) was slight of build,

trim but not muscular. He would probably transform into a more dainty

woman than I had become, but the dark fantasies that came bubbling to

the surface of my mind when I thought of him didn't include turning

him into a woman. No indeed, I had other ideas for one such as him.

Not that it mattered, I was only practicing my dominatrix personality

and didn't intend anything further. To my surprise, however, when I

looked in the package I found he had included his name and phone

number on a slip with the receipt. Perhaps there was an opportunity

here.

When I got home, I saw that Kelly had gotten the costume items

for Billie Jo, including a red domino mask similar to her white one.

We discussed makeup and hairstyles, deciding on a more strident look

for me than usual, darker eyeshadow, more distinct eyeliner, more

sharply defined cheekbones. For Kelly we would tone down the makeup

to near-invisible subtlety to emphasize her innocence. I would wear

my hair down in its flowing waves, but Kelly would lift hers into a

more controlled style. Since I was already dressed in my costume,

except for the mask, I had Kelly don her own. She also put on a tiny

white thong bikini under her slave outfit, but I didn't comment

. . . for now.

Sharply at the appointed time, Billie Jo showed up at our

door. Her eyes widened when she saw the revealing outfit that Kelly

was wearing, but she came in. First, I had Kelly redo Billie Jo's

makeup into a vibrant, intense look, emphasizing the strong features

of her face. We drew her eyeliner extra wide and used a silvery

eyeshadow to give her eyes a wild, excited look. Billie Jo's hair was

still too short for any significant styling, so a few minutes after

her makeup was done she was wearing the red slave costume, though in

her case the underwear hidden by the brief skirt was a pair of red

bikini panties.

"This won't work for me, I don't have Kelly's beautiful tits

to keep the folds in place," she complained about the top of her

dress.

In reply I only gave her the cold stare I had used on the

clerk in the specialty shop. After a pause long enough to make the

point that I was not satisfied with her attitude, I began to give my

orders firmly, with no room for discussion.

"From this point on, you will not speak unless it is clear

that I want you to do so. Is that clear, Huntress?" I asked,

emphasizing her slave name as a sign of the attitude she was to adopt.

"Yes, Milady Raven," she meekly replied, only the abrupt

appearance of the hard points of her nipples betraying her excitement.

She had forgotten the full extent of her role for the night, but

accepted it with alacrity once reminded.

I looked at Kelly, now Angel, with the same glare, demanding

acknowledgment from her as well.

"Yes, Milady Raven," Angel echoed, a small smile lurking in

her eyes as much as on her lips, though she kept her gaze demurely

down. I stared at her until she looked up at me to see my frown, then

she wiped the smile from her eyes, adopting a suitably meek

appearance, but the same signs of excitement were visible through the

upper sections of her own dress.

"You will both keep your heads up, and shoulders back

throughout this evening. I will take it as a sign of disobedience if

you allow your tops to become too revealing. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Milady Raven," they chorused.

"Very well," I said as I picked up two satchels. "These

contain your bonds for the evening. I will not place them on you

until we get to the site of the party. You may not look inside, but

you will carry your own items."

I handed Angel her package, which was quite light and

significantly smaller than the package I handed to Huntress. Both

accepted them and moved toward the door, only to be interrupted before

they reached it by another command.

"Wait. Both of you will remove your panties and leave them

here. They are not part of your costume for tonight," I declared.

Heat flamed in their cheeks, and they looked at each other,

seeing an equivalent response. Breath rasped from each throat and

their excitement began to waft in the air of the room. Without

speaking, they carefully removed their panties, already dripping with

pungent juices, and placed them on the dresser. The soft fabric of

their skirts immediately flowed into the crack of their ass, sharply

defining the cleavage. Any breeze at all and they were going to be

totally exposed since it would only take a few inches of lift to

reveal their naked femininity. In Angel's case her flamboyant tits

were so well outlined by the thin material that she was practically

naked anyway, while the lesser endowment that Huntress owned seemed

non-existent except for two sharp points.

"Now you may go to the car. Put your bonds in the trunk and

get in the car, but do not fasten your seatbelts," I ordered.

When they had complied, I pulled the seat straps up and over

their arms, leaving their hands by their sides. They could escape

fairly simply from this bondage, though it would not be easy since the

backs of the seats would make moving their arms back difficult. The

important thing was that they were bound to any degree, and would be

for the entire trip.

As I drove, I required that they describe erotic, sexual

desires and experiences on the trip, drawing from them their specific

remembered sensations or unfulfilled fantasies. This kept them (and

me) intensely aroused for the entire trip to the neighboring city. It

was hot enough outside that we kept the windows up and the

air-conditioning on for the trip, which kept the air contained and

allowed the scent of their excitement to permeate us, lodging in our

hair and our clothes. Even a brief period outside as we walked to the

party wouldn't hide that sensual smell.

I pulled into the parking garage of the hotel, following the

signs that identified the location for participants in the bondage

party. Once we reached the area where the participants were getting

out of their vehicles, I checked the apparel of the partygoers. Each

master or mistress did indeed have their slave on a leash, not always

placed about the neck of the slave. In addition, each partygoer was

wearing a mask. Most slaves were bound as well, though some were

constrained only by the leash. The most intense relationships were

those where the slaves wore some dangerously revealing clothes and it

was clear that we would fit in, though at the extreme end of the

visible spectrum. Good, exactly as I desired. With this confirmation

that we would not be foolishly out of place at the party, I got out of

the car and undid the seatbelts for my slave girls, then ushered them

to the back of the car where we would be hidden by the raised trunk

lid from those passing.

"Angel, you're first," I said as I took out her package. The

first item I drew forth was a beautiful gold necklace, made of

flattened chain links about an inch in diameter. I had sized it to be

choker length and placed it snugly around her throat. A tiny padlock

shining in matching gold fastened it around her delicate neck, though

I didn't close the lock immediately. Bracelets followed, each in the

same design, each with golden padlocks that I also left open, then

ankle bracelets as well.

"These are beautiful," Kelly breathed, forgetting for a moment

the restriction on unrequested speech. She held her hands in front of

her and arched her legs to look at the shining links on her ankles.

I knew she expected that I would handcuff her hands before

her, perhaps adding a hobble chain to her ankles. She was surprised,

however, though intensely excited based on the renewed intensity of

her nipple points, when I drew forth a single, long golden chain. The

links in this chain were each about a quarter of an inch in size, more

than large enough to keep her from breaking them, especially since

they were really steel overlaid with gold plate, but still fine enough

to continue the delicate beauty of her collar and cuffs. To her

surprise, however, I pulled her hands behind her back and rotated the

collar so that its lock was behind her neck as well. I fastened the

chain first at her neck, then locked each cuff to the chain at the

length they naturally matched, holding her hands behind her back a bit

below her waist. Finally, I stooped down and fastened her ankle

bracelets to the ends of the chain, which split into two strands and

provided about a twelve-inch hobble. The delicate chain was just

heavy enough for the sound of the links to provide a musical chime

whenever she moved.

Angel was breathtaking. The gleam of gold as it trailed down

her naked back from her elegant throat to her towering sandals made

her seem pure, innocent, helpless, desperately in need of a heroic

rescuer, infinitely desirable. Her bound wrists forced her shoulders

back and her magnificent bust forward, sharply defining them through

the thin material of her slave dress. The exuberant femininity of her

smooth curves combined with the angelic smile she always wore to offer

that matchless combination of innocence and sensuality that only she

possessed of all the women in the world.

I was pleased and thrilled to see her pleasure as well. She

was clearly exulting in the thought of being so desirable, so

feminine, so beautiful. I knew anyone who took undue liberties with

her would cause an explosion of anger, with the sole exception of

myself, for she was not really a slave except to the love that we

shared, but her true freedom was her armor against the degradation of

slavery.

Her triumphal pride reached Huntress as well. Previously,

Huntress had been willing to go along on this as a thrilling lark,

desirable for it's outrageous difference from her real life, her real

persona. However, once she saw the radiant joy on Angel's face her

own interest was roused and she wondered if she might have been

missing out on something, something she was now offered a chance to

share. Without permission, she reached for her own package, anxious

to see what was inside.

"Huntress!" I warned sharply as she moved toward the bag.

"Did I tell you to do that?"

"No, Milady Raven," she admitted, dropping her head.

"I thought I told you to keep your head up and your shoulders

back," I corrected her again with silky menace in my voice.

"Yes, Milady Raven," she said quietly, though she raised her

head and squared her shoulders. "I'm sorry."

"Never apologize, it's a sign of weakness," I repeated the

movie quote. "You especially, Huntress, must always be strong, but

you must also learn to obey."

"Yes, Milady Raven," she repeated.

"It seems it was a good thing I selected bondage for you that

will help you obey," I said quietly, though the menace in my voice

caused a nervous look to appear on her face. Still, from the

excitement and suspense her nipples resurrected to a level that must

have been painful.

I started out on Huntress with a red leather collar, decorated

with golden studs and closed by a small golden padlock, similar to

those already adorning Angel. The snick of the lock closing seemed

especially loud in the echoing garage, signifying an undeniable change

in status for Huntress. Next, I added ankle restraints in matching

leather, also fastened by golden padlocks, but these I didn't close.

"Turn around and put your arms behind your back," I ordered.

Huntress complied, though she tried to look back over her

shoulder at the item I was removing from the package.

"Keep your eyes to the front," I demanded.

She snapped to something like attention, her head up,

shoulders back and square.

"That's better," I complimented her.

Then I took the next item from the package, provoking an

astonished gasp from Angel who could see it. Huntress twitched as

though she had started to turn around again, but caught herself with

only the smallest of motions so I let it pass. She was learning, and

that was sufficient, for now. The item was an armbinder in stiff red

leather, and I held it under one arm as I made Huntress clasp her

hands behind her back. Then I slid the armbinder on over her hands,

wrapping it around her arms up almost to her shoulders. The eyelets

of the armbinder were the fast-lacing kind that are really small

hooks, so I was able to quickly string the laces up to the top, then

began to pull out some of the slack. I knew that an armbinder could

be too intense for extended periods, especially for someone new to the

experience, so I didn't tighten it very much, just snug enough to give

her a constant reminder of her status, and to pull her shoulders back

even more sharply.

"There, that should keep your posture proud and upright," I

declared.

The last item in the package for Huntress was a golden chain

like the one that Angel wore, except much shorter since it only had to

reach from the ring at the tip of the armbinder down to her ankles,

where it split into a matching twelve-inch hobble. I quickly fastened

the chain into the open locks on her ankles and a similar one on the

armbinder and Huntress was completely, inescapably bound.

She was more shocked than excited at the moment, her face red

with embarrassment rather than the boundless joy and pride on Angel,

but her nipples were still obviously erect, obviously excited.

"Now remember, Angel, you are innocent and pure. Huntress,

you are a barely contained hunting bitch, responsive and obedient only

to me. Think of your armbinder as the equivalent of a muzzle on a

wolf, to keep you from attacking someone. Now let's see, what else?"

While I was looking at the remaining items in our treasure

trove, I watched Huntress absorb her role. A sneer of power appeared

on her lips, twisting them into a challenge. She allowed the hunting

look back into her eyes, but transformed it somehow from a woman

hunting for sex into an animal hunting for food, meat, something to

devour. It was magnificent, shocking in such a powerful way that I

dropped out of character for a moment.

"Billie Jo, that's outstanding! You're perfect!" I cried,

then struggled back into my dominatrix persona. "I mean, very good

Huntress, see that you remember your place."

I drew forth the domino masks, first working the elastic band

for mine under my waves of lustrous hair, then placing it over my

eyes. I had a small mirror in the trunk and checked the arrangement,

pleased to see that the vibrant colors highlighting my eyes showed

beautifully. Angel was next, the white mask easily placed around her

upswept hair style, then Huntress received her red mask. Finally, I

added the leashes, golden chains similar to those binding their arms

and legs, except fastened to their collars with a simple hook. I

wrapped the loose ends of their leashes around my gloved hand, the

gold shining in bright contrast to my tight, black leather gloves, and

checked our appearance one last time.

Individually we were beautiful. Angel innocent in white and

gold, happy and excited at her outing, unaware that there could be any

other condition than servitude, existed only to please her owner.

Huntress was intense in red, hungry and restless, untamed except

through an uncompromisingly greater force of personality that she

could respect, only found in her owner. I was in control in black,

powerful and confident, my towering thigh-high boots reinforcing

rather than contradicting my elegant appearance as they declared I

would set my own style and let others copy it, rather than copy the

look of lesser women. Together, as a trio, we were matchless,

unsurpassed in beauty and in persona, defining at a new higher level

the entire concept of mistress and slave. I closed the trunk,

revealing ourselves to the other partygoers still making their way to

the entrance, and walked forward, pulling my slaves behind me on their

leashes.

The hobbles restricting their ankles, coupled with the

towering heels we all wore, forced our strides to be shorter than an

ordinary walk. They scurried to keep up, but I sauntered casually

along, allowing the flowing waves of my long, silky hair to highlight

the graceful sway of my orbiting hips. As other partygoers saw us,

conversations stopped in mid word, motion stopped in mid stride, and a

path was cleared for us to the entrance to the party.

My first inclination had been to adopt a demanding,

dissatisfied attitude to show that no one could reach my

uncompromising standards, but I realized that this would imply a

mistake on my part for coming to the party, since of course the slaves

would have had no say in the decision. Therefore I realized that I

should be amused rather than complaining and adopted the cool smile

that so often reduced men to incoherence. When we reached the

registration table, I paid the entry fee for the three of us, but took

a single registration card and signed it only as Raven + 2, without

listing the names of my slaves.

"I'm sorry, but you must put down their names as well," the

man behind the table informed me. He wore a name tag labeled "Master

Simon" but he was hardly dominant, short and fat, completely out of

shape. Surely Ran had not been that bad, even before we started on

our strange odyssey.

"Really? I don't believe there is much that I must do," I

declared, allowing the coolness of my smile to reach a frozen ice

intensity, determined to establish my dominance of all situations we

encountered.

"No one will speak to my slaves without my permission," I

continued, "and my slaves will not speak unless it is my desire that

they do so. Their names are unnecessary."

"Your pardon, mistress," the man replied. "No one will speak

to slaves without permission. It is for the judging. Each

participant is allowed to vote for the best master or mistress and for

the best slave. The winners get a thousand dollar prize taken from

the entry fees and the name tags allow others to know whom to vote

for. You should have an excellent chance at the prizes, if you choose

to participate."

"Ah, now I understand. I do allow my slaves to earn money for

me. By all means, tag them. This is Angel, and this is Huntress."

Name tags were pinned to the thin material of the slave

dresses, the slaves helpless in their bonds as I added a tag to my own

lapel. I noticed that one of Simon's hands was beginning to wander

down from where he had placed the name tag on Angel toward her

spectacular tits with their obviously protruding nipples. Angel's

eyes showed a building panic, not wanting to be fondled by this

unattractive stranger but helpless to stop him. I grabbed his wrist

in my free hand, using the masculine strength I truly possessed

regardless of how feminine I looked to clamp down on his pudgy arm.

"Keep your paws to yourself, dog!" I demanded. "No hand feeds

my slaves but mine. No hand caresses my slaves but mine. No one

pleasures my slaves but me, unless I allow them to pleasure each

other. Is that clear?"

I had spoken in a loud enough voice that all those near the

table could hear, especially since my trio had been the magnet for all

eyes since we had entered the hall. My demand was not limited to

Simon and my question was intended for all as a means to protect Angel

and Huntress from unwanted advances. It worked beautifully, the

titters of the crowd confirming that my comments had spread throughout

the assembly. While I had been talking, I had also been squeezing

Simon's wrist tightly enough to make his fingers show red from the

restriction on his circulation. Now I dropped it, wiping my gloved

hand on the tablecloth covering the registration table as though to

rid it of a particularly disgusting slime. Simon clutched his

throbbing wrist in his other hand and seated himself again behind the

table, blushing furiously, thoroughly cowed.

Then I laughed to release the tension. "Besides, if you tried

that on Huntress, your fingers would provide her dinner. It is for

your own safety as well as for their proper training that I restrict

access to my slaves."

With that we strolled into the main part of the hall. Just

inside the doorway, there was a slave tied to a post, her wrists

chained closely to a leather belt, her hands holding a tray of

champagne. In order to elevate the tray to a convenient height for

the partygoers, the server wore platform shoes with heels even higher

than those worn by my slave girls and myself. Though I had learned to

walk easily and gracefully in towering heels, I wouldn't have wanted

to try those platforms which must have been at least eight inches

high, plus the added height of the heel. However, the tray was now

conveniently placed and I nonchalantly took a glass of champagne, as

though the sight of the bound woman were completely unremarkable.

After a sip or two I turned to Angel and offered the glass to

her lips, giving her a small swallow. Huntress received her sip next.

Our eyes met and for just an instant the wild, intense look was

replaced with both pleased excitement and gratitude. She was clearly

reveling in her role.

I whispered quietly to her, "Doing okay? That armbinder's not

too tight, is it?"

Her eyes told me that she was fine, then resumed the angry

hunger of a barely controlled predator. A glance at Angel returned

the same assurance, though her bonds were much less severe so I had

not really been worried about her. We strolled through the assembly,

remaining the focus of all eyes, stilling conversations we approached,

provoking intense, whispered comments as we passed. Whenever I felt

like drinking or nibbling on the refreshments held by the distribution

of tightly-bound slaves, I would negligently offer some to my slave

girls as though it were merely a training regimen, not intended to

provide them any relief or pleasure. Still, they received as much and

as varied a fare as I did. Again, the inversion of roles appeared,

where my slaves were being served by their mistress.

We passed displays of bondage devices ranging from those with

so little restriction on movement that they were merely symbolic, to

those that appeared so painful they made me uncomfortable just to look

at them. I watched my slaves to see if any items were especially

interesting to them, but we saw nothing better than the choices I had

made. Prominent among the many booths was a slave block, complete

with bound slaves and a large For Sale sign. There were both men and

women chained to the block, each wearing a short gray tunic slit to

the navel. I paused to regard the slaves at the block as though

contemplating a purchase, which offered an opportunity for another

dominance battle.

A tall man dressed in leather, his shirt open almost to his

own waist to reveal a number of gold chains approached me. His

attitude was almost a parody of the stud patrol member who had

approached Billie Jo when she was just beginning to come out of her

shell. The beard that covered a hint of sag at his chin and the

careful looseness of his shirt were inadequate attempts to conceal his

deteriorated physique and it became immediately apparent that he was

hunting for a slave out of need, since he had lost his ability to

acquire companionship out of desirability.

"How much for that blonde slave?" he asked.

"It's not for sale," I curtly replied, reading his tag to see

his assumed name, Master Ajax.

"I'm serious. I'll pay you a couple of thousand for her, or

name your own price," he demanded.

"I'm not in the habit of repeating myself," I dismissed his

demand and turned away.

Huntress warned me of his continued advance with a low,

wordless growl just before I felt his hand on my shoulder. My mind

flashed through my options. I couldn't continue to argue with him

without destroying the cool superiority of my character and I

certainly couldn't get into a drawn-out fight while wearing high

heels. All it would take would be one good pull on my hair and I

would be completely revealed, while if he knocked me down and my brief

skirt flew up I would be just as completely unmasked. Even as I

decided how to respond, a part of my mind was noting with surprise how

much playing a character can begin to control your actions, the

typical, softly feminine manner in which I would normally react

covered over by the dominatrix attitude I had adopted for the evening.

I slammed my fist directly into his crotch, sending him

sprawling on the floor clutching at his damaged jewels. In an

instant, my heel was at his throat, the spiked length a serious

threat. Ajax froze once his pain subsided enough to let him recognize

his predicament.

"No one lays hands on me!" I announced, letting the cool

amusement of my smile transform into cold anger, my midnight blue eyes

now glinting with dark ice, frigid, uncompromising, showing a window

into the darkest, coldest hell ever imagined.

"Listen to me, worm," I said quietly, the menace in my tone

bringing shocked looks to all who could hear. "You're not worthy of

an honorable name like Ajax, let alone of master status. I will offer

you your last free choice. Either leave this place immediately, or

strip and join the slaves on the block. In either case, remove that

inappropriate and undeserved name tag."

With my heel at his throat, he had no real choice. He slowly

removed the tag, handing it to me. I let a sneer curl my lip to

indicate my disdain for his offering and he dropped it to the floor.

Then I stood back and brushed my free hand through my hair in a slow,

sensual gesture, signaling that the power I had displayed had excited

me, but that I was completely in control of my own emotions and body,

demonstrated by not even needing to drop the leashes of my slaves as I

dispensed with an unwelcome advance. The ex-Ajax stood up carefully,

still bent over with the residual pain in his crotch, and slid warily

away toward the exit. The audience burst into applause, slaves who

could not clap their bound hands cheering with appreciation, those

that weren't gagged at least. My own slaves began to cheer as well.

"Oh, Milady Raven," Angel called. "You are so wonderful."

The call from Huntress was more of a growl of pleasure than

articulate words, but her eyes shone with excitement.

"Next time, Huntress," I said, directing my comments to her to

demonstrate I appreciated her perfect, in-character response, "I will

let you handle any scum who approach too closely. You need the

practice more than me. I'm more of a man than that worm, but you

might find it useful to have another sparring partner."

My smiling declaration of manhood, at least relative to the

vanquished intruder, shocked my slave girls but the very audacity of

it prevented anyone else from even considering the truth beneath the

boast. Their mouths hung open for a second, then smiles lit up their

faces at the secret we shared together even in the midst of the crowd.

Angel's smile reinforced the sunlight she carried with her at all

times, but the smile that lit the face of Huntress provided a blend of

pleasure and respect that declared to all those that saw it her

intense worship for the one being who could master her. For a moment,

I imagined I saw a true respect within that gaze, not caused by the

role she played, but she was so excellent an actress that I couldn't

be sure.

After that incident, the voting for best master or mistress

was merely a formality. I had it in the bag. Those who had witnessed

the incident spread the word throughout the gathering, the story

growing with each telling until it seemed I was some sort of Kung Fu

expert who had dispatched my assailant with lightning, head-high kicks

though I wore those incredible heels and tight skirt. It seemed that

each master or mistress in the hall needed to talk with me about

technique or ask for guidance while their slaves whispered to my

slaves with tones of envy. The time flew by and my feet began to hurt

from the extended time without rest. I couldn't really sit down while

Angel and Huntress were bound, though, since their bonds were too

restrictive for them to rest as well and for all that I was really

into my dominatrix role, still they were my lovers and I wouldn't

provide myself with pleasures that would keep me from staying attuned

with their condition. I had about decided to leave when a loud voice

came over the speakers.

"Masters and Mistresses, could I have your attention please.

Keep your slaves quiet as well, if you would, while we announce the

winners of tonight's contest. As those of you who regularly attend

our parties know, we typically identify the top three places for both

Master or Mistress and for slaves, based on your votes. The third

place winner gets a free entry into our next party for both owner and

slave, two if the same pair has won both contests. The second place

winners receive free admission for a year, including admission at the

parties of organizations with which we share our interests. Finally,

the first place winners each receive a thousand dollars, which we hope

will be used, in part, to provide entrance to our future contests."

The speaker was the inadequate 'Master Simon' who had tried to

fondle Angel when we entered. His slave was an overweight woman,

dressed in a too-tight outfit and bound with simple handcuffs. It

appeared they wanted to be part of this type of gathering, but had

neither the creativity nor the physiques to carry it off.

Nonetheless, they must have been willing to contribute the time to

organize it, so they were allowed their moment of glory.

"After we compiled the votes this evening," he continued, "we

found an unprecedented situation. With the exception of a very few

ballots which the judges are declaring to be spoiled and invalid,

every vote for master or mistress has been cast for a single person.

For best slave, there is essentially a tie, with all votes shared

equally between two slave women. Can you guess who the winners are?"

With his question, a cheer went up from the crown, which began

to chant, "Raven! Raven!" then added "Angel! Huntress!" as the second

part of the vote was considered. Some of those around us moved to

shake our hands, or clap us on the back, until a warning growl from

Huntress reminded them that we did not allow others to touch us. The

crowd surged back and a path opened up for us to the podium, where

Simon waited with a couple of handfuls of money.

However, when we reached the steps leading up to the dais,

Huntress gave a small whine of dismay, and Angel stopped, causing a

tug at the leash.

"Milady Raven," Angel cried softly, "we cannot climb these

stairs in our bonds."

I was frantically trying to figure out a solution, when a

couple of mistresses nearby recognized the problem and offered to

help. They unhooked the leashes on their masculine slaves who quickly

moved forward, ready to lift Angel and Huntress in their arms but

waiting for my permission to touch them. I nodded, then mounted the

stairs myself, careful not to reveal the secret hidden beneath my

skirt. In a moment, we were on the stage. The crowd cheered happily,

lifted by the demonstration in reality of an ideal that had previously

only existed in their fantasies. After a few minutes of bedlam, Simon

waved his arms to get the partygoers to quiet down.

"Since this situation has never occurred before, the officials

in your organization have decided on a special prize. First, the cash

awards have been increased to $1500 since there are no second or third

place prizes to be awarded. Angel and Huntress will have to share

their award, but we all recognize it is really Milady Raven's prize

anyway. Second, we are awarding Milady Raven free lifetime admission

to our parties, throughout the country, along with any slaves she

wishes to bring. All you slaves out there that like to come to these

occasions might want to see if Milady Raven is taking on any new

trainees."

At this, offers flew up from the crowd. I noticed that even

several of the mistresses were offering to become my slaves, and it

seemed like nearly every male in the audience wanted to please me.

Certainly all of the slaves were excited at the idea, for once not

reprimanded by their owners at speaking without explicit permission.

I let the enthusiasm build for a few minutes, the look of cool

amusement holding on my face as though this adulation was only to be

expected, then I reached for the microphone from Simon, who

surrendered it immediately. Even before I began to speak, the crowd

quieted, anxious to hear what I had to say.

"Sorry," I began, my dominant smile showing no sorrow at all,

"I'm not taking on any additional slaves . . . at this time."

My announcement caused an initial groan, then a resurgence of

interest as I dangled the hook of possible future opportunity.

"Besides," I continued, "I haven't seen anyone here tonight

that is in the same class as either Angel or Huntress. If I allowed

them to speak, they could tell you of unimaginable changes in their

lives since our relationship began," at this, my slaves nodded

enthusiastically, "but they were incredibly sensuous, vibrant, HOT

women before we started. You'll need to work on your own attitudes

before you will be worthy of training."

With that I handed Simon the microphone, took the cash, and

moved back toward the steps, my slaves trailing behind me on their

leashes. Their hobbled, scurrying steps reinforced the graceful sway

of my own beautiful form and a hush fell over the crowd as though they

were in the presence of a legend. I expected that they were. The

story of our appearance would undoubtedly circulate through the

bondage parties for years to come, whether we ever appeared to

reinforce it or not.

The slaves who had helped Angel and Huntress to the stage

reappeared to carry them down, forestalling an army of strong-limbed

men who had wanted to take their places. As soon as my slave girls

were on the floor of the hall their helpers stepped back and I began

to saunter toward the exit, haughtily disdaining any and all comments

tossed in from the sides of the aisle that had cleared for us. We

were escorted all the way to our car, so I couldn't release Angel and

Huntress from their bonds entirely. I merely released them from their

ankle hobbles to allow them to sit, their arms still fastened behind

them, placed the seat belts around them, then moved to the driver's

seat and entered myself. When I started the car, the crowd moved back

to provide us room and in a few minutes we were out of the parking

lot.

Chapter 25 - Raven Rules

"Goodness, it feels good to get off my feet," I exclaimed as

we pulled out of the parking garage. "How are you two doing?"

"Fine, Milady Raven," Angel replied.

Huntress merely nodded, the wild, excited look still in her

eyes, the hard buttons of her nipples still showing through the thin

slave dress.

I was about to offer to find some place to stop and remove the

rest of their bonds, ending the fantasy role-playing, but something in

the intensity of the look Huntress wore stopped me. Instead, I stayed

in character.

"Huntress," I ordered, "tell me your impressions of this

evening's adventure."

"I have never been so excited, so intensely alive, so totally

free in my life," she declared. "When you decked that pig I wanted to

attack him on your behalf. If I'd been unbound, I would have. I

would have clawed his eyes out and bitten his nose off. Never have I

realized how much I have had to stifle my innate drives in our

society. Tonight, for the only time in my life, I could give in to

them and allow them to course through my body, relying on your control

and my bondage to replace the self-control I could release. It was

incredible! I never wanted it to end."

"Wow!" I breathed. "That's pretty intense. Are you okay? I

would have thought that binder was hurting your arms and shoulders by

now."

"The adrenaline that's been flowing through me, still is for

that matter, keeps the discomfort bearable. In fact, it heightens the

experience, since it constantly reminds me of the lengths you need to

go to in order to keep me under control. It's wonderful."

"Angel, what about you?" I asked, wondering if she had enjoyed

the experience as well.

"I want to go back, and go again, and do this as often as

possible," she proudly declared. "Did you see the way everyone was

looking at me? I have never felt so desirable in all my life, even

though I know how much you want me. Hundreds of people were

positively drooling after me, wanting the pure innocence I projected

for themselves. Thanks to you, Milady Raven, when you were Brandy,

you showed me that I can be truly attractive, even sensuous, but I

wondered if your own desire was typical. Tonight I could feel the

need of those who looked at me, knowing that it was my body they

wanted since as a slave my mind was irrelevant. I have never felt so

alive, so beautiful, as when that man demanded to buy me!"

"But you, Milady Raven, you were incredible. So powerful, so

confident, so perfect!" she continued. "I never knew you had it in

you."

"I didn't either," I admitted. "But the character took me

over just like Brandy took over Ran. While I was in there, I was

dominant and would allow no rivals. It's a good thing we took extra

care with my own hidden binding, tonight, because I was HOT!"

"That's a fact," breathed Huntress. "All night I wanted to be

taken to bed by you, forced to pleasure you, forced to accept pleasure

from you. I need you, Milady Raven!"

"Me, too," Angel confirmed. "Make me your love slave for the

night. Please. I need you so!"

Their scent was filling the car again, flooding from each of

them and feeding on the heated breath we were all expelling. I tried

to decide on a suitably intense fulfillment of their expressed desire.

The key feature tonight had been public exposure as slaves. We could

always go back to our house and use the bungees in our bedroom, but

that was not the scenario for tonight. It would have to be public, or

at least risk becoming public. Yet it had to be compatible with

hobbles and high heels.

After a few minutes thought, the idea came to me. The lonely

hilltop rest area where Tanyon had attacked me would make a

dangerously exposed place for sex. Especially if we decided to visit

the little convenience store on the way to buy something, just for the

excuse to get out of the car in public. The slaves still wore their

masks, as I did, and we might look like robbers if we went in wearing

them, so they would have to be removed, revealing our real identities

within the store. With that plan in mind, I resumed my Raven

personality at full force. The first step in my new plan was to pull

of the freeway at a deserted rest stop. I got out of the car and

stepped around to the door where Angel was sitting, in the back seat

on the passenger side. With my help, she was soon out of the car and

standing on her high heels. I reattached the hobble chain, which left

her unable to bend over, then removed her white domino mask. Though I

was not nearly as strong as Rocky, nor even the men who had lifted

these slave girls onto stage at the party, I was still plenty strong

enough to lift Angel. I put one hand behind her knees and one behind

her back and lifted her up. As I bent her legs forward at the waist,

her ankles were drawn back by the chain from her wrists and neck.

When I placed her in the seat again, I turned her so that her heels

rested on the seat rather than the floorboard, providing room for her

knees. She couldn't stretch her legs out, but she was now completely

bound again and seated. In a moment, the seat belt was again about

her waist, trapping her bound arms behind her and it was Huntress's

turn.

I repeated the process with her, running the chain from the

ring on her red armbinder to her ankles. The flaring excitement and

intense energy in her eyes was even more noticeable when her own mask

was removed, then I pulled her around to the opposite side into the

back seat behind the driver. She was fastened in place facing Angel,

now also fully bound but able to sit in the car. Then I removed my

own mask and started driving again.

As I expected, raising their heels to the level of their seats

had caused the tiny skirts of the slaves dresses to fall back into

their laps, revealing their mounds. Huntress, as she had told us once

upon a time, was shaved smooth while Angel had a delicate blonde

fringe. Though they had seen and loved each other before, the display

they provided to each other in the car was more public and more forced

since they could not move away and it made them more vulnerable in

their exposure. Any trucker driving along might also get a direct

look at them, though the darkness would actually hide them quite well.

The road to the hillside rest area was on our way and we

reached it in much less than the hour it would have taken to get all

the way home. When we arrived at the convenience store, the same

matronly lady was attending the counter. She might even remember me,

probably would in fact, but that was part of the public aspect of the

visit. We would not be totally anonymous this time. I parked the car

and lifted each slave out in turn, not attaching their leashes this

time, but leaving them bound.

"All right," I said, "you can each pick out one drink, though

you won't get to drink it, yet."

With that I swung into the store, leaving them standing. The

automatic door opened before me and I proceeded to shop among the

merchandise, ignoring them completely. After a second of shocked

surprise, they followed me into the store, scurrying with short,

hobbled steps. The matronly operator came out from behind her

counter, demanding an explanation.

"What's going on here?" she tried to ask Huntress. Her only

reply was a disdainful snarl. When she repeated her question to

Angel, she received only silence. Finally, I walked over to her.

"We want to buy something to drink," I explained, as though

there were nothing else significant to comment on.

"What are those girls doing wearing chains?" she asked. "And

what's that thing on that one girl's arms?"

"They're shopping," I replied simply. "Huntress is wearing an

armbinder, to improve her posture and keep her out of trouble. Now,

we'll be making our selections and leaving, if you're through with

your questions."

"Release them at once," the kindly, confused lady demanded.

"Do you want to be released?" I asked my slaves.

"No, Milady Raven," they chorused.

"Then there's no problem, is there?" I asked the matron,

letting strength into my voice to stop her questions.

She retreated behind the counter, still looking darkly at me

and wonderingly at the bound women. The slave girls indicated their

soft drink selections, I added my own, and then we returned to the

car. Again I lifted each into her seat, letting the brief skirt fall

back to expose them, now more noticeable under the lights of the

convenience store parking lot. It was only a few minutes' drive and

we were back to the hillside rest area, not surprisingly deserted at

the late hour. Unlike the visit to the convenience store, this time

when I lifted the slaves from the car, I attached their leashes. They

followed me down the slight slope to the area with the park bench, the

scene of my long ago degradation. I had in mind repeating, at least

symbolically, Tanyon's attack on me, but with the crucial difference

of willingness on the part of the slaves, and with love among us all.

In this way, I hoped to bury my rape under a new experience of

sensual, mutual pleasure.

When we arrived at the bench, I tied off their leashes, then

removed my own jacket. My snug leather miniskirt followed, revealing

the tape that bound my own raging erection into obscurity. This

followed, then my thong bikini and my sword leaped into the night air,

anxious and hunting for prey. I stood there before my slaves, wearing

my shiny black corset and thigh-high boots, my hair tumbling in liquid

waves to my waist, a few strands idly waving in the delicate evening

breeze. That breeze provided me with an idea, and I reached to each

slave to pull the halter top down over her shoulders. The split

design, open to the navel anyway, easily went around their arms,

leaving their hard nipples exposed to the cool night air.

"Huntress, I believe it might benefit you to nurse Angel for a

while," I commented casually. This invitation, or at least

permission, was all that she needed. In a flash, she was sucking at

Angel's erect nipples, biting with more intensity than Angel was used

to. However, I let them go without comment, expecting that the pain

to Angel was minor and recognizing that this attack was correct for

the persona of Huntress.

It is always possible to stimulate milk production, though it

takes a prolonged period of attempted nursing to achieve it except

immediately after childbirth. Kelly and I had played around with the

idea of starting her flow and had dedicated fifteen or twenty minutes

to it, several times a day over the last week. I hadn't really

thought of using Huntress in that role until I saw Angel so

delightfully exposed, but it seemed like a natural follow on to my own

endeavors. I was surprised however, when Angel actually started to

flow a little, so was Huntress. She lifted her head, a drop of milk

visible on her lips, a look of pleased wonder on her face.

Since I was nominally in charge of this circus, I decided I

had the right to take advantage of the efforts of my slaves, so I

stopped Huntress before she could resume.

"That will do, Huntress, now stand quietly for a moment."

I bent to my golden blonde slave and started sucking intently

at her flaring nipple. The flow was slight, here at the start, and

thin but still definitely milk, warm and triggering a sense of

nourishment from before conscious memory. I indulged myself for a

little while at her first nipple, then set myself the pleasant task of

teasing flow from the second, a task which succeeded after a few

energetic minutes. Throughout this experience Angel had been

breathing heavily, caught up in the rapture of this new pleasure.

This one we would repeat.

"Now, slaves, which of you will I use first?" I mused, my eyes

warning them that I did not want any suggestions and that they should

therefore be silent. Nonetheless, each one begged to be used first

with their expressions, desire and need wafting strongly from each.

I sat at the bench and idly played with the leashes, teasing

them about my choice, finally selecting one to pull loose.

"Come, Huntress, you look hungry tonight. Feast on me for a

while," I directed as I pulled her by her leash to stand in front of

me. A downward pressure and she carefully squatted to her knees,

maintaining her balance in part by leaning back against the pressure

at her collar. Once she was down, I ran the chain of her leash

between my legs and under the bench.

"Wait just a minute, Huntress," I said, then untied Angel's

leash as well. I pulled her around behind the bench so that she faced

over my shoulder toward the kneeling red-clad slave, and then led

Huntress's leash between Angel's legs as well, putting the end of

Huntress's leash into Angel's bound hands behind her back.

"Angel, you will set the pace and depth for Huntress tonight.

Pull on her leash as necessary to guide her to her duty."

With that I leaned back, cradling my head between Angel's

beautiful tits and relaxed in expectation of my slave girls'

attention. Angel immediately began to work the end of the leash

through her hands until the tension began to draw Huntress toward the

tip of my sword. As soon as she was within reach, Huntress began to

lick at my erection, caressing the tip and then the base with her

moist tongue. I'm not sure if Angel wanted to keep Huntress from

doing too good a job, or was just so excited herself that her time

sense was distorted, but it seemed that Huntress had hardly begun to

lick at me when Angel tugged sharply on her leash. In response,

Huntress opened her glossy lips and took the tip of my cock into her

mouth. The two beautiful slaves began a steadily increasing rhythm,

drawing my cock into Huntress's mouth, then retreating. Angel watched

excitedly, her own breathing getting as ragged and intense as if she

were the recipient of the erotic ministrations of her slavemate.

Huntress was performing splendidly, willing and able to

provide incredible depth as the tension in her leash pulled her head

further and further onto my cock. If I had been the slave that night,

I would have been very happy to just allow myself to come from this

pleasant exercise, but I had further duties. When I could feel the

tension begin to build, I leaned forward and caught the short-haired

slave's head in my hands.

"That's enough for now. Angel, release her leash. Huntress,

stand up."

They followed my orders, or course, then I used Angel's leash

to pull her around to stand if front of me as well. I stood up

myself, then positioned Angel on her back on the bench, spreading her

knees on either side of the plank seat, though her ankle hobbles

forced them to close around the boards. Her chain was carefully

placed to allow her legs to bend without excessive tension at her

collar, though the same chain ran beneath her back as a constant

reminder of her bondage. She positioned her hands under the small of

her back where they were not under the load of her hips while I walked

over to tie her leash off on the far end of the bench, leaving her

unable to sit up even if she had been able to bend forward while

wearing her chains. Then I flipped up the brief hem of her skirt to

expose her glistening lower lips.

For this position, I unlatched one side of the hobble holding

Huntress's ankles and ran the chain around the outside of her hip so

that she could bend over. I positioned her so that she could lean

forward to reach Angel's exposed mound and had both slaves spread

their legs. Huntress immediately began to lick and suck at Angel's

shining jewel, while I moved behind Huntress with my own sword still

shimmering with the sheen provided by her talented mouth. Flipping up

Huntress's brief skirt, I joined with Huntress and began to rock

forward and back, the pressure driving Huntress and her busy tongue

deeply into Angel's clit. Still my slave girls did not speak, since I

had not given my consent.

I reached around Huntress and began to caress the hard nipples

of her small tits with my leather-gloved hands. In a few minutes, she

began to pant with frantic energy, signaling the first of our

successes for the evening. Angel was not far behind and it took all

my attention to keep from joining them while they shook together with

their shared pleasure. However, once Huntress quit shaking and

resumed her focused attention on Angel, I withdrew, provoking a quick

groan from her, instantly stifled.

My next arrangement took advantage of Huntress's unhobbled

ankles to walk her forward over Angel's face. My intention was

obvious and she quickly settled in to receive from Angel what she had

been so skillfully providing just moments before while I straddled the

bench to enter Angel. This time I intended to allow myself to climax,

though not until both of my slaves had achieved an additional burst of

pleasure as well. Both were primed and ready, though, and in only

minutes their excited moans were forced from their lips by the

pleasure exploding within their bodies. Though she was not spread

eagled with gentle tension as we did at home, Angel was just as

completely immobilized and her energy was forced back internally,

finding maximum intensity in those muscles surrounding my raging

erection. Her own climax demanded my own, which pumped into her with

unstoppable pressure.

When we could breathe enough to allow independent motion

again, I withdrew from my beautiful blonde slave and stood up.

"All right, Huntress, stand up again," I ordered. In a

moment, her ankles were again hobbled, her soft skirt draping just

long enough to cover her shaved feminine treasure if she stood

carefully, as she had been doing all evening. Before I released

Angel, I donned my own clothes, the thong bikini sufficient for my

diminished cock, at least for a while. My skirt followed, then my

jacket and I was again elegantly dressed. Only then did I release

Angel from the bench, though of course she still wore her bonds. I

led them up to the car by their leashes and put them into it again,

still exposed from the waist up by the movement of their halters down

around their arms..

This time our ride home was quiet, all of us spent by our

incredible experiences of the evening. When we finally reached home,

I first had both slave girls come into our house before releasing

them.

"So, Huntress, are you glad you agreed to come along with us

this evening?" I asked with a grin.

"Yes, Milady Raven, I would be your slave any time, any

place," she announced, the intensity in her agreement surprising me,

and herself also.

"Angel, are you satisfied as well," I asked.

In response, Angel crouched to her knees, her arms still

bound, the chain leading from her neck to her ankles forcing a careful

folding of her body to maintain the constrained length. When she was

doubled over her knees, her wrists close to her ankles, she leaned

forward to kiss, and then lick, my spike-heeled boots, showing through

absolute servitude her consuming desire for a repeat experience. Once

given the example, Huntress responded similarly and my two beautiful

slaves washed my boots with their tongues, happy in the release that

comes from surrendering control.

"That will be sufficient," I said. "Stand up."

They struggled back to their feet, a much more difficult

endeavor than kneeling but I wouldn't help them. I ordered them to

turn around with the mere twirling of a finger, and they each did a

quick about face.

The red leather armbinder must have been hurting Huntress's

arms by then, so I removed this first, even before I undid her ankle

hobbles. The rest of her bonds were quickly removed as well, leaving

her clad only in the thin, short skirt of her slave dress, the top

trailing down behind her waist. I removed Angel's bonds as well,

placing all the items into the satchels each had held when we began

our trip for the evening.

"You may lift your tops back into position now," I allowed.

They did so quickly, still standing at an erotic equivalent to

attention.

"All right," I said quietly, relaxing the commanding tone in

my voice for the first time in hours. "I'm Brandy again, and you are

Kelly and Billie Jo. Party's over, at least for now."

With the release of my authority, my beautiful lovers whirled

to me and began to kiss me exultantly, joyfully, with energy I would

have expected they had burned away hours ago.

"Billie Jo," Kelly asked, "would you like to sleep here

tonight? It's late and there's plenty of room. You've looked so

incredibly hot all evening that I just have to hold you close for at

least a little while."

Billie Jo nodded and we went to our bedroom. A few minutes

practiced work and we were out of our makeup and ready for bed, the

girls beating me since they had so much less to undress. Once again

our bed held a tangle of naked flesh, warm, comfortable, full of love

and lovers. Not a bad way to end a party.

Chapter 26 - Real Curves

When I woke the next morning, I noticed a small trickle of

milk from Kelly's full breasts. Once the flow was started she would

produce milk regularly as long as the demand remained. On the other

hand, it would dry up if not continually nursed. That was plenty of

incentive for me so I carefully leaned over and began to suck on her

erect nipple, pleased with an even greater flow of milk than the

previous night. Kelly murmured contentedly in her sleep, not quite

awake enough to realize what was feeling so good to her. However, my

motion had awakened Billie Jo who joined in at the other nipple as

soon as she realized what I was doing.

"This actually tastes pretty good," Billie Jo said while she

rested between slurps. By this time Kelly was awake and watching us.

"Really?" Kelly asked wistfully.

"Sure," I replied. "Here, taste for yourself."

With that I offered her own nipple to her lips, the

magnificent size of her bust allowing her to reach it easily. At

first she was reluctant, sensing it was somehow improper, but after

all we had been through it was clear that we would try almost anything

that was clean and hurt no one. Her lips began to work at her own

nipple and in a few seconds she began to suck her own milk, swallowing

it in the tiny sips that were generated.

"This does taste pretty good," she confirmed. "I might get

hooked on this."

Her grin was matched by the other two of us, Billie Jo looking

up from her own position nursing at a full tit herself.

"I seem to have lost my place in line," I complained.

"You already had your chance," Billie Jo laughed, but she

quickly returned to her pleasant breakfast to forestall any attempt I

might make to take her place.

I had indeed enjoyed several minutes of solitary sipping and

probably got as much as anyone since even Kelly's wonderful breasts

only held a finite amount. After a short while, the two women would

drain Kelly's supply and we would all have to wait until she

regenerated more.

While they completed their morning meal, I went to the

bathroom and cleaned myself up. I could cover most areas of my own

shaving, blessed naturally with only minimal back hair and faint arm

hair that didn't need shaving. Only the hairs surrounding my anus

were out of my reach, and I didn't need to do those every day. It

still took a while though, and when I returned to the bedroom, the

ladies were locked in a passionate embrace, the scent of women's

arousal hanging in the air.

"You started without me," I accused, provoking satisfied

smiles from the occupants of the bed.

"Yep," Kelly proudly declared. "Now we can both concentrate

on you."

With that promise she pulled me down on top of them and in a

few minutes I was on my back, being kissed madly by one hot woman

while another tried to suck my toes out through my cock. Every few

minutes they would switch positions, this time at their decision,

myself helplessly captured by the wild women in my bed. I kissed

whatever came in reach and was kissed all over my freshly shaved body.

Various warm and wet orifices captured my raging erection, finally

triggering a massive burst when I couldn't hold back any longer.

"Now, do you still want to complain about our plan for the

morning?" Billie Jo demanded with a chuckle.

"Mmm, I just want to try and think about breathing," I sighed

languidly. "You know, in, out, in, out. That takes about all the

mental power I can conjure up right now."

The ladies laughed and went off to take care of their own

morning cleanup, though I held Kelly back long enough to lace me

tightly into a dark red corset. I completed my makeup along with the

remainder of my dressing by the time they returned from the bathroom,

scrubbed and glowing. For this morning I had selected the

body-conscious red knit dress I had worn the day that I had decided to

be Brandy on a permanent basis, complete with the wide black belt and

choker accents. I was looking good, and feeling good, ready to take

on the world, especially with my two beautiful companions.

We allowed Billie Jo to lace Kelly into her own corset, which

she did with cheerful energy, but when Kelly turned around displaying

her spectacular figure, a frown appeared on Billie Jo's face,

accompanied by a sigh.

"What's the matter, beautiful?" I asked.

"That's just it," she sighed again. "Kelly is so beautiful,

but I might as well be a boy. Even you have a better figure than I

do."

"Well," I said gently, "mine is kind of artificial. If you

want a fake bust, we can arrange it."

"Not really," she sighed once again, falling into a habit. "I

really want to have bigger tits, not as spectacular as Kelly, maybe,

but I could have a lot less than her and still be a lot bigger than I

am."

I gave her a gentle hug and said to Kelly, "All right,

gorgeous, your business brings you in contact with the best

professionals in town. Who's the top cosmetic surgeon?"

"Dr. Erik Sanford," she replied without hesitation. "At least

for bust enhancements and other body changes. You're not thinking

about touching your pretty face are you, Billie Jo?"

"No," she replied. "I just want a more feminine figure."

"Then Dr. Sanford's your man," Kelly affirmed.

"There you are, Billie Jo. If you want a bigger bust, you

just have to do what it takes to get one," I said.

"Oh, I never thought about plastic surgery," she mused. "I'd

be too embarrassed."

"Why?" Kelly asked. "Be who you want to be. If there's

anything I've learned from the last few months, it's that the only

things to regret are those you don't try. Would you have believed how

much fun bondage is, if you hadn't tried it? Or men? Look, I'll go

with you to the doctor's office. If you get too uncomfortable, we'll

just leave."

Billie Jo looked at her thoughtfully for a few seconds, then

looked up at me. "Brandy, would you come with me? I could never

match Kelly's figure, it wouldn't look right on my body type, anyway,

but your shape is just about perfect for me. I'll go if you come with

me."

For some reason, going into a cosmetic surgeon's office was

both fascinating and frightening. This doctor would be an expert in

appearance and I felt vulnerable to exposure, perhaps ridicule. Yet a

part of my mind wondered if his expert opinion might be valuable in

enhancing or perfecting my own new identity. After a few moments

reflection of my own, I nodded to Billie Jo, agreeing to accompany her

for her consultation.

We went out to brunch, laughing and flirting with the guys we

met, but I decided to return home for that Sunday afternoon rather

than go shopping with the other girls. They wanted to get some

presents for Milady Raven, anyway, so they were just as happy that I

didn't go along. Instead, I spent the day at my computer, catching up

on the investment analysis I owed my clients. Working at home on my

own schedule was wonderful, but the work still had to get done

sometime, even if it allowed me the flexibility to shop during the

week or meet clients while I pretended to be two people. My typical

focus was on technology stocks, principally on the NASDAQ exchange,

and some of those tended to be quite volatile. I kept my client's

holdings diversified enough to keep the total risk under control, but

overall I took a fairly aggressive strategy which is how I managed to

outperform the big Wall Street firms. The price for that strategy was

increased risk, managed by watching the trends very carefully. I had

a knack for it, but it still took time and analysis.

Kelly and Billie Jo got home late in the afternoon and Billie

Jo decided to go to her own house and catch up on her chores, so Kelly

and I shared the evening together. Her tits were full again, so the

first course of our evening meal was provided by my buxom wife, a

surprisingly satisfying appetizer. The rest was a simple salad, more

enjoyable for an evening meal than something heavy, now that we were

used to it. Billie Jo didn't show for our walk that evening, but

Kelly and I worked off the calories of our meal in our usual way,

adding a few blocks to the path to compensate for the rich milk we had

added to our diets. While we were getting ready for bed, I noticed a

small trickle from Kelly's nipples, again, and again took advantage of

it. She seemed to be settling in to at least three meals a day.

"Which one do you want this time?" I asked with a grin.

"I think I'll take the left, if you don't mind," she replied

with mock seriousness.

In reply, I began to suck vigorously on her right nipple,

pulling tiny squirts of warm milk with each tug. While I enjoyed my

snack, I looked at Kelly, bent over her own nipple, her throat working

visibly to pull milk from her ready supply, her eyes closed in

enjoyment of the pleasurable sensations. In my mind, I flashed back

to a time before we had begun rebuilding our lives, remembering the

incipient sag of her heavier body, remembering our stolid, colorless

sex life, remembering my own conservative attitudes about what was

proper or enjoyable. Even though I was not cross-dressed at that

moment as we prepared for bed, the difference in my lean body from the

deterioration I had been facing before was as significant as the outer

clothes I now typically wore. And I would never have imagined nursing

at my own wife's tit, though now it seemed natural and appropriate.

What other assumptions had I made about my life that needed to be

reconsidered?

The next morning we had our liquid breakfast, then dressed.

Even though I would be visiting the doctor's office that day, I

dressed casually in my leather mini and midnight lace blouse rather

than in my women's suit. Of course, my towering heels and beautiful

makeup made even my casual clothes seem elegant and intensely

feminine. Besides, at that time I only had one women's suit. I had

ordered several more, mostly in conservative blues or grays, but one

in a deep wine-red. Each would need special tailoring to shorten the

skirt and allow for my unusual proportions, most notably especially

slim hips. The results would be worth it, as demonstrated by the suit

I did have, but they would take a while.

Kelly arranged the appointment for mid-morning, using her

business contact network to get us an early opportunity, then went to

her own business while I waited for Billie Jo to get ready. She

arrived in one of her old, conservative, long-skirted business suits.

"You're not going to wear that!" I exclaimed.

"Well, yes, I thought I would," she said timidly.

"Not a chance," I declared. "That was the old you, and the

new you doesn't wear clothes like that. No backsliding allowed.

We've made you so intensely feminine that everyone envies you. Be

proud! Now we're going to enhance your curves as well. Be prouder!

Now march!"

I took her by the arm and drug her back to her house, where we

chose her tight leather dress, suitably towering heels, and shining

gold loop earrings to match the ones I wore. I also made her enhance

her makeup to the standards and approach that Kelly had defined before

I would let her leave. We still made it for our appointment, mostly

because I drove in my new 300ZX and took full advantage of it's

performance, and a few minutes before our appointed time Billie Jo was

signing in. In return, she got a stack of paperwork to fill out which

we took over to a pair of seats in the waiting room. The doctor was

running behind, as usual, so we had plenty of time to complete the

forms, mostly establishing financial accountability since most

insurance plans wouldn't pay for purely cosmetic enhancements.

Finally, a nurse called out her name and Billie Jo rose to

follow her. I stayed seated, expecting to wait for her there, but

Billie Jo grabbed my arm.

"Come on," she demanded, "you said you'd go with me."

"Don't you want to see the doctor alone?" I asked.

"Not on a bet!" she declared. "If you won't come with me, I

won't go."

As I stood to follow her, my own breath started to get a

little tight, even beyond the constriction caused by my corset. I

would be under the gaze of expert specialists. If anyone could

penetrate my impersonation of a woman, it would be the doctor or one

of his experienced nurses. However, I had promised so I was

committed.

The nurse waiting at the doorway looked us both over as we

approached. A mirror in the waiting room caught my eye, and I

realized for the first time how much alike Billie Jo and I were.

Without Kelly as a constant distraction, pleasant though she was, I

was able to absorb a little more clearly the similarities between

Billie Jo and myself. We both had lean body types, as I had already

recognized, but I hadn't noticed before how close we were in height as

well. With our towering heels we were both about six feet tall,

accentuating the leanness of our long legs and trim hips. My own

facial bone structure was too strong for a sense of delicacy, not too

different from the spare angularity of Billie Jo, and the makeup

design created for each of us by Kelly's genius worked to soften our

structure. As a result, our faces tended toward the same image. Of

course our clothing style was also similar, with dangerously short

skirts and impossibly tall heels. About the only major difference was

in our hair, mine falling in a glorious cascade to my waist, while

Billie Jo's was cut boyishly short. I hadn't considered us as a pair

until Billie Jo insisted that I accompany her to the examining room,

but once I did I realized we looked like sisters, maybe not in detail,

but certainly as a first impression.

After the single appraising glance as we approached, the nurse

treated us as though there were nothing unusual at all. That probably

was a little forced, since we were certainly an unusual pair even

without the slightest suspicion of just how unusual I was personally.

Our dramatic, sensual clothing style, coupled with striking beauty,

separated us from the ordinary in any situation. Nonetheless, the

nurse seemed to be buying my secret without question, which made me

feel a little better as she escorted us into a standard examining

room.

In a few minutes the doctor entered, young (about our age),

brisk, smiling broadly, reading the notes that had been handed to him.

"Hello!" he said, then looked up from his notes in surprise to see two

women in the room. "Which of you is Miss Doggett?"

Billie Jo nodded while I simultaneously pointed at her. The

doctor's eyes lingered for just a second on me, a quizzical expression

flickering momentarily, before he turned to Billie Jo.

"Well, it's obvious you don't need any facial work," he

complimented her, "and liposuction is just as unnecessary. Whatever

could you need my services for?"

She smiled at his cheerful flattery, but blushed brightly,

embarrassed to start. Billie Jo's eyes pleaded with me to help her

out. I arched an elegant eyebrow at her to confirm that she wanted me

to speak, provoking a sharp nod before she ducked her head to stare at

the floor.

"Billie Jo is my neighbor," I started to explain, noticing

another quizzical expression when the doctor's attention returned to

me as I spoke. What was wrong? I wondered. Could he see through my

appearance to the man within my clothes? I tried to fight down my own

blush, knowing that obvious embarrassment might confirm his

suspicions, if he had any, but I knew at least a little heat was

showing in my cheeks.

"She would like a more feminine shape, specifically some

enhancement to her bust. You have an excellent reputation and she

wanted to hear what you might recommend."

"Can she talk?" Dr. Sanford asked with a grin as he tried a

little humor to reduce the tension in the room.

"Yes, Doctor," Billie Jo said quietly. "Brandy explained it,

though. I want to look more like a woman, more shapely."

"Let me offer you my first bit of advice, then. Don't do

anything. You are wonderfully pretty. If you insist on a bigger

bust, get some good breast forms, they can be quite convincing, but

don't be dissatisfied with the appearance you already have that only

one woman in thousands can match."

Did his eyes flicker toward me for just an instant as he

talked about breast forms? The heat wouldn't leave my cheeks as I

began to interpret every word and gesture the doctor made as

confirmation that he had seen through my cross-dressing.

"No," Billie Jo insisted. "I want real breasts that will

still be there when I'm undressed. I've recently been through a

complete makeover, clothes, cosmetics, even my love life, and I want

to be more pleasing to my partners."

At her comment on love life, her eyes had momentarily rested

on me, just long enough to ignite a fire in her cheeks to match the

one she sparked in my own. The doctor noticed, of course, I felt it

was bright enough to set off the sprinkler system, but he didn't

comment directly.

"Do you please your partners, now?" he asked, speaking to her

but looking at me.

Before I could stop myself, my head had bobbed in a minuscule

nod, answering two questions for the price of one.

"Yes, I think so," Billie Jo said, "but I want to be more

feminine. This is important to me, Doctor, important to my image of

myself."

"Well, that is the most important issue. My job is to help

people feel better about themselves. Even though you are already

uniquely beautiful, I can help you to be more conventionally feminine.

You will need to remove your dress for my examination. I'll step

outside for a second if you prefer, or call my nurse."

"No, that's all right," Billie Jo smiled, grateful for his

positive attitude and confidence, "you can stay, and Brandy can be our

chaperone."

She turned to me for help with her laces and I quickly

loosened them enough for her to slide the dress down over her slender

hips. Under the dress she had worn a shimmering satin garter belt to

hold her stockings, and a tiny g-string, nothing else. Though the

doctor was a professional, used to seeing unclothed bodies, the

exuberant, erotic sensuality of Billie Jo's underwear, what there was

of it, took his breath away. A flush lit his own cheeks for a change,

and a bulge showed in his pants.

Billie Jo was essentially flat-chested, only her large nipple

points, blatantly displayed to be excited and erect, changed the

appearance of her chest from that of a trim, athletic boy. The tiny

g-string left no doubt that she was a woman, but above the waist the

evidence was underwhelming.

"Hmm, excellent nipple arousal," the doctor gently mused.

"Yes, I can help you. I need to ask you a few intimate questions,

though."

At Billie Jo's nod he continued, "How often do you have sexual

relations? When you do, do your juices flow well? Do you usually

achieve climax? I ask these things to determine whether hormone

therapy should be part of your treatment."

Billie Jo confirmed an active, fulfilling sex life, the blush

on both our faces providing supporting evidence.

"Okay, then, hormones won't help much. It will need to be a

constructive enhancement. How big do you want to be?" he asked,

smiling gently to encourage an honest response.

"Well, I think I would look sort of . . . unbalanced . . if I

were a D size," she allowed as she dressed. "I was thinking maybe a

C-cup."

"Good, a wise choice," the doctor confirmed. "I can see

you've thought this through pretty well. In a couple of minutes I'll

have a nurse bring you a book of shapes to look at. Don't be

embarrassed, you'll be picking out the new you, so you need to choose

carefully, and proudly. However, I wonder if I could ask you to step

out of the room for just a minute. I would like to talk with your

friend."

He looked directly, searchingly at me when he made his last

request and my heart sank into my toes. He knows! I though to

myself. What is he going to say? When Billie Jo closed the door

behind her, the doctor looked at me again, but this time I could see a

hint of embarrassment in his manner.

"Um . . Brandy is it? . . .I wonder if I could ask you to do

something for me. Would you undo the collar of your blouse, and show

me your neck?"

The fire that lit in my cheeks would surely consume my hair,

if it didn't burn me out from the inside first, I thought as my

fumbling fingers tried to comply with his request. For the first

time, a man had penetrated my image. Both Tanyon and Rocky had needed

a revelation, through removing my wig, to recognize the man within my

clothes but this expert doctor realized the truth even without a

breach in my disguise. Dr. Sanford took gentle pity on me and moved

to help me with the small buttons on the back of my collar. I held my

heavy mane out of the way while he undid the buttons, then turned to

face him.

My Adam's Apple, never really prominent, was nonetheless

unmistakable. He looked at it for just a second, then twirled his

finger in the air to indicate I should turn around again. Silently, I

held my hair away from the top of my lace blouse while he redid the

buttons, then let it fall. I stood staring at the far wall,

embarrassed, deflated, confused. Why had he done that? What did he

want? What would he say?

"You are incredible," was his soft comment as he tugged on my

shoulder to get me to face him again. "In all my experience, I have

never seen such a beautiful transformation. If your neck had been

showing I wouldn't have suspected a thing, but the elegance of your

clothes, including the high collar, triggered a nagging itch in the

back of my mind when I looked at you. I know how hard it is to hide

that male larynx, so I decided I had to know. Honestly, I was fully

prepared to find only a smoothly feminine neck. If you had turned out

to be a real woman, I could have made some excuse to cover a simple

request about your collar, but I couldn't take the chance of asking

you right out, your image is too perfect."

"Thank you, Doctor, I try. But it wasn't perfect enough. You

saw through it."

"Please, call me Erik. Like I said, not really. I had a

small suspicion and picked a way to check it out that would prevent

embarrassment if I were wrong. Otherwise, you're too beautiful for

anyone to doubt your femininity."

"Tell me," he continued, "who trained you to be so

convincing?"

"No one, really. My wife did my makeup and helped me with

clothes and walking in high heels. Mostly I guess I just pay

attention to what women do."

"Is Billie Jo your wife?" he asked.

"No, she's my next door neighbor. She recognized what was

going on while I was still in transition, and has been part of my

secret ever since."

"You make a beautiful pair. . . hmm . . . make a beautiful

pair. How serious are you about living as a woman?" he asked, an idea

visibly shining through his excited eyes.

"I don't want to give up my cock, if that's what you're

asking," I said in alarm.

"No, not at all," he assured me, "but I could help you with

your Adam's Apple, and enhance your bust as well. If I gave you a

nice set of B-cup breasts, you could still bind them under a tight

undershirt when you wanted to be a man. The absence of a visible

larynx on a man is not as noticeable as the presence on a woman. I

could also permanently remove your face and body hair."

"Really?" I mused in a dreamy way, visions of doing away with

the unpleasant aspects of my real gender while retaining that "special

ability" I had to bring Kelly pleasure. Then I thought of a "special

ability" that Kelly had to receive pleasure and wondered if I could

share in that as well.

"Um . . . Doctor . .uh . . Erik, if you built up my breasts,

could you give me real nipples, too?'

"Not artificially, that doesn't work," he said to my

disappointment. "But I could give you hormones to cause your own

nipples to bud and grow naturally. If we regulate the dose carefully

there won't be any degradation in your ability to achieve and sustain

an erection, though you may find that your member is a little less

likely to grow without direct stimulus or focused desire. Actually,

that will make it easier to hide until you're ready for it. The

hormones will also help you with your voice, though you don't really

need any help. You have one of the most beautiful, musical women's

voices I have ever heard."

I smiled at him with thanks for his compliments, but my mind

was still soaring at the opportunities he was dangling before me.

Here was a whole new pinnacle in my transformation, if I chose to

pursue it. It would be the first time I did anything irreversible to

enhance my femininity. His suggestions brought back the exhilaration

I had experienced, the exciting combination of fascination and fright

that had consumed me when I started my active cross-dressing. For

that alone I owed this handsome man a debt of gratitude.

"Thank you, Erik," I said, smiling tenderly at him, trying to

convey my gratitude. "You've given me hope that I might achieve more

of my dreams than I ever thought possible. Even that hope is a

special gift, and I truly appreciate it. Thank you so much."

In the course of my statement of appreciation, I had moved

closer to him, intending only a warm hug of gratitude and friendship.

When my arms slid around his waist for that hug, however, I had to

look up at him in order to see his face as I spoke to him. Visions of

fulfillment were flowing through the back of my mind, and I realized

too late that my eyes had a soft, dreamy look as well, one that was

sensuous and inviting. My realization came too late because before I

roused from my daydreams and truly focused on him, his arms had

surrounded me and his lips were hungrily seeking the ruby ones I had

raised toward him. Perhaps not too late, though, perhaps just right,

for his kiss reconfirmed my essential, sensual femininity, recovering

any loss of confidence brought about by his penetration of my

disguise.

"Why Doctor, do you treat all your patients that way? If so,

that may be your most convincing argument, yet."

"No, I'm sorry," he said, "you just looked so desirable that

. ."

"Please, Erik, don't apologize. It doesn't do my ego any good

for people to be sorry they kissed me."

"No, it's not that, it's just that . . ."

"It never is," I sighed, "but I always seem to make men sorry.

How about if we just start over, only this time without being sorry."

He was only too happy to accept my invitation and for a

timeless moment he made me feel as feminine as anyone had done since

Rocky had left. I was going to have to remember this aspect of being

a woman.

While still deeply entrenched in each other arms, our tongues

dueling back and forth, advancing in passion, retreating in

invitation, Billie Jo walked back into the room.

"What's taking so long? Oops!" she said, then giggled.

"Come on in," I invited, "the doctor was just trying to

convince me to sample his wares."

"Indeed," she grinned, "and what wares might those be?"

"Well, to begin with it was cosmetic surgery, but somewhere in

there he seemed to up the ante," I teased.

Dr. Sanford blushed furiously, then recovered himself to a

proud, determined attitude.

"Well, you beautiful creature, I'm not about to fall into the

trap of apologizing again. This time it's your fault. I'll send the

nurse in directly, with two books."

His grin as he set the hook for his plan seemed to transmit

the flush from his cheeks to mine, but he was gone before I could

protest.

"Two books?" Billie Jo repeated.

"Dr. Sanford suggested some enhancements for me, as well," I

admitted. "Tell me, Billie Jo, do you think I should? That would be

a mighty big step. Not everything would be reversible."

"Why would you want to reverse them. Aren't you happy to be

Brandy?"

"Absolutely," I affirmed, the intensity of my emotion

surprising me. I realized that I could never go back to being Ran,

except for isolated, absolutely required, special occasions I would

make as short as possible. Somehow that blunt question resolved the

issue in my mind and I knew I would have to embark on this new,

fascinating journey.

A nurse brought in two notebooks full of "before" and "after"

photos of enhancements Dr. Sanford had performed. He was clearly an

artist, his creations were smooth, graceful, shapely, beautifully

symmetric. Both books showed "before" images of lean, flat-chested

bodies, since that was the body type that Billie Jo and I shared, but

the "after" pictures in her book were definitely larger than those in

mine.

"What about this shape for me?" she asked.

"I don't know," I replied, looking at the picture she was

pointing toward. "That shape is a little too rounded for you. I

think the person in that picture must be shorter than you are. You

have to do what you think is best, but I would recommend a little more

pointed shape, more like this one."

She looked where I was now pointing, nodding her head

thoughtfully. I was considering the same things as I looked in the

pictures in my book. However, I also had to look at it with the

consideration of a shape I could conceal if I needed to, and also one

that would be correct for the shape of the clothes I already had,

though the doctor had correctly realized that my clothes were tailored

for a B-size bust. In the end we selected similar shapes, not too

different from the one I had pointed to in her book. That didn't

surprise me as much now that I realized how essentially similar we

were in looks. Nonetheless, her selected form was rounder, fuller

than mine, just enough to move her into a larger cup size as she

desired.

"What now?" I asked.

Billie Jo shook her head, "I don't know.

As though responding to a cue, a few seconds later the doctor

came back in.

"How did you know we were ready for you?" I demanded,

wondering if his rooms were bugged, and if my secret were broadcast

all over the office.

"Relax," he assured me, "when I passed by the room I listened

for comments. You can't tell what's being said, but you can hear

voices. When yours died down, after about the right amount of time, I

knew you must be done. I've done this before, you know."

"Oh, right," I said, embarrassed at my suspicions.

"Now, let me see what you've chosen," he suggested.

We pointed out the shapes we thought best and he confirmed our

choices as correct for our basic body shape.

"Good," he said, "you've chosen wisely again. I sometimes

have to try and talk someone out of something inappropriate, but I

like it if someone chooses something that will work. That shows you

really understand what you're trying to achieve and confirms that

you're ready for the commitment."

His last comment was directed at me, since I had not actually

agreed to any enhancements at all. It was question as much as

statement, but it was a strong recommendation as well. I found myself

nodding my head, still not entirely sure where I was heading, but

determined to complete the path I was embarking on.

"All right!" he said enthusiastically. "Now we just need to

set a schedule. Brandy, we'll take care of both your procedures at

the same surgery, but I recommend that you take care of your hair

removal first. That will take a few visits to the office here, spaced

over about a week, and you'll need to not shave the affected areas for

at least a day ahead of time. I expect that means you'll want to do

your face, first. Why don't we handle that, then take you both to the

hospital for your bust enhancements?"

We nodded again, now under his control almost as thoroughly as

Angel and Huntress had followed Milady Raven. I realized I hadn't

even talked with Kelly about this, but I knew she would approve. I

would have to remind her, the next time she made some comment about

being too short or something, that she hadn't needed any enhancements

at all beyond attractive clothes. She was the most perfect woman of

us, just as she was. We were just going to narrow the difference a

little.

Chapter 27 - No Turning Back

When I explained to Kelly what I had committed to do, I was a

little afraid this would be too much for her. Everything I had done,

everything we had done together had been interesting and pleasurable,

but we could always turn back if things got too intense. Cosmetic

surgery, even as simple as permanently removing my beard, was a step

of an entirely different character. If someday we finally tired of

our lifestyle and wanted to try something different or just wanted to

ease up on the intensity in our lives, we would still be forced to

maintain the path we found currently interesting. I explained all

these considerations to her as I was winding down my description of

the changes I was considering, when she interrupted me.

"Oh, stop, you silly fool. You know you want to do this. And

I want you to do it, too. I can't imagine ever being satisfied with

boring old Ran again, at least not as an exclusive diet. I'm more

interested in the next time you're Milady Raven. Go for it,

beautiful, you deserve it."

That magic phrase, telling me I deserved it, was just as

convincing to me as it had been to Billie Jo so long ago. I guessed

if we could afford it, and it hurt no one, we did deserve to add

excitement and pleasure to our lives. The commission from Rocky alone

would pay for all the procedures, and I would have never gotten that

money in the first place if Brandy had never existed.

That night we went out to dinner, inviting Billie Jo along to

describe her own plans. Our restaurant was the one where the geek had

dropped his spoon in order to see up our dresses and we were giggling

happily as we went to our table. No geeks were around that night, but

the same manager was there. He came over to say hello and again

offered us free drinks. Later that evening Billie Jo and I had a

delicious dessert from Kelly's overflowing milk supply, a delicacy I

shared with Kelly for breakfast the next morning. However, also that

next morning I skipped shaving, sadly dressed in Ran's clothes, and

removed my long, glamorous fingernails.

"Dear Ran, don't be sad," Kelly consoled me, "it's only

temporary. Just a few weeks ago it was Brandy that was time-limited.

Now, you'll just have to wait a while and she'll be more beautiful

than ever."

I turned to her in appreciation, but she was holding her own

corset out to me. I'm sure she didn't even realize what she was

doing, but the thought of her in her beautiful, flattering clothes

while I wore a suit and tie just as I had done before we started on

our odyssey was even more sharply disappointing. I sighed and helped

her into it, more anxious now than ever to get through this latest

hurdle.

The last extended time as Ran was busy, though. I hurried to

meet my clients, explaining that in the future they would primarily be

dealing with my sister, Brandy. I signed before notaries to give

Brandy power of attorney for all my dealings, along with Kelly, and

took care of the multitude of business things that needed face-to-face

attention.

Beginning on the second day I reported to Dr. Sanford's office

for my hair removal treatments. He used a laser procedure that

literally exploded the roots of the hair follicles, limited only by

the visibility of the stubs of hair. This was why he needed at least

a day or two of growth, and would need some follow-up visits to remove

the hair follicles that just happened to be missing at any one time as

individual hairs moved through their life cycle. The first day

removed the hair from my cheeks and chin, ensuring I would never again

need to worry about five-o'clock shadow. My legs and chest followed a

few days later, then my remaining body hair except for a small fringe

kept for accent around my masculine package. The procedure was not

really painful, more of a sharp twitch like plucking an individual

hair than like an overall burn, though the treated skin did get a

little puffy for a day or two, and the doctor warned me to stay out of

the sun until it was normal again.

The day I took the last laser treatment, at least for the

first pass, I dressed as Brandy and reported back to our favorite nail

parlor for a new set of fingernails. Then we kidnapped a laughing

Billie Jo and went to dinner, our beautiful trio reunited.

"Well, tomorrow's the big day," Kelly smiled.

"Yes," I said quietly, thinking about the importance of this

step.

"Yes!" Billie Jo exulted. "I hope to tell you it's seemed

like a long wait for you, Brandy. I've been pumped about this since

the day we talked with the doctor."

"I am too, really," I smiled. "But it's certainly a big

step."

"Not really," she giggled, "you're only going to be about a

medium, and I won't be much bigger. Kelly is the only size large

around here."

"By the way," Billie Jo whispered, "how do you take care of

your milk during the middle of the day. I'm sure Brandy helps in the

morning and evening, but don't you get sort of full around noon."

"Uh huh," Kelly admitted with a blush, "but I sort of take

care of that myself."

"You've been holding out on me," I accused her, smiling to

take any heat out of my claim.

"No way," she denied, "I'm just making sure that the flow

keeps adequately stimulated."

"Stimulated is right," I said. "I've seen you when you're

sucking your own milk. No baby ever showed so much pleasure."

"That's because no baby ever got to enjoy both sides of the

experience," Kelly said, a dreamy look in her eyes as she remembered

the thrilling feeling of nursing herself.

"By the way," she continued with a grin sparking in her eyes,

"you'll both be able to experience it yourself, in a little while."

"I hadn't thought of that," Billie Jo said breathlessly, some

of the implications of larger tits only now becoming apparent.

"Yep," Kelly laughed, "all it takes is determination and tits

big enough to reach with your own lips. You'll both be that big in

just a week or so. I'll help you get started."

The thought made Billie Jo's nipples perk up through the thin

top she wore. My reaction was hidden, but definitely there as well.

I had taken the doctor up on his offer of hormones, starting them when

I had visited for my first hair removal treatment. I wouldn't give up

my ability to achieve an erection just for a feminine appearance,

since I already had that, but I certainly wanted both experiences if I

could have them.

"One of these days," Kelly chuckled, pointing at Billie Jo,

"Brandy's nipples are going to perk up like that, when she gets hot."

That really got me excited, thinking for a minute I already

showed through my own top. My arousal might have been subtle, yet, on

my nipples, but my arousal in my masculine package was already to the

painful stage. I had gotten used to tight constraints on my manhood,

wearing the obscuring tape most of the time now, but the intense

thrill that ran through me at the thought of my own sensitive nipples

becoming erect resulted in an equally intense need. It was clear that

the feminine hormone treatment hadn't adversely impacted my masculine

potency, at least not yet. In fact, I might step up the dosage just

for the relief from my pulsing physical desire.

"Look who's shameless now," I grumbled. "You're just teasing

us because you came naturally equipped with features we've only

dreamed about. Just wait until we have our own treasure chests to

celebrate."

"Yeah," Kelly grinned, "I'm just taking advantage of it while

it lasts. It won't be long now!" I looked at Billie Jo, the feeling

of similarity stronger than ever.

"Have you ever noticed how much alike Billie Jo and I have

become, at least in looks?" I asked Kelly.

"Now that you mention it, you do look almost like sisters. If

Billie Jo had longer hair to draw attention away from the small

differences in your cheekbones and the lines of your chin, you could

pass for sisters for sure. Why do you ask?"

"Maybe just for the reason you hinted at. Billie Jo, why do

you keep your hair so short?"

"It's easier when I exercise. I've always been so focused on

physical fitness that I tend to get impatient with the time it takes

to care for long hair."

"Then you need to get a wig like I did," I suggested. "I

actually have two now. Kelly got me another one so I can always have

one ready to go while I'm washing or styling the other. It works

fine, once you get used to the weight, though it can be a little warm

under the wig cap."

"You're probably right," Billie Jo said, not really catching

on to where I was heading. Maybe I didn't know either.

"I was just thinking how much fun it would be to pretend to be

sisters, somewhere. I don't exactly know where, yet, but there must

be some occasion where it would be interesting."

"Maybe I could be Milady Halo, and you two could be a matched

pair of slaves for me," mused Kelly.

Billie Jo gasped at the thought, her excitement again shouting

silently through the material of her blouse. I wasn't so sure,

myself. Being Raven had been fun, but being a slave was not as

interesting to me.

"Come on, give it a try," Kelly urged. "I haven't steered you

wrong, yet."

"We'll see," I stalled. "We haven't even begun to explore

Raven, Angel and Huntress, yet. Let alone a new trio."

"Make you a deal," Kelly offered, "We'll wait until your tits

pop up when you're excited, just like a good slave girl's should, but

when they do, you owe me a night as a slave."

Billie Jo caught my eyes with her own and I realized how much

she wanted this fantasy. She said softly, "Please, Brandy, do this

for me. I really enjoyed being a slave with Angel, but the idea of

being part of a matched pair calls to me. Maybe, for once, I won't be

as lonely as I suddenly realized I've always been. Wherever we go,

I'd be part of a pair, never alone, not completely different from

everyone around me. It would mean so much to me."

"You're a beautiful woman," I countered. "You should be proud

of how uniquely attractive you are."

"I am," she said, "but I also feel so isolated some times."

She sighed sadly, giving up on convincing me, though she

already had. I didn't think I'd particularly enjoy the experience,

but in a fundamental way Billie Jo was my sister as well as my lover.

I would do just about anything for her, even if Kelly hadn't already

requested it. There was no way I'd turn them both down.

"Okay, beautiful, for you, and for Kelly," I said, bringing a

happy smile to both faces. "Once I can really pass for a woman

without a corset, including popping nipples, I'll be a slave for an

evening. But Kelly, dear, remember, Milady Raven will return someday,

and I have a vivid imagination."

Kelly grinned for a second, but then she caught the truth

lurking within my jest and blushed, her own nipples visible through

her dress and the cups of her hidden corset, not sure what she wanted,

either as mistress or slave.

The next day, Billie Jo and I checked into the hospital

together. By prior arrangement I had the doctor's permission to be

Brandy for the time we were in the hospital so we had a double room

waiting. We were both a little nervous, me more than Billie Jo, when

Kelly kissed us each good night before leaving for home. That evening

after getting ready for bed Billie Jo and I talked for a long while,

growing closer, gaining a better understanding of each other's hopes

and dreams. She had really had a lonely life, and as I drifted off to

sleep I thought about how lucky I had been to find Kelly, not for the

first, nor even the millionth time.

In the morning they wheeled me into surgery. I wasn't

supposed to talk for a few days, my throat hurt anyway, and I had to

communicate by writing on a notepad. The bulge of bandages around my

chest looked enormous, but I wondered how much of it was bandage, and

how much was me, the new me, the shapely me with real curves. On the

third day I asked for a real bath, to get as clean as possible, before

the doctor arrived for his regular visit.

"Kelly," I wrote, " when I get back I want you to help me to

the bathroom, and get my nightgown ready. I want to be cleaned up, as

beautiful as only you can make me, and dressed like a lady when the

doctor gets here. He can pull the top of my nightgown down as readily

as he can open this stupid hospital gown."

"Brandy," she replied, "I think you should take it easy."

I smiled as I wrote the next message, but I also gave her a

strong scowl for emphasis when I handed it to her.

"Angel, you WILL do as I say. Signed: Milady Raven."

She laughed and handed the slip of paper to Billie Jo, who

joined her in a giggle that was definitely not appropriate for

well-behaved slave girls. I had to smile as well, recognizing my

inability to enforce my orders. But when I got back from my bath,

Kelly complied with my wishes anyway. It felt so good to be pretty

again, with my face done, my glamorous gown on, and my hair flowing

down my body. I must have made up two days on my recovery in an

instant. There was a single comfortable chair in our room so I donned

my high-heeled slippers and the negligee that went with the nightgown,

then sat down, arranging a scene for the doctor's visit. I practiced

getting up a few times until I could do it with Brandy's casual

gracefulness, then draped my beautiful hair over my shoulder and

crossed my legs, letting the peignoir fall open so that the sheerness

of a single layer of the material could reveal their shapely length.

"I don't believe it," was Dr. Sanford's first comment when he

entered. "Who told you that you could get out of bed? Or wear a

nightgown rather than the hospital gown?"

"She insisted," explained Kelly. "She's really doing pretty

well."

"I'll be the judge of that," he said grumpily, but I could

tell he was pleased with my determination to get better, also that he

was impressed with my looks. He hadn't looked in on us the night

before our surgery, and I hadn't been at my best (to say the least)

during surgery. I was glad to remind him of how pretty I could be,

when I was allowed to be.

I stood up with practiced grace and sauntered to the bed,

letting the swing necessary when wearing heels demonstrate itself

through the orbit of my hips, accented by the rippling flow in the

soft material of my gown. I passed the doctor and reached the bed,

still facing away from my audience, and untied the ribbons holding the

negligee in place, letting it fall from my shoulders to my hips before

I swept it around before me. Once it was out of the way, my legs were

fully revealed through the sheer material, the globes of my ass held

high with the posture forced by the elegant heels, the thong bikini I

wore disappearing into the laces at the waist of the gown. My little

show was rewarded by two gasps of interest from behind me, one in the

light, silvery tones of Kelly, one in the deeper resonance of the

handsome doctor. After the briefest of pauses for emphasis, I turned

to sit on the bed, allowed my slippers to fall from my feet, and swung

my legs up, taking care to pose them carefully on the bed and making

no move to pull the covers over them. My bust might not have been too

attractive right then, all bound up in bandages, but my legs had

always been excellent, and a girl has to use what tools she has.

The nightgown was really only held up by the collar, at least

down to the corset-like laces just above the waist, so Dr. Sanford was

able to uncover my chest even easier than if I had worn a hospital

gown. I hoped he would remove the bandages so I could see what he had

accomplished, but he just checked them for seepage and when he was

satisfied that they weren't hiding a problem, he left the dressings

alone. His examination of my neck took little longer, the smaller

bandages clearly hiding no unpleasant surprises.

"Listen, Brandy," he warned me. "You won't get better if you

rip out my beautiful work by moving around too soon. And go ahead and

take some pain medication if you're hurting. There's no need to

suffer. It won't make that much difference in how fast you recover."

I looked down while he spoke, trying to appear contrite, but I

also grinned at him to show that I was just as stubborn as he could

be. I hadn't tried to talk, yet, since I was paranoid about losing

Brandy's musical voice if I strained my new vocal apparatus too soon,

but I was also determined to show him I was well on the way to

recovery. Billie Jo was a lot less aggressive about her own recovery,

but was doing well. Of course she had only her chest bandaged.

Thinking about that reminded me of the bandages at my neck, and I

touched it lightly with one elegant hand, catching the doctor's eyes

with my own.

Dr. Sanford smiled and said, "Perhaps we can let you talk a

little. I tried a new technique on you, let me see if it worked."

With that cryptic comment, he removed the bandages from my

neck. Kelly quickly gave me a hand mirror, so that I could see the

external results of his expertise. My neck looked slender and

elegant, with no trace of an unsightly masculine bulge, even when I

leaned my head back and swallowed at the doctor's orders. There was

only a thin line from the incision, hardly more than a scratch.

"Good," he said with satisfaction. "I used a special adhesive

to close the incision, to minimize any scar. The technique isn't

strong enough for bust enhancements, since that skin has to stretch to

cover the increased volume, but it works very well on reductions like

your neck received. It may heal without a mark at all, and if there

is a small one your obvious talents with cosmetics should be more than

sufficient to hide it."

He continued with further orders, "Now, I don't want you to

try and speak whole sentences, but I want you to say 'Ah' in a natural

tone."

"Ah," I said, then smiled like sunlight breaking through

clouds at the pure, musical tone of my voice. It was at least as

beautiful as I had achieved by softly singing each tone when I had

tried to disguise my masculine tenor, back when I created Brandy's

voice.

"No," Dr. Sanford said, not understanding the success of his

operation, "don't sing a tone, just speak normally."

"But Doctor," my musical voice caroled, "this is just a normal

tone. You've made my voice beautiful! How did you do it?"

He smiled at my pleasure, and at the continuing evidence of

his near-miracle. "Well, when I was in there working on the shape of

your throat, I tightened up your vocal chords a little, and smoothed

out some of the resonance spaces. I expected to improve your voice,

but I've never had this excellent a result before."

"Oh, Erik, if nothing else you've done works at all, I'm still

satisfied. My voice alone is worth everything," I praised him. Then

I tried for a tone more like Ran's voice had been.

"Can I still talk like Ran, when I need to?" I asked, proving

that I could by demonstration.

"Yes, it's sort of like the inverse of what I did before," I

continued in my new, wonderful voice. "I pitch my voice lower, rather

than higher, and try to sound nasally rather than sing for clarity."

"What do you think, Kelly?" I grinned.

"I'm jealous," she said, though her responding grin showed

nothing but joy.

"Me, too," Billie Jo called from her bed.

Dr. Sanford smiled at the chorus of compliments implied by

their pseudo-complaints, then stood up.

"Okay, Brandy, since you're up and moving around. I'll let

you go home today. Come to my office in three more days and I'll see

about removing your bandages."

He pulled the curtain back so Billie Jo was again fully part

of the group, then looked at her and said, "I'm sorry, Miss Doggett,

but you really should stay one more day. Your procedure was a bit

more extensive and I'm concerned about the stress on your skin as it

accepts the added volume. But if it works out okay, you can go home

tomorrow and still come with Brandy for the unveiling."

Billie Jo pouted, but his promise of getting back on the same

schedule with me took most of the sting out of the need to stay

another day. She understood my joy at getting to go home already and

wouldn't diminish it by being too gloomy. I changed from my nightgown

to a garter belt and suntan stockings under a denim mini, and perched

on cheerful white sandals with sky-high heels. I couldn't wear my

corset, of course, and in fact I had to wear a loose sweater to cover

the mass of bandages, and of the new me. We laughed at the profile I

had when I pulled the sweater tight for a moment, the bulky dressings

making me look more spectacular even than Kelly. As quickly as

possible I was packed and ready to check out, chuckling as the orderly

insisted on pushing me in a wheel chair though my tall spiked heels

shouted my claim to be steady and graceful on my feet.

I used the three days of enforced physical leisure for intense

mental activity, refining the models I used to predict investment

performance, but nothing could make the time go quickly, especially

since I had continued the hormone therapy and could feel

continually-increasing sensitivity on the nipples hidden with my

bandages. I was so anxious for the visit to Dr. Sanford's office that

I made Kelly get ready early, and gathered an equally-anxious Billie

Jo up so that we could be there well before our appointed time. Our

trio trooped in together when my name was called, provoking an

interested glance from those in the waiting room, but we had already

decided to share the moment, however good or bad it might be.

"Goodness," Dr. Sanford said with a smile as he entered the

treatment room. "I didn't know we'd have such a big audience. Maybe

I should have sold tickets."

"At the prices you've already charged for admission, you can't

possibly expect any more," I laughed, trying to cover my nervousness.

The music of my new voice covered most of the tension in my heart, but

Kelly's eyes met mine in a moment of sympathy.

"Who's first?" he asked.

I was about to rip my sweater off in a race to beat Billie Jo

to the first unveiling, but Kelly caught my arm. Her eyes directed my

attention to the need visible in Billie Jo's face, a need that had

been building in her for years, ever since she began to realize as a

young woman that she would never develop a dramatic, feminine shape.

That need overwhelmed my own curiosity, only fed by a few weeks of

desire. I smiled at Kelly in acknowledgment of her loving generosity,

then said, "Why don't you go first, Billie Jo. Kelly can help me work

this sweater past my hair."

The face-saving excuse allowed Billie Jo to go first without

making her seem selfish, and she quickly stepped to the doctor. Her

own sweater seemed to leap off, exposing the yards of bandage wrapped

around her torso. We all held our breath as the doctor began to cut

through the bandages, carefully working them away from the tiny

stitches. After a few, interminable minutes, he peeled the bandages

away from her chest to reveal two perfectly formed breasts, full,

shapely, symmetric, beautiful.

Billie Jo seemed to have forgotten how to breathe, frozen in

wonder at the soft, pendulous shapes. She reached to weigh them in

her hands, cupping the warm masses more gently than any lover. A

smile of joy even brighter than the angelic light than Kelly could

display illuminated her face, then embarrassment flooded her cheeks as

she realized that others were watching, and waiting patiently.

"Can I take it that your satisfied with your results?"

Dr. Sanford gently prodded.

In response, Billie Jo grabbed his face in her hands and

started to shower him with kisses, too excited for coherent speech,

but not for clear communication.

"I'll take that as a yes," he smiled. "Now, do you want me to

remove your stitches before I unwrap Brandy, or can you wait for a few

minutes."

"I'll wait," Billie Jo answered, once again fondling her new

form, too full of exploration for hurry on inconsequentials like the

tiny threads on the underside of her warm mounds.

"Good," I said, the tightness in my new voice more evident

than ever, but understandable.

Even Billie Jo was distracted from her own spectacular success

for a few minutes as the doctor removed my bandages. On my part, I

couldn't even think about breathing, my heart blocked my throat

completely. Kelly reached over and held my hand while the doctor

worked, squeezing reassurance into my trembling fingers. The process

must have taken hours, days, weeks before he was finished, but finally

he pulled the dressings back from my chest to expose the most

beautiful curves I had ever seen. The flowed gracefully from my

shoulders, lifting high and proud with a more tapered shape than

Billie Jo now displayed, and much more elegant than the spectacular

globes owned by Kelly. She was magnificent, but the smooth, wonderful

breasts I saw on my chest fulfilled my femininity in a way that fit

perfectly with my body type. I wouldn't have changed my form for

either of the other women, and didn't care if they felt just as proud

or not.

Even the doctor was surprised at how well my own enhancement

had turned out. Some subtle refinements had lifted his work into the

masterpiece category, and our reaction, all of us, was wonder as much

as simple joy. Unlike the burst of enthusiasm that Billie Jo showered

on him, I reached out gently and gave him a warm, soft kiss of such

intense gratitude it was almost not sexual, too full of love for

physical thoughts to intrude. At least it started out that way.

Somewhere in there my budding nipples started to make their presence

known and I was distracted enough to reenter the real world. When I

stepped back, the doctor was smiling softly, and my eyes were on his,

but Kelly noticed the evidence of excitement I displayed.

"Why Brandy, I think you're growing up. You look just like a

big girl now."

She reached out and tweaked one of my erect nipples, provoking

a gasp at the electric thrill that ran through my body. My cheeks

flared with flaming heat, but my sense of wonder was resurrected as

well. I reached to touch my own nipples, playing with them gently

with my long-nailed fingers until they reached a surprising extension.

"That's my job," Kelly laughed, reaching her own hand to touch

me.

I giggled in embarrassment at my self-stimulation, but didn't

pull away from her caress. She grinned back at me, gently tracing the

lovely curve until her fingers found the small threads of the stitches

that were still in place. She jerked her hand back, afraid that she

might damage something, but Dr. Sanford offered immediate reassurance.

"I'll take care of those right away. Both of you ladies have

healed just fine."

He returned to clinical professionalism, handling our smooth

curves as though they were unrelated to a glorious feminine shape as

he removed the stitches. The sharp tugs as he drew the threads from

our skin weren't even distracting enough to draw my attention from the

mirror that showed my new treasures, and it seemed that Billie Jo felt

the same way. In a few minutes he was done.

"All right ladies. Neither of you has really needed to wear a

bra until now, though I know you, Brandy, generally did to hold your

silicone forms. Now it's not optional though. You each need to

support your breasts for at least a month until your skin accommodates

the new volume and regains its tone. After that, do whatever's

comfortable. Do you have any questions?"

We both shook our heads and he left. Kelly handed us the bras

we had brought, each sized to the shapes we had been promised. They

fit perfectly and I was amazed at the sensations as I shifted the

support for the weight of my delightful curves from the skin of my

shoulders to the straps of the bra. The loose sweaters we had worn

over our bandages were clearly inadequate to display our new shapes,

so we removed our skirts, pulled on tight, shiny leotards that hugged

our beautiful, feminine forms, then donned our skirts again and left

the doctor's office.

Chapter 28 - Visible Excitement

The artificial tits I had worn since I had started serious

cross-dressing had prepared me for the sight and the external feel of

my marvelous new breasts, but my budding nipples were an entirely new

sensation. Every morning and evening I nursed at Kelly's abundant

supply of milk, sucking happily at one of her magnificent nipples

while she pulled from the other. It became apparent that I wouldn't

really be able to nurse at my own breasts, however, even if they were

stimulated until they provided milk. They were just not quite big

enough to reach comfortably with my own lips. That didn't stop Kelly

from teasing my growing buds into hard points several times a day,

though. It felt heavenly, better all the time, and I was powerfully

tempted to increase the dosage of my hormonal treatments. I didn't

though, since my breasts were making continual, if slow, progress and

I wanted my masculine virility to remain intact. As the doctor said,

however, spontaneous erections were reduced and it was easier to hide

my cock when I wanted to hide it. Nonetheless, a few directed

thoughts, an image of an erection and I was as hard as ever so it

seemed like a good compromise had been reached.

Of course I needed new clothes, too. Actually, I only got a

few bras, since it would still be necessary to wear a corset most of

the time to shrink my masculine waist to a waspish shape. That was

fine, I had become used to the comforting squeeze. However, I could

now wear strapless styles and my first new purchase was a leather

dress in the bustier style to match Kelly's. The sight of legitimate

cleavage, displayed in a plunging style to the dangerously low cups of

the flamboyant dress thrilled me every time my gaze dropped a little,

which was pretty often. Billie Jo bought a matching outfit, staying

with the bright red that had become her color and we often made a

head-turning trio in our skin-tight black, white, and red leather

outfits.

It became time to decide on our next slave outing. My own

nipples were beginning to erect spontaneously, needing only excitement

rather than direct stimulation, but they were still too small to

provide a dramatic visible statement through even the thinnest

clothes. Their appearance through a slave dress wouldn't quite match

my companions so for at least a little while I was safe from my

promise to take the part of a slave. We decided, however, that we

would celebrate the completion of a month from our surgery, which

would allow Billie Jo to go braless for at least an evening, by

attending another slave party.

On the appointed night Angel and Huntress dressed in their

revealing slave dresses and presented themselves before me. I smiled

my cool, controlling smile when they didn't even attempt to wear

panties under the tiny skirts, but said nothing. It was only to be

expected that they would have learned their lesson from our previous

adventure. My own outfit for the evening consisted of my thigh-high

spike-heeled boots and my new leather mini dress. The sleeveless

bustier style still provided enough of a corset to pinch my waist in

to the shape I desired, but my new cleavage was proudly, almost

dangerously displayed. Even though my neck was beautifully smooth, I

decided to wear a black choker, adding long leather gloves to complete

the statement. Under the dress my manhood was securely contained

within a thong bikini and the obscuring tape, the combination more

effective than ever now that my erection was more controllable.

"Slaves, I have decided that this evening, you will be bound

here before we leave," I informed them.

"Your pardon, Milady Raven," Angel said quietly, "but might

your slaves have permission to give you gifts before we are bound?"

I had begun to frown at her interruption, but relaxed when she

showed a properly respectful purpose for speaking without permission

and nodded. Angel and Huntress looked at each other with their shared

secret, then Angel ran to our room and brought back a package. She

kneeled at my feet, prompting Huntress to join her, and offered the

package to me.

In it were two gags. Each had a bright red rubber ball with a

golden rod through the middle, the ends of the rod fastening to a

strap that would go around the wearer's head. One of the straps was

white leather, the other red, clearly identifying for whom each was

intended.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked, slipping from character

for a moment.

"Yes, Milady Raven," Angel said strongly. Huntress only

nodded, but then, she didn't speak much anyway.

"Very well, stand up, both of you."

They did as directed, of course, and I began their bondage

session. The golden links of collar, cuffs, and ankle restraints were

placed on Angel, then the chain that fastened them all together. She

again stood there proud in her bondage, pure gold and white,

innocently sensual. The restraints on Huntress followed quickly.

Even though they were going to be bound for a longer time than

previously, since we were starting here at home, I pulled the laces on

the red leather armbinder a bit tighter than before. Huntress

shrugged her shoulders a little to settle the stiff leather confining

her arms, but said nothing. Her most visible reactions were the hard

points of her nipples, now more glorious than ever as they protruded

from her beautifully enhanced tits.

I didn't immediately attach the new ball gags to my slave

girls since it was my plan to make them keep each other (and me) hotly

excited on the trip by erotic talk during the drive. Instead, I put

the gags in the package that held their leashes, careful not to let

them see my own additions for this adventure. I expected that they

would be at least as surprised by my new ideas as I had been by the

gifts they had given to me.

This bondage party was in the same neighboring city as the

first we had attended and there was plenty of time to renew the

pungent scent of female arousal before we arrived. I lifted my slave

girls from the car, then drew their gifts to me from the bag. Each

opened her mouth wide to accept the gag, their glossy lips shining

around the bright red of the ball. I fastened the leather straps

snugly enough that the band was held securely in place, then added

their domino masks and stood in front of them, still holding the

package with my secret additions.

"Well, my pretty slaves, you do look to be properly bound.

All that remains is to put your leashes in place."

Angel lifted her chin in invitation to hook the leash to her

collar, but I laughed instead.

"No, Angel, I will not lead you by your collar, tonight, nor

you either, Huntress."

I slowly drew the first leash from the package. The golden

chain was still the primary bond, but I had threaded a small

electrical cord down the line of links. The first end to come into

view was the end I would hold, and the slave girls could see a small

switch at that termination of the electrical cord. When the other end

finally appeared from the bag, Angel looked at it in confusion, but

Huntress's eyes went very wide, showing she had quickly recognized

what I intended. On that basis, I decided to start with Angel.

Instead of fastening the leash to her collar, I wrapped the

end around her waist, inside her slave dress. The small golden

padlock on the end closed into the appropriate link, leaving it placed

on her hips at about the level of her navel, where the deep plunge of

her halter top ended. This allowed the end I would hold to extend

toward me. Angel's eyes began to widen as well, once she began to

guess at the purpose of the device hanging from the chain. It was an

egg-shaped plastic ball, the thin electrical cord penetrating the egg

near one end. I threaded the egg down inside her dress where it hung

just to the bottom of her brief skirt.

"Do you suppose I intend to leave that little device dangling

like that?" I asked Angel. She shivered, and closed her eyes, shaking

it softly from side to side. It wasn't clear whether she was trying

to plead with me not to do what seemed likely, or was just answering

my question. It didn't matter, though, since her pleas were

meaningless. After all, she was just a slave girl, no matter how

beautiful.

I reached up under her dress and pushed the egg inside her

liquid tunnel of love. She gasped, even around the gag, at the

intrusion but stood still. I could see her mentally adjust to the

presence of this new invader and in a few seconds she relaxed. That

was what I had been waiting for. I wanted her to think she understood

the significance of this addition to my control over her before

showing her how great it really was.

Without letting her see the motion, I flicked the switch on

her leash to the "on" position. Angel's response was instantaneous.

The egg was a vibrator, energized when the switch was thrown. It

hummed against her glistening jewel, sending irresistible pulses

directly into the nerve center of her excited senses. She gasped

again, moaning around the gag, her knees began to buckle and I stopped

the vibration, provoking an even more desperate moan from the pretty

slave.

"I don't have to warn you about the consequences if you let

that slip out, do I Angel?" I asked, menace flowing from my soft,

supremely musical voice.

She shook her head in negation, still trying to catch her

breath. Her heaving breasts, so magnificent anyway, threatened to

push through the thin material of her slave dress. Her response was

so intense it could have been pain from a vicious electrical shock

rather than pleasure that I had triggered with my switch, but the look

of joy that lit her face once she regained some measure of control

showed that she had indeed enjoyed the experience.

A similar leash arrangement was placed on Huntress. Her own

love tunnel was just as moist and her muscles grabbed at the egg when

I placed it in her. I turned her switch to "on" and waited for her

response, wondering if she would be able to stay in character with the

strength of a wild predator. For a few seconds she did. Her eyes

went even wider, her breath got more ragged, but she stood straight

and tall. I let my smile of cool amusement show at full power as I

held the switch in front of her.

"So, Huntress, you think you are strong enough to resist my

training?"

I let the buzzing vibration continue until her eyes closed and

shudders began to wrack her body. Finally, her own legs began to

buckle and I turned the switch off, provoking a grunt of emotion from

Huntress that was too confused to call need, or desire, or

disappointment. After a few more seconds she forced her eyes open to

see mine observing her. A blush lit her cheeks, but she lifted her

head high in defiance.

"Excellent, my Huntress, you are truly a powerful slave, but

remember you are a slave, my slave."

She nodded in acquiescence to my authority, but the excitement

she felt was displayed prominently on her new tits, poking deliciously

forward within the fabric of her slave dress. I donned my own

dominatrix mask and we walked toward the party, their hobbles making

them scurry in a continual display of their helplessness within my

control.

As we approached the registration table, I saw a trimly

muscular man, dressed in skin-tight black leather pants and shirt,

leaning over the table. He wasn't a large man, especially in

comparison to my massive Rocky, but he had the spectacularly fit shape

of an Olympic gymnast, wide shoulders, trim butt, narrow waist. I was

so focused on his interesting physique that I failed to notice there

was no slave attending him. When I stepped up to the table myself, I

could hear their discussion.

"I'm sorry, Master Odysseus, but our rules are strict and

unbreakable. Only master-slave couples may attend. Without a slave,

you cannot go in."

While I stood beside the leather-clad man, I glanced at his

face, but it was hidden behind a leather domino mask. Still, I felt

there was something familiar about this man, though I couldn't place

where I had seem him.

"I completed the training of my previous slave and found her a

new master. She's happily married now, and I am ready to start on

another trainee. I was going to buy one at the slave block,"

explained Odysseus.

"I believe you of course," said the man behind the counter,

not the flabby Simon of the last party, but clearly not a truly

masterful person regardless of his name tag, Master Rich.

"Nonetheless, I cannot let you enter. Only masters with healthy,

well-cared-for slaves can attend, let alone buy additional slaves. It

is our only method of ensuring adequate safety for our members."

"I assure you, all my patients, um, slaves, are healthy and

well cared for," Odysseus insisted.

As Master Rich shook his head in stubborn refusal, I realized

who the fit man was. His slip, identifying his clients as "patients"

had given him away. This was Dr. Erik Sanford! We had never seen him

except in surgical scrubs that had concealed his excellent body. My

first impulse was to run away, since he knew my deep secret. But

then, I thought of a way to turn the situation to my advantage.

"Perhaps I can help," I interjected with a musical laugh. "I

happen to know that Master Odysseus takes excellent care of his

. . . slaves . . . and I would be glad to vouch for him."

My own voice gave me away to Odysseus, who started for a

second, then smiled beneath his mask. His eyes widened when he looked

at my slave girls, but I could see a truly impressive bulge form as he

slowly looked them over.

"I'm sorry, Milady Raven," said the man behind the table.

"I'm sure you're correct, but I have no choice."

"Hmm," I mused, smiling introspectively at the challenge,

"then I'll just have to find another solution."

I turned to my slave girls and idly tapped my gloved finger

against my temple, as though thinking carefully. Actually, I already

knew what I would do.

"Master Odysseus, perhaps you would accept the loan of one of

my slaves for the evening," I offered.

I wasn't sure who reacted the most strongly. Angel gasped

around her gag, her eyes widening from the look of boredom that had

settled on them as the masters wrangled. She clearly hadn't picked up

on who Odysseus really was. Her nipples flashed their message of

excitement, however, and I knew she was interested. Huntress hadn't

made the connection, either, and I could see a tremor of fear pass

through her. Though she had enjoyed our previous bondage session she

still hadn't completely accepted the concept, and the idea of being

casually handed to someone else made her question her trust of me. I

knew Odysseus would be okay, but Huntress wasn't going to have to

worry about it anyway. She and I were each about six feet tall in our

towering heels, and while Angel's heels were just as high, her shorter

stature dropped her back by a few inches, just enough that she was

shorter than Odysseus, rather than taller like Huntress and I were.

That made her the natural choice, since a slave girl shouldn't be

taller than her master, in my opinion.

The reaction of Odysseus was most interesting. He looked at

me in surprise for a moment, but his features quickly showed pleased

power, already accepting my offer as the just recognition of one

dominant personality for another. The tent pole in his tight pants

took on even more impressive proportions, but his only other motion

was a broad smile.

"Indeed, Milady Raven, I would appreciate that."

I casually handed him Angel's leash. He accepted it, but

paused as he looked at the switch at the end of the chain, and

followed the cord to where it disappeared within Angel's dress. For

the moment, he did nothing with the switch, but I could see him wonder

what sort of discipline I inflicted on my slaves.

"I trust that handles the issue of a slave for Lord Odysseus,"

I coldly informed Master Rich.

"Of course, Milady Raven," he assured me. "Now if you will

just sign in."

I nodded, but only signed the register as Raven + 2. "Neither

my slaves nor I will be participating in the contest this evening.

Let someone else have a chance."

"Thank you, Milady Raven," said Rich. "I'm sure they will

appreciate that."

Odysseus looked at me and asked, "Is Angel truly to be mine,

for the evening?"

"For as long as we are together," I confirmed.

"Then I will accept her into my service as I accept all my

slaves," he declared.

With that he turned to Angel and removed her gag. He let her

have a few seconds to work out the stiffness in her lips and jaw, then

took her in his arms for an incredibly hot, sensual, passionate kiss.

Her response was just as hot, just as passionate, incredibly erotic.

She molded her body to his, rubbing her mound against his prominent

bulge. Her magnificent tits strained against the thin material of her

slave dress as her breath was pre-empted by the energy pouring into

her from her new master. After a few minutes, Odysseus released her

from his embrace, placing the ball gag back in her mouth before her

eyes even opened after the passion of the kiss. He quickly fastened

the strap around her head and turned back to me as though he had

merely performed some insignificant minor duty.

We moved away from the table, Odysseus walking beside me, not

even looking to see if Angel followed. Of course, the leash forced

her to comply with his movements. I glanced at her from the corner of

my eye to see an amazed grin on her face, as well as an envious one

replacing the normal predatory look on Huntress. The scent of Angel's

arousal filled the air around us as I set a slow, strolling pace the

slave girls could maintain in their hobbles, but I was please to see

that Odysseus recognized the difficulty and made no attempt to hurry

Angel along. We immediately attracted a crowd, following along to

catch crumbs of information from the matchless Raven and her

attractive companion.

"What does this do?" Odysseus asked, indicating the switch on

the end of Angel's leash.

"Try it an find out," I suggested, wondering if he would do

something that for all he knew could inflict vicious pain.

"Not until I understand the effect," he insisted.

"It is a training device," I offered as inadequate

explanation.

"And what do your training methods entail?" he pressed.

"I consider it a failure if pain is needed to train a slave,"

I explained, "and I do not tolerate repeated failures. Pain deadens

rather than enhances the response I demand. This device offers the

slaves intense pleasure."

I turned back to them, and visibly flicked the switch leading

to Huntress. "Isn't that right, Huntress?" I asked as the vibrations

began to send shudders through her body. She nodded tightly, her eyes

closing as her knees began to shake. I turned the vibrator off and

she again grunted her confused message of need and disappointment

before she recovered her composure.

"Indeed," Odysseus smiled, apparently my training philosophy

matched his own. He flicked the switch to Angel's vibrator, eliciting

a moan of pleasure and a renewal of the amazing extension of her

flamboyant nipples. Then he turned his slave girl's training device

off as well and we continued our stroll. When we passed the device

sales tables a few minutes later I thought it was interesting that

there were no remote vibrators left for sale, neither eggs for female

slaves, nor cock ring vibrators for male slaves.

At the slave block, an auction was in progress. The owner of

each for-sale slave was noted on a board under 'Trainer/Owner'. A

surprising number of the slaves were listed as self-owned, indicating

that they were shopping for a master. Odysseus paused to study those

on the block for sale so I looked them over, too. None were nearly as

beautiful as my slaves, of course, though some looked like they had

the potential to develop attractively. Especially since in his alter

ego Odysseus was the best cosmetic surgeon in the region.

Nonetheless, after only a few moments, Odysseus turned away and swept

his arm in invitation to continue our stroll.

"None that catch your eye?" I chuckled.

"After Angel and Huntress, there's only one person in the hall

that looks like she would be worth the effort," he smiled, looking

directly at me.

Our slave girls lifted their heads proudly at this comment,

properly aware that their beauty and desirability reflected favorably

on their owner. My own response confirmed the continuing development

of my budding nipples. Though they were not yet on the same scale

with Huntress, let alone Angel, still noticeable points appeared

through the soft, tight material of my dress. Odysseus smiled at this

revelation of my responsiveness to his implication, but turned to walk

without further comment.

The slave girls had themselves chosen to be gagged for the

evening, so without guilt I took a glass of champagne from one of the

trays held by a slave bound to a post. Odysseus did as well and we

sauntered through the assembly, well matched as a dominant pair, my

slight height advantage, obviously due to the towering heels I wore,

adding to my impressiveness without diminishing his own. I wasn't

paying much attention to the time until I caught a look of discomfort

clouding Angel's features.

"Is something wrong?" I whispered.

She shook her head, but the look of discomfort remained. I

decided we'd need to be going pretty quickly in any event, and didn't

want to interfere with Odysseus's slave until I took her back into my

own control. It wasn't long, however, before the reason for Angel's

discomfort became apparent to all. Her nipples started to leak milk,

dampening the front of her slave dress with moisture that seemed to

make the thin material completely transparent.

"Well," Odysseus smiled, "it seems my slave has an offering to

share."

"Yes," I grinned, "she does like to share it."

An embarrassed flush lit Angel's cheeks, another envious look

passed briefly over Huntress's face, as we began to move toward the

exit.

"I expect we can solve Angel's problem at the car, if you

would care to take your slave there," I suggested.

"I think that would be an excellent idea," he said with an

interested smile.

At the car, we folded the top of Angel's dress back from her

flamboyant tits, exposing incredibly erect, seeping nipples. Odysseus

gallantly offered me my choice and I was quickly sucking strongly,

doing it in order to make Angel feel better, of course. She did

indeed feel better, especially when Odysseus joined in on the other

side. Poor Huntress was left out, standing quietly in her bondage,

unable to participate or contribute to the activity. I caught her

eyes with a glance, though I didn't lift my lips from Angel's nipple,

and then I pushed the switch leading deep into Huntress. Her eyes

closed as the vibrations stimulated her center of passion. Her

determination to resist losing control showed in the set of her jaw,

even around the gag, but it wasn't long before she was sagging against

the car, shuddering with internal spasms. I turned her vibrator off

before she reached her own orgasm, wanting to save that pleasure for a

truly effective occasion. I decided the time had come to bind her to

our bed, and I expected she would be more than willing.

We drained Angel's tits, licking gently to catch any last

little seepage, then replaced her halter top. The moist spots again

glued to her erect buds, revealing more than concealing her

attributes.

"It would appear that we have handled, or at least addressed,

Angel's problem," Odysseus grinned.

"Yes, you are a good master, attentive yet completely in

control," I said.

"Perhaps someday you will learn just how good," he suggested.

"Perhaps," I agreed, my nipples again forming small but

unmistakable points in the front of my dress.

"The time has come for me to return my slave to your service,"

Odysseus declared, "and I confirm the release of my authority in the

same way I confirm the acceptance of it."

He again removed Angel's gag, then repeated the kiss that he

used for his confirmation, more demanding, more powerful, more

compelling than before, if that were possible. I noticed that he had

turned on the switch to Angel's vibrator when he started to kiss her,

capturing her lips before she could say anything or even show a

response that wasn't buried beneath the energy of his kiss. While he

held her, the vibrations worked their hidden magic and she began to

shudder with building energy. Like I had done with Huntress, however,

he turned off the vibrator and released her before her climax arrived,

quickly replacing her gag.

"There, that should put her in the right frame of mind for

you," he laughed.

"I expect you're probably right," I agreed, smiling at the

need in Angel's face. She would indeed be ready for me when we got

home. Odysseus helped me to secure the slave girls in the car and we

departed the bondage party. Later that night, after I removed their

gags and chains, both women found the fulfillment they had been

needing and were fully satisfied, by each other as well as by me. For

the first time Billie Jo experienced the total release that comes from

total helplessness when she was stretched to the corners of our bed.

Just as with Kelly, the energy Billie Jo would usually dissipate in

large motions fed back on itself internally, reaching a matchless peak

in the muscles that clenched the erection I was ramming into her. She

screamed her soundless wail of pleasure as she imploded with infinite

energy, consumed by her internal fires to be reborn in gentle stages

under the massage Kelly and I gave her overworked arms and legs.

As we lay there together, gently stroking each other with love

that wasn't limited to sexual need, Kelly proposed her plan for our

next slave adventure.

"Brandy, you know who Odysseus really is, don't you?" she

began.

"Yes, I'm surprised you didn't figure it out, too. You

certainly got close to him," I giggled to show I wasn't jealous.

"Well, I didn't. Did you, Billie Jo?"

Billie Jo shook her head, the Kelly continued.

"Whatever. As long as you know, Brandy, then here's the plan.

Your nipples are making good progress. I saw them through your dress

several times tonight. As far as I'm concerned, you're ready now, but

this is too intense to do all the time. Next month, we'll find a

different bondage party, so they won't know our previous characters.

I'll be Milady Halo, like we said. We'll get Billie Jo a long wig to

match yours, and you a slave dress to match hers. I think your

shoulders are too wide for an armbinder, unless it was so much bigger

than hers that it wouldn't look right, so we'll use the chain approach

that Angel wears. Let's see, Billie Jo, you'll be Vixen, and Brandy,

you'll be Vivid. You'll be a matched pair. Now, here's the good

part. We'll invite Odysseus to go along," she said proudly.

My response was doubly obvious, a pulse at my cock adding to

the erection of my growing buds. Billie Jo's eyes lit up with the joy

she was beginning to find in bondage and with the chance she sought to

break down some of her perceived isolation. Kelly said nothing

further, the acceptance of her plan obvious to all of us. She

gathered us into her arms as we snuggled down to sleep. My last

thoughts, as someone's fingers idly stroked one of my delicate nipples

was gratitude at the changes that had occurred in my life, since Kelly

had dared me to lose weight.

Chapter 29 - Vivid and Vixen

My opportunity to invite Erik Sanford to participate in our

next party came a few days later, when I reported for a follow-up

visit on the laser hair removal process. It had been wonderful not to

have to shave every morning, let alone not worrying about a beard

shadow forming late in the evening. But there had been a few hairs

pop out in various places which had not been adequately eradicated in

the first set of treatments. Dr. Sanford decided they could all be

removed in a single additional treatment, though, so I had to strip

completely in his examining room to prepare for the laser.

His touch was quite professional as he applied the laser, but

it was necessary for him to handle nearly every part of my body before

he finished. In the course of his treatment he examined the minuscule

mark at my neck and lightly stroked my new tits, provoking an arousal

from my nipples.

"Well, everything seems to be working okay," he observed.

"Wonderfully," I agreed, "in fact, so much so that I have a

special request."

His raised eyebrow was his only response, but it indicated

clear interest so I continued.

"I wonder if you might get a message to someone for me,

someone I think you know," I began.

"If possible," he agreed.

"Would you ask Lord Odysseus if he would like to accompany

Milady Halo and her two slave girls, Vivid and Vixen to a bondage

party?" I whispered.

"Halo, Vivid, and Vixen?" he asked, not understanding.

"Yes, Milady Halo is so angelic, though she is quite strong as

well. Slave Vixen also has a strong spirit. She is well behaved with

her owner, but always seems to be on the hunt for something. Slave

Vivid, on the other hand, has only just begun her training. Her

personality is not entirely clear." Erik picked up on the references,

connecting each name with the appropriate person. When he realized

that I would be changing from mistress to slave his eyes widened in

surprise, then in pleasure, and I could see a definite response in his

pants even through the surgical scrubs. Though I was totally

unclothed I still wore my makeup and wig. In addition, my new tits

were prominently between us, so my Brandy persona was in full force.

Brandy always had been a bit of a tease, so I let my long-nailed

fingers lightly stroke his pulsing bulge. His eyes widened again, but

he said nothing. I had kissed him, after all, more than once, so he

either had a pretty open mind, or was able to ignore irrelevant

factors. Probably both. However, before things got really

interesting, he caught my hand and held it still.

"I believe Lord Odysseus might be very interested in helping

Lady Halo train her slaves, especially Vivid," he declared. The look

in his gray eyes affected me very strangely. I saw an immense well of

power in their depth and I felt an unexpected responsiveness, a

willingness, even an eagerness to please this intense man. I wondered

if that sort of look ever appeared in Raven's eyes. Somehow I didn't

think so. I enjoyed playing the part and knew what actions to take to

play it well, but for me it was only acting out a part. I wasn't so

sure with this man. For him, it might be very real, yet that didn't

diminish my trust for him. Somewhere deep inside me there lurked the

thought that surrendering to this man might be the thing that could

make me happiest, that his understanding of my needs might be better

than my own, and that he would honor the trust with infinite pleasure,

just as I tried to do with Kelly when I bound her to our bed. My

breath had caught in my throat when he focused that intense gaze on

me, and I had to shake my head to break the spell.

"Good, I'll be sure to tell her so," I said, trying to get

back in control of myself.

He smiled at me, turning off the power within his eyes and was

again just my excellent doctor. He pointed to my clothes in

dismissal, repeating the admonition not to get too much sun until the

swelling reduced.

"Oh, I just remembered, Milady Halo asks if you would come to

her house on the first Saturday of next month. If you wish to help

apply the bonds to the slaves, show up about 4:00, otherwise, about

4:30," I said.

"Tell her I . . that is Odysseus . . will definitely be there

by 4:00," he told me, then left the room.

The look in his eyes had triggered erections in three places

on my body, the one between my legs threatening to reveal more than

merely that I was excited, so I had to carefully pack it away. When I

finally had my cock adequately taped into place I got dressed in my

new style. Since I had needed a little hair removal on my chest, I

had worn a bra and garter belt rather than a corset. My blouse was

open at my slender neck, plunging low enough to celebrate my new

cleavage. My skirts were just as short as ever, though, and my heels

just as high. It was a little more casual than the careful things I

had needed to do previously, but no less beautiful, even more

feminine.

I told Kelly and Billie Jo that I had contacted Lord Odysseus

and that he would participate in our party, but I still didn't tell

him who the mysterious master really was. I thought it might be

interesting to see how that developed, whether he intended to maintain

his mystery, or whether he would declare his real identity. It would

be apparent as soon as he showed up, of course, if he still wore his

mask, I certainly wouldn't tell the others who he was.

My favorite specialty shop had the bonds necessary for the

matching chains required by Vivid and Vixen, though the young man

wasn't in attendance at that time. I expected we would one day see

him up on a slave block, asking to be bought by a strong master.

Kelly ordered Billie Jo's long wig and picked up another red slave

dress, plus the sandals I would need.

Finally the day of the bondage party arrived. I couldn't

quite match the outfits worn by the other slave girls, since my cock

would hang down below the tiny skirt of the slave dress if I left it

loose, so I would have wear a thong and bind it away. This would be

the only difference in my outfit, however, from that worn by Vixen.

As I carefully arranged my package, using the tape to smooth out the

shape, I realized that the hormone treatments, while not impeding my

basic virility, had allowed me to keep my erection under control when

that was what I wanted. I could count on a smaller bulge to hide

until I chose to release my thrusting sword. The hormones had also

smoothed my skin out dramatically, causing my body to retain a thin

layer of fat. My weight had actually decreased, though, since I had

lost muscle bulk despite our continuing exercises. Kelly walked in as

I was smoothing the last piece of tape into position.

"Goodness, Brandy, you've really got that down to a science.

You could wear a swimsuit, now."

"Well, maybe," I allowed, "but it would have to be a one-piece

suit, my stomach ridges are still too well defined. Besides, I

wouldn't want to get my hair wet."

"I didn't say you had to go swimming," she laughed, "just wear

a suit. And I think you'd look great in a bikini. Tonight you've had

to attach the tape pretty low in order not to show when you wear your

slave dress, low enough to work with a two-piece suit. Those muscle

ridges make you look like a female body-builder, but your new tits

make you look definitely female. Overall, you'd be just fine."

"Maybe," I repeated, but the idea was interesting. Rocky

owned a ship that cruised the west coast of Mexico, like the Love Boat

of the old TV show, and I might find an occasion to wear a bikini at

that.

"Anyway," Kelly continued, "it's time for you to get dressed.

Billie Jo will be here anytime. I can do your makeup after you put on

your dress."

She handed me the thin slave garment. In her hands, it looked

like a not-very-big silk scarf, with too little material to cover

anything. I put it on, draping the tiny skirt over my hips and

pulling the halter top up under my long hair. I was almost right

about the dress, it didn't cover much of anything, just barely enough

to keep me from getting arrested. Maybe.

My first impression as I stood there in the filmy dress was of

the caress of a soft cascade of hair on my bare back. There was

nothing between the back of my neck and the micro-mini skirt draped

low on my hips and my hair constantly brushed against the bare skin in

between, gently, smoothly, sensuously. Before I had always had to

wear a corset, and generally a high-necked blouse, so the feel of my

hair whispering to my waist was new to me. I shook my head to get

ripples moving in the soft weight of it, smiling at the lovely feel.

Kelly laughed at me and pointed at my shoes, reminding me I still

needed to put them on.

I finished just in time and was sitting at the makeup table

when Billie Jo arrived. Kelly had designed a new makeup for each of

us, more dramatic than our normal daily approach, yet working to

soften the strong bones of our faces. She tailored the design

carefully to each of us, using subtle highlights or shadows to

diminish the differences and emphasize the similarities. When Billie

Jo finally donned her own long wig, the effect was incredible. We

looked like more than sisters, we looked almost like twins. Even our

body shapes were similar, since Billie Jo always had possessed a

strong, lean body, not as shapely as Kelly even after her tits were

enhanced. Only the color of our eyes was significantly different,

Billie Jo's dark brown not quite a match for my own midnight blue,

although at a distance the impression would probably be only that our

eyes were dark, so they weren't too different after all.

"Kelly, I know I've said it before, but you're a genius," I

said happily.

"Absolutely," Billie Jo agreed.

"Well, there is one noticeable difference," Kelly giggled,

then reached out to tweak my nipples through the thin material.

"You'll have to keep your head and shoulders back to make sure you

show properly, or should I say improperly?"

Her touch had the desired effect though, and my tits showed

prominently through the dress. The nipples had grown dramatically in

the last month, now fully within the range of normal adult women,

though not so spectacular as Kelly always displayed.

"Okay, you two are done, now get out of here so I can do

myself," Kelly ordered.

We stood back to watch as she redid her face into another new

design, emphasizing the strength of her ice-blue eyes. When she was

done, she showed a power and confidence that I had never seen before,

not all due to the cosmetics. She was really starting to get into

this role. Standing up seemed be the trigger for her switch to Milady

Halo, for from that point she called us by our slave names and

expected instant obedience.

"Vivid, get my leather dress. Vixen, get my boots. You will

help me dress before Lord Odysseus arrives."

We scurried to obey, lacing her quickly into the soft, creamy

material. I pulled the laces of the dress tightly enough to elevate

her figure from spectacular to unbelievable, though unlike her slave

girls, Milady Halo was all natural. Vixen was less concerned with

tightness than with a smooth, comfortable pressure in the thigh-high

boots, so it took her a little longer, but she was finished just

before 4 o'clock.

Exactly on time, the doorbell rang. Milady Halo's eyes told

me to answer it, though I was dangerously close to being revealed in

the thin dress. I had no choice, of course, and moved quickly to

obey. Lord Odysseus stood there, a small package in one of his hands.

He wasn't wearing a mask so I knew he didn't mind that we recognized

him as Dr. Sanford. Somehow, it still didn't seem the same person,

though. That look of masterful power was back in his eyes.

"Milord," I said, and stood back to let him enter. As he

passed, I bowed my head, causing a liquid flow of hair to cascade past

my shoulders and fall into place over the soft halter top to my dress.

That was nearly a mistake, since the reduction in tension on the front

of the dress allowed it to gap, threatening to expose my breasts.

However, my hair cascaded forward before anything really showed, and

when I lifted my head again my tits snuggled back into place within

the soft material. He watched the smooth, beautiful motion for a

moment, then walked past to meet Milady Halo.

"I have a couple of gifts for you, Lady Halo," he said as he

opened the package. "Perhaps you would like your slave girls to wear

these."

He offered her two beautiful chain-link rings, matching those

that would soon adorn our necks, but designed to control our hair into

a pony-tail.

"When they let their hair fall forward, like Vivid just did,

they hide their beautiful shapes. I think it would be better if their

hair were bound as well."

"Indeed," Milady Halo agreed, "would you like the honor of

placing the first bonds on them, then?"

"Yes, I would," he said, directly and forcefully.

"Slaves!" she ordered sharply, "Kneel at the feet of Lord

Odysseus."

We hastened to obey, struggling to keep our heads up and

shoulders back to maintain what little coverage the slave dresses

allowed. Milord Odysseus gathered up my mane in his hands, brushing

his fingers lightly through my hair with a gentle caress that sent

shivers down my spine though he didn't touch any part of my skin.

When he had it controlled within one of his strong hands, he placed

the ring around it, snapping the fastener closed with a tiny, terribly

important click. I now wore his steel.

Vixen's hair was captured next, and I was surprised to find I

was jealous of the attention he was granting to her, though he only

attached the ring to her hair, just as he had done to me. I listened

for the small click of her own band being fastened, anxious for him to

finish so that I would once again receive their attention.

"Stand up," Milord Odysseus said when he had finished with

Vixen.

"You do that so well, why don't you continue?" Milady Halo

offered, handing him the golden collars.

When he placed these about our necks, his fingers had to touch

our skin, and I reveled in the contrast between his gentle but firm

touch, and the hardness of the chain links making up the collar. He

moved behind us to place the bracelets on our wrists and ankles, so I

couldn't see what the gold looked like against my skin, but I could

imagine it based on the way Vixen looked, so similar to me. I had let

my hands fall to my side when he finished putting the cuffs on my

wrists, the bondage still entirely symbolic since none of the

restraints were fastened together. That changed in another minute

however, when the long chain was hooked to my collar, then my hands

were pulled to be fastened to it as well. I stood frozen as the

restraints on my ankles were locked to the hobble portion of the

chain, counting in my mind each small click as another lock was

closed.

It felt very strange to be standing there, bound in golden

steel. Kelly had only handcuffed me once, way back when we were

beginning our new adventure, and I had been stretched to the corners

of the bed one night. Both had been secondary to the real adventure

of the occasions, the first time I wore makeup, and the first time we

made love with Billie Jo, so I hadn't really focused on the sensation

of the bondage itself. Only Tanyon had handcuffed me into

helplessness, and I had tried to put that far from my mind. So far,

only the restraints holding my wrists together behind my back had made

any real impact on my motion, but the clear, high tinkle of the chain

captured my attention. I found myself getting excited at the prospect

of a new adventure, still not entirely sure I liked the slave persona,

but definitely thrilled by the newness of it all. My musings lasted

until Vixen was securely bound and Milord Odysseus stepped around in

front of us.

"I have additional presents for your slaves, Milady Halo, with

your permission," said Milord Odysseus.

At her nod, he reached up and removed the simple loop earrings

that Vixen and I wore. He replaced them with heavy gold earrings that

were formed of two chain links each, clearly matching the style of our

bonds. The links were actually supported by a fine gold chain, almost

hidden behind the main pieces. This fine chain allowed the links to

gently ring against each other with a clear tone that didn't damp out

immediately, a constant whisper in our ears of our slave status.

Milady Halo joined him in front of us after he had placed the

earrings in our ears. She had our leashes in her hand and I noted

with panicked relief that the vibrating eggs had been removed. I

didn't know how she might have tried to apply that particular feature

to my body, but it looked like I wouldn't have to worry about it.

"Pick one," she said to Milord Odysseus as she handed him one

of the chains. "She shall be yours for the evening."

I desperately wanted to be picked, by him, though I loved

Kelly with all of my heart. The mastery he had shown in his office

was back in his eyes again, in every motion he made. The tight

leather showed his powerful, well-defined muscles and I couldn't help

thinking how long it had been since I had been with Rocky. My eyes

pleaded with him to select me, to own me, to show me more about myself

than I had ever dared guess.

I thought I had achieved my desire when he reached out to

tweak my nipples through my dress, turning them into hard knots

distinctly outlined through the thin material. But then he moved over

to do the same to Vixen. Without a doubt, her tits were bigger, her

curves better. I sighed and sagged a little from my rigid position

when he reached out to hook his leash to her collar.

"Why, Vivid,' Milady Halo said, putting a soft menace into her

tone that I had never heard there before. "I might almost think you'd

prefer his ownership to mine. Now that couldn't possibly be true,

could it?"

"No, Milady Halo, I love being your slave," I claimed, trying

to put absolute conviction into my tone. That note of menace was a

little frightening and I realized that I had shown that I was not

adequately trained. Yet. While I trusted Milady Halo absolutely, she

might decide that I would benefit from training that was not pleasant

while it was actually underway, before the benefits were realized.

Then she made it all worthwhile and I ceased to regret not being

Milord Odysseus's choice.

"I understand," observed Milady Halo, "that you have a

particularly effective way of confirming the acceptance of a slave

girl into your service, Lord Odysseus. Would you like to demonstrate

it? I might find it useful myself."

Milord Odysseus pulled on Vixen's chain until her head leaned

forward toward him. Then he dropped the chain and took her into his

arms, repeating the incredibly sensual kiss he had used to claim

Angel. Milady Halo pulled my face down to her level and did her best

to match the heat of Milord Odysseus's kiss. Her best was

spectacular, unbelievably sensuous, incredibly passionate. My nipples

popped up harder than they had ever done, threatening to push through

the thin fabric that was crushed between her tits and mine. I fancied

their sensitivity was so high that they could feel the matching

hardness of Milady Halo's beautiful buttons through the thin dresses,

but my eyes had closed in ecstasy and I didn't remember to look to see

if we really lined up that well. By the time she was finished, I was

trying to remember how to breathe. She smiled confidently, though I

could see enough heat in her cheeks to know her passion was real, not

to mention the sharp points of her own arousal.

"I think we will only use the gags until we reach the party,"

announced Milady Halo. "Lord Odysseus and I will talk undisturbed

during the drive, but I enjoy kissing you too much to put up with the

bother of continually removing your gag."

Now that made my nipples pop up again. I realized that I had

missed a bet when I had been Raven. Many of the masters had kissed

their slave girls, and some mistresses had kissed theirs as well, when

we had been at the parties before. I could have enjoyed the pleasure

of my slave girls' lips at any time, and hadn't taken advantage of it.

Perhaps my mistress would choose to favor me with her kisses tonight.

I certainly hoped so.

She tossed one of the gags to Milord Odysseus, then held the

other up to my mouth. I opened wide to accept the ball, then stood

quietly while she fastened the strap under my ponytail in back. When

she was finished, she hooked her chain to my collar and turned to

leave the house, pulling me after her. At the doorway she invited

Milord Odysseus to precede her with a graceful sweeping gesture, then

locked the door behind him as he in turn stood out of our way so that

Milady Halo could go first. Now I found myself scurrying with the

tiny steps made necessary by the hobble chain. I knew I looked less

graceful that usual, though by contrast that made Milady Halo look

even more beautiful. The quick tapping of Vixen's heels on the

walkway confirmed they were following us. At the car, Milord Odysseus

did the honor of lifting us into position, still bound. My brief

slave skirt fell back from the strapping I had used to hide my

masculine package, but he ignored it. I was not his slave girl, after

all. He did smile when the same thing happened to Vixen though,

lightly brushing his fingertips on her glistening shaved mound. While

we drove to the party, Milord Odysseus and Milady Halo discussed slave

training, emphasizing pleasure over pain, describing particularly

effective techniques. Some of those techniques seemed desperately

intense, incredibly desirable and my newly developed nipples stayed

hard for the entire trip. The smell of female arousal filled the car,

as usual, and while I wasn't doing my part, it appeared that Milady

Halo was filling in for me, though she looked totally in control,

totally beautiful. At the site of the party our owners removed our

gags. I worked my lips and jaws a little to relieve the stiffness,

but didn't say anything, of course. Gagged or not, slaves spoke only

if that was their owners desire.

"You slave girls won't be given any refreshments within the

party tonight," Milady Halo informed us, "so you need to take your

supper now. Lord Odysseus, if you would help me for a minute?"

She turned and offered her back to Milord Odysseus, so that he

might loosen the top of her leather dress. As soon as the tension was

reduced, she pulled her beautiful globes free of her bustier top and

offered a nipple to each slave girl. We pulled eagerly at the hard

buttons, rewarded with warm, nourishing milk from her abundant supply.

It didn't take long, however, before we had drained her and she

stepped back, arranged her tits so that the nipples were covered, and

turned again to let Milord Odysseus tighten her laces. They placed

our masks on us, and their own on themselves. In a moment they were

done with their tasks and walking toward the door, tugging on our

leashes. We trailed behind our owners, stepping briskly, but able to

keep up with their casually elegant pace.

"Ah, Lord Odysseus, how nice to see you again," greeted the

man behind the desk. I was behind Milady Halo and couldn't see his

identification tag. He continued, "I see you have a new slave girl.

She looks very beautiful. Will you be entering her in the

competition?"

"No, I am just trying her out. She currently belongs to Lady

Halo," explained Milord Odysseus.

"Then you must be Lady Halo," said the registration clerk.

"Welcome. You certainly have beautiful slaves."

"Thank you. They have proved amazingly receptive to training.

You wouldn't believe what this one looked like when I first saw her.

Why, just a few months ago, you wouldn't have considered her a pretty

slave girl at all," Milady Halo laughed as she said it, though it was

absolutely true.

All of the sudden, I wondered just who had been training who

for these last few months. At that exact instant, Milady Halo seemed

to have won on all fronts. I was dressed as she desired, in a manner

I would never have believed before she started our weight challenge.

Yet she was the one free and I the slave, which was an inversion of

her part of the challenge. Still, this was only temporary. Sure.

I'd keep telling myself that. She paid our entry fees, declining to

participate in the contest, and pulled me after her as Milord Odysseus

took care of his own registration.

When we were out of earshot, she whispered to me, "You are

absolutely stunning, Vivid, but keep your head up and your shoulders

back. You don't quite have the reflexes women learn from puberty to

keep their chests hidden. Your tits are about to fall out of that

dress.

"Besides, it keeps your nipples showing," she laughed,

trailing one long fingernail down the smooth valley between my

breasts.

I raised my head and squared my shoulders, embarrassment

flaming in my cheeks, but excitement indeed showing through the halter

top of my dress. Our owners strolled through the party like they

owned it, and they probably would have, if they had decided to enter

the contest. Vixen and I made a beautiful, dramatic pair. The minor

differences in our looks were totally forgotten within the more

spectacular similarities. It wasn't long before offers to buy us were

being made, then increased. The other owners recognized that we were

a matched pair and that it would be inappropriate to break up the set,

so the offers were for the pair of us.

Somewhere in there I made the mental breakthrough that Angel

and Huntress had identified before. The realization that I was

desirable enough that people would pay thousands of dollars to possess

me, based solely on my beauty since my mind was irrelevant, began to

fill me with pride. I started to smile and strut a little,

constrained by the hobble chain to small steps, but unconstrained in

the roll of my hips and the bounce of my stride. That bounce started

interesting secondary motions in the front of my dress, rubbing my hot

nipples into constant excitement. That excitement, that pride,

started to define my personality as Vivid. Vixen had reverted to her

predator look, proud and strong, controllable only by her master, Lord

Odysseus. Angel had previously defined purity and innocence, but that

wouldn't be right for me. My nature was inherently devilish instead,

emphasized by the bright red dress I wore, so I decided on sensual,

insatiable desire.

My tongue started to play with my lips, keeping them bright

and moist. My eyes started to dare anyone to possess me, to try and

please me. My smile became a challenge, offering to pit my

spectacular body against all comers, not in battle, but in raw,

incredible passion. The muscles that showed through my inadequate

dress became a sign of sexual energy, unstoppable responsiveness.

With every breath I declared that no one could possible satisfy me,

except the spectacular woman who owned me. Milady Halo was lifted up

by the standard I was defining to an unimaginable level, her

magnificent figure, so flamboyantly displayed in her skin-tight suit

and powerful spiked boots, made her a fabled goddess come to earth.

More perfect than mere mortals could ever achieve, more perfect than

most could even imagine, able to combine the strength my body

proclaimed with matchless femininity and a figure beyond belief. The

limited curves my body possessed became irrelevant, none could compare

to Milady Halo, so who cared? What mattered was having the strength

to survive the erotic promise I was projecting.

It took a while before either Milady Halo or Milord Odysseus

even noticed what was going on. That lack of attention worked to

exaggerate rather than diminish the image I was defining. Milady

Halo's personality was light and airy, happy as always, and it

appeared that she was deliberately trying to keep her matchless

sensuality in check, denying it utterly. Yet still enough forced its

way out, in the proud bust she waved around, in the delightful orbit

of her hips, in the incredible beauty of her smile, that it seemed to

be just the surface of a bottomless pool that each and every partygoer

would gladly give anything just for a chance to sip from, let alone

take a deep drink. The murmur of the party began to focus on us, and

our owners were beset with more and more offers.

"They're not for sale," Milady Halo repeated for the fiftieth

time.

"Please, name any price, I must have them," a would-be owner

begged for the fifty-first.

"Lady Halo," suggested Milord Odysseus, "perhaps if you put

them on the block for an auction, you could bring this to a head. If

the auction price is high enough, sell them. If not, then everyone

will know."

Vixen and I looked at each other for a second, wondering if he

was serious. We were certainly helpless, not only in our bonds, but

totally without identification or money. Even our clothes would get

us immediately arrested if we somehow ended up alone and on the run,

unless they got us attacked instead. Milady Halo started to shake her

head, but then a smile broke through her frown as she really absorbed

what Milord Odysseus had said.

"Very good, Lord Odysseus. Send them to the block."

"Do your best, slaves," she told us. "I want to know your

value. You better hope for a very high price, because if I am

disappointed, I will sell you to someone who cannot support you like I

do. On the other hand, with a rich enough owner, you might be better

off."

Our leashes were removed, willing hands lifted us to the slave

block, and the auction started enthusiastically. I re-energized my

insatiable desire persona, while Vixen turned up the heat on her

predatory smile. Together we were the very essence of sexual energy,

and that energy infected the audience. The bids started to come

faster and higher, leaving the realm of reality for some unthinkable

dream world.

"Ten thousand dollars for the pair!"

"Fifteen thousand!"

I turned as I strutted on the block, flipping my long

ponytail, smiling with disdain and challenge at the offers, and the

offerors. Vixen sneered with even greater disdain, interspersed with

a hungry grin that implied dinner, not delight, yet it was nonetheless

delightful. It might be impossible to survive a night with the two of

us, but who cared? What a way to go!

"Twenty thousand!"

"Twenty-five thousand!"

"Fifty thousand dollars! I must have them!"

From out of the crowd came a powerful voice, not terribly

deep, not even very loud, but it cut through the bedlam like a

piercing whistle, stilling the entire crowd.

"I bid one hundred thousand dollars."

The offeror was Milord Odysseus, standing next to Milady Halo.

In a replay I ran in the back of my mind, I thought I could remember

seeing him whisper to Milady Halo just before his bid, but that memory

was buried in surprise behind the clear tones of her silvery soprano.

"Sold! That ends the bidding."

I froze in shock. Had I really been sold? For a moment I

dropped so far out of character I almost became Ran again. Had my

wife really sold me to a man? Vixen was at least as surprised, but

the evidence of her excitement was so prominent on her chest, and the

aroma of her arousal was flooding out so strongly, that it was clear

she was deliriously happy with the sale. I knew she loved Kelly and

Brandy, but it appeared that she had wanted to belong to Milord

Odysseus even more.

Hands helped us down from the slave block, where Milord

Odysseus waited, now holding both leashes and our ball gags. He

placed the gags on us first, not allowing even the quickest whispered

comments. Milady Halo stood by, smiling proudly, but with just enough

arch in her brows to indicate approval of the sale, and of the lessons

her slave girls would now receive. Milord Odysseus attached our

leashes and led us quickly from the party hall, dragging us faster

than we could comfortably move in our hobbles in order to force us to

desperate haste and a complete focus on his wishes that we might do as

he desired.

Chapter 30 - Owned, Free, Fulfilled

Our new owner hurried us to the car. He placed us in it with

due care, after all we were expensive property, but he treated us as

property, without interest in our wants or desires. Our gags and

bonds were kept in place, the seat belts fastened over our waists, and

then Milord Odysseus turned to Milady Halo. He helped her into the

passenger seat with careful courtesy, but he took the keys to Billie

Jo's car without question, obviously intending to drive. In a few

minutes the car was on the freeway and speeding back toward our city.

The drive seemed to take forever, our owner and Milady Halo held quiet

conversation on inconsequential things, ignoring the property in the

back seat. When we approached our home city, Milord Odysseus took a

different exit than we expected and drove to a better part of town

than we lived in. Pulling up in front of a large home, beautifully

landscaped, he stopped the car and lifted us out.

In our own driveway at home, we were shielded enough from

neighbors that our outrageous costumes and our bondage were not too

obvious. Milord Odysseus had parked at the street in front of his

house, however, and we would be exposed for blocks in each direction

as we moved up the sidewalk. He seemed totally unaware, or uncaring,

of any sense of exposure though, and just started up the walk, tugging

on our leashes. We scurried after him again, still bound and gagged,

hobbled into tiny steps.

Milord Odysseus's house was a sprawling ranch design, all on

one floor so that our hobbles presented no additional problems as he

led us into a comfortable den area. He hadn't said anything since we

arrived at his home until he was ready for the next stage in whatever

plan he had for us.

"Lady Halo, make yourself at home, of course. However, I

would ask you not to touch my slave while I am busy with the other

one."

With that, he took off my leash and dropped it casually on a

small table.

"Vivid, stand quietly. I'll be back in a little while."

Right. Like I had a lot of choice. My wrists were closely

held by the lock connecting them to the golden chain dangling from my

collar, and my hobbled ankles wouldn't allow me to sit unless someone

lifted me into the chair. He didn't even remove my gag so I stood

there, mouth stretched around the red rubber ball, and watched him

lead Vixen off by the leash still attached to her collar.

Milady Halo watched him go, too. She had a more quizzical

expression on her face than she had worn before and it became apparent

that she had not expected all of this either. Then she looked at me,

standing tall, head up, shoulders back, magnificent and beautiful, but

totally obedient to my dominant owner. She walked over to me, though

she didn't touch me.

"Don't worry, he promised to give you back to me no later than

tomorrow morning," she said.

"There's something compelling about his eyes," she mused, now

speaking as much to herself as to me. "I found myself agreeing to

things I still can't quite believe. Yet I trust him when he says that

both you and Vixen will be happy with the ways things will go tonight,

and that I will be, too."

She wandered off to fix herself a drink, then went to the

stereo to pick out some music. I stood quietly, as ordered, though I

looked around the room. My long ponytail swept across my back with

each head movement, a constant, sensual reminder of my beauty that was

reinforced by the hard nipple points that scrubbed lightly on the back

of the smooth material of my slave dress with every breath. There was

a clock within my field of view so I was able to keep track of the

time, and it was only about fifteen minutes before Milord Odysseus

re-entered the room, without Vixen.

"Now, Vivid, you will come with me. Vixen is sleeping and we

will let her rest for a while. Lady Halo, I may be a little longer

this time. Feel free to take a short nap if you desire, either here

on the couch or in any unoccupied room, but I would ask you not to

disturb Vixen."

He left, telling me with his eyes to follow, though he didn't

reattach the leash. I scurried after him, compelled to obey

regardless of physical links. As I passed the open door to the room

where he had taken Vixen, however, I glanced inside. She still wore

her chains, though her gag was removed, but she slept soundly. On her

face was a gentle smile of relaxed satisfaction, more innocent and

happy than I had ever seen her wear. I never realized before how

softly feminine she could look when the tension was out of her face.

When I had seen her sleeping before, when we had been together, even

her dreams must have retained some element of tension that was now

relieved.

Milord Odysseus led me into another bedroom and closed the

door behind us. He stood there looking at me for a long minute, a

confident smile on his lips but a bit of question in his eyes. He

didn't touch me in any way, standing back to regard me again while I

stood still bound, gagged, and hobbled.

"Vivid, you are unique," he began. "I knew from the first

time I saw her in my office exactly what to do with Vixen. I can tell

you a lot about her background without any input from you or her. In

fact, I think I will, so that you'll accept the truth of what I will

tell you about yourself, later."

"She grew up in a family with lots of men, but no strong

female presence. Her mother wasn't in the picture, maybe sick,

divorced, perhaps she died, so Vixen never had a female role model

when she was growing up. No child abuse, I expect, just no female

presence. As a result, she kept herself lean and hard, rejecting the

softness that should be part of a beautiful woman. Her hair was

always short, her clothes neat but not terribly flattering. Then a

short while ago she went through a transition and began to come alive.

She talked about that a little in her office visit, when she was

explaining her desire for breast enhancement, if you'll remember.

Since this was about the same time as your own transition, perhaps you

had something to do with it?"

I nodded in response to his question. Clearly, he had

understood her pretty well.

"I'll bet she hadn't even been with a man before a few months

ago, and that the first time was with you, in some non-threatening

situation," he continued. "And I'll bet she's the one that asked you

to form a matched slave pair with her, since Angel is clearly too

different in appearance."

I nodded again, this time impressed with a conclusion I didn't

think was nearly so obvious.

"Vixen has always felt out of place, different, isolated from

those around her. She wasn't a man, but also wasn't quite sure how to

act as a woman, so she worked out some sort of unsatisfactory

compromise. I'll bet she identified with you more than anyone she's

ever met, since you are the essence of compromise."

"You and Lady Halo may not realize it, though Vixen is

beginning to, but her dreams have just come true. At least they're on

the road to coming true. She will be my new slave girl. Her needs

are primarily to be able to realize it's acceptable to be soft, to be

feminine and that she can do that without losing the mental strength

that is independent of gender, nor the physical fitness she's so

justly proud of. I'll train her for a while, probably about six

months but whatever it takes. At the end of that time, she'll be an

intensely feminine woman, comfortable in her identity, proud in her

beauty. I'll find her a good husband and they'll be happily married.

I've done this several times and each of my trainees has thanked me.

All of the marriages have worked, too. No divorces, lots of children.

Don't worry about Vixen, even though she'll be moving in with me.

I'll make arrangements about her house, for the time she's away.

You'll see her on occasion, as well."

"On the other hand, you're not so easy to understand," he

continued, a thoughtful expression overlaying his confident smile.

"You're obviously not a slave personality. I could see your

discomfort in the role until you finally found your persona as an

insatiable wanton. Even that was just a role, though you might be

surprised at how close to your own desires that really is.

Nonetheless, you're the dominant one. I'll bet you invented the roles

for Raven, Angel and Huntress, telling Angel to be innocent and

Huntress to be predatory. When the time came to switch roles, the

Lady Halo probably didn't tell you anything about how to act. She's

not really a dominant type, however much she might like to think so.

I'm sure you noticed that Vixen just resurrected her predator role,

but you had to invent your own slave personality, just as you invented

the personalities of Raven, Angel, and Huntress."

"However, neither of the bondage roles are really you. Raven

is closer, of course. You were only the slave girl Vivid so that

Vixen could have a slave mate, but Brandy is actually closest to your

personality. Hmm, that may be it. Ran was boring, at least in your

mind. That was obvious when you visited my office for your hair

removal treatments. Brandy is your interesting persona. I'll bet Ran

is a genius in his professional field, but as a man he's pretty

average. In contrast, Brandy is flamboyant, unique, memorable. Ran's

genius comes through in the perfection of your impersonations. Even

as Vivid the slave girl you're more desirable than Vixen or Angel, but

you're still an incomplete compromise."

"I want to help you, too, but I have to figure out what you

really need," he continued. Throughout his discussion, he hadn't

asked my opinion on anything, of course, merely soliciting

confirmation on his conclusions about our history, confirmation he

fully expected since he was confident about his abilities. He wasn't

asking for my opinion on what I needed, either. Nonetheless, he had

demonstrated such incredible insights into our lives that I was

convinced he could indeed help me, too. Until he indicated the path

he would take.

"Okay, for you we need to make the Brandy persona complete.

You can still play at being Raven and I'll probably have you be Vivid

on occasion in order to help with Vixen's training. But Brandy is the

one who has to have her conflicts resolved. You really are a wanton

person, ready to enjoy passion with anyone and sensual enough to want

to make it enjoyable. You clearly love Kelly and want to continue

pleasing her with your cock, which is fine. That's a good approach.

However, you don't feel you can be sufficiently pleasing to a man

since you don't have a vagina. I guess I'll show you how to use your

other receptacle."

His casual statement didn't sink in for a second, then I

realized he was planning to fuck me in the ass again!

I tried to cry out around the gag as I stumbled back in

horror, my bondage now a terrifying reminder of my rape by Dart

Tanyon. I almost fell in my hobbles as I tried to back away from

Odysseus and I looked wildly around the room trying to find some way

to hide from his advance. I was too slow, too constrained, of course,

and his strong arms were around me in a heartbeat.

He just held me, however, not making any advance beyond a warm

embrace. He didn't even say anything until he could feel my breathing

steady down, my heartbeat return from the borders of shock.

"Now that was an unexpected response. You've obviously had an

unpleasant experience. Tell me about it," he commanded as he removed

my gag.

Perhaps it was the fact that he held me with my head over his

shoulder so that I couldn't see his face that allowed me to start

pouring out my story. It made it impersonal, somehow, as though I

were talking to myself. I started with the cruise where I had met

Rocky Thornton since Odysseus had already deduced everything about the

transition in my external appearance. I explained how I had wanted to

please Rocky, but could only offer him oral pleasure. Then I

explained about Dart Tanyon, and his brutal rape. I didn't really

describe what we did in return, only saying that with Rocky's help we

convinced Tanyon that he had been wrong. Then I described the final

night in our house, where Rocky and Kelly had accepted me as the

unique person I felt myself to be. When I ran down, Odysseus released

me from his arms and stood back, though I still wore my chains.

"I see," he said. "I didn't pick up on the fact that you had

been raped. I expect the retaliation on this Tanyon person helped you

to bury that pretty deep. Let me make one thing very clear. I won't

hurt you and I won't rape you. If you'll let me help you, I can show

you a way to fulfill yourself, but you've got to want to do so. I

want you to answer one question. If you could enjoy having Rocky make

love to you, would you like him to?"

"Well, yes, of course," I said. "But I can't. I don't have

the right plumbing for him, and I won't give up my cock, or Kelly."

"I never said you should," he corrected me. Then without

another word he took my face in his hands and kissed me. Before, our

kisses had been fun, the passion limited, the meaning shallow. Now,

he took me where I had never been before, even with Rocky. The gray

pools of his eyes seemed to call to me and I felt myself sinking

deeply into them as my own eyes languidly closed. There was no

feeling of rush, no feeling that this was only a prelude to something

else. It was as though my whole world narrowed to the warmth and true

passion flowing from his lips to mine. I felt my heart steady down

from the borders of panic that still had gripped it and realized that

my arms were now tugging at my chains in an attempt to return his

embrace, just as I tried to return the emotion transmitted by his lips

and gently probing tongue.

There was something absolutely unique about his kiss. It sent

a message of confidence, of caring, of sensual passion, and above all

of absolute trust, but not one of philios love. Agapao, the

willingness to sacrifice to help someone, and eros, physical desire

were there, but not philios, the sort of deep commitment of friendship

that the Greeks described as brotherly love, not because it was only

between brothers, but to distinguish it from sexual attraction.

Odysseus was not to be my life's companion, that sort of love fell to

Kelly and perhaps to Rocky. Odysseus was not my friend, he was my

owner, my master. Embedded in his kiss was an offer to be my teacher,

as well.

He stepped back from his embrace and pulled the top of my

dress down to my waist exposing my erect nipples, my newly beautiful

curves. His tongue traced lazy circles around each hard button, then

he began to suck on them, pulling harder and harder. His teeth began

to lightly catch on each one in turn, teasing them to greater and

greater excitement, building an electric fire that spread back from

those swollen points to warm my entire body. I felt the pressure of

arousal in my manhood, buried within the straps I used to conceal it.

That was unexpected, not only had the recent hormone treatments helped

to control that reflex, but even earlier when I had been kissing Rocky

or sucking on his cock, my own had remained soft. It had seemed that

when I was actively performing as a woman, my manhood stayed

quiescent. Yet now, Odysseus was stimulating me through a uniquely

feminine channel, yet I was demonstrating a masculine response.

"The first thing you have to realize, especially since your

basic nature is so wanton, is that sexual stimulation is a combination

of mental and physical attributes. You are intensely sensual and must

accept that your entire body is designed to be responsive. You should

cherish each response, including those you haven't discovered yet,"

instructed Odysseus.

He pulled the brief hem of my minidress up and began to gently

remove the tape hiding my manhood. The thong bikini I wore under the

tape soon followed and I saw my long cock sticking aggressively

forward from under the skirt. My wrists were still bound behind me,

but my only struggles were connected with a desire to return the

favor, to stimulate his excitement to match my own. Nonetheless, my

hands were bound, so the caresses were all one-way, from Odysseus to

me.

He began to stroke my erection in his strong, masculine hands.

No one had ever done that before. Rocky had touched me briefly in the

night when Kelly was the receptacle for us both, but it had been only

a confused, tentative squeeze on the small portion of my cock that

wasn't down her throat. Odysseus was running his hands over the

entire length of my sword, setting fire to the sensitive nerve

endings.

"Your nipples and your cock are your nerve centers most

sensitive to physical stimulation," Odysseus explained. "But the

third most sensitive area can also be a source of intense pleasure."

He stopped his motion, provoking an uncontrollable groan from

me, but he quickly returned his lips, his tongue, and his teeth, to my

nipples. He bit a little more sharply this time. I gasped, but the

electric fire washed through me more intensely than ever. Then he

grabbed my rampant sword and squeezed tightly enough to elicit another

gasp of combined pleasure and pain.

"You can feel now, how slight pain can build on other

sensations to heighten them," the instruction continued, "not as an

end in itself, as the sadists desire, but as a means to expand the

stimulation of ready nerves. The pain loses itself within the

pleasure, if the nerves are ready for that stimulation. If I bit your

nipples at the very first touch, they would merely hurt, but now my

teeth intensify the sensations to even greater pleasure. The same

applies to all truly sensitive nerve centers. There are positive and

negative approaches. I will show you the positive ones."

It was a statement, not a question. My need was building to a

level I had never experienced. Every square inch of my body seemed to

burn with energy that demanded a release. Then my breath was forced

from my lungs so fast I couldn't even scream when one of his probing

fingers stroked my anus. A part of me felt a panicked need to run, to

escape, to deny the intensity of my response to his touch. My arms

strained against the chains, my legs pulled at the hobble, but I

couldn't move.

Like a dam breaking under intolerable stress, the total

freedom that comes with absolute bondage washed through me. Even when

Kelly and Billie Jo had bound me to our bed, I could have stopped them

with words, or even an expression. I didn't need to use up any

thought processes on direction of my arms or legs, but I had never

mentally surrendered control. Tanyon's rape had shocked me into

submission, but my mind rejected him even as he forced his way into my

body. But with Odysseus, I realized that I was totally under his

domination, that the only variable was time and in the end I would

surrender to his will. And that I wanted that surrender. I couldn't

be held responsible for what happened, so I was free to let my

innermost feelings emerge for him to mold and develop.

I realized that his stroking finger was not painful, but

pleasant, the sensations interesting at least, exciting if I let them

be. His manipulations continued, his lips moving from my nipples to

my own lips, his other hand continuing to stimulate my pulsing

erection. My ass cheeks began to clutch at his hand, trying to draw

that probing finger within me. He bent down to undo the locks holding

my hobble chain in place, and my legs were free, but not my arms. The

end of the chain was raised to a cleverly concealed hook in the corner

post of the bed, forcing my bound arms to raise and me to bend over,

my knees pressing into the bed frame so that I couldn't move forward

to relieve the upward pressure on my arms. He came to stand behind me

and urged my legs apart with his legs and I realized that he had

removed his own clothing at some point. His expert hands returned to

their stimulation of my tits and my cock, resurrecting the intensity

of their excitement. One of his hands moved back behind me,

disappearing from my perception for a moment, then returning coated in

a cool, creamy lubricant. The lubricant was smoothed over my anus,

cooling the heat I felt there until my own body warmed the cream.

When his finger finally penetrated me, it was so gentle and natural an

extension of the stroking that he had employed that my primary

sensation was one of success, as though my clenching muscles had

succeeded in drawing him into my grasping receptacle.

A second finger joined the first, initiating the first

feelings that I would once have described as pain. However, they were

like his teeth on my nipple, adding rather than subtracting from the

sensation. Nonetheless I gasped, groaning with emotions so confused I

couldn't have told you whether they were need or pain, demand or

rejection. He slid his fingers in and out of me while the sensation

built and the pain disappeared totally, eliminated or transformed into

something else, something indescribable. This time, when he withdrew

his fingers I knew that my moan was desperate need, and so did

Odysseus.

"Moment of truth, Brandy, not as my slave but as yourself. Do

you want me to show you this pleasure?" he asked.

It was only later that I realized that he had used my real

name, Brandy, rather than my slave name, Vivid. This was truly my

choice and he would have stopped if I had asked him to. Not that I

would, by this time I was burning with need, the need to have this man

inside me.

"Yes! Oh, please yes, make me whole. Take me, please fill me

and fulfill me!" I cried.

His rock hard erection slid into my ass, gliding smoothly but

unstoppably to the hilt. This time there was definite pain, but it

was just as definitely an extension of the incredible sensations

Odysseus had awakened in me, building on them and lifting them to an

unimaginable level. My anal ring squeezed him with all the strength

of my body and my spirit, since my entire world had narrowed to the

focus of his penetration. I felt a fire building within me that would

consume me and I knew that a new person would come out the other side,

if I could just complete the journey. My own erection was pulsing

with the external demonstration of my internal energy, so powerful and

so immense that it seemed my skin must split, that my old cock size

was completely inadequate.

Finally, our actions started to affect Odysseus as well. His

breath became less steady, his motion more aggressive. He began to

stroke in and out of my fiery ass, setting a rhythm I was compelled to

meet as I tried to capture more and more of his pounding rod. He

reached around to grab my tits like handles, pulling me toward him by

the sensitive nipples, teasing them to ever greater length and

hardness. My own cock thrust forward, untouched but intense, ready to

provide the culmination only a man can achieve, while I enjoyed a

fulfillment I had thought only a woman could receive.

With a grunt of his own, Odysseus erupted into me. The

unmistakable sensation of his warm seed filling my body triggered my

own release and I started shooting forward onto his bed, matching each

pulse in my ass with a streamer from my cock. I pumped and pumped,

draining a supply that had been building for the entire evening, yet

his own pulses continued just as long. Finally I began to feel my

balls empty and the force of my ejections diminished. Odysseus's

strokes slowed to match, and he finally stopped his motion, breathing

hard but fully in control just as he was fully in me.

"You are indeed a matchlessly sensual woman, Brandy," he said.

"I almost envy your Rocky, but that sort of relationship is never

correct between a master and slave. He will be your lover, while I

will always be your master. That is why you can't really be Raven.

You love your friends too much to do what they need, too little to

sacrifice their friendship to meet those needs. However, Kelly has

such a well-integrated personality that I couldn't help her much

anyway. She can play at being a slave, which she really enjoys, but

she doesn't need to truly be a slave. She just needs to have a sister

to share secrets with, and a man to share her bed. You can do that

yourself, without me. Rocky is probably in for a bit of a surprise,

though."

The expression in his voice demonstrated the smile that must

be on his face as surely as if I could see it. He withdrew from my

ass, but he didn't lower my arms just yet. Instead, he moved my legs

together and threaded the thong bikini I had worn back up my legs.

"Your cock will stay flaccid until you get home. You won't

need the tape any more tonight," he explained. Then he lowered my

arms, but didn't release them. Instead he reattached the hobble

chain, then reached for the gag as well.

"I want you to reflect on what you learned tonight, before you

try to explain it to Lady Halo," he explained as he fitted the ball

into my mouth. "I'll tell her to leave the gag on until you're home.

That will give you enough time to decide what it means to you."

He led me from the room to find Milady Halo sleeping on the

couch, a softly innocent smile showing that her dreams were as

pleasant as those still capturing Vixen in the other room. Milord

Odysseus attached my leash then dropped the end at my feet, pointing

to me to stay in position, then gently prodded the slumbering Milady

Halo.

"Vivid has completed her training, at least for this evening,"

he informed her. "Except that she is to wear the gag until you

undress her at your house. After that, she can explain her lesson, as

well as the training plan for Vixen, who will stay here. I'll let you

find your own way out while I go to check on Vixen, but I'll be in

touch."

Milady Halo gathered up my leash and led me toward the front

of the house, still a little drowsy but accepting Milord Odysseus's

directions. She couldn't lift me into the car by herself, but the

extra height provided by the curb next to the car allowed me to squat

rather than bend down to enter, yet keep my bottom high enough to sit.

She moved to the driver's seat and we drove off. When we got to our

house, she helped me to tumble out of the car, still crouched enough

to fit through the opening while my legs were folded enough to provide

the slack needed to allow my waist to bend. She took my leash in her

hand and led me to the door with the hobble forcing my spiked heels to

beat a faster rhythm on the walk than her own elegant boots sounded.

Only when we were inside did she remove my bonds, concluding with my

gag.

I stretched my cramped shoulders, then wrapped my arms around

her in a passionate embrace, hugging and kissing her while I squeezed

her shapely tits into my own.

"I love you," I said happily. "You are absolutely the most

wonderful woman in all the world!"

"I'm glad you think so," she laughed. "Is there a particular

reason you feel that way?"

"For selling me to Milord Odysseus for the evening. He has

shown me a fulfillment I never even imagined could be possible."

"Just what did he do in that bedroom?" she asked.

"You're not going to believe it," I giggled, "but he fucked me

in the ass. It was wonderful!"

"What?" gasped Kelly. "He raped you? And you liked it?"

"It wasn't rape, this time," I explained, then went on to tell

her how he had seen the need deep within me, and helped me to see it,

too, then fulfilled that need with spectacular success. We talked

long into the evening and I helped her to see the validity of

Odysseus's observations, including those about Kelly, Angel, and

Milady Halo. When we finally went to bed after removing our dramatic

makeup and our clothes, we slept in each other's arms, lifted by my

erstwhile owner to a higher level of togetherness than we would ever

have achieved on our own.

Chapter 31 - Milord Atlas

Though the liquid breakfast Kelly provided the next morning

was delightful, we generally liked to include a little variety,

especially on Sunday morning, so we got dressed to go out. Kelly

laced me tightly into a shimmery midnight-blue satin corset and I

pulled on one of the leather minis I liked so well, plus a midnight

satin blouse that buttoned down the front. I was proud to show off my

cleavage so I left several buttons undone, allowing the corset to

maximize the display of my new assets. Earrings, jewelry, and the

towering satin pumps Kelly had first provided for me completed the

basic outfit with elegance and style. Kelly matched my outfit,

choosing ice-blue for her corset and blouse to set off her own eyes,

and we were about ready to go out when the doorbell rang.

Vixen stood outside, still bound in her chains but without a

gag. She had pushed the button with her arm, only able to reach it

since her own sky-high heels put it at the level of her elbow. She

was holding a small bag behind her back in her bound hands.

"Come in," I offered, "you're looking more beautiful than

ever."

"Thank you, Milady," she said. "I feel wonderful! But I am

not allowed to enter. My owner has a present for Milady Brandy. In

return, he asked if you might exchange these bonds for the armbinder I

wore before. In addition, he asked for the keys to the car you drove

last night, and those to the house which I brought here before we left

yesterday."

"Are you sure you want to give him all your things?" asked

Kelly as she took the package from Vixen's hands. I knew the answer

already, for I would have gladly given Lord Odysseus everything I

owned after his lesson to me. However, that wouldn't be necessary

since I didn't need full-time training. Vixen merely nodded, happy in

her freedom as a slave, freedom to concentrate on her own emerging

nature without worry about daily management of her affairs.

I was already on my way to get her keys and the red leather

armbinder. True to her command, she stood on the steps while I

removed the light chain, collar, and cuffs, then replaced them with

the red leather binder and its own, shorter chain.

"Please lace it extra tight, Milady," begged Vixen. "My

master will check and I want him to be satisfied."

Kelly was a little concerned, again, but I knew that Lord

Odysseus would take proper care of her, loosening the laces if

necessary. The initial tightness, however, would be an indication of

commitment and I wanted to help my former slave mate in any way I

could. I pulled the laces more tightly than ever before and it was

approaching the snug fit of our corsets when I finished. Vixen's arms

were held closely together from the elbows down and her shoulders were

pulled well back. The resulting aggressiveness with which her new

tits were thrust forward certainly optimized her figure, especially

since she was still lean enough not to need a corset.

"How will you carry your keys?" Kelly asked, since now Vixen's

hands were fully enclosed within the binder.

"If you would be so kind, Milady, I would appreciate it if you

would put them in the bag. Then I could carry it in my teeth,"

replied Vixen.

We opened the package she had brought to find two curved

silicone-filled shapes inside, with a note. These we took out, then

placed the keys inside. Vixen cheerfully took the bag in her mouth,

then gave a surprisingly graceful bow that I knew must have been

practiced for just this occasion, bending her knees just enough to

allow slack in the chain she could use for her forward bend. Only the

tension of the armbinder kept her shoulders back far enough to prevent

her tits from falling out of the top of her slave dress, but she

managed to retain at least a minimum of modestly throughout her

motion.

"Do you need any other clothes from your house?" Kelly asked.

Vixen shook her head, unable to speak with the sack in her

mouth, so I answered for her.

"I expect she'll be kept nude, except for her bonds, for at

least a little while. Do you need us to call in to your work, though,

to request vacation?"

She frowned in confusion for a second and I realized she

hadn't thought that far ahead. However, in a moment she shook her

head again. If something needed to be done, her master would do it.

We each gave her a hug, she smiled a glorious smile at us, then turned

back down the walk to the waiting car, turning to fall into it since

she couldn't bend over. I assumed Odysseus was in it, but he never

showed. Once upon a time I would have been worried about sending a

friend off into absolute domination, but I had been trained by

Odysseus myself and knew it would truly benefit Vixen, once known as

Billie Jo, to place herself under his orders.

Once Vixen was gone, we read the note included with the items

we had found in the bag. It read, "Dear Brandy, these items can be

used to disguise your masculine package, giving you a feminine mound

instead of a man's bulge so that the tape you generally wear will not

be necessary. One is designed to fit inside your panties. The other

is for when you can't wear panties, either because the line would show

or because your outfit is too brief, like a swimsuit. It is held in

place with the adhesive that's included. I expect you'll find them

useful."

The note was signed, "Lord Odysseus."

I was anxious to try them on, but I had already taped my bulge

into obscurity and decided not to waste the work I had done. As time

went on, I was becoming more and more comfortable with my life as

Brandy and didn't feel a panicked rush to make everything happen at

once. These presents would wait, though a part of me wanted to

immediately don the minimum sized one and shop for a skimpy bikini.

At brunch I brought up the question of how to introduce Rocky

to this latest adventurous addition to our lifestyle.

"I can't see him as a slave, though he would look unbelievable

in a tight leather thong and chains!" I suggested.

Kelly giggled at the image, but agreed, "No, he definitely

would need to be the master. It's too bad that the bondage parties

are restricted to one master per slave. Rocky and Raven would make a

terrific pair, but they couldn't share Angel. I wonder if we could

borrow Vixen."

"No," I said, "we can't interfere with her training. I guess

Rocky will just have to meet Raven at a later time. Now let's see, he

can't be Rocky at the party. How about Milord Atlas?"

"Perfect!" Kelly exclaimed. "He's certainly strong enough for

the part."

"I'll call him later and invite him to the next party. We

won't tell him anything about it except that it's a costume party, and

that we have his costume. That should keep him guessing!" I laughed.

When I called him, Rocky agreed to come to the party. He said

that he would fly out in one of his company planes, and asked if we

would arrange ground transportation. Kelly and I decided to splurge

and rent a limousine for the occasion, both to show Rocky how much we

appreciated him, and for the spectacular entrance it would make at the

bondage party.

The next morning when we got up, I immediately tried out the

disguise mound that Lord Odysseus, really the cosmetic surgeon

Dr. Sanford, had provided. It was perfect, as though it had been

molded exactly to my shape. When I tucked it into my panties I took

on a little bit of a tummy, adding a gently feminine curve downward

from just below my navel. My masculine package was submerged in this

smooth shape, the combination soft enough that I wouldn't need to

worry about a man's leg sliding up between mine and discovering my

secret.

It was so convincing that I wore it all that day. I tried out

the smaller one the next day, gluing it in place with the special

adhesive. It worked nearly as well, though it was constrained by how

far it could blend out the curves. Still, I felt I could wear a

skimpy bottom without worry about showing an unnatural shape. Thanks

also to Dr. Sanford, I had a real set of tits to display within a

revealing top. The disguise mounds were actually more comfortable

than the tight tape I had been wearing, so I left it on and went

shopping. The color matched my own skin beautifully, and there was

even a delicate fringe of hair decorating the mound, so for the first

time I could strip in a dressing room without worrying about watching

salesclerks. I found a dangerously revealing bikini in a deep wine

red and felt I could now hit the beach if I needed to.

Our outfits for the day Rocky arrived used the midnight and

ice blue color schemes. I really thought that Kelly's alternative in

dark red and pink was pretty, but I preferred the blues when we wanted

to really impress someone. The dresses were in a smooth knit

material, sized a little too small for us so that we could emphasize

our feminine shapes. We went braless to celebrate my new tits,

particularly the protruding nipples, and left the front of the

zippered dresses open low enough that it would be clear that we were

all natural under the thin material.

The chauffeur for the limousine when it arrived was a gorgeous

blonde with spectacular legs, highlighted by heels almost as tall as

those we wore and tiny, tight shorts even more revealing than our

skirts. I should have known that Kelly would choose a limousine

service that employed pretty drivers. The chauffeur was very capable

though. She got the long car into our driveway in good order, then

held the door for us. Kelly got in, but I paused at the door.

"I think I owe you an apology," I told her as I prepared to

enter the car.

"Ma'am?" she said, not understanding.

"I'll take it back if you call me ma'am," I warned, though I

let a twinkle show I wasn't really mad, "but I must admit I assumed

you got this job based only on your beauty, but you're obviously very

capable."

"Thank you, . . uh . . miss," she said.

"Call me Brandy," I told her. "Formality is for stuffed

shirts." Then I took a deep breath, demonstrating what was stuffing

my shirt.

It was a reflex, really. I tended to flirt with anyone that

caught my eye, and that was just about anyone. My dual nature kept me

interested in women, while Lord Odysseus's instruction had given me a

whole new understanding of what it meant to be a woman, and to be

loved by a man. The chauffeur's reaction was more than I expected,

however. She took her own deep breath, a rush of color flooded her

cheeks, and her tongue danced lightly over her lips. She looked away

quickly, but in a second a side glance returned, trying to ensure my

interest while revealing her own.

"What is your name," I asked.

"Cheryl," she replied, still blushing and breathing roughly.

"Well, Cheryl," I smiled sensuously at her, hinting at

pleasures too intense for words, "when we get back from our party,

perhaps we can tell you about it."

"Yes, . . Brandy, I'd like that," she said softly, embarrassed

but too excited to deny her interest.

I slid into the car, so much easier when not wearing chains,

and was immediately embraced by Kelly, kissing me hotly, rubbing her

tits against mine.

"You're absolutely shameless," she giggled, "next you'll be

shooting fish in a barrel. But you are so HOT! That smile you gave

her made me flow so much it'll probably look like I peed in my

panties."

"Let me check," I offered with a grin, reaching for her skirt.

"Don't you dare," she laughed, "we need to keep neat until

Rocky sees us!"

"Just until he sees us?"

"And until we're private, again."

"You certainly make a lot of conditions. How about if we

limit the conditions to just reasonably private, like right now?" I

said as I reached to caress her magnificent tits. I noticed Cheryl

watching us in the rear view mirror, and caught her eyes with mine to

let her know I saw her. Then I reached under Kelly's skirt to caress

her with one hand while I fondled my own tit with the other. Cheryl

blushed furiously, then looked away, but in a second I saw her eyes

return to the mirror. My grin at catching her re-ignited her cheeks,

but she licked her lips in interest and didn't move her eyes away

until she needed to in order to drive. Kelly was gasping by this

time, and her panties really were wet with her flowing nectar. Never

one to go back on a promise, I stroked her to a tumultuous orgasm,

less intense than when she was bound, but more visible. Of course, I

knew Cheryl was watching, so the visible nature of Kelly's orgasm was

a bonus, not a detriment.

Despite the distraction, Cheryl got us to the airport before

the plane arrived. In fact, we were just a little bit early and were

watching as it pulled up to the executive ramp. The corporate-style

jet was a beautiful Citation 5, elegant and roomy with a maximum

capacity of eight or nine. Again I was surprised, and again I

shouldn't have been, to see the flight crew were both beautiful women.

Since Rocky had to be about the most desirable bachelor in the world,

rich, handsome, wonderful to be around, I should have known that his

staff would be deluged with requests from attractive women for any and

all job openings. The slightest encouragement from Rocky and his

staff would have selected the prettiest candidates from the multitudes

offered. That might have been part of the reason Rocky was attracted

to Kelly and me. We obviously weren't after him for his money, or

with matrimony in mind, but we were also pretty decorative.

Once the flight crew had shut down the plane, Rocky came down

the steps and met us at the door. Every time I saw him I was

impressed again with just how big he was. After being Milady Raven

and after our time with Odysseus, who was only a little above average

in height even though much above average in muscles, my scale for men

had changed. In my towering heels I felt strong and powerful, able to

dominate most men and all women. Until I saw Rocky again, that is.

Next to his massive masculinity I again felt delicately feminine, soft

and small. I flowed toward his arms, intending to greet him with a

passionate kiss as soon as I was close enough, before my beloved rival

Kelly could do the same.

But he held me back at arms length and exclaimed, "Brandy!

You look incredible. I didn't remember that you had such delightful

. . curves."

"They're just the first of many surprises we have for you," I

said, hinting at the others with a wink.

"I can't wait," he said, gathering me into his arms for the

delayed kiss. After an instant in his embrace I didn't want to wait

either as he kindled within me the flames of need that were always

close to ignition. I rubbed my smooth mound up against him, provoking

another start of surprise, and he pulled me back so that he could see

my face. His eyes asked just how much I had changed my body, but this

time I shook my head, no, grinning at his wonder.

Then it was Kelly's turn for a kiss, her own magnificent tits

were constrained only by the tightly-knit material and were much more

prominent than mine. I thought her nipples were glorious before he

kissed her, but the way they extended after their lips met showed me

just how spectacular my wife's mammary development really was. When I

was in the pleasant position Rocky now occupied, my view was a bit

restricted and my hands had obviously never quite conveyed the

message. When we got back in the limo, we were all breathing roughly,

even though for once Kelly and I weren't constrained by corsets.

"You have got to explain how you can look so natural," Rocky

said, tentatively fondling my smooth breast. His eyes widened when he

got a response from the nipple as it grew into a hard button under his

fingers. My own reaction to his touch was a sharp gasp, the

developing nerves sending a delicious tingle through my body.

"They look natural because they are, or at least, they're as

real as those on any other woman with a good cosmetic surgeon," I

explained, then unzipped my dress to my navel and pulled it open to

show my gorgeous curves. He reached for smooth mound of flesh,

tracing the microscopic line of the scar, then lightly stroking the

hot, swollen nipple.

"That's an important commitment, you've made," he said,

serious for a moment. "Have you made others?"

"Not that modify my body," I assured him, "the doctor gave me

a little cushion to hide my cock, but it's still there."

"Good," Rocky smiled, "I like you just the way you are, though

the improvements are wonderful! Whatever made you decide to do that?"

"Well, it's a long story, but the condensed version is that

our neighbor, Billie Jo, decided to go in for enhancement. She asked

me to come along for moral support, and somehow or another I ended up

in the bed next to her at the hospital," I explained.

"Would you like something to drink?" I offered, preparing to

spring our next surprise.

"Sure, I suppose this occasion qualifies for champagne," he

suggested.

I glanced at Kelly to see her own secret shining in her eyes,

anxious to be shared.

"Actually," I grinned, "I think I'd like something different

to drink."

"Like what?" Rocky asked.

"Oh, I was thinking about fresh milk," I hinted, winking at

Kelly. Rocky noticed the byplay, but he didn't understand. Yet.

"I'll check, there should be some in this limo's

refrigerator," he offered.

"No thanks," I declined. "I want some really fresh milk."

That statement confused him until Kelly unzipped her own dress

to expose her full, beautiful tits. I leaned forward to suck at one

nipple while she brought the other to her own lips. In a second, I

was rewarded by warm sips of really, really fresh milk, while Kelly's

heavenly expression indicated she was receiving her double pleasure as

well.

"Would you like some?" I offered, leaning back from Kelly's

lovely source. Rocky was too amazed to move, looking at us with his

mouth hanging open. However, his panting breath and the hard rocks in

his pants showed how excited he was.

"If you're not interested, I'll take advantage of the

opportunity myself," I warned.

"No, I'm interested," he said. "You girls are truly amazing.

I can't imagine what else you'll come up with."

He leaned forward to sample Kelly's refreshment, sucking

strongly on the nipple I had abandoned. His throat began to work as

he swallowed his reward and a strange, soft expression appeared on his

face, as though he were transformed back into a small, carefree child.

Kelly's expression continued to show the deep pleasure she was

enjoying, and once again I resolved to see if we could get my own

supply started, though I would never hold nearly as much as Kelly.

Even her supply was drained in a short while, however, so we

did break out the champagne as a dessert, eating the fruits that had

also been supplied with the limousine. The ride was as elegant as

only a limo can be, smooth, fast, luxurious. This time I wasn't able

to flirt with the chauffeur, since Rocky was there. Lord Odysseus had

taught me to truly appreciate men, but I was still pretty focused on

women. Only a few outstanding exceptions among men really excited me,

especially once my confidence had increased enough that I didn't need

continual reinforcement of my attractiveness, but I still considered

pretty women very interesting. So did Rocky, but I was glad that at

this moment his interest was focused on Kelly and me. I remembered

our trip out, though, and did manage to catch Cheryl's eyes once to

confirm her interest. The promise in her expression brought my

sensitive nipples to attention within the thin dress, provoking a bit

of tease from Kelly as we exited the car.

She laughed and said, "Goodness, Brandy, you're no better at

concealing your thoughts now than you were when you used to let your

cock show through tight pants. Put you next to someone sexy and

something's gonna get hard."

"Speak for yourself. The only reason you don't give yourself

away is that you're nipples are always enormous," I said as I reached

over to lightly pinch her nipple in my long red nails. "Wait till

Rocky sees you in your dress, tonight."

"How long will it take you girls to get ready for the party?"

he asked.

"That depends on what we're doing just before we start getting

ready," I replied. My smile offered to do whatever he wanted until

that time and the bulge in his pants got more sharply defined than

ever.

He swept me in to his arms again for an intense, penetrating

kiss. I responded more fully, more completely than I had ever done

before, now trained by Lord Odysseus in total release. In an instant

I was so hot I needed either a cold shower or a hot bedmate, but Rocky

broke our kiss and stood back. I moaned when he raised his head,

reaching with my lips for those that had abandoned me, but he stayed

out of my reach.

"Goodness," he breathed. "You've changed in more ways than I

knew, but all for the better."

"Goodness had nothing to do with it," I laughed with Mae

West's old line, reaching again for another kiss.

He smiled but held me away, "Not until you tell me about this

costume party."

"It's actually not quite a costume party, though we will go in

costumes," I said obliquely. "It's more of a role-playing party. You

need to become another person tonight. The costume is just part of

the role."

"And what role did you have in mind for me?" he asked.

"How would you like to be Milord Atlas, with two slave girls

in attendance?" I offered.

"Are you serious?" he gasped in surprise, but his interest

flaunted itself within his pants.

"Completely," Kelly confirmed. "In fact, we've already done

it."

"You've done this before?" he asked incredulously.

"Several times," Angel replied. "Not enough, but several."

"Do you want to do this, too?" he turned to me.

"Yes, Milord Atlas. I have been both mistress and slave, as

has Kelly. It's an incredible experience, one that I'm more than

willing to repeat. The party we're going to is a bondage party.

Those who attend are expected to act their parts, not just dress for

them. I make a most convincing mistress, and a most desirable slave."

"Which did you enjoy more?" he asked in wonder, not believing

this latest outrageous facet of our lifestyle.

"I have only been a slave girl once," I replied, "before

tonight. I would have said I enjoyed being a dominant more, but at

the last party, Milady Halo, who is Kelly's dominant, sold me to a

wonderful master. He taught me things that I can't wait to show you,

things that I just know will be even more wonderful with you."

"What sort of things?" he demanded, shock mixing with

irritation in his expression.

"Things I can only show you, but how to really kiss you is

only a small taste of the pleasures we can now share. It was

wonderful, but he was only a teacher. You're the one who can give

those pleasures real meaning."

He shook his head, not in refusal, but in wonder at our

willingness to do something he thought was distasteful. For him, it

would have been, but with the right master (or mistress) I was willing

to be a slave girl.

"Milord Atlas, we really do enjoy this," I assured him. "For

a little while, we can allow ourselves to be as sensual and attractive

as we can be, trusting you to protect us. Our bonds constantly remind

us that we are desirable enough to be owned and cared for. It makes

for an incredible evening."

"How could you sell her to someone, to be used?" Rocky

demanded of Kelly, still confused and irritated.

"Relax," I interrupted, " we knew the master before hand, and

knew we could trust him. Think of it as private lessons, if it's

easier for you, but there was no real force, no bullying, no pain.

We, both Vixen and I, were bound but not otherwise coerced except by

the force of his personality. He was a true master, but never really

a lover. I think you'll like what I learned in my lesson. We weren't

actually sold, either, no money was involved. If any money had

changed hands, it should have been us paying him for the training."

"Vixen and I were up on the slave block, though," I laughed,

trying to defuse his tension. "Milady Halo was offered a hundred

thousand dollars for the pair of us, if she had really wanted to sell

us. Learning how desirable we were was part of our training, and it

certainly made me feel better about myself."

"I don't know," Rocky said, still a bit upset. "I hate

slavery even more than I hate bullying, mostly because they're both

facets of the same ugliness."

I captured his face in my hands and kissed him gently, keeping

our previous passion under control. "I know," I said, "that's part of

the reason we love you so much. You've never really been involved in

bondage, have you?"

"No," he admitted, "only the time we made love with Kelly,

when I was here before."

"Did you think she was suffering, in her bondage?" I asked.

"No, of course not," he said. "She was having a terrific

time."

"Why do you think she was feeling so good?" I prodded.

"I guess it's because she could just let go, and not worry

about control."

"Exactly," I confirmed. "No one with any pride or self-esteem

could do that all the time, just as no one but a bully would be happy

with someone so weak. But for a change of pace, for a chance to be

taken to places you couldn't get to on your own, it's marvelous.

Isn't it Kelly?"

"Absolutely," she confirmed. "When Milady Raven took me to my

first bondage party, I felt more intensely alive, more desirable, more

valuable than I have ever felt before. Even after I was Kelly again,

I felt good about the desire I had provoked when I was a slave, when

no one was interested in anything but my body. It's like being bound

to the bed, the sensations seem to break through old limits and define

a higher plane of pleasure. Being a slave in public made me feel more

beautiful than anything else has ever done. I can't wait to do it

again, with the right master."

"The right master is key," I continued, piling on the

arguments. "It has to be someone you can trust absolutely, even more

than you trust yourself. That way you can willingly surrender control

in the expectation that you will be happier because of it. The master

Milady Halo gave me to took me places I never expected to go, but now

I know how to get there, if you'll help me return."

Rocky shook his head, but this time it was in wonder, not in

denial. "Every time I think you two couldn't possible top yourselves,

in outrageous, exciting, intensely hot ideas, you come up with

something even more incredible than before. All right, I'll play your

game. But you better understand right now, I play for keeps. While

you are my slaves, I will expect absolute obedience and absolute

devotion. Is that understood?"

"Absolutely," we chorused, breaking down in giggles at the

release in tension.

"Do you have our costumes prepared?" Rocky asked, already

beginning to take charge.

"Yes, Milord Atlas," Kelly replied.

"Including one for you, Milord Atlas," I smiled, the heat

behind my lashes hinting at the virility he would display.

"Then fetch them," he ordered.

Kelly scurried off to get our slave outfits while I went and

got the outfit for Milord Atlas. His outfit was more fitting for a

comic-book superhero than a real man, but then, Rocky was about the

size and shape of a superhero, complete to the rugged manhood of his

features. We had gotten him a stretchy spandex unitard that fit him

tighter than a glove. The black material caught highlights from

everywhere and flashed as his muscles rippled with animal power.

Under the wide black shoulder straps of the unitard, we gave him a

pirate shirt complete with flowing sleeves, open at the collar to

display the muscles of his massive chest. When the time came, we

would use the open collar to frame one of the chains he would wear, a

neck chain obviously holding the keys to our bonds. The other chain

was a belt, made of massive gold links similar to those that we would

wear as our bonds, but sized up to declare the strength it would take

to contain his power. Shiny black boots and gauntlets with

exaggerated cuffs completed his outfit, enhancing the comic-book

nature of the outfit in proud celebration. Milord Atlas, his clothes

declared, was indeed a superman, more powerful than ordinary mortals.

Kelly had changed to her slave dress while I was helping

Milord Atlas with his clothes. His eyes lit up when he saw the

dangerously revealing, outrageous costume, but his response was even

more noticeable (in that tight unitard he couldn't really hide

anything) when he saw the chains she carried.

"With your permission, Milord Atlas, I will show you how these

chains are attached," I offered.

He nodded abruptly, striving to maintain his dominant persona.

Rocky was a powerful man in both physical and personality attributes.

Anyone who could build a fortune from hard work and determination was

used to giving orders to subordinates, and that aspect of being a

master was no problem for him at all. The problem was the distraction

Angel provided with her near nudity more emphasized than hidden by the

tiny slave costume, coupled with her shining beauty and glorious

figure. It took a dedicated, conscientious master like Lord Odysseus

to overcome the natural urges demanded by Angel's intense femininity.

For Rocky, it was almost too much. However, he forced his mouth

closed by sheer determination and watched as I chained Angel.

That nearly did him in again. The shining gold links of her

collar, cuffs, and chains lifted her back to that matchless image of

innocence and sensuality that only Angel possessed. I was watching

his reaction first with amusement, then with growing concern, not that

I would have minded an interesting interlude, but I was afraid his

unitard was going to explode in the vicinity of his visibly pulsing

erection. From my own experience I knew it must have long passed the

painful stage, and I wondered if he would go on with our plans for the

evening. In a moment, Angel was bound, the links of the chains

tinkling their constant melody of submission, and Milord Atlas placed

the keys on the chain about his neck while I left to change my own

clothes.

When I returned, Milord Atlas was kissing Angel, pulling her

slender waist to him, wrapping her in his massive arms with a physical

dominance that even Lord Odysseus could not match. The pain of his

erection was balanced by the incredible erection in Angel's nipples,

straining against the thin fabric. I wasn't really jealous of my wife

in the ordinary sense, just jealous that I wasn't getting my share of

the loving that our master was dispensing, so I coughed to get their

attention.

"Milord Atlas, would it be your pleasure to chain me at this

time?" I asked demurely, holding out the chains, including the link

for my hair.

He looked at that link, but tossed it on the table. "I prefer

your hair to be loose and flowing," he declared. But he took the

collar and fastened it around my neck, leaving the lock open as he had

seen me do for Angel. The bracelets followed, and then the ankle

cuffs. Before he fastened the chain to my collar, he pulled it slowly

through his fingers, letting the gold shine against the black depth of

his gloves. He twirled his finger silently and I turned around,

listening once again for the terribly important click as he fastened

the first of my locks. Milord Atlas quickly completed my bondage,

clicking my wrists together behind my back, and my ankles to the

hobble.

"Are there any other bonds?" he asked.

"Yes, Milord," I confirmed, "in the package on the table."

With my eyes I indicated the package I had brought out when I returned

in my own brief slave dress. He reached inside and drew forth first a

golden chain leash, which he placed aside as he looked for what else

was in the package. The next item to be withdrawn was one of the ball

gags. Once again his eyes widened at this further sign of abject

submission.

"Have you actually worn this?" he asked, wonder again in his

gaze.

"Yes, Milord," we both confirmed.

I could see he didn't particularly care if we could speak or

not, but curiosity at what the ball gags would do, what they would

look like, flared in his eyes and I could tell he would place them on

us. He moved to me and I opened my mouth, taking the ball behind my

teeth. He fastened it in place below the mass of my flowing hair and

stood back to look at me. There was sympathy in his eyes, but also

such intense desire that I knew he realized my appearance, my

submission, was exciting him as much as it excited me. Even aside

from the expression in our eyes, however, the signs of our excitement

were flamboyantly displayed in my erect nipples and his throbbing

bulge. He shook his head again at our unbelievable willingness to

explore outrageous fantasies, but he moved to place Angel's gag in her

mouth as well.

"Is there anything else?" he asked, smiling at the realization

that we couldn't speak to answer him, but informing us by his question

that he expected us to solve the problem somehow.

Angel looked about uncertainly, not sure if there was anything

else to do before we left, but I decided I would rise to the challenge

and stepped with the tiny stride allowed by my hobbles to where my

purse was sitting. I reached behind myself to pick it up and opened

it. Inside were both the location to give the driver of the

limousine, and the money to pay for our entry fees to the bondage

party. Working by feel, I extracted these from the pocket of my purse

where I had placed them, then walked to Milord Atlas and turned

slightly to offer them to him. He smiled at my success, but said

nothing. Once Angel saw how to get something, she used a similar

technique for our domino masks, offering them to our master as well.

He put his on, then put ours on us, carefully working the elastic

under my flowing hair. He placed the other items, including a few

things from his own wallet, within the extended cuffs of his

gauntlets. Taking up our leashes he hooked them to our collars and

walked to the door, sauntering with relaxed power that I knew was

scaled to the pace we could maintain in our hobbles. We left the

house in his wake and stood quietly while he locked up. Then he

started us toward the limousine with a negligent tug on our leashes

and we meekly followed.

When Cheryl saw us walking toward the limo revealed in our

tiny dresses and chained from head to foot, she gasped in amazement.

But her face also heated with a warmth that was not due to

embarrassment, but obvious desire. She looked at me with an

expression that shouted of her need, and I felt it was as much for the

experience of being bound as for the sexual stimulation her body was

craving. If I hadn't been gagged I might have suggested that she take

the place of one of the slave girls so that I could be Milady Raven

again, but there wasn't really time to start over. Besides, I wanted

to serve Milord Atlas later that evening as his slave girl.

When we reached the limousine, Milord Atlas lifted each of us

into the car with negligent strength, casually placing us on the jump

seats with our chains led beside the narrow cushions. He fastened our

seatbelts around us and slid to his own seat after handing Cheryl the

directions to the party. She closed his door and hurried to the

driver's seat, backing smoothly from the driveway and heading toward

the freeway. Milord Atlas looked at us for a short while, but reached

to remove our gags before we even left our neighborhood.

"I may replace these later, but for now I think I would like

you to talk to me," he said.

"Yes, Milord," we answered.

At his order we told him of our previous parties, right up

until we were sold. At that point I requested permission to hold of

on further explanations until later, when I could show him rather than

try to put it into words. He was about to demand I go forward, but

the promise in my eyes of what I would show him made him decide to

wait for the experience. He filled us in on his activities until we

reached the neighboring city where the bondage party was being held.

Chapter 32 - Cream Filling

When we pulled up to the hotel and Cheryl saw the path to the

parking, she called over the internal window in the limo to explain a

problem. "We won't be able to take this car into that parking garage.

I'll have to let you out here."

Milord Atlas reached to undo our seat belts as though there

were no issue, but we had never walked through the main hotel in

costume. I began to explain, "Milord, I'm not sure the hotel will let

us go through the main lobby. We've always used the garage entrance

before."

He said nothing, just looking at me for a moment. Then I

could see decision in his eyes, and he reached for our gags. In a

moment, Angel and I wore our gags again, and he was lifting us to our

feet outside the car. He looped our golden leashes around his shiny

black gauntlet and walked toward the door of the hotel with casual

confidence. We followed behind with the tiny, quick steps required by

our hobbles and entered the main hotel lobby. Milord Atlas acted as

though he owned the place, an absolute confidence enhanced by the

knowledge that he could if he chose to, and looked at the display of

meeting rooms for the one cryptically labeled, "Controlling Bonds."

When he identified it, he sauntered to the elevator, ignoring the

gasps and stares of the crowd of people in the lobby. At first, I

could feel a flare of embarrassment in my cheeks, but I noticed that

Angel was gloriously happy, not embarrassed. She truly reveled in the

desire she caused around her, yet she was so honestly pleased that her

expression was childish innocence, not jaded egotism. That reminded

me of my persona, and I unleashed the lust I felt into my expression.

The color in my cheeks changed from embarrassment to hot promise, and

I walked proud to the point of arrogance behind my master,

exaggerating the wiggle of my tiny skirt as I stepped quickly in the

hobbles.

An officious looking man came from behind the counter to

intercept us, stopping in front of Milord Atlas. "You people aren't

supposed to come in here," he complained.

Milord Atlas looked down at him in dismissal. I would have

used a sneer, but Rocky was just too gentle and careful of his

strength to allow him to transition to a cruel attitude. He could,

however, treat others as annoying children, too insignificant to reach

his emotions.

"You did not make proper arrangements for limousines, and I do

not intend to hunt around for some alternate entrance. Stand aside."

The absolute absence of deliberate menace in his tone, since

he truly was gentle, became inverted into an overwhelming message of

danger to the officious complainer. Milord Atlas towered above

everyone in the lobby, much taller and immensely stronger than the man

who confronted him. The shiny ripples of his skin-tight outfit

celebrated his massive strength, demonstrating without doubt that his

bulk was sculptured muscle, not fat. His slave girls, in such total

bondage, implied Milord Atlas was comfortable, even willing to use

force to achieve his ends and in any ordinary man that willingness

would have shown in a threatening tone of voice. Its total absence

could only be explained by rigid control, perhaps only barely

maintained. Unless you knew how gentle our master truly was, that is.

Since the man confronting us had only the evidence of his eyes to go

on, he made the natural assumption the Milord Atlas would use his

strength without hesitation and the hotel worker's awareness of his

absolute helplessness before such a powerful man surged in his eyes.

He stepped quickly back and we moved to the elevator.

A middle-aged couple was standing there, waiting for an

elevator to arrive. The man's eyes bulged at our near nudity, and at

our shining bonds. His wife glared at us with undisguised hatred,

knowing that she could not match our desirability. Then she noticed

the expression on her husband's face and her anger transferred to him.

"Don't you dare look at those disgusting women!" she demanded.

Before he could reply, Milord Atlas intervened. "It is not

their purpose to please you, madam, but to please me. Your opinion

insults me. Do not do so again."

"Well, I never . . ," the women blustered.

"Obviously," Milord Atlas interrupted. "If you had, your

husband would be paying attention to you, instead of my women. Don't

transfer your own shortcomings to others."

At that moment the elevator arrived and Milord Atlas led us

into it without hesitation. The man moved to enter with us, but his

wife held him back. As we waited for the doors to close I looked at

the man with hot invitation in my eyes, promising the fulfillment of

all his desires if he could gain control of me. He gasped in instant

flaming need, provoking his wife to trace his gaze to my eyes. I then

turned the same expression on her, suggesting that I could fulfill her

secret desires as well. There was an instant of responsiveness in her

expression, before she forced it to disgust, but I knew that she was

interested, and that she knew I knew. Embarrassment flooded her face,

but just as the door closed I saw a thoughtful expression as well. I

wondered if we would see a new couple at one of the future bondage

parties. Perhaps the woman would offer to buy me for an evening,

though at the next one I intended to be Raven. Perhaps I would buy

her and see how well I had learned my dominance lessons from Milord

Odysseus.

The encounter with the officious hotel worker had solidified

Milord Atlas in his persona. The total absence of threat became the

greatest threat of all and he could actually relax into his role. He

would roll over any interference without allowing it to reach him

emotionally, so overwhelming in his superiority that no noticeable

effort would be required on his part to get his way. The couple at

the elevator had helped me to recover the persona of Vivid, the

insatiable wanton. With every look, with every swing of my tiny

skirt, with every toss of my flowing mane of hair, I sent a message to

all who came close that only my slavery kept me from throwing myself

at anyone and everyone in uncontrollable submission to my limitless

drive for sexual fulfillment. Gaining control of me promised intense,

energetic sex which might not be possible to survive, and would

certainly be impossible to match. Angel provided the perfect

counterpoint, also incredibly beautiful, also intensely sensual, but

innocent of any sin in her honest desire for physical pleasure, both

to give and to receive. Opening that delicate flower with the

spectacular figure promised delights without inhibition.

At first, Milord Atlas was apparently unaware of the intensity

of the effect we were having on those around us. He paid our way into

the party, declining to participate in the contest, and sauntered

through the displays. Only his unusually slow pace betrayed his

awareness that we were even attached to the leashes trailing from his

gauntlet. He hadn't explained why he had gagged us again, though it

had certainly focused the encounter in the hotel lobby entirely on

him, making us clearly not responsible for explanations, and therefore

not responsible for our actions. In the party itself he could have

removed them, but he left them in place with casual negligence.

When he turned around, however, I could see the bulge pulsing

in his tight costume and I knew he was picking up on the energy we

were broadcasting. He paused for a second to examine one of the

tables and I used the opportunity to step up to him, molding my body

to his and rubbing gently against him. I sent him a message of

burning need with my eyes, a message that was merely the truth for my

act of insatiable, consuming desire had become only too real.

"Why, Vivid, it would appear to me that you would ask for

something, if I let you speak," he laughed. "That's why I gagged you.

I'm not taking any suggestions right now. I think I'll let you simmer

for a while longer."

I gave him a frown around the gag, and rubbed against him

again.

"No, I told you my decision," he confirmed, no anger in his

words, but no room for discussion either. "If you don't behave

yourself, I'll make you hotter than ever."

With that threat, so gently delivered, he reached out and

tweaked my nipples to even greater extension. The electric shock of

his touch nearly caused me to faint. I groaned around the gag and

sagged with weakened knees. He smiled at my helplessness and

supported me, using the occasion to reach under my skirt and grab a

handful of firm ass globe for a convenient lifting handle. That

didn't really help and I groaned even louder, letting him know as I

realized myself just how desperate my need was getting. Angel

actually looked a little worried, her heavenly face clouding with a

small frown. Milord Atlas bent down to whisper in my ear, "Don't

worry, we'll be leaving soon. But I find I do like the sense of power

that this situation provides. I'll make it up to you later."

His promise stoked the fires of my need even higher, and I

tried once again to rub up against him, but he just grinned and moved

away, easily too fast for my hobbled legs to follow. He wandered over

to the tables of bondage implements, passing by those that were too

painful, but to our surprise he stopped at one displaying nipple

clamps.

"I think you girls would benefit from a little stimulation.

Now let's see, which ones should I use?" He trailed his fingers

lightly through the array of clamps, pausing on one pair that seemed

to be made of sharp knives that looked actually dangerous. However,

his pause was for effect, and his fingers moved on. I realized that

we couldn't really even resist whatever he wanted to do, especially

gagged as we were. Any resistance would seem to be an act since his

strength would overpower ours so totally our struggles wouldn't even

appear serious.

He selected matching sets of nipple clamps, each pair joined

by about a foot of golden chain that went very well with our existing

bonds. In contrast to the ones he had used to tease us, these clamps

were gently rounded and padded with a layer of rubber. If he didn't

fasten them too tightly, they wouldn't really hurt at all. At least,

I hoped not. He bought them from the dealer and turned to us, first

to Angel, since her magnificent tits were highlighted by equally

magnificent nipples. He fastened the clamps to her nipples directly

through the thin fabric of her slave dress, screwing down on the

mechanism until they were securely in place. I could see from her

expression that she wasn't hurt, in fact, her eyes showed a look of

wonder at the sensation. Milord Atlas then turned to me and placed

the clamps on my own erect nipples. At first, the sensation was a

gentle as a caress, less of a shock than when he had touched me only

moments before. As he screwed down on the clamps, the pressure became

firmer, stabilizing at a constant, steady squeeze that was less than

the sharpness of Milord Odysseus's teeth, back when he had introduced

me to the extension of pleasure through careful stimulation of my

sensitized nerves. I wondered if Milord Atlas had somehow learned

that technique, and whether my training would satisfy him, or merely

excite him to show me even more of this new avenue of arousal. He had

hardly turned away, though, when the first small throb pulsed in my

nipples from the restricted circulation.

The lofty indifference to lesser beings that Milord Atlas had

displayed had created a feeling of distance between us and the others

at the bondage party, and we had not been approached by anyone. By

his purchase of the nipple clamps, however, Milord Atlas had broken

down that distance, and we were now approached by a series of would-be

owners, male and female, who made increasingly flattering offers to

buy either Angel or me, or both. The excitement of an open auction at

the slave block wasn't there, but the offers climbed up to almost

equivalent levels. Milord Atlas either blandly ignored them, or

negligently shook his head, not concerned with other's desires or with

mere money.

The sensation of the nipple clamps was so compelling that I

wasn't really paying attention to where he was taking us until I saw

his free arm raise in a gesture toward the exit. I looked up to see

Cheryl turning away, already heading to fetch the limousine. Milord

Atlas pulled us toward the elevators, still strolling slowly enough

that we could keep up in our hobbles. This time no one else was

waiting and we moved into the elevator without incident.

"Girls, I'm going to leave you gagged for a little longer I

think. At least until we reach the car. I have a few ideas in mind

and I wouldn't want you to make so much noise you distracted the

chauffeur."

What ideas? I was really surprised that he had placed nipple

clamps on us. That didn't seem to fit with his inherently gentle

nature, though the stimulation was not really painful. Nonetheless,

it clearly indicated that he was not as predictable as I had thought.

I still trusted him, but I realized that I couldn't really begin to

forecast the sensations we would experience as his slaves.

We paraded through the lobby again, the same officious hotel

worker busily ignoring us from behind the counter. Cheryl had the

limo waiting and the door open. Milord Atlas lifted each of us into

the car, but he folded up the jump seats and placed Angel and I on our

knees, facing each other. Our bonds and the need to keep our

shoulders back to keep the tops of our dresses in place forced us into

an erect, elegant posture, while our spread knees and linked ankles

provided a stable triangle of support.

I expected him to remove our gags as soon as the limo pulled

away from the drive, but instead he reached for the clamp on Angel's

right nipple. He removed it and she moaned with the intensity of the

sensation as blood surged back into her hard button. I saw tears form

in her eyes, and wondered if she were really in pain, but in just a

second I caught the scent of her arousal and knew she found the

experience stimulating, not truly unpleasant. Instead of removing her

other nipple clamp, he next reached for me and undid the one on my

left nipple. The flare of heat as the clamp was removed was too

intense to label as either pleasure or pain. It was something

indescribable, more than the sum of both, more powerful than anything

Milord Odysseus had done to my tits when he was training me. I moaned

around my own gag, and sagged against the front of the compartment, my

eyes closing as my world narrowed in focus to the hot flood surging

from my nipple point throughout my body.

Even as I sagged in my bonds, I felt a tug on the remaining

clamp and expected it to be removed. Instead I heard a muffled gasp

from Angel and opened my eyes to see Milord Atlas fastening to Angel's

right nipple the free clamp from the chain still attached to my right

nipple! The gag I wore muffled my own gasp as Milord Atlas completed

his plan by attaching the chain leading from Angel's left nipple to my

own. In a moment we were linked together by a crossed pair of chains

clamped tightly but not quite painfully to the burning buttons on our

tits. Only then did our master remove our gags.

"Comfortable, girls?" he asked.

"Yes, Milord," Angel dutifully replied.

"No, Milord," I replied, surprising Milord Atlas.

"What is the problem?"

"Oh, Milord Atlas, I need you too badly to be comfortable. I

need to hold you, to kiss you, to taste you, to be taken by you to

heights I can only dream about, until you show them to me."

He smiled as I made it clear my discomfort was sexual need,

enhanced by our bonds rather than diminished by his arrangement of his

slave girls.

"Too bad," he grinned. "You'll just have to wait until we get

back to the house. Think about what you might do there to please me.

I'll expect real creativity."

I moaned again, desperate in my need, yet the bondage into

which he had placed us required Angel and I to concentrate on our

balance and posture while at the same time forcing our focus on the

very stimulation that was fanning the flames of our arousal. As it

had with Milord Odysseus, the intense stimulation of my nipples

aroused my manhood to erection as well and it strained within the

disguising cushion. By the time we reached the house I was whimpering

in my need, the adhesive on my artificial mound beginning to loosen

from the pulsing pressure of my raging cock.

I was barely aware of the world outside my arousal when Cheryl

pulled into our driveway and opened the limousine door. I couldn't

concentrate enough to imagine any way that Angel and I could get to

the house while still clamped together and was trying to prepare

myself for the unimaginable flood of sensation when my nipples were

freed when Milord Atlas reminded us of his incredible strength. He

reached an arm under my thighs, and under Angel's as well, and simply

lifted one of us up in each hand as easily as he might have lifted a

couple of loaves of bread. I felt a sharper tug at my nipples as

Angel and I adjusted ourselves for this new support and had an instant

of panic at the thought of falling, but Milord Atlas held our legs in

a gentle grip as steady as a vise. This provided an anchor point and

we could use our legs to hold ourselves in position. Milord Atlas

carried us to the door, set us down while he unlocked it, then picked

us up again and carried us into the bedroom.

"Kneel, girls," he ordered, and we lowered ourselves to the

floor, carefully keeping our tits close enough together to keep the

chains from pulling too tightly. Angel and I faced each other, our

knees touching, our tits nearly so, our lips only inches apart. I

needed to be kissed, to be loved, to be used as I had never been used

before and I leaned forward frantically to suck Angel's tongue deeply

into my mouth. She responded with equal energy, her own need perhaps

as great as mine, her sensual scent flooding the air around us. I was

so consumed with the sensations from my nipples, and from her lips,

that I didn't notice that Milord Atlas had undressed himself.

"Lean back, both of you," he ordered, and as we did so he

moved forward to place his thick, engorged cock between our faces. I

immediately began to lick and kiss on my side of his shaft, painting

it with my tongue, wrapping my lips around it. Angel's lips met mine

as we slid our mouths right and left over the length of Milord Atlas's

mighty tool, and our tongues dueled for the privilege of licking the

sensitive underside. Milord Atlas began to pant heavily from the

stimulation, and he turned slightly toward me. I used the opportunity

to take the head of his cock into my mouth and began to pull him into

me with all the suction my lungs could provide. Angel began to lick

at his balls, gently flicking at the tightly stretched skin over his

swollen orbs.

Milord Atlas pulled back from my mouth and turned to Angel,

who eagerly swallowed his tool down her own throat, determined to

convince our master that she was the better fellatrice. I used the

opportunity to capture one of his balls in my mouth, swirling my

tongue around the convoluted shape. Milord Atlas groaned again and

withdrew.

"Not too much, too soon," he gasped.

"Vivid, are you hard, within that cushion?" my master then

asked.

"Yes, Milord, desperately hard," I confirmed

"Can that gaff be removed, without removing your bonds?" he

continued.

"Yes, Milord, but you will need to put a little of the release

agent on the adhesive, or I'll lose some skin."

"We can't have that," he smiled. "Your skin is entirely too

beautiful to waste."

I told him where the solvent was and after he had gotten it he

pulled up the hem of my brief skirt and soaked the edges of the

disguising cushion with the fluid. In a few seconds my cock was free,

surging forward in hunger for a different sort of captivity.

"Now, you two sit still for a minute," we were directed.

Milord Atlas removed the chain running from our necks to our

ankles, and removed the ankle cuffs. He relocked our collars, and

locked my wrist bracelets directly together, pinning my arms behind my

back, but he left Angel's arms free. Without our hobbles we could

move our legs apart, but our nipple clamps still held Angel and I

closely together.

"Stand up," our master ordered and we struggled to our feet,

Angel helping me with my balance as we rose, carefully keeping our

tits within the reach of the chains connecting them.

He used our leashes to bind Angel's arms to the upper corners

of our bed posts, spreading and lifting her magnificent tits. I still

stood facing her, only allowed a few inches by the crossed chains from

my nipple clamps.

"Now, Vivid, I want you to stick your cock into her."

I struggled to position my raging erection at the flowing

entrance to her feminine receptacle, finally steering the tip of my

cock into her liquid canal. She swung her legs around me and pulled

me deeply into her, beginning to swing from her chains in response to

her demanding need for stimulation.

I struggled to control myself so that I could offer my master

my ultimate service. "Milord Atlas, I have been trained in the

pleasure of use as a woman is used. Could a lowly slave girl beg the

privilege of your glorious manhood to fill my hot ass? I promise you

it will be wonderful for both of us."

"You're kidding," he said in disbelief. "After you were raped

in the ass, you want me to do the same?"

"Milord, if you will only be a bit gentle, it will not be

rape, but be more wonderful than I can describe. There is lubricant

in the nightstand."

At my urging he carefully prepared me, while Angel swung

gently back and forth, maintaining her own arousal. When he finally

penetrated me it was even more pleasurable than I had remembered, the

sensation that I had once considered to be painful now building on the

fires from my nipples and my cock to lift me to unbelievable

stimulation. I began to move forward and back, plunging into Angel as

I felt my master's cock withdraw from my ass, then pushing backward to

take him fully into me as my own cock withdrew from Angel. I wanted

this incredible sandwich to continue forever, building ever higher,

ever more wonderful, but I felt my own need surging in a demand that I

knew I wouldn't be able to deny for long.

Angel's own arousal was reaching impossible heights as she

began to moan in mindless passion. I was tasting the first beginnings

of an explosion within me when I saw Milord Atlas reach around me and

pull the nipple clamps off of Angel. She truly did explode in

response to the overwhelming stimulation, screaming with the intensity

of her release in a thin voice robbed by her uncontrollable breathing

of the air for full sound. Milord Atlas pulled my own nipple clamps

off a heartbeat later and I screamed my own release as the heat

flooded through me. My world narrowed to the fire in my nipples, and

the pulse through my cock, and the pressure of my master's tool in my

ass. The pulses of my release were reflected in the spasms of my

anus, which provided the final stimulation needed by Milord Atlas for

his own explosion. Like dominos we erupted in rapid sequence,

triggered by his removal of Angel's nipple clamps, and of my own.

His deep grunts provided a masculine counterpoint to Angel's

high soprano and my own melodic contralto as we were carried upwards

into a mutual triumph, each adding the emotional fulfillment of

happiness in the pleasure of those we loved to the physical pleasure

captivating our own bodies. In all the occasions I had ever enjoyed

sex, none ever approached this incredible culmination of trained

physical responses merged with deep mutual love. For a mindless,

timeless interval we helped each other to immeasurable heights,

reaching and then exceeding a new level of joy with each heartbeat,

with each pulse of release, with each spasm of clamping muscles.

Even this incredible wonder must finally come to an end,

however, and my perceptions eventually expanded to accept the world

outside our union. Angel had ceased her thin screams, now sighing

softly, hanging limply from the chains holding her arms. My own cock

was deflating within her, the final pulses draining the seed from my

balls, even as I felt the warm semen from my master seeping within my

body. Finally he withdrew from my ass, bending forward to kiss my

shoulder as he reached for the bonds holding Angel. I withdrew from

her as he lowered her gently to the bed. Angel was still too spent to

do more than smile softly, dreamily, at the touch of his hands.

He unbound my wrists and I turned to wrap my arms around him,

lifting my lips for a kiss in silent celebration of our victory

together. He smiled as he granted me the gift I asked for and held me

closely while our hearts returned to a more sustainable pace.

"Oh, Milord Atlas," I cooed in his arms, "you are more

wonderful than even my dreams could imagine."

"You're incredible," he replied. "I keep telling myself not

to underestimate you, but I always do. Is there anything you wouldn't

do for pleasure?"

"I would do anything you asked of me, if I could, my master,"

I promised.

"How about if I were not your master, but we were just Rocky

and Brandy again?"

"Dear Rocky, you will always be my master, regardless of our

costumes. I respect you more than anyone in the world, including

Kelly, though we both know our relationship is not quite the same as

the love between a husband and wife. Still, I love you in some unique

way I can't really begin to compare to anything I've ever felt with

anyone else. Part of it, though, is a true desire to please you in

whatever way I can. That makes you my master in the most compelling

possible way."

I lifted my lips for another kiss, which was gladly supplied,

but in a moment Rocky moved away to take a quick shower. I used the

time to remove my slave dress, reattach my disguise mound, and put on

a short robe. Kelly slept on, now totally unbound and comfortable

though revealed, in her slave outfit. When Rocky returned we went to

the living room for a couple of drinks, captive only to our desires to

make each other happy.

Chapter 33 - A Perfect Match

When we reached the living room, Rocky poured me a little

white wine and got himself some brandy. When he sat down, I draped

myself in his lap, snuggling into his warm embrace.

"Where did you learn about those nipple clamps?" I asked with

a grin.

"Did you like them?" he answered with a question and a grin of

his own.

"They're incredible," I answered. "I couldn't believe how hot

they made me, and how intense they made it when I exploded. Of

course, you had a lot to do with that, too. The feel of you inside of

me made me feel more beautiful, more desirable, more feminine than

ever. My whole world seemed drawn into the sensation of your

wonderful cock in my ass."

"Did it hurt?" he asked gently.

"Not a bit, once you had me ready. I'm not even sore now.

I'm telling you, it was wonderful. I wish I had known about this

pleasure before, and I certainly will want to do it again, and again,

and . . ."

He laughed and caught me in his arms, kissing me with joy and

love, at least to start. Even after our incredible sex, however, it

wasn't long before hot passion was working its way back into our

emotions. I sent my tongue into his throat, then sucked on his tongue

when it chased my own back into my mouth. My offer to switch targets

for my lips was implied by the pressures of my mouth, but he caught my

head in his hands and pulled my face back.

"Don't get me started again, so soon. I need to be able to

walk in the morning," he laughed.

"Why?" I giggled. "Maybe I should tie you to our bed, and

make you our sex slave for a while."

"Milady, I am already held captive by your charms. You don't

need chains."

I kissed him again for his gentlemanly praise, but abruptly

drew back in the middle of our building heat.

"You tricked me!" I accused him with a laugh. "You never

answered my question. Who taught you about nipple clamps?"

He smiled like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie

jar, more embarrassment in his expression than I had seen all night.

"Well, actually, I never tried them before, or even saw them

used. But sometimes when you're out at sea with a bunch of guys, they

get to talking, and one guy in particular swore they were terrific.

When you seemed interested in bondage, I decided to try them out. It

seems like the guy was right."

"You can say that again. Are you going to tell him you tried

his idea."

"No!" Rocky exclaimed. "I never tell anyone about my private

life . . . but I do listen when others talk," he concluded with a

grin.

We laughed and cuddled until nearly dawn, chatting about wild

claims we had heard in conversations where women were not present. I

had a few stories of my own, or at least a few stories of Ran's to

contribute to the list. Kelly came walking out about the time the sun

came up, still almost dressed in her slave outfit, though now it was

rumpled.

"You guys been up all night?" she asked.

"I guess so," I confirmed.

"Can I make you some breakfast?" she offered.

"Would you? You're a dear. I'll just go get cleaned up.

Don't hurry though, it takes me a while to get my face on."

After my shower, I laced myself into a corset, still liking

the improved figure the tight garment provided. I chose a wine-red

dress, sleeveless and strapless, proudly displaying my new cleavage.

Golden loop earrings, shimmery stockings and towering heels completed

my outfit. When I finally emerged from the bedroom my place had been

taken by Kelly. Now she was giggling and chatting on his lap, and I

was about to find something suitably nasty to break up their

conversation, like a glass of ice water, when she struggled to her

feet.

"It's your own fault," she giggled. "I knew it takes you

forever. Now you make breakfast while I get showered."

I laughed as she scurried to the bedroom, and smiled at Rocky.

His neatly trimmed beard had kept us from any whisker burns, but there

was a stubble on his neck. I lightly scratched the short whiskers

with one elegant ruby nail.

"You better get cleaned up, too, or I'll just let her have

you," I threatened.

"On my way, ma'am," he claimed, but he rose from the easy

chair with a languid pace that declared insufficient energy for hurry.

"It's not possible for a woman to look as good as you,

especially after a night with no sleep. What sort of sorceress are

you?" he asked as he walked toward his room.

"I guess having your cock up my ass agrees with me," I

giggled. "I certainly agree with it."

His response was almost a wince as my reminder of our night's

exercise send a pounding surge of blood through his thick tool. But

he grinned at me and shook his head as he walked off, still amazed at

our adventure. I arranged a quick breakfast, high on protein to

replace the energy we had burned the night before. Since I wore a

corset, and Kelly did also when she emerged, Rocky ate the lion's

share of the food which was all part of the plan. Once again Rocky

had to leave to get back to his businesses and we escorted him to the

executive terminal at the airport, where his bizjet was waiting. His

beautiful flight crew was visibly distressed when we again placed our

matching lipstick marks on his cheeks, but their professionalism was

unimpaired and the plane departed without delay.

We had a tough job, for the next couple of months. Kelly and

I had to make do with each other as lovers, since Billie Jo was off

with Lord Odysseus, and Rocky was busy running his businesses. With

that undiluted focus on each other, we found a richer closeness than

we had shared before, but I wasn't sure if I'd survive the interesting

experiments. We went to a couple of bondage parties, now always as

Milady Raven and Angel. No one like the ex-master Ajax challenged me

for her, but I always had to turn down multiple offers to buy her, or

to train others. Finally, in the third month Rocky called to let us

know he could be in town for another night as our master.

On the day of the party, we again met Rocky when his bizjet

landed. This time we wore our ordinary clothes, demurely dressed in

micro-miniskirts and sky-high heels. Well, maybe not so demure, but

at least we were wearing our corsets so our nipples didn't show.

Much. Our renewal kisses were just as passionate as ever, and his

pretty flight crew were just as dismayed. This time we had just

driven our car instead of using a limousine, and we were soon away

from the airport on our way to our house.

After he changed clothes, Milord Atlas was resurrected in full

power, his sculptured body celebrated rather than concealed in his

skin-tight outfit. Angel and I put on our filmy slave dresses and

kneeled at our master's feet as he considered our bonds. I expected

him to add our usual chains, but he had brought something new and

different with him. Our arms were bound behind our backs at both

wrist and elbow with heavy gold bracelets and arm bands rather than

the links of our previous cuffs. A similar wide band went around each

of our necks, rigid for perhaps two thirds of the circumference and

closed with a hinged lock that hid beneath our hair. This required

Angel to let her hair down from the upswept style she usually wore,

but our master quickly removed her hairpins and fluffed her golden

tresses over the band. The wide collars were tailored to the shape of

our neck, requiring us to hold our heads high. A golden ring

protruded from the front of each collar and Milord Atlas attached a

divided leash with two hooks to our necks, linking us together as well

as to the end leading to his gloved fist. His bondage was more

intense, where we wore steel, but he didn't choose to hobble us so we

could actually walk easier.

We watched as Milord Atlas considered the remaining items in

our array of bondage devices. Our previous cuffs and collars were

unnecessary, as were the chains and leashes. However, our gags and

the nipple clamps were still in the bag of implements, and we waited

anxiously as he considered them.

"I don't think I'll put any of these on you, yet," he said,

and we sighed in unconscious chorus. For myself, I didn't know

whether my sigh was relief or disappointment, and I would have bet

that Angel couldn't tell either.

At his order we struggled to our feet, at least not hobbled,

and he led us to the doorway. He brought the package with our gags

and nipple clamps with him, I noticed, so he could change his mind, or

at least his selection at any time. It felt a little funny to be

walking easily, at least as easily as our towering heels allowed,

while my arms were tightly bound behind me. Milord Atlas set a faster

pace than before, though, so our heels beat a quick rhythm on the walk

as we hurried to keep up with his longer stride. During the trip to

the bondage party, Angel and I were required to describe fantasies

that could be fulfilled by the three of us, keeping all three of us

hot and excited throughout the trip. Milord Atlas drove in relative

silence, only encouraging us upon occasion, but I could see his eyes

widen at some of our fantasies, and it was clear he was taking mental

notes. At least, I hoped so.

In the ordinary car (Kelly's Camaro) we could park in the

ordinary garage, so there was no need to parade through the hotel

lobby. After he helped us from the car, Milord Atlas placed our

domino masks on us, and donned his own. Then he placed the gags on

us, but left the nipple clamps off. I looked at Angel and saw a

mixture of relief and regret on her face that I knew must be mirrored

in my own. We trailed behind our master into the party room, once

again displaying the personas of angelic innocence and vivid lust that

we had come to realize were more real than pretend.

I used every opportunity I could manage to rub myself up

against my master, constantly trying to get his attention, any

attention, even a careless caress. He was enjoying the obvious envy

and respect from the other people in attendance, but every now and

then he would rub my straining nipples through the thin slave dress,

or lightly cup one of my ass globes below the hem of the tiny skirt.

Once Angel realized that my nuzzling was paying off, she worked the

other side of our master just as thoroughly, though both of us were

prevented from getting in front of his shoulders by the chain linking

our necks.

I was getting so hot at the need that was building within me

that I didn't notice when Angel froze in her tracks. Didn't notice

until my neck was pulled up short by the leash connecting me to her.

She was grunting frantically through her gag, and used her eyes to

point out to me what was exciting her. In a second, I was grunting

also, pleading without words for our master's attention. Angel and I

began to pull together toward the source of our excitement, though

moving Milord Atlas against his will by pulling on the leash holding

our necks was about as unproductive as anything I can imagine. Milord

Atlas looked away from the conversation he was enjoying with a

beautiful lady slaveowner (though she was not nearly as pretty as

Raven, nor as dominant) with annoyance at the breakdown in our

discipline, but as soon as he looked at us he realized there was

really something important going on.

"What's the matter with you?" he said as he removed my gag.

"Milord Atlas, it's Vixen! She's over there. Oh, please, you

must meet her."

"Vixen?" he said in puzzlement.

"Yes, Vixen, my slave sister, who was sold by Milady Halo to

the same master who trained me. Please, Milord, we might lose her in

the crowd!"

Angel had tried to keep her eyes on Vixen while I spoke with

our master, but even in her sky-high heels she was too short to see

over all the heads. I could do a little better, but Vixen was moving

away from us and her shining dark hair merged with many others across

the room. However, Milord Atlas consented to pursue her, so we moved

off in the direction we had seen her, not even stopping to remove

Angel's gag. Like a brace of hunting bitches, we pulled on the leash,

dragging our master behind us. We were becoming increasingly frantic

when I once again saw my slave sister's mane of glowing hair and we

converged on Vixen and Lord Odysseus, who was leading her by her own

leash.

Vixen had changed in the months since we had seen her. Her

bonds and outfit were different, though that was the only the most

obvious change. Lord Odysseus had placed her in the red leather

armbinder for the evening, but the red dress she wore was not the

deeply slit wisp of nylon that adorned me. Instead, she wore a

butter-soft leather dress, so thin it molded to every delicious curve

of her beautiful body, yet artfully draped over only one shoulder and

trimmed unevenly to suggest a jungle woman's attire. She was led by a

leash attached to a tall leather collar that forced her to keep her

head up, just as the golden bands around our own throats forced us to

an erect posture.

Unlike our towering sandals, though, her feet were bare and

she padded along in a silent glide, incredibly poised, intensely

alive, the ultimate female predator. Lord Odysseus must have trained

her in martial arts, or dance, or both and had enhanced her natural

athletic ability to an unbelievable degree. I could see the hunting

look on her face, more dangerous than ever. I honestly believed this

incredible woman could and would rapidly kill any prey that came

close, unless she were held in check by her powerful master. She

sauntered behind Lord Odysseus with loose-limbed grace, perfectly

balanced at all times, muscles gliding beneath her skin with the

promise of ready power. However, there was also a light of pure,

boundless joy in her eyes that had only appeared in one other place

that I had ever seen, in the eyes of Angel.

We managed to pull Milord Atlas far enough that first the

ever-vigilant Vixen, and then Lord Odysseus saw us. He paused in his

stroll and looked to see who was with us, smiling at the way we were

dragging our master along. I realized too late that we should have

returned our formation to a properly respectful arrangement before

Lord Odysseus saw us, as a sign of submission to Milord Atlas.

Now that we had caught up, I didn't quite know what to do. We

couldn't let them get away, but as a slave I couldn't speak to another

master without my owner's permission. I moved back to Milord Atlas

and stretched up to whisper in his ear, asking for that permission so

that I might perform introductions. He held up one hand to make me

pause while he removed Angel's gag, then nodded.

I knelt on the floor of the party hall between my master and

Lord Odysseus, dragging Angel down beside me by the chain connecting

our collars. Only when we were properly submissive, still head up and

shoulders back due to the constraints of our bonds, but kneeling so

that we didn't interfere with the line of sight of the masters, did I

speak.

"Milord Atlas, this is Lord Odysseus. It was he who trained

me while I had the privilege of being his slave. I have mentioned him

to you. Lord Odysseus, this is my master and owner, Milord Atlas, who

has lifted me to heights unimaginable even after your training, while

I have had the honor and privilege of being his slave."

I didn't introduce Vixen, of course. Milord Atlas already

knew who she was, at least enough to connect her to the limited

stories we had told him about her. Milord Atlas, or even Rocky, had

never actually met her though and we hadn't told him all of the things

we had shared with our slave sister. More importantly, however,

slaves were non-entities unless brought into the conversation by a

master. I only performed a service by introducing them to each other,

much like a business card might do.

I saw the smile of condescending superiority reappear on Lord

Odysseus's face as his master personality assessed the way in which

Angel and I had apparently controlled our owner into this meeting.

Vixen stood quietly behind him, not giving any sign that anyone in the

world mattered except her master, though she was aware of everything

around us. Her face beamed with pride, yet it held a smoothness that

celebrated the softer curves of a woman without surrendering the

intelligence and strength of her magnificent mind and body. Though I

was pleased with myself as Brandy, and enjoyed the role playing of

Raven and Vivid, at that moment I felt deep envy for Vixen. She had

attained the perfect mixture of femininity and strength that I wished

for in myself. My wife Kelly was the most beautiful woman, in all

senses of beauty, that I had ever met, but Vixen had surpassed her in

her total character, adding strength that transcended gender to the

matchless femininity of my wife. All of the sudden I felt like out of

place, like a man cross-dressing, for the first time in months. In

the same way that I had never felt a need to compete with Kelly in her

spectacular figure, I had never felt a need to compete with her in her

ultimate femininity. I had defined Brandy to be different, not

necessarily better or worse, but her own person. Now Vixen defined

the person I wanted to be in a way I could never match, and I felt

condemned to inadequacy at the same moment I felt happy for her

success.

"Lord Atlas," Lord Odysseus said, extending his hand to shake.

"Lord Odysseus," our master replied, grasping the offered

hand. I watched as they began the game of hand squeezing that I had

always hated as the weak Ran, and had escaped in any of my female

identities. The muscles in Lord Odysseus forearm took on a sharper

definition as he added pressure, to be met by an equal pressure from

muscles hidden within the sleeves of Milord Atlas's shirt, but visible

in the slight sharpening of the highlights where his gauntlets covered

his knuckles. Lord Odysseus added another increment, now showing

finely-sculpted edges to his ridges of strength, to be met by a

further shimmer in the glistening glove on our master's hand, but no

other sign. Once again Lord Odysseus stepped up his pressure, and

once again Milord Atlas responded without visible indication that

anything was even happening, except perhaps an unusually long

handshake. With a final strain Lord Odysseus added all the power of

his wonderfully fit body, to be met without apparent effort by our

master. I saw Lord Odysseus's eyes widen slightly as his ultimate

effort had no visible effect, then tighten as our master added his own

increment, carefully measured to show superiority without the

potential for damage. Then Milord Atlas slowly raised and lowered

their joined hands in a formal sign of completion of the male ritual,

before releasing his fingers.

"My congratulations, Lord Odysseus, you have a good grip. You

really know how to use your muscles," said Milord Atlas.

"My respects, Lord Atlas, I seem to have underestimated you.

In the past, when I have met really large men they often tried to show

their strength in their handshake, so I tend to try and get a jump on

them. Usually, they fold in a few seconds. Your strength is of an

entirely different order, sufficient that you don't need to prove it,

not even to yourself. That is a sign of a truly powerful man, yet one

who is neither arrogant nor cruel."

Lord Odysseus continued as though it were merely an impulse,

but I later realized just how carefully calculated that impulse had

been, "May I introduce you to my slave girl, Vixen?"

He pulled her forward to meet Milord Atlas, and I swore I saw

a visible spark leap between their eyes. I suppose I should have

expected it. Whatever had attracted Peter Thornton to Brandy Dewinter

in the first place at that baggage terminal in Vancouver had been

refined and purified to its ultimate expression in the glorious Vixen.

She still looked enough like me to be a sister, almost a twin, but she

was truly a woman and was blessed with characteristics I couldn't

match. I saw Milord Atlas drink in her poise, her grace, her lethal

intensity coupled with confident control, and above all her radiant

joy, and fall helplessly in love with her in that instant. Vixen's

response was equally dramatic, even more visible. Her nipples popped

up so hard I wondered if they would burst through the

tightly-stretched leather of her dress. Her eyes lit with wonder at

his massive size and I remembered how, except for special occasions,

Billie Jo had always chosen large, intensely masculine lovers after

she had finally discovered men. Though neither moved or spoke, it was

clear the rest of the world had receded into unreachable distance from

them, and I sighed as I tried to remind myself how much I loved them

both.

Angel hadn't really caught on, though to me it seemed like

flares were going off all around the newly-met lovers. Lord Odysseus

did, though. He smiled at me and helped Angel and I to our feet.

"Do you believe me now, when I say that the women I have

trained find happy lives, and loving husbands?" he gently asked me.

"Milord Odysseus, I never doubted it. That one night when you

granted me the favor of your training convinced me beyond any hint of

concern," I replied. "But I didn't think that it would be my lover

who was captured by your huntress."

With my comment, Angel's eyes widened as she realized what we

had noticed, and looked for confirmation with her own perceptions.

Lord Atlas was talking quietly with Vixen, who was responding with a

more animated expression than when she had belonged to Milord

Odysseus. It was clear that they were now and forever inseparable,

regardless of which man held which leash. Milord Odysseus reached out

with Vixen's leash in his hand and placed it within Lord Atlas's

glove, while extracting our leash in return.

"Lord Atlas," our newest master interrupted. "I have a set of

keys you will need, and I believe I will need those around your neck.

Would it suit you to accompany us to our car?"

Lord Atlas responded with a jerk, returning to the world

outside Vixen's eyes. I was surprised and impressed with how

incredibly poised Vixen was, as she responded calmly and elegantly,

totally in control of herself though totally devoted to her new

master. They followed us to the exit and to the parking garage, where

we found Billie Jo's Taurus parked not too far from Kelly's Camaro.

Our masters exchanged keys and we were quickly back in the Camaro,

watching as Milord Odysseus backed away to see Lord Atlas already

removing Vixen's armbinder.

"Wow!" Angel finally said. "I never saw that coming. Did you

see the way they were looking at each other? I've never seen anyone

look at someone else like that, except . . ."

She paused to smile at me, noting the shine of unshed tears in

my eyes, then continued, " . . except when Brandy looks at me, or

Raven looks at me, or even when Ran looks at me."

Though our arms were still bound behind us, she leaned into me

and we kissed, more in companionship than in passion. Just as she had

always been able to do, she cheered me up with the boundless joy she

carried with her wherever she went.

"Do you realize you started calling me 'Milord Odysseus' and

your old master 'Lord Atlas' at the very moment he and Vixen first

looked at each other?" asked Milord Odysseus.

"Yes, Milord," I confirmed. "It was clear in an instant. In

a little while, I'll even be happy they found each other, but I'm

afraid I'm selfish enough to regret losing him, at least right now."

"Good," he said, surprising me. "If you didn't care enough

about him to regret losing him, you weren't being true to yourself

while you were together. Yet, you did give him up from the first

words you spoke. Now you see a little bit of what it truly means to

be a master. I have enjoyed my time with Vixen almost as much as she

did, and regret losing her, too. But this is what I have been

pointing toward since the day I took her into my training. Not

necessarily that she would end up with your Rocky, but with someone

similar. This day and those to follow will be the fulfillment of

Vixen's dreams. They will be an extension of Rocky's dreams onto a

level he'd never have achieved on his own, or even with you. What do

you want to bet they name the first girl Brandy, and the first boy

Erik?"

I grinned at his insight, recovering my composure in small

steps. After all, even if not quite at the matchless levels of Angel

or Vixen, I was still a pretty good looking woman, unbelievably so

considering what I had to start with! And I was married to the most

wonderful woman in the world, not excluding Vixen. I wouldn't have

traded Kelly for her or anyone else in the world. It would have been

nice to be slave sisters again, though.

"You know, you'll have to be slave sisters again with Vixen,"

Milord Odysseus said, reading my mind. "She truly does enjoy the

attention that she gets when she's in her huntress role, and she's

talked often about the sensation of being one of a beautiful pair. I

may need to teach you how to walk like she does, though, you're a

little stiff."

I thought about the exaggerated hip swing I always used, more

pronounced than the elegant sway that Billie Jo had owned, let alone

the controlled glide of Vixen.

"Stiff?" I questioned, "it feels like my hips are in orbit

now."

"Exactly," he affirmed. "You use your hips too much. I'll

show you how to develop graceful secondary motions to let that energy

flow throughout your body."

"Oh, would you. I have often wanted another training session

with you," I begged.

"Could I be trained, too, at least a little," Angel quietly

asked.

Before I realized I had interrupted Milord Odysseus, I was

already answering Angel, a bit surprised at how intense my feeling

were. "You don't need any training! You're perfect the way you are.

I wouldn't let anyone change a single thing about you!"

"Oops," I giggled. "Sorry, Milord, I shouldn't have

interrupted, but she really is perfect."

"Actually Angel, you don't really need any of my help. Vivid

is right, and notice how quick she was to defend you. Don't ever

worry about her commitment to you. However, what I have in mind

wouldn't hurt, though it won't result in much difference for you. I

thought I might train you in martial arts, specifically sumito. By

the time you learn to dance the ninety-seven steps while wearing

high-heels, you'll both be satisfied with the way you move."

"Sumito?" I've never heard of it.

"It's primarily defensive. You'll learn to dance out of the

path of attackers, perhaps helping them on their way a little. That

can be pretty effective, especially if you help them on their way

headfirst into a wall. But there's no breaking boards or bricks. I

wouldn't want your hands to bear the calluses required."

"Is that what you showed Vixen?" Kelly asked.

Milord Odysseus nodded.

"Will we be your slaves while we train?" I asked, hearing a

note of hope in my voice that surprised me.

"I'll still let you live at home and go to work, but I will be

your master while you are training," he promised.

Chapter 34 - An Invitation to A Wedding

That promise became the basis for the most intense period of

our lives, even more challenging than the steps in my transition from

Randall to Brandy. This time our training was not as slave girls, in

bondage or deliberately revealing clothes. Instead, we wore

conventional exercise outfits, leotards and tights. Most of it was

spent without any shoes, let alone high-heels. While he was teaching

us this time, we even called Lord Odysseus, Erik, as a sign of his

status as teacher more than owner. He had painted steps like those in

a dance studio on a padded portion of his back yard. Our task was to

dance from one step to another in numbered sequence, a total of

ninety-seven steps. The first time I tried I couldn't even make five

before I lost my balance and fell. Kelly, weighted by her beautiful

large tits had an even harder time, though her natural grace was much

better than mine. It truly was dancing, not fighting. Grace and a

sense of rhythm were more valuable tools than strength, though we

found we needed to develop our leg and arm strength in order to make

the twirling leaps required by the patterns.

Erik was a wonderful teacher, truly capturing the old meaning

of the term master, not limited to the slave owner concept. He could

sense when we were getting frustrated with our lack of progress and

would quietly dance the pattern with casual grace, demonstrating that

indeed it could be done. He never gave us specific directions on how

to place our arms, or lean our hips since he realized that we would

need to develop an inner sense of the dance to succeed. It couldn't

be accomplished as an intellectual exercise. But his demonstrations

showed us things to try, sometimes as subtle as spreading your fingers

apart as you waved your hand. At least, they showed us things to try

when we finally learned to concentrate enough to pick up on what was

going on.

For a while, Kelly was making better progress than I was,

since she had always been a better dancer. One time (more than once

really, but one specific time) I had become so frustrated I was ready

to quit, and I complained.

"This is stupid, I'll never be able to do it, and it's not

good for anything anyway."

Milord Odysseus didn't say a thing, at least not immediately.

He walked over to the middle of the mats, and only then said, "Attack

me."

"What?"

He said nothing, knowing that I had understood him all right.

I was mad enough, frustrated enough that I decided I'd take him up on

his offer, and I charged at him with the intent to put a shoulder into

him. I was never very athletic as Ran but I figured I could at least

run into him. Milord Odysseus stood there quietly, waiting for me

with poised balance. I picked up speed and aimed at his belly button,

knowing that this would be the hardest part of his body to get moving

sideways. The next thing I knew I was plowing the pads with my nose,

grateful he had me put on a bra so I didn't scrape my sensitive

nipples.

"That was steps twelve and thirteen. Keep practicing, you'll

get there."

I was now even more frustrated, so angry that hot tears were

leaking from my clenched eyes. I picked myself up and went to the

side of the area to sulk. Kelly stopped her own practice and started

to come to comfort me.

"Angel!" Lord Odysseus said sharply. He only called us by our

slave names when he was demanding absolute obedience. She paused,

then moved back to the start of the pattern, though she watched me

rather than resume her attempts to dance it.

I pouted alone, irritated at myself, at Lord Odysseus, at

Kelly, at everyone within reach. Lord Odysseus didn't say anything,

he just started dancing the pattern, forward and back, over and over.

Despite my anger I watched him move over the steps, flowing with easy

grace, his power controlled with razor sharpness that looked casual

and effortless. I noticed how much like Vixen he moved, yet how

different. We had never seen her dance the pattern, but Erik had told

us she was able to. However, we had seen her move and even in her

armbinder she had been unbelievably graceful, with a liquid flow that

was less powerful than Erik, but even more beautiful.

As I sat there I moved from frustration and anger to

self-pity, wanting to be Vixen, truly a woman who happened to have a

cock, rather than a man who looked gorgeous. I could never have that,

and it had cost me Rocky, my massive masculine lover. A motion from

Kelly as she started to dance the pattern again caught my eye, and I

realized my unique nature had allowed me to share with her a love that

Vixen could never experience. There were compensations for being who

and what I was.

That realization became a watershed point for me. No longer

would I wish to be what I was not. Now, I began to celebrate what I

was. I wasn't Vixen, and never would be. Instead, I would be myself,

a unique person, with a special ability to look like a beautiful woman

and with a delightful tool to use in sharing love with Kelly. I

studied Erik as he danced the pattern, comparing his motions to

Kelly's and began to notice differences in their approaches, even on

the same steps. His motion was decidedly more powerful just as his

body was stronger, but it was also refined to account for his

different body proportions and distribution of weight. My own body

shape was somewhere in between their examples, and I began to see how

to use what I was, rather than trying to force myself to act like

someone I wasn't.

Without saying a word I moved back to the head of the pattern

and began to dance the steps. I quit looking at the painted footmarks

directly, requiring my body to remember the sequence while I kept my

head up and relaxed into the motion, truly dancing for the first time.

The steps I already knew flowed by my feet without effort, and I

reached the step that had frustrated me before I knew it, then paused

with easy balance when I realized I didn't know where to move next.

Kelly applauded from where she sprawled on the mat after her latest

tumble in her own attempt, and Erik smiled with true pleasure, his

pride in a somewhat-difficult student clear in his eyes.

I looked for the next step, which was back in the direction I

had come. It would require me to stop my forward motion, just as I

now had stopped, but it was so far away I knew I couldn't just leap

there from a standing start. I would somehow need to redirect my

momentum toward the next position rather than interrupt the flow of

the dance. I stood there on one foot analyzing the pattern while Erik

returned to the beginning of his own and danced it again. His eyes

met mine as he executed the step I was considering, a small grin at my

expense lurking behind the relaxed smile of pleasure from the beauty

of the dance. Of course! Quit analyzing and just dance. All I

needed to know was where I was heading, and to let my body dance the

motion, not my brain.

I started over, since learning the pattern always required a

start from the beginning, and flowed through my newest step toward the

reversed one I had been analyzing, then fell on my shapely ass,

rolling with an ungraceful thump as my legs got completely tangled.

This time, however, I ended up laughing rather than crying and moved

back to begin again. That day I gained that step, but not the next.

Still, two steps in one day was a lot better than I had been doing,

and I made reasonably steady progress after that.

Kelly and I were returning from our training session one

evening a couple of months after we started training when we saw a

strange car in the driveway to Billie Jo's house. Erik had arranged

for maintenance on it while he was training Vixen, and we had assumed

that Rocky had picked up the task when he became her owner. However,

the handyman / cleaning crew usually came during the day, and this was

late in the evening.

"Do you recognize that car?" I asked Kelly.

"No, and did you notice there are lights on inside?" she

replied.

"Yes. Is that a good sign or a bad one? Burglars would

probably leave the lights off," I mused.

As we pulled into our drive, our concerns were put to rest as

Rocky came out of Billie Jo's house, trailed by Vixen. It was clearly

Vixen, not Billie Jo, though she was dressed in a snug miniskirt and

tight blouse not too different from what we wore, plus the long wig

that matched my own. She wasn't bound, however, and wore high-heeled

sandals that gave her the height to be compatible with Rocky.

"Hello," Rocky called with a cheerful wave. Vixen stood

behind him, smiling with inner joy but focused totally on her master.

"Hi," I replied, and Kelly waved.

"Can we come talk with you?" he asked.

"Sure, come on in," I replied, and led the way to our house.

Kelly and I had gotten cleaned up after our workout at Erik's

and looked cool and fresh, so we just headed for the sitting room and

offered to fix drinks. Rocky told us what he wanted and also what to

bring Vixen, who hadn't spoken, yet. She seemed totally subservient

to him, not from fear or forced control, but with the joy of having

all her needs seen to without effort on her part. She moved like a

heavenly body in orbit around her master, the sun source of her world.

"Hello, Billie Jo," I said, experimenting a little.

"Hello, Brandy," she replied without hesitation. "I actually

prefer to be called Vixen, now, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," I smiled. It was clear she was consumed by

Rocky from her own joyful choice, not coercion, and reveled in her new

life. Good for her.

"So," Kelly said, "have you had dinner? Let us take you out

on the town, tonight."

"No, thanks," Rocky replied with his own smile. I was proud

of Kelly for not asking questions about why they were visiting us

after so long. True friends should always be welcome.

"We came to ask you a favor," he continued. "Vix and I are

getting married, and we want to you be bridesmaids."

"Unless, Brandy, you would prefer to be best man," he grinned.

I let the long-dormant smile of cool amusement appear as I

struggled to control my surprise. Not at his announcement of their

marriage, that had been obvious from about three microseconds after

they first saw each other, but at his casual reminder that I was

really a man. Was that some subtle dig, to highlight that I wasn't a

real woman as his Vixen was? At first I was hurt, but within a

heartbeat or two I realized that he was so focused on Vixen and his

love for her that there just wasn't room for anyone else in his life.

He was building distance between us, or perhaps just letting me know

about the distance that had already formed. Only a few weeks before I

would have stayed hurt by his comment, but now I raised my eyes to

Kelly, whose eyes were moving toward mine with the simultaneous

reactions of the near-telepathy we shared, and there was a mirror of

my cool amusement in her own eyes. We had each other, she told me

silently, and didn't need anyone else. Let them have each other as

well. I nodded slightly in agreement and my smile warmed up when I

turned back to Rocky.

"We'd be proud to do whatever you'd like," I challenged him to

choose his image of me.

"Then Brandy, we'd like you to be maid of honor, and Kelly,

we'd like you for the other bridesmaid. Odysseus has already agreed

to be best man and the captain of the ship we met on will be the other

groomsman."

"When, where, and what do we wear?" Kelly asked with a grin

that had warmed up as well.

"Vix," Rocky said, giving her permission to speak.

"We want to be married at sea, on another of Rocky's ships.

We're planning for a spring cruise down the west coast of Mexico, so

bring a bikini. I thought we might discuss the bridesmaid dresses a

little. Do you have any ideas."

"It's your wedding," I said. "We'll wear whatever complements

you the best."

Glancing at her master for confirmation of his continuing

desire for her to speak, Vixen broke from her cool control to giggle,

"Well, what I had in mind was a sort of Gone With The Wind approach,

with tight corsets, enormous skirts, and flamboyant bosoms."

"Sounds terrific!" exclaimed Kelly. "I can't wait."

I smiled as well, but my eyes were on Rocky. His pride in his

beautiful fiancee was clear in his eyes, and it was clear that he was

as devoted to her as she was to him. Lord Odysseus had done well for

them both, and I realized that he had done me a service as well.

Wild, energetic sex with everything that moved was fun, and I expected

Kelly and I might have another few adventures. But nothing was a

wonderful as the time she and I shared alone. Losing Rocky was going

to turn out to be one of the best things in a long series that had

happened to me.

Vixen must have told Rocky about Kelly's wonderful sense of

style, because he sat patiently as they discussed some of the details

for the wedding. I caught his eyes for just a moment and motioned for

him to join me. His first impulse was to check on Vixen, always aware

at a level too deep for conscious thought of his responsibility toward

her, but she was chatting happily with Kelly so he nodded and stood

up. We went out onto the patio in our back yard and I turned to face

him.

"Why did you offer for me to be the best man?" I asked.

"Because you are a man," he said, "and we wanted you to have

your choice."

"Did you think I would choose to be reminded that I was really

a man under my clothes?"

At this he lost the unquestioning attitude of control that he

had displayed when he was with Vixen. He showed embarrassment and

weakness that revealed just how demanding it was to be constantly

dominant.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I was just thinking about how similar

you look to Vixen, and somehow the hidden difference seemed very

important to me. I guess I shouldn't have brought it up."

"Don't worry about it, the difference is important to me,

too," I laughed, defusing the tension. "You showed me, and Vixen,

that what you and I had between us has burned away in the fire of love

you and Vixen have for each other. I wouldn't have it any other way.

But I hope you don't intend to let my secret out with others. Only

you, Vixen, Kelly, and Erik know about me."

"I'd never tell anyone else," he promised. "You're still a

special friend to both of us, and I wouldn't do anything to hurt you."

I smiled to show agreement, but I knew what he really meant is

that he wouldn't do anything to hurt me unless it benefited Vixen. In

his world, she was first and there really was no second place. Oh,

well, that's the way it should be. In fact, I had come to realize that

I felt the same way about Kelly. Nonetheless, I didn't imagine we'd

be seeing much of them after the wedding. There were at least some

memories of me that would interfere with their images of each other.

I kissed him lightly on the cheek and turned back to the house,

letting the orbit of my hips remind him that he had been attracted to

me, at least once upon a time. Yet I could feel the wall between us

now, and realized what he must have felt when he saw Kelly and I

together. I hadn't ever noticed it before because my relationship

with him had been so different from my love for Kelly that my mind

couldn't even conceive of him in competition with her. Perhaps I

should have been flattered that his mind could conceive of me in

competition with Vixen. We weren't the same, though, and in matters

more fundamental than plumbing. My own personality was dominant, too,

and I was beginning to realize that Rocky and I were never really

compatible. In fact, though I hadn't understood it when I asked him

to come talk with me, this little scene had primarily been to

re-establish my own control over our relationship, a control I had

unconsciously exercised back before we had created Lord Atlas.

Back in the living room, Kelly and Vixen were wrapping up

their plans. It seemed they had the basic wedding arrangements

already settled. Kelly would get our bridesmaid dresses, not

surprisingly the color selected was the pale ice-blue that

complemented her eyes so well. I grinned at her when she announced

their choice, letting her know I didn't mind at all, dark colors

wouldn't look good on the women in the wedding party.

"So, what else will be happening on this cruise?" I asked.

"Well, we thought we might have a costume party," Rocky

grinned.

"Let me guess what the theme of the party might be," I

offered.

His wide grin and Vixen's strangled giggle confirmed my

insight without words.

"Good. You've never met the Lady Raven, Rocky. I think

you'll be impressed."

The immediate response visible in Vixen's nipples showed she

hadn't forgotten the Lady Raven, either. Rocky was so attuned to her

that he picked up on her excitement immediately, and I could see a

pensive expression linger in his eyes for a moment, but his confidence

in his relationship with Vixen was strong enough not to make him

really worry, while I was feeling better and better about our new

relationship, recognizing it was based on a truer foundation than we

had before.

The definite schedule of the wedding cruise provided an

additional incentive for us to learn the patterns of the martial dance

that Erik had introduced to us. I had overtaken Kelly and was the

first to reach the final step, on the forward path. She passed me for

a while as we learned to dance the pattern in reverse, but we finished

at nearly the same time. It was no longer necessary to demonstrate

the benefits of the dance to us, we were moving with such fluid grace

that the martial aspects seemed unimportant. Hopefully we would never

find occasion to use them anyway. Just succeeding at the dance and

obtaining the intensely sensual motion that resulted made the long

hours of practice worth while. When I finally stopped at the first

step of the pattern, after working all the way forward and back, Kelly

greeted me with a warm hug and a kiss. To my surprise, Lord Odysseus

did also. We hadn't had a sexual relation while he had been teaching

us, but his embrace indicated a graduation ceremony might be in order.

It turned out I was right about the graduation ceremony, but

wrong about when. We just moved into another level of training as

Lord Odysseus brought out shoes with clunky wide heels a few inches

high, much less attractive than our normal style, and much heavier.

"You still need to learn to dance in high heels," he reminded

us. "These wider heels will protect the mats. Good luck."

I looked at Kelly to meet her simultaneous gaze and we groaned

in unison, then giggled with pleasure at yet another proof of the

closeness we had achieved.

"Back to square one," she sighed.

"Actually, it's step one. Even my foot isn't a square," I

teased.

"These ugly heels make us both look like we have square feet,"

she complained with a grin to show she understood the necessity.

"Then let's work through this quickly, so we don't have to

wear them long."

Easier said than done, but we made our progress. It wasn't as

bad the second time through since we already understood the most

important issue, to let ourselves dance rather than force the motions.

We also always knew where the next step was so we often could progress

through more than one at a time. When we could dance the pattern

wearing the medium-tall shoes, Erik moved us to a single pattern he

had painted inside his house, in a large salon that looked like a

ballroom.

"There are no pads on this one. Put on your regular sandals

and give it a try. I expect you'll have few bruises to take home

tonight, but you can get through it."

Walking in our towering shoes was more normal to us than the

shorter ones had been, and the flowing grace the pattern had already

given us lifted us to a more beautiful motion than any ordinary women

possessed. Nonetheless, the combination of sky-high heels and

convoluted pattern was the greatest challenge yet, and it took a few

bruises before we mastered it.

While we were working on this last phase in our training, we

were getting fitted for our bridesmaid dresses. They really were like

something from the antebellum south, incredibly elegant, incredibly

flattering. I could hardly wait for the chance to show off our new,

beautiful gowns and felt like spring would never arrive.

There was one problem, though, and I brought it up with Erik

after one of our training sessions, using my beautiful contralto voice

with the strength of Raven, "Lord Odysseus, granting us the privilege

of your training in the dance has interfered with your normal

lifestyle. Your slave girl Vixen has moved on, and you haven't

obtained another while we have been occupying your time."

"You're right, Lady Raven," he replied, picking up on my

characterization. "I might have to ask to borrow Angel for an evening

to go to a bondage party. Perhaps I'll take Vivid as well."

"I'm sure they'd both enjoy it immensely, but I have another

suggestion. I know a woman who would love to be trained, though she

might not realize it yet herself. Would you be interested?"

"Perhaps," he answered. "Normally I don't commit to slaves

without examining them first, but I would place great faith in your

recommendation."

I explained the plan to them, provoking a silvery giggle from

Kelly and a thoughtful, introspective smile from Lord Odysseus.

"Yes, that might work very well," he agreed.

The next bondage party was coming up, and I made the necessary

arrangements. When the time was approaching to go to the party, Angel

presented herself to me in her beautiful, tiny slave dress. Though

Lord Odysseus had joined us for the ride to the party site, I placed

the restraints on Angel myself, using the elegant golden chain bondage

that I had originally designed, complete with hobble. Lord Odysseus

had no slave of his own, yet, but that was part of the plan.

Exactly on time, the limousine I had arranged for showed up,

driven by Cheryl. She stepped from the car to open our door, her eyes

again glowing when she saw Angel in bondage. I grinned at her,

provoking a blush, but Milord Odysseus gazed at her in frank

appraisal, provoking an even greater heat to her face, and a visible

response in her own nipples. That had been the only remaining

question as far as I was concerned. I knew Cheryl responded sensually

to advances from a woman, but I didn't know if she liked men as well.

By obvious demonstration, she did.

"Good evening, Cheryl," I said, "this is Lord Odysseus. He

will be joining us, tonight."

"Yes, ma'am," she replied.

"Now, Cheryl, I already told you not to call me ma'am," I said

firmly. "Tonight you will address me as Milady Raven."

"Yes, Milady Raven," she said, instantly accepting my

dominance.

I placed Angel on the jumpseat, strapped in safely and

reasonably comfortable. In the bag I carried with me were both gags,

the red slave dress, and another set of chains. Our plan was for

Cheryl to become the slave of Lord Odysseus tonight. It looked like

we were on our way.

We used the trip to the party to discuss training methods,

mostly those of Lord Odysseus. He described techniques I had never

tried, from either side, but they provoked my sensitive nipples to

show through the tight bustier of my leather dress. Angel's nipples

perked up, too, and her scent filled the air of the limousine. I knew

Cheryl was listening in, and I would have bet her own hot buttons were

hard and full. When we reached the hotel we laughed to see a sign for

limousine parking that led to a side entrance to the hotel so bondage

party attendees wouldn't have to go through the main lobby. Cheryl

bounced out of the car to get our door for us, standing politely as I

swung my long legs out of the seat. Our parking location was well

shielded from on-lookers, so I decided to bring things to a head

immediately.

"Cheryl, we have a problem that you could solve for us," I

began our seduction.

"Yes, ma'am?" she replied.

I let my amused smile go cold while I stared at her. In a

moment she realized her mistake and said, "I mean, yes Milady Raven?"

This was a critical point, if she withdrew from my control our

plan would fail, but instead we saw her nipple points appear, more

prominent than ever as she accepted my dominance once again. I let my

smile show amusement again and continued as though her mistake were

unremarkable.

"Lord Odysseus has recently sold his slave girl and requires

another in order to gain entrance to the party tonight. You have been

granted the privilege of being his slave for the evening. If you show

special talent, he may consent to keep you as his slave for an

extended period."

Her mouth opened in shock, but her cheeks flamed with heat and

I imagined I could taste a new flavor in the musky scent surrounding

us, a delicate fragrance subtly different than Angel's. I hadn't

asked to if she wanted to be a slave. I just informed her of her

role. She could have refused, but I knew she would not.

"What do I need to do?" she asked me.

"Lord Odysseus will be your master," I replied, then stepped

away from the door.

Lord Odysseus got out of the car with confident power, the

mysterious strength of his eyes capturing Cheryl in the instant it

took for her fall into their gray depths.

"Remove your clothes," he ordered bluntly while I reached past

him to get Angel from her seat. Cheryl began to strip out of her

chauffeur's jacket immediately, then removed her tiny shorts. She

hesitated for a moment while she stood in her underwear, looking

around to see if we were observed. When she looked back to Lord

Odysseus his eyes showed a hard, unyielding cold that made her mistake

very clear.

"I'm sorry, Milord Odysseus," she began.

"Silence," he ordered. "Your penalty for inattention will be

silence for the rest of the evening."

Without glancing around he held out his hand to me, and I

placed one of the ball gags in it. The idea seemed appropriate for

Angel as well, and I turned to her with the other one, to be greeted

by her open mouth. Cheryl saw this response and copied it, accepting

her own gag. Her fingers completed their job of removing her clothes,

stopping only at Lord Odysseus's order when she reached to remove her

shoes. Her body was not as deliciously curved as Angel's, few women

had that privilege, but it was certainly more abundant than either

Vixen or Vivid. She had obviously not required the attention of a

cosmetic surgeon to achieve her sensuous shape. Her nipples remained

extended, whether from the cold of exposure to the evening air or from

erotic arousal was unclear, and unimportant. She was beautiful and

she would be aroused before long anyway.

Though she was gagged, she had no other restraints at that

point, so Lord Odysseus handed her the wisp of red slave dress. It

took her a moment to decide how to put it on, even with Angel's

example, then another moment to realize how little there was when she

had it in place. Cheryl had kept her panties on, not realizing that

Angel wore none, but Lord Odysseus let her keep them. I wondered how

long that would continue.

"Keep your head up and your shoulders back," he ordered. "I

will consider it disobedience if you allow yourself to become exposed.

I will also consider it disobedience if your nipples do not clearly

show through the dress."

This comment made them pop sharply into sight through the

material, her excitement at her condition building moment by moment.

Lord Odysseus twirled his finger and she turned around, shivering in

anticipation. He placed her collar around her neck, provoking an

uncontrollable tremor through her shoulders. Then he put the cuffs

around her wrists and ankles. We had long realized that anticipation

was a very important part of the submission and actual restraints on

motion were only applied after the slave had a chance to absorb the

feel of steel against her skin. This had worked wonderfully well with

Angel and Huntress, then been confirmed with Vivid. Lord Odysseus was

himself familiar with this technique, of course, and used it whenever

he first bound a slave.

In our plan, we had decided that Lord Odysseus would not touch

Cheryl in any intimate way at least until she requested it, and only

after the party in any event. Therefore, before he bound her with the

golden chain, he ordered her to remove her panties herself. She

hesitated for in instant, causing a chill to form in her master's

eyes, then quickly complied. The golden chain was draped from her

neck to her ankles, her wrists were bound to it and her ankles to the

hobble, and we had two beautiful slaves. I hadn't brought the

vibrator eggs, tonight, expecting that might be a little too much for

Cheryl's first experience, so we hooked leashes to their collars and

approached the party. I still had their nipple clamps in my bag,

though neither slave girl knew that.

My reputation as Raven preceded us, and a way was cleared to

the registration table. Angel and I were admitted freely, of course,

but Lord Odysseus paid the fee for himself and his new slave girl.

When they asked for her name, for the contest, Lord Odysseus replied,

"She has no name, yet, and we will not be competing."

He obviously intended to name his new slave girl after her

personality was more apparent, or her talents. However, it was a

shock to her to realize that her owner controlled all aspects of her

life, including her name. The new slave's attention became even more

focused on her master as she tried to become sufficiently pleasing to

earn a name. Unfortunately, the first noticeable attention she

received was another reprimand. Or perhaps fortunately for her,

considering the nature of the punishment.

"Slave Girl, you are disobeying me again," Lord Odysseus

declared sternly.

Her eyes widened in dismay. She wasn't sure what she had

done, and she had certainly been concentrating on her master, trying

to comply with his every desire. That was the problem, in fact, she

had been so busy analyzing what he might want, that she had forgotten

to allow herself to enjoy the sensuality of the situation and remain

visibly excited. Her nipple points had disappeared within the soft

folds of her dress. Lord Odysseus reached out to pinch them through

the material as though he were turning on a machine, not caressing a

woman's breasts, but they popped up sharply again, both at his touch,

and at the pretty slave's excitement at this reminder of her position.

He then looked around for the appropriate table of implements, but I

interjected myself into his attention.

"Lord Odysseus, perhaps you might find these useful," I said

as I offered him one of the sets of nipple clamps.

"Why, thank you Lady Raven, these are perfect."

His new slave girl gasped around her gag at the thought of the

sensations the clamps would inflict on her. She had seen Angel and

Vivid wearing these clamps and knew they weren't desperately painful,

but she thought they must be incredibly uncomfortable. She was wrong.

My own nipple points pulsed strongly with the memory from personal

experience that if applied correctly, they were fascinating and

intensely compelling, but not painful. Still, she was new to this and

obviously frightened. I decided to help reassure her by

demonstration.

"Angel, I think you should share this stimulation with your

slave sister," I said, drawing forth the other linked clamps from my

purse.

Her own nipples were flamboyantly erect, straining at the

front of her thin dress and I quickly attached both clamps to their

proper use. She gasped as the clamps were tightened, swaying slightly

as the sensations flooded through her, though it was the remembered

intensity of their removal more than the current stimulation that

really captured her emotions. I hadn't ever fastened them to her

before, so I wasn't entirely sure I got the tightness correct, but her

eyes betrayed no real pain, just intense excitement, so I figured I

must have gotten it about right. Lord Odysseus repeated the procedure

on his own slave. Her gasp around her gag was even more intense than

Angel's had been, though it wasn't clear what the cause was for her

response. She might have just been unused to such intense

stimulation, or she might have been unusually responsive. If the

latter were the case, Lord Odysseus might have found his next

long-term slave girl.

Our purpose for coming to this party was primarily to obtain

Cheryl as a slave girl for Lord Odysseus. As soon as she accepted his

control, we had met that objective. Nonetheless, we spent a little

time at the party, recognizing the benefits to our slaves of the

exciting atmosphere of desire that would be present. Our slave girls

responded wonderfully. Their eyes shown with the attention they

received, their nipples, now constrained to be erect by the clamps,

were so intensely stimulated they appeared to throb visibly with each

beat of their racing hearts. A continuous scent of female arousal

wafted around them as we strolled at the slow pace compatible with

their ankle hobbles. I enjoyed the party as well, proud of the beauty

of my slave girl, and of myself. Succeeding at the pattern dance had

given me a lightness on my feet, even while wearing my thigh-high

spiked boots, that made me feel more intensely alive, more sensual

than I had ever done before. In its own way, this training from Lord

Odysseus had helped me even more than his sexual training, incredible

though that had been.

The training in the dance had a more practical benefit as

well, though. My reputation as Lady Raven had been set, in part, by

my physical dominance of the erstwhile "Master Ajax" at the first

party where we appeared. He had demanded to buy Angel, finally laying

hands on me to try and get my agreement. I had surprised him, and

myself, by quickly knocking him to the floor and rendering him

helpless. That sort of surprise wouldn't work again. Nonetheless I

had become a target for the "young gunslinger" types who wanted to try

me out physically, especially the cowardly ones who thought a woman

would be easier to overpower. The intense training in motion and body

control that Lord Odysseus had provided to us allowed me to recognize

preparations for attack in one of the would-be masters at the party.

He had a slave girl, of sorts, who was not very attractive but had

consented to wear a light string around her waist as a pseudo-leash.

As he approached me his pretend slave followed along, no subservience

in her attitude. I expected they both wanted a softly feminine slave

to dominate in compensation for their own lack of true character

strength.

"How much for the one in white?" the man asked. His badge

proclaimed him to be "Master Colossus" and he was certainly big, but

his bulk was largely fat, with little muscle definition.

"She's not for sale, especially not to one such as you," I

sneered. This time my expression was no act, I really found this slug

repulsive.

"Listen, Miss High-and-Mighty Bitch, we've got good money, and

you owe us at least a fair price so we can see if we want her."

"I owe you nothing," I said in dismissal, and turned to walk

toward another set of tables, not exactly giving way to him, yet not

forcing him to move from my way, either.

His pseudo-slave was vocally urging him to "teach me a lesson"

while we moved away, and then I heard the sound of his accelerating

footsteps behind me. I judged there was time, so I casually handed

Angel's leash to Lord Odysseus and twirled in a sequence from the

middle of the pattern, grateful now that we had been forced to learn

the dance even while wearing towering spiked heels. My shapely form

swayed gracefully out of his way, my flowing arm motions intercepted

his neck as he passed and helped him to overbalance just far enough

his running feet couldn't quite keep up with his heavy bulk.

Nonetheless, he tried, accelerating even faster for a few more steps

as he frantically worked to get his feet caught up with his center of

gravity. He failed. With a sliding crash he bellied in, scraping his

nose on the floor, pinching his round stomach over his too-tight belt.

I expected he might have cried out from the pain that was the only

return he had earned from his attack, but he probably didn't have the

breath.

Lord Odysseus casually handed Angel's leash back to me,

boredom carefully written on his face to highlight the absolute

superiority we enjoyed over the other owners at the party. My own

face displayed the look of cool amusement that announced my

willingness to keep helping others make a fool of themselves as long

as they came at me, a look I trained on Colossus's pseudo-slave. One

elegant arched eyebrow was sufficient to ask her if she intended to

repeat his stupidity, but she just glared at me and moved toward her

compatriot, giving us a wide berth.

"Well done, Lady Raven," Lord Odysseus congratulated me. "I

see by your own excitement that you enjoyed that. Don't get to enjoy

it too much, though, or you'll lose the perspective that makes you a

good master."

"Don't worry," I assured him. "I enjoy the grace of the

dance, but I only enjoy humiliating slugs like that fat pig. Only a

mistress who can control herself is truly qualified to control

others." Lord Odysseus's pretty slave girl heard my comment, and I

saw an introspective expression in her eyes for a moment.

"Lord Odysseus, could I speak with your slave for a moment?" I

asked.

He nodded, offering me her leash.

"No, thank you. I'll talk as we walk along," I said, slowing

my pace so that I now walked beside the girl he owned.

"Pretty slave, you may not realize it, yet, but you may have

the opportunity to be trained by the most accomplished master I can

imagine. He has trained me in the proper use of my body and mind,

both to achieve indescribable sexual fulfillment, and to optimize

every motion I make. Yet as you can see, he has not broken my spirit.

Instead he has made me happier than ever. I needed only a little of

his attention, since I have had the benefit of Angel's love for

several years to help in my own development, but I would gladly

surrender myself to him for any and all things he asked of me. Pray

that he offers you the chance to become his slave on a continuing

basis, as I did."

Angel had kept up with the new girl as I talked so she could

hear every word. When I talked about my own slave, she had rubbed her

body up against me, nuzzling to show her happiness in the only way

possible while bound and gagged. When I had mentioned my willingness

to be Lord Odysseus's slave, though I was clearly a capable and

dominant mistress already, Angel had nodded as well. I smiled at her,

not begrudging her desire for another master, for the right master.

It was this acceptance, more than anything else, that influenced the

new girl to commit herself to Lord Odysseus. Our absolute trust, not

only that we would not be harmed, but that we would be wonderfully

pleased with service to Lord Odysseus, convinced her to give it a try.

I could see the resolution in her eyes, a resolution to win the

privilege of absolute subservience to the compelling man who owned

her.

The few others who had been demonstrating by the tension in

their bodies that they were considering a challenge to us quickly

shrunk in on themselves and moved away. The murmur of my latest

exploit spread through the crowd faster than we could have walked even

if not limited to the speed of our hobbled slaves, curiosity mixed

with respect as they wondered what had happened. Most of the direct

witnesses probably didn't have the perceptions to even realize what I

had done, seeing only the liquid glide of the dance and not the subtle

assist that had caused the man to fall. Nonetheless, they gave us

respectful distance, and certainly no further challenges. We left the

party room at an easy pace, strolling toward where the limousine was

parked.

When we reached it, Lord Odysseus dropped his slave girl's

leash and motioned her to stand still. He reached up and removed her

gag, allowing her a few seconds to loosen the stiffness in her jaw,

then asked, "All right, girl, now is your choice. It will be your

last free choice until I decide otherwise, which may be some time.

Will you accept me as your lord and master?"

She dropped her eyes, staring at the clamps exciting her

nipples, and replied in a small, quiet voice, "yes."

He made no comment, but displeasure showed in his eyes. After

a moment, she noticed his frown and a look of dismay filled her own

eyes as she tried to decide what she had done wrong. He offered no

sign of specific transgressions, obviously intending that she should

reason it out for herself. In a moment, she straightened her

shoulders and lifted her head, realizing that Lord Odysseus neither

desired nor accepted weak, broken spirits.

"Yes! Milord Odysseus, I beg you to grant me the privilege of

being owned by you," she proudly announced.

"Better," he curtly accepted her request. "Lady Raven, will

you drive us home? I will start training this girl immediately."

"Certainly," I replied. "Can Angel be of any help in her

training?"

"Why, yes, she could be. Thank you."

I offered him Angel's leash and moved to the door of the

limousine. Cheryl's clothes were inside already, but I had put the

keys in my own purse. In a moment, I had the doors unlocked and was

adjusting the driver's seat to my larger size. Lord Odysseus took

care of the slave girls, of course, positioning them in accordance

with his plans for the ride home. I watched his training session in

the rear view mirror, listening to the words that accompanied the

physical attention he gave them. Angel was allowed the privilege of

sucking his cock, demonstrating an uninhibited commitment to his

pleasure. In return, he had the new slave lick and suck at Angel's

jewel, lifting her near to the point of no return. While this moment

was approaching, he caressed the new girl's pleasure nubbin, bringing

her to a state of intensity that was only the first on a matchless

journey of development, but was already more than she had ever

experienced. When she was ready, Lord Odysseus entered her from

behind, using his exquisite skill to bring them both the very brink of

ecstasy just as Angel reached her own moment of truth. Lord Odysseus

obviously knew the benefit of the nipple clamps as he yanked them from

Angel and the new girl in quick succession, triggering screams of

uncontrollable emotion at the overwhelming sensation. His own

pleasure, incidental except as a sign of acceptance at the new girl's

skill, exploded within her. Her eyes were below the level of the

seat, but I knew from my own experience that they would now show a

commitment to him in a way that consumed her utterly, not limited to

the intellectual decision to accept his training she had already

expressed.

When I reached our house, from which Lord Odysseus would take

the limousine and his new girl to his own home, both of the pretty

slaves were sleeping on the floor of the car. None of their bonds had

been removed, except for their gags and the nipple clamps, but their

faces showed only deep relaxation, completely at peace, completely

comfortable, completely fulfilled. It seemed a shame to wake Angel,

so I gathered her into my arms, grateful for the strength I possessed

as a man and for the balance and body control of training in the dance

of the pattern.

I smiled to myself at the regrets I had once had because of

what I was not, now comfortable with what I was, more unique than I

had even once desired. Lord Odysseus smiled at me as well, his

attunement to me so complete it approached the telepathy that Kelly

and I shared and nodded his understanding of the cause for my own

satisfaction. In a moment, the limousine was gone and I carried Kelly

into the house.

Chapter 35 - Dancing the Night Away

Lord Odysseus's new slave girl proved so adept at the learning

the pattern that she earned the name Dancer in short order. Kelly and

I visited frequently when we used the pattern painted on the floor in

his house to refine our own dances. It was a delight to see Dancer

develop under her master's wonderful teaching. Every day, it seemed,

you could see her grow in femininity, in grace (due to learning the

pattern, but more than that as well), and in sensuality as she

discovered just how incredible her body could become in delivering

pleasure to her. By the time we were packing for the cruise, she was

already more beautiful than any woman we had ever met, except those

who had themselves been granted the privilege of training by Lord

Odysseus.

The four of us flew together to LA, where we would meet the

cruise ship that would provide the site for the wedding. Most of the

evening clothes that Kelly and I had gotten for our first cruise would

work well on this cruise, but we had to replace our coats and warm

boots with bikinis and more bikinis for the sun we expected. Dancer,

Kelly and I all received the same lecture about our impossibly tall

heels, from everyone connected with the airline, the airport, whoever.

"Let's make this a contest," Kelly giggled. "Everyone keep

track of how many times someone warns you about your shoes."

"That would sort of be a contest to see who is the most

noticeable, right?" Dancer asked.

"I guess you could say that," I agreed.

It was no contest, really. While Kelly was the most beautiful

and had the most spectacular figure, and I was the most striking with

my lean strength, and while we all displayed the impossibly fluid

grace that comes with success at dancing the pattern, Dancer decided

her prize would be a sign of respect for her master and her

determination to win for him lifted her well above us. She was so

successful at attracting attention, not by blatant interference with

others but just by broadcasting an almost subliminal message of

intense erotic desire, that I expected to start hearing announcements

over the PA system as her effect spread throughout the area.

Erik Sanford, Lord Odysseus, watched over this byplay with his

own look of detached amusement. He wasn't finished with Dancer, yet,

but his success was remarkable. Letting her out into public was part

of her training, and she was doing very well at demonstrating that the

bonds that held her to her master were not made of steel, but of the

deepest, most compelling devotion. We boarded the flight on time,

arrived in LA on time, and found a limousine waiting for us,

compliments of Rocky Thornton. Vixen met us at the gangway to the

ship and escorted us to our cabins. She was clearly brimful of joy,

not the bubbly effervescence of Kelly, nor the wide-eyed

puppy-out-to-see-the-world exuberance of Dancer, but a deeper, quieter

sense of happiness that was actually closest to my own emotion. There

was no subservience about her, neither to Lady Raven that lurked

within me, nor to Lord Odysseus who had transformed her entire

personality. She was owned totally by Lord Atlas now, and just as

totally satisfied.

We wasted no time in breaking out our most outrageous bikinis

immediately after the ship pulled away from the dock. This time

neither Dancer nor I could compete with the incredible bounty revealed

by Kelly's tiny covering, so we laughed together as the stud patrol

converged on her.

"Where do they manufacture those guys for you?" I whispered to

my wife as a brace of blond hunks drifted casually, but quickly toward

her.

"Special order," she laughed. "Didn't you bring your coupon?"

"Funny, I missed that catalog," I giggled.

Dancer couldn't have cared less for any men other than her

master, and I began to see that at least a part of her training would

be to wean her away from her attachment to him. I wondered if Lord

Odysseus would ever decide to settle down with one woman. If I had

the right plumbing, and didn't have Kelly, I would have applied for

the position myself.

My own form was more than sufficient to gain a following,

though the muscle definition I had put off all the weaklings. I

figured I might have a few fun walks in the moonlight but I wasn't

ready to let anyone else in on my secret. Dancer didn't even know, so

I wouldn't let it go beyond flirting. I figured my real tits and new

disguise mounds would be good enough for any caresses that didn't

actually get inside my panties, though, so I could have a little more

fun than when I had first met Rocky. Actually, my love and respect

for Kelly had grown from the adventures we had shared, and she

certainly kept me satisfied sexually. At least I thought I was

satisfied, though I was eventually to learn that her own creativity

hadn't been tapped, yet.

When we were dressing for dinner on the first night of the

cruise, we decided to resurrect the gowns we had worn on our first

cruise when we had met Rocky. Kelly was lacing me into my corset when

she said, "Goodness, girl, you waist is trimmer than ever. Wearing a

corset all the time has really helped your shape."

"Goodness had nothing to do with it," I laughed as I repeated

the standard line.

"You've changed shape, too," I said as I laced her into the

snug embrace of her own corset. "Your waist is so small this corset

is almost too big, but your tits are going to spill right out of it."

"They've been bigger ever since they started giving milk," she

explained.

"Believe me, I know," I sighed. We had succeeded, for a

while, in getting a thin fluid from my own breasts, but the quantity

was so small that we had decided just to concentrate on Kelly's

supply. I remembered the sensation, though, and missed it sometimes.

Our trip to the dining room was infinitely easier than the

first time, so long ago. We could now float in our high spikes

without effort, thanks the matchless body control we had earned by

succeeding in dancing the pattern while wearing heels. Only the long

skirts to our dresses required attention, and the slits up our thighs

allowed us to gather them out of the way. When we reached the table

we saw familiar name cards, Miss Brandy Dewinter and Mrs. Kelly

Dewinter placed just as they had been before.

"Well, Mrs. Dewinter," I chuckled, "it looks like we'll be

separated by this guy named Peter Thornton."

"Gee, Miss Dewinter, I wonder if that guy ever has problems

with rocks," she mused.

"Perhaps, I'll look and let you know," I grinned.

Erik Sanford was already there, sitting across from Rocky's

place. Dancer was to his right, leaving a place for a woman directly

across from me, at the Captain's right hand. Vixen came in to take

it, holding to Rocky's arm as though it were the anchor of her life.

I noticed that the Captain of this ship was a less humorous man than

the one who commanded our first cruise ship as the two ship's masters

walked in together a few minutes later, taking their appointed places.

"Miss Dewinter," this ship's Captain said, "I am Captain

Powell. I understand you have already met Captain Samson on an

earlier cruise."

"Yes, sir," I smiled offering him my hand. "Though I'm not

sure he would remember me."

"Nonsense," Captain Samson said from his place beyond Dancer,"

I remember you and your sister-in-law vividly."

"Vivid memories are quite interesting," I smiled, provoking a

strangled giggle from Kelly and a grin of respect from Erik at my

quick response with a private joke. I smiled at Vixen, who smiled in

return, a dreamy look in her eyes as she remembered our time as slave

sisters.

"It has been a long time since I've seen Vivid," she mused.

"The last time was when I met Milord Atlas, and the time before that

was when I met Lord Odysseus. Yes, Vivid memories are interesting.

Will she be attending the party tomorrow night?"

"No, but the Lady Raven will be here," I said.

"You know, I've never met the Lady Raven," Rocky commented.

"She's a most impressive woman," said Erik. "I think you'd

enjoy spending some time with her."

"I know I always do," confirmed Kelly. "I'm looking forward

to the party."

"Me, too," chimed in Dancer and Vixen in near unison, each

looking at her master and owner with visible devotion.

The dinner proceeded a little uncomfortably, the surface

gentility covering a deeper tension. So many of us at the table had

meant so much to each other, at various times, that finding the proper

balance among our new relationships was even harder than forming

friendships with total strangers. With the exception of the two

ship's captains, each of us had multiple personas in our various

master and slave roles (not to mention my even more basic

impersonation), and while there was no psychological disorder since we

knew who was real and who was created, still some of us had adopted

role characteristics into our basic lives. Dancer and Vixen reveled

in the freedom of their slavery, carrying their devotion to their

owners with them wherever they went, yet Lord Atlas and Lord Odysseus

were not fully in character at the moment so they needed to show a

persona of control to their willing slaves while acting ordinary to

others. The food was excellent, however, though Kelly and I were

constrained by our corsets to mere samples of the various offerings.

Captain Powell excused himself as soon as the meal neared

completion. He was obviously less comfortable in this social

situation than our first captain had been. We had barely finished the

remainder of the meal and stood when a couple of blond hunks converged

on Kelly. Rocky took Vixen off to celebrate their love in some

private place, and Erik took Dancer's arm and led her toward the

ballroom. I found myself alone and thought I might follow, since

watching two who could dance the pattern move to music would be

beautiful to see, when I felt a gentle touch on my arm.

"Miss Dewinter, could I talk with you for a moment?" asked

Captain Samson.

"Only if you'll call me Brandy," I replied.

"Then for this cruise you must call me John," he smiled.

He continued when I nodded and asked, "After our last cruise

together I would have taken a large bet it would be you, not some

other woman who would marry Rocky. I couldn't help notice that his

Vixen is enough like you to be a sister. He's been a good friend for

a long time and I'm a little worried that he might have latched onto

her as a substitute for you, after you had some sort of argument. I

hope he's not settling for second best on the rebound."

"Captain, . .um . .John, don't worry about it. It's a long

story, some of which needs to remain private, but you ought to look at

it the other way around. For him, I would be the poor second best.

Think of Vixen as the perfection of the image I strive toward, at

least in Rocky's eyes."

"I can't imagine any way in which she would be more desirable

than you. You have a strength of character that she doesn't come

close to matching."

"Thank you, John, you're a gentleman as always. Perhaps,

though that is the very problem. Rocky and I are a little too much

the same, in more ways than one. Vixen is his perfect match. You may

not know this, but Erik Sanford is her personal trainer and counselor

as well as a doctor. He has helped her to develop her full potential,

and that potential meets what Rocky needs, just as he supplies what

she needs. Be happy for them, I am."

"Lady, you are tall, solid gold. Here you are cheerfully

giving away one of the most terrific catches a girl could imagine.

Rocky is rich, handsome, young, and nice. Don't you have any regrets

at all?"

"Believe me, I shed a few tears in the time after Rocky met

Vixen, but that's all behind me now. Frankly, I spent a little time

with Erik as well and he helped me see where my own development path

needs to go. I'm better off without Rocky, or at least just being

friends. I know that now."

He smiled at me, looking for sadness in my eyes, but if there

was any I hid it from him, and from myself as well. After a second,

he nodded, and offered me his arm with a courtly bow. "Well, Brandy,

since it seems you have no escort, would you grant me the favor of

your company in a dance or two."

"Gladly, kind sir," I replied just as formally, then changed

to a giggling teenager style. "I think that would be just peachy."

When we reached the ballroom, Erik and Dancer were gliding to

the music, more fluid and graceful than any professional dancers had

ever been. Many of those in the room were just watching in pleasure

and awe at the beauty of their coordinated motion. Captain Samson,

however, headed right for the dance floor and we were soon providing

our own counterpoint interpretation of the music. He led with sure

confidence, whirling me around the room quite aggressively, though

wonderfully matched to the style of the music. The foxtrot that was

playing when we started gave way to a more sedate waltz and he held me

a little closer and more intimately as our pace slowed. I was

reflecting on the value of the disguising cushion I wore beneath my

gown when the music changed yet again to a dramatic tango.

It has been said that any couple that dances a tango well

should immediately get married. It is one of the most emotionally

captivating ballroom dances, one in which attunement to your partner

has an overwhelming influence on the quality of the dance. I had

never really done it well as Ran, too tentative and self-conscious to

let myself go. As Brandy, though, especially with John providing a

strong lead, I found myself swept up into the rhythm. My training in

the pattern of sumito allowed me to flow in graceful response to any

move he initiated, as though we had been partners for years. Erik and

Dancer had a similar fluid grace, but it quickly became clear that my

partner had the more artistic soul, which surprised me at first. But

then I remembered that many men of the sea had that artistic

temperament, perhaps it was a prerequisite for enjoyment of a life at

sea, or perhaps the ever changing beauty of the ocean provided an

input that landlubbers lacked.

As the dance ended I realized that there were only two couples

still dancing, John and I, and Erik and Dancer. The rest of the

people had become an audience for our display, leaving the floor to us

in respect for the artistry we created. They applauded when we hit

our final freeze, both couples finishing with a dramatic flourish of

swirling skirts (revealing shapely legs) that settled around the

tableau we created as a concluding accent.

"You are an incredible dancer," my escort complimented me in

wonder. "No one has ever been able to keep up with some of the crazy

ideas I get doing a tango."

"You lifted me beyond myself, Captain," I replied, realizing

the truth of my comment even as I said it.

He led me now to one of the tables, waving at a waiter to come

take our order. I'm not sure he intended for anyone to join us and I

began to worry about starting again on the convoluted path that had

developed from my last shipboard romance with Rocky, but Erik led

Dancer over as well. I saw an instant of disappointment on John's

face, but then quick acceptance, knowing that these were already my

friends.

"You dance very well," Erik complimented me.

"Thank you, though you taught me how, so it's more a

reflection of you than of me," I smiled.

"No," he disagreed with a smile, "your reflection showed the

imagination of Captain Samson, I just showed you how to maintain your

balance, and perhaps how to float your feet off the floor a little."

"Thank you, Dr. Sanford," replied my partner, "but I think you

and Dancer were matchless. I felt like a clumsy bull elephant,

enthusiastic, but clumsy."

"Well, I like enthusiasm," I said, interrupting this mutual

admiration society meeting. "How about a drink?"

We found seats and ordered. In the pause before conversation

resumed I noticed that only Captain Samson was breathing at all

heavily. Training in the patterns of the sumito dance had allowed us

to move so efficiently that there was no effort required for even the

most dramatic ordinary dance. For once, the tight corset hadn't

really hampered me, though I remembered the effect my heaving breasts

had had when I needed to recover my breath while wearing one. Oh,

well, I could always fake it, when I wanted to catch some guy's

attention.

Kelly breezed in accompanied by her latest conquest. The joy

that always lit her face brought a smile to those around her just from

the energy that poured from her. She waved to us and brought her

blond hunk, introducing him politely though I forgot his name

immediately.

"The story about you guys is already all over the ship," Kelly

said. "That must have been some dance. It seems I underestimated

you, Captain Samson."

"Please, everyone, call me John. There can only be one

captain on a ship, and this lady belongs to another. Besides, we were

just having fun."

"Maybe so, but if half the moves people said you were making

are real, anyone else would have ended up in traction," Kelly laughed.

"We heard you two put on quite a show, yourselves," she

continued, turning to Erik and Dancer.

"Yes," John added, "you are clearly well-named, Dancer. Do

you dance professionally?"

"No, but Milord Odysseus taught me how to dance, how to move

at all, really," she answered.

"Milord Odysseus?" John asked.

"You'll meet him at the party tomorrow night," I explained.

"Along with some other interesting people."

"About that party," he said pensively. "The theme is a little

extreme for a cruise ship. Is everyone really supposed to come as

either a master or a slave?"

"Or a mistress," I added. "No admittance unless you're

willing to be a slave for the evening, or have convinced someone to be

your slave."

"Indeed," Captain Samson mused. "Well, we know what Rocky and

Vixen will do. She really adores him, though she also truly seems

happy to belong to him. Are you spoken for, Brandy?"

"Are you asking to be my slave?" I asked, arching an elegant

eyebrow."

"No," he blushed. "I guess I was expecting you might like to

be mine."

"Sorry," I replied with a smile. "I make a better mistress

than a slave."

"I'm sure you do. I suppose it's not too much of a stretch to

expect that Kelly will be your slave."

"Yep," Kelly giggled. "We'll knock their socks off."

John sighed, the introspective look on his face showing both

disappointment and uncertainty on what he should do next.

I chuckled and said, "You might need to go hunting for a

while. The party is tomorrow, don't waste any time."

He grinned sheepishly, embarrassed at how transparent his

thoughts had been. Kelly offered him some encouragement, though.

"You really only need to circulate a little. That dance has

made your reputation and I expect you'll find a few women willing to

pretend to be your slave for the evening. Maybe some who won't insist

it be pretend. If anyone wants to know what it's like to serve a

wonderful owner, send them to me. I'll have them panting for the

chance in minutes."

"Or to me," Dancer added. "Kelly doesn't really know what

it's like to be owned totally, but I do. I'll convince them to give

it a try."

"Sure you won't consider helping me out for the evening?" John

asked me as he rose to leave.

"Maybe next time," I smiled. "Being a slave can be fun, but

my plans are already made for this trip."

He walked away shaking his head. Our lifestyle had long

diverged from the norm for our culture, more in my case than he would

believe, and the idea that we had all experienced this outrageous

situation didn't really fit in his preconceived notion of what sort of

people did that. Nonetheless, I expected he would indeed find a

pretty slave girl, at least for the evening. We said our own

good-byes shortly after that and returned to our room.

The next day dawned bright and clear, with the promise of

being hot. Not that we saw the dawn, we slept with the depth made

possible when the ship is gently rocking you all night long. By the

time we rose it was already quite warm so we found a pair of

flattering (meaning skimpy) bikinis and hit the deck chairs to work on

our tan. Since I would be wearing my leather bustier dress, my bikini

was a strapless design, merely a not-too-wide band of material on top,

and two small triangles connected by thin strings below. Kelly had an

even greater problem since her slave dress would show any tan lines at

all, so she spent the time on her stomach, her top completely untied.

The first time she needed sun tan lotion I applied it myself, but

thereafter one or another of her blond hunk patrol provided all the

help she needed.

That evening we dressed in our familiar costumes as Milady

Raven and Angel. I still preferred the original bondage concept, with

the tinkling chain leading from neck to hobble, so Angel was quickly

locked within my steel.

"I have a new item for you, Angel," I said.

"Yes, Milady? Is it the nipple clamps?"

"Do you want me to attach them?" I asked.

"If you wish, Milady. They are quite intense."

"All right, but we'll do it a little differently, this time.

I'll put them on tightly enough to keep your milk from flowing for the

evening. That will be even more intense than usual."

"Yes, Milady," she nodded.

I screwed the clamps down to her hard, hot nipples, squeezing

them a little tighter than normal. She gasped as the extra pressure

was added, but said nothing. The aroma of her arousal confirmed her

excitement and pleasure, however. I wondered what the gentle Captain

Samson would think when he saw such intense bondage. We would

probably shock him, knock his socks off, as Kelly had forecast.

"Actually, that was not the addition I had in mind, though," I

told Angel.

Her eyes widened, the stimulation of the nipple clamps seemed

almost more than she could bear, and I could see her wonder what else

I had in mind. It wasn't a gag, but it was something she had

experienced before. Sort of.

I pulled out a little box with a switch on it, and a short

antenna. She wasn't sure what significance that had, until I pulled

out a vibrator egg, complete with it's own antenna. She gasped again

and started to speak but I motioned her to silence, then reached under

the tiny skirt to her slave dress to place the egg within her. The

antenna protruded down just enough that the tip could be seen below

her dress, a mysterious shiny knob that implied hidden support from

above. I switched the vibrator on, watching as her eyes began to

flutter and her knees to buckle, then I turned it off.

"Oh, Milady, I'm not sure I can stand too much of that." she

moaned softly.

"See that you do stand whatever I require of you," I said

sternly.

"Yes, Milady," she whispered, once again absorbing the true

meaning of surrendering control to me, always more of an emotional

than intellectual understanding.

I attached her leash to her collar and we strolled to the

party, our pace slowed by her hobbles. I had already decided that we

would negotiate the staircases at whatever pace was required rather

than holding off on her ankle hobbles, so it took us a while, but I

had never intended to get there first. It was clear that most of

those on the ship were only playing at owner and slave roles, for

there were few who had more in the way of bondage than a simple

clothesline rope wrapped around the slave's wrists. Our entrance,

when we arrived at the sight of the party was as dramatic as I could

have hoped for, announced by the collective gasp of the crowd as we

sauntered into the room.

Even though I intended to be relatively late in arriving, I

noticed that neither Lord Odysseus nor Lord Atlas were there yet, with

their own slaves. Captain Samson was there, though, a lovely

red-headed girl trailing behind him wearing a bikini top, a wrap

skirt, and a pair of handcuffs he must have scrounged form the ship's

master-at-arms, unless he had more interesting tastes than I gave him

credit for. His leash was hooked to her handcuffs and she was

grinning as she followed him, under minimal control.

"Ah, Brandy, you have a most beautiful captive," he said.

"You will address me as Milady Raven, if you find it necessary

to speak to me," I said coldly, showing him the strength of a true

mistress with my standard introduction.

By now his own captive had seen the nipple clamps that Angel

wore, as well as the chain that bound her hands behind her back, and

the hobble at her ankles. Samson's slave girl's response was first to

cringe in shock, but I noticed that her nipples popped up through her

bikini top.

"The bondage you have applied seems quite intense, Milady

Raven," Samson said, trying to recover the camaraderie we had shared

earlier.

"It might profit you to explore an equivalent approach," I

countered. "Your own slave girl seems quite interested.

"No I'm not," she said softly.

"I do not permit my slaves to speak without permission, but in

this case I will respond to her remark," I said, addressing myself to

Samson. "Her nipples prove her interest regardless of her words.

Recognizing her true needs is the mark of a good mistress, or master.

It would seem you both have much to learn, about yourselves and about

each other."

"I believe you're right," Samson said. "Wait just a minute,

please."

He quickly unlocked one of the handcuffs on his pretty

red-headed slave and fastened them again behind her. She stood

passively, eyes wide, not protesting but breathing so hard I thought

she might hyperventilate. Next, he took the leash from where it had

attached to her cuffs and reattached it looped around her neck. She

shivered to his touch, but her own arousal scent started to become

apparent in the still air around us.

"Better," I complimented him, "but she clearly wants a more

intense stimulus. I'll loan you Angel's nipple clamps if you'd like."

This brought expressions of shock to all three of them,

Samson, Angel, and the red-head.

"Oh, no, I couldn't do that," Samson said, but we were both

watching his slave girl when he said it, and the disappointment was

apparent in her face, before she carefully made her expression

neutral.

"Well, perhaps I could at that," he said thoughtfully,

surprised at the girl's willingness, or desire, or whatever.

I removed Angel's nipple clamps by unscrewing them, not

pulling them off. She moaned at the returning sensation and sagged

against my hands, but she recovered herself quickly and looked

wistfully as I handed the clamps to Samson. Both he and his red-head

noticed her reaction, both the moan and the look of regret. It

brought the red-headed girl's nipples to even greater attention

through the thin bikini top and provided them as targets for Samson's

attention. He placed the first one on a protruding button and

tightened it until he saw a small wince in her expression, then

attached the other one. She was breathing more quickly than ever,

panting with the excitement of this incredible experience, but she

said nothing, while her scent flooded out even more intensely and

Angel's began to subside.

"What have you named her?" I asked Samson.

"Her name is Julie," he said.

"Is that what you have named her?" I prodded.

"Well, no, that's her real name."

"Real slaves have no name except the one given them by their

owner. Is she a real slave or not?" I demanded.

He looked at her, wondering just how far she could go. He

still considered this all a game, play-acting, but I saw a look of

dependence in his slave's eyes, asking him to accept her fully. He

nodded abruptly and took on a look of resolution as he began to

understand the responsibilities of a slave owner.

"Your name is Button," Lord Samson declared to her, "in honor

of your obvious interest in this evening's theme. These clamps will

help you continue to display the interest that earned you your name."

"Thank you, Milady Raven," he said to me. "I've learned more

in these few minutes about women, and about myself, than I've learned

for many years. I begin to see why you consider this Lord Odysseus

more of a teacher than anything else."

"Begin to see is right," I allowed. "There is much more to

owning a slave, or being a slave, than you'll understand tonight, but

now at least you have a good start."

Just then Lord Odysseus entered the room with Dancer. He wore

his black leather, just as I did, but Dancer wore a version of the

one-shoulder jungle woman's dress that he had dressed Vixen in the

night he gave her to Lord Atlas. Her bonds were limited to a set of

straps pulling her arms behind her, and a leash to a leather collar.

It was clear he was training her in body awareness, emphasizing the

supple movements made possible by her training on the pattern and

comparing them to a jungle animal. She was a magnificent example of

sleek grace, her muscles sliding beneath an almost translucent skin

glowing with health. She was magnificent, and would have been the

most spectacular example of a slave girl imaginable, in nearly any

bondage party. Unfortunately for them the effect was spoiled by the

example of Angel, who had that same fluid grace in combination with

intensely sensual femininity and her own boundless joy. Once again,

for about the nine-zillionth time I was thankful that I had found my

love, and that she had accepted me.

"Lord Odysseus," I said as they approached, confirming Lord

Samson's obvious surmise on Erik's alternate identity.

"Lady Raven," he replied with a nod.

"Your slave is very beautiful," Lord Samson said to Lord

Odysseus, echoing his sentiment when he had seen Angel. Of course he

was right, not only were they blessed with pretty features, but the

weightless ease with which they moved made them both seem more dream

than real, perhaps bound with steel, but free of mundane limits like

gravity.

Lord Odysseus nodded in return, allowing a smile to touch his

eyes when he saw the nipple clamps on Button, then a further one when

he saw the small creases in the front of Angel's dress which showed

where they had come from.

"So you chose to spend the intensity of her release from the

clamps in an open display, rather than as a culmination of sexual

release," Lord Odysseus observed.

"Yes, I have another set if we choose to follow that path," I

smiled. "It appeared that Lord Samson had a greater need."

This was the first public confirmation that Angel and I were

lovers, though Lord Samson must have considered the possibility. I

didn't mind. It was part of who we were. The only secret I wanted to

retain was the true nature of Brandy, and I knew Lord Odysseus

wouldn't reveal that.

Finally the bride and groom arrived, and I realized for the

first time how much Rocky had respected Kelly and I. In all the time

we were together, he had never tried to spend inordinate amounts of

money on us. His attitude was that the things we could buy for

ourselves were quite sufficient, and therefore that we were quite

successful in our own right. However, Vixen was to be his wife. Her

wealth was the same as his, so display of it was now on his scale, not

ours. It was also clear that he had his own preferences for

restraints. Just as I preferred the golden chain flowing from neck to

hobbles, he preferred wide golden bands at wrists, elbows, and neck.

This time, however, the bands that controlled Vixen were studded with

jewels, and the chain from her high collar was heavier. I'm not sure

how I knew, but it was clear that the chain was solid gold, not steel

overlaid with gold plate. It was a flamboyant statement of wealth and

pride in his slave girl, a pride she clearly shared, and reflected

back on her massive master. I was flattered to see he had stayed with

the Lord Atlas costume almost unchanged, though, adding only a heavier

neck chain to hold the keys to her locks. Lord Atlas strode into the

room with an awesome show of massive muscles within his skin-tight,

shiny superhero outfit, now able to display the power that the gentle

Rocky had always kept in check. That path could lead to arrogance,

but Rocky's true nature was kind enough that I wasn't worried.

Perhaps this outlet for a display of the power that was his birthright

would even make it easier to be gentle when he returned to his Rocky

persona. They made a most dramatic couple, the drama enhanced by the

amazement of both sets of friends and family at the outrageous extent

of their relationship.

"Lord Atlas," I said respectfully, acknowledging that even

with the circle of owners, he had first place.

"Lady Raven, Lord Odysseus, and I see Lord Samson is with you.

How do you like our party, Lord Samson?" he grinned. "I see you have

your own pretty slave girl. I seem to remember those nipple clamps

from somewhere."

"Indeed you do, Lord Atlas," I said with a grin of my own.

"These are the ones that you placed on Angel. She was reluctant to

give them up, but I still have those you placed on Vivid so I can

replace them later."

"You know, I have never used on Vixen the particular

combination we enjoyed that night. Perhaps you could join us for a

repeat experience."

"No, thank you, that's not my style," I declined. "But Vivid

would be willing, whenever you like."

"I'll remember that," he laughed, "but I don't think we'll do

that on this cruise."

"Then perhaps you'd like to try another little item I have

with me," I offered, taking another remote control vibrator egg from

my purse and handing it to him.

"I assume you have a control for this," Lord Atlas said

thoughtfully, wondering just how far to go in public with his slave

girl.

"Of course," I confirmed, holding one out to him.

It was hard at that point to tell which of the slave girls was

flooding the air with the most scent of arousal. All were breathing

heavy, eyes shining, nipples erect. It didn't matter who was most

aroused, though, since Vixen was clearly excited enough that it would

be no trouble to place the vibrator inside her, if Lord Atlas chose to

do so immediately. In a moment resolution showed on his face and he

turned to Vixen, shielding her from the majority of the crowd but

still obviously reaching under her skirt. In a second the egg was in

place and he was reaching for the control switch.

Instead of Vixen, however, it was Angel that began to whimper,

then sag as her knees weakened.

"Oops," I laughed. "Wrong control, here, try this one."

I handed him the other control, turning it on as he reached

for it, surprising Vixen into an involuntary squeak and then a whimper

of her own. He smiled at me and offered me Angel's control, still

turned on and causing her to shudder with the intense stimulation. He

didn't turn Vixen's off immediately either, though I gave Angel some

relief as soon as he handed her control to me. Lord Atlas waited long

enough to make the point that he would make his own decisions, not

just follow my lead, before turning off Vixen's vibrator and allowing

her to catch her breath.

Button's eyes had gotten enormous when she realized what was

going on. That, in combination with the nipples clamps stimulating

her was almost enough to make her faint. Her eyes fluttered and she

began to sag, caught only by the quick motion of Lord Odysseus.

"It would appear that your slave girl is in need of some

attention," he grinned to Lord Samson.

"I believe you're right," Lord Samson replied, "and I know

just the place to give it to her."

I quickly whispered in his ear, "Pull the clamps off quickly,

just as she climaxes. She might become your permanent slave if you do

it right."

His own eyes widened at the image, then smiled as he resolved

to give my suggestion a try. I figured both of them would be happy in

the morning. And inseparable.

"Congratulations, Lord Atlas, you seem to have found a

compatible slave girl," I said. "But if you'll excuse me, the work of

a conscientious mistress is never done, and my own slave girl requires

some personal attention, too."

I flicked on the vibrator buried in Angel, and pulled her

leash to lead her from the room. As soon as we were separated by a

few other party-goers I turned the vibrator off, until we got back to

our room. There I allowed Angel to suck my cock while the vibrator

was humming in her own love center. She came first, and second, and

third, but as she climbed her mountain for the fourth time that night,

the ministrations of her talented lips and tongue helped me to join

her and we shook in unison on our last, greatest explosion.

Chapter 36 - The Love Boat

Kelly and I dressed more casually the next morning, in denim

minis and sandals, but we wore our corsets under snug blouses and

looked just as sensual as ever. This was to be the day of the

wedding, and the primary task for the morning was the rehearsal.

Everything was pretty straightforward, a traditional ceremony, except

for one curious aspect of Vixen's movements. She seemed extremely

concerned with her bouquet, afraid of dropping it. For the rehearsal

we had gathered up a few of the table flower arrangements to use in

place of the real bouquets, and she held hers in both hands throughout

the practice session. When the time came to pass it to me (as the

maid of honor) for the ring ceremony, she held it out to me with both

hands, and took it back with both hands when she retrieved it. I put

it down to the nervousness of a bride, and in any event it didn't

impede the flow of the planned ceremony.

The wedding party then went to lunch. The real wedding

ceremony was planned for the middle of the afternoon, so most of the

guests would have a little time for themselves before we got back

together. Not the bridal party though.

"Would you two come help me dress?" asked Vixen. "I had your

own gowns delivered to the dressing room, too, since they're too big

to negotiate the passageways without a police escort."

"Sure," I said. "I'd have been disappointed if you didn't

give us the chance. We'll just go by our cabin for a couple of

minutes, then be right there."

In our cabin, Kelly and I changed from our suntan stockings

and bright red sandals to the ice-blue stockings and satin pumps we

would wear with our bridesmaid dresses. Vixen had always worn the

flowing wig that matched my own liquid cascade, and had told us she

intended to leave it down under her veil. I left mine tumbling to my

waist as well, so a little work on fresh makeup and we were ready to

go, almost.

"No panties for you, beautiful," I told Kelly.

"What? Why not?"

"Because I want you to wear this instead," I said as I handed

her the remote control vibrator egg.

"Ooh, you're not nice," she giggled, but she reached for it

eagerly.

"Why am I being so favored?" she asked as she inserted it.

"I'll make you a large bet that Rocky has Vixen wear hers, and

I want you to be a good example for her, to make sure she doesn't

chicken out."

"I never thought of that, but no bet, I'm sure you're right,"

Kelly laughed.

We made our way to the dressing room, located close to the

ship's ballroom where the wedding would take place. Vixen was already

waiting, her nervousness combined with the feline grace given by her

mastery of the pattern to produce the distinct image of a jungle cat,

pacing in a cage, hungry for action.

"Calm down," I smiled as we entered. "Rocky is a terrific

guy. Just trust him and go with the flow."

"Oh, I do trust him," she sighed, "but I want it to be so

perfect for him."

"That's what we're here for, and his groomsmen as well. It'll

be fine," I assured her.

We helped her into her own ivory gown first. The Scarlett

O'Hara style suited her well, especially now that she had a real bosom

to push up dangerously close to the low bodice of the dress. Her

enormous skirts seemed to fill the room, billowing out from layer on

layer of petticoats. There was a small vanity table in the dressing

room, with a backless bench placed before it. The importance of the

no-back chair became apparent when she tried to sit down so that Kelly

could help her with a final refinement of her makeup. First, Vixen

just gathered her skirts around her and sat, but the front of her

dress flipped up and hid her face completely, simultaneously

displaying a host of lacy underthings. She stood up again and draped

her skirts back over the stool, letting the hem of her hoop-skirt

surround the bench. That allowed her gown to surround her in a

beautiful display of elegant femininity while she sat quietly waiting

for Kelly to complete her magic.

While they were busy doing that, I started to don my own

bridesmaid gown, working my way into the layers of petticoats. By the

time I was finished with the underclothes, Kelly was finished with

Vixen and then helped me into the dress itself. My own bosom poked up

close to the top of the dress, displaying an unambiguous development

that Ran had never owned.

"It's a good thing we're all in pretty good shape," I grinned.

"These dresses are so heavy, we'll get a week's workout for our legs

in this afternoon alone."

"I know," Vixen agreed. "But they're so beautiful."

"Did you ever think you'd end up like this," I smiled at her.

"No," she said softly, "and I owe it all to you."

"Not entirely," I grinned. "I think Rocky had a little to do

with it."

"Oh, right," she giggled. But then she turned more serious.

"You know what I mean, though. Without you, I still would be afraid

of men, and afraid of my own femininity. I owe you more than I can

ever repay."

"Then don't try. I remember once saying all you owed us was

your friendship. It's as true now as it was then."

We hugged each other, laughing as our skirts tilted up behind

us when the leading edges plowed together as we got close enough to

reach. But this time Kelly had her own petticoats on and was ready

for help with her dress. Her own bosom was so flamboyant that we

watched for a few minutes to make sure a medium-deep breath wouldn't

cause her tits to explode over the top. She didn't dare try a deep

breath, but then her corset took care of that anyway. She couldn't

have taken a deep breath if she wanted to.

Kelly reached for Vixen's veil, but I stopped her. "Vixen,

what did Lord Atlas give you to wear?" I asked.

"How did you know?" Vixen replied with her own question.

I merely smiled with the cool amusement and confident power of

Lady Raven, reminding Vixen that I was a dominant, too, and quite

capable of training a slave girl. She nodded her understanding and

went to a small bag lying on a side table. Inside were her golden

cuffs, her high collar, and her own remote control vibrator egg. I

caught Kelly's eyes when Vixen drew the egg from the bag, provoking

another nod of acceptance of the wisdom of Lady Raven.

"You should have put this on before you put your dress on," I

said.

Vixen nodded, but said nothing. She held the egg in her hands

a little uncertainly, wondering if she should really get married while

wearing such a device. I motioned to Kelly to lift her own skirts,

finally helping her so that Vixen could see that Kelly had her own egg

in place.

"Do you have her control switch with you?" Vixen asked in

surprise.

"Of course, and I'll bet that Rocky has the one to that egg

with him. You may get a surprise or two during the ceremony."

"Oh, he wouldn't!" she exclaimed.

"Oh, he would," I laughed, not letting her in on the rest of

the secret. Yet.

She grinned and handed me the egg, "Would you do the honors?"

"Gladly," I replied, then helped her to lift her skirts. When

I reached her nether lips, I found a sheer white g-string appropriate

for a ceremonial deflowering after the wedding. Nonetheless, I

removed it, since Vixen's master had indicated a different sort of

prize should be provided. She was nervous enough that her own juices

were uncharacteristically sparse, so I stroked her a little with my

long red nails until her muscles began to clamp at my fingers.

"That just might be the reason he wants you to wear this, so

you're ready at the magic moment," I chuckled.

With her lubricant flow stimulated, the vibrator egg slipped

easily into position. We shook the petticoats and skirts of her dress

back into a graceful flow, then moved to the other items her master

had given her. The high golden collar forced her to hold her head

erect, and the wide golden cuffs, when fastened together with the lock

provided revealed the reason she had been using two hands on

everything at the rehearsal, her hands wouldn't be separated until her

master unlocked her at his decision.

We handed her the bridal bouquet, which concealed the lock

very well though the golden bands glistened brightly. Without the

lock they looked like wide bracelets, a little showy for a traditional

wedding dress, but not clearly bondage devices. Her thick mane of

hair concealed the lock holding her collar in place as well, so only

her closest friends would recognize the true significance of her

wedding vows. When the time came to promise to obey, her meaning

would be more absolute than most women intended. We draped her long,

flowing veil over her head and she was ready, as beautiful as any

bride could ever hope to be, as matchlessly feminine as only a woman

trained by Lord Odysseus could ever actually be.

I thought we were about done and was looking around to check

out the room for leftover items, when Kelly made her own outrageous

demand.

"Brandy, it doesn't seem fair that we're not wearing panties,

but you are."

"It wouldn't matter if I took them off, my disguise cushion

serves about the same purpose," I explained.

"So take it off, too," she demanded.

"What? You're kidding. I work too hard to keep my secret to

reveal it now."

"It won't be revealed. Your petticoats will hold it down, and

the gown is full enough to hide any bulge. Since it's floor length,

even your wonderful tool won't show below it," she giggled.

"Oh, Brandy, you must," Vixen laughed.

I glared at Kelly for a minute, then laughed myself. "You

girls are going to get me in trouble, but I seem to remember saying

that before."

"And you were right," Kelly added her own giggle to our

laughter. "Here, let me help."

She dove under my flowing skirts, burying her head out of

sight. In a moment, I felt my thong panties slide down my legs,

followed by the close-fitting disguise mound. I expected her to

reappear after I felt my freed cock lying along my leg, but instead I

felt her talented lips circle the tip of it and begin to draw it into

her mouth. My gasp revealed what was going on, provoking a grin from

Vixen at the turnabout. It wasn't long before Kelly's talented

orifice was bringing me to a shuddering climax, almost causing my own

knees to buckle. She milked every drop, pulling the juice from my

balls so hard I thought they would turn inside out. When there was

absolutely nothing more to be had, Kelly emerged from under my dress.

"There, that should minimize the bulge for at least the length

of the ceremony," she bragged.

"That depends on how often I look at you, beautiful," I

breathed, still trying to get my heart rate down from the

stratosphere. It felt very strange to have my cock dangling down

inside the dress, exposed to the cool air of the room. Kelly was

right, though, I knew it wouldn't show, even if it resurrected itself

before we had a chance to change clothes.

"I seem to remember you saying that I wasn't nice," I reminded

her, "but you've got no right to accuse anyone else."

"I have a perfect right," she laughed. "It takes one to know

one."

She stood back to look at me, and we all twirled around so

that we could be checked out from all angles. Our trio was beautiful

in a way that would be memorable on the ship. We all moved with the

grace of the pattern, we all celebrated our sensual natures to the

fullest, and we were all dressed in a style of exultant femininity.

It would be spectacular, and it was time to go.

Kelly poked her head out of the dressing room to ensure that

they were ready for us, and when she was given the all clear we filed

out into the anteroom to the cruise ship ballroom. The wedding guests

were all in place, Billie Jo's father waiting to escort her down the

aisle. I hadn't really met him, but he seemed a nice enough man,

though completely out of his depth in the intense atmosphere that

surrounded Vixen, Lord Atlas, and the rest of our wild crew. His

smile when he saw his gorgeous daughter made any other considerations

unimportant, though, and her answering smile shown forth even through

the veil.

The entry music started, Rocky and the groomsmen filed into

the front of the room, and Kelly started down the aisle with the

traditional, elegant hesitation step. In a few minutes it was my turn

and I began my own graceful glide down the aisle. I was gratified to

hear the quiet oohs and ahs of the crowd as they saw me, knowing I was

spectacularly beautiful in a more striking way than the glowing Kelly

had been. Even without hobbles, the towering heels we wore limited

the length of our stride to a controlled, delicate pace, and I had

time to reflect on the shock that would flow through the crowd if they

knew what was swinging loosely inside my dress. My smile of cool

amusement warmed up with genuine humor, but I moved carefully, not

wanting anything to disrupt the ceremony, at least not yet.

Part of my attention was ensuring that I didn't drop one of

the control switches I had hidden within my own bouquet. That's

right, switches. I had one programmed for Kelly, but I had programmed

a spare for the code to Vixen's hidden vibrator egg, and I expected I

would find a time to send her a buzz before long.

After an endless time, though right on time, I reached the

dais at the front of the room and took my place to the left of the

center aisle. The bridal procession music started and all heads

turned to see Vixen march down the aisle, her arm held by her father.

Our similarity was never more apparent than at that moment, with

Vixen's face obscured by the veil, her long dark hair an exact match

for my own, and her gown hiding any small differences in our bodies.

I realized at that moment that I could have changed places with her

and almost no one would know until the time came for the groom to lift

the veil, except for the conspicuous absence of the maid of honor, of

course. Yet there was a difference as well, one that wouldn't be

apparent in any photograph, but was unmistakable to someone trained by

Lord Odysseus. She moved with a fluid grace that was a wonder to all

who saw it, but there was still a definite flavor of slave about her.

Perhaps it was in her head, forced erect by the high collar rather

than by the confidence of one who owns rather than is owned, or

perhaps it was the questing look for her master and husband-to-be,

rather than the internal assurance of self-reliance that dominants

possessed. Whatever the cause, I knew that Lord Odysseus, and Lord

Atlas, would have been able to identify each of us even if we had been

dressed identically. When she reached the front of the ballroom, the

traditional ceremony began.

Everything went as scheduled. Vixen's practice at handing off

her bouquet to me with both hands, to cover the bonds that held them

together, proved itself and it seemed natural, the apparent

nervousness charming in a beautiful bride. Rocky placed the ring on

her finger and she retrieved her bouquet, again with both hands, and

no one not already aware of the special nature of her gestures picked

up on the reason. In a time that always seems surprisingly short,

Rocky was lifting her veil for a kiss.

This was the moment I had been waiting for, and I flicked the

switch on her buried buzzer as his lips reached hers. She shuddered

and a moan escaped her lips, provoking a titter in the crowd as they

thought they recognized passion caused by their kiss. Rocky was

pleased, though surprised as well, and lingered a little longer over

the kiss than he probably originally intended. I kept her vibrator

sending its intense pulses into her pleasure nubbin throughout their

kiss, only releasing the switch when he finally let her up for air.

Her response as the stimulation ended was to give another moan of

regret that caused another titter to flow through the crowd. When she

managed to open her eyes, she looked at her new husband and master

with confused wonder, surprised that he was willing to claim total

control over her body so soon, and so publicly. He misinterpreted her

expression as one of desire, though perhaps it was pretty close to the

truth at that.

The happy couple turned down the aisle, the recessional music

flowing out from the on-board orchestra, and I turned to my own

escort, Erik, Lord Odysseus. To my surprise he was a little taller

than me and I realized he had worn boots with just enough heel to make

him compatible with my height, the carefully-tailored legs to his

tuxedo pants hiding his choice from the guests. I smiled at him and

took his arm, matching my motion to the graceful flow only he

possessed of all men I knew. One day I would have to ask him why no

other men had succeeded in learning to dance the pattern.

The reception was held in the dining room without an actual

receiving line. Rocky and Vixen strolled through the crowd of

well-wishers, her hands demurely clasping her bouquet the whole time.

Whenever she happened to look directly at him, I sent her a buzz,

using the vibrator as a Pavlovian device to condition her to even

greater devotion to her master. After a while she began to look

around the room to find out who was sending the stimulation to her,

since Rocky's hands were visible for at least some of the times when

she had been buzzed. Her eyes met mine and I let my amusement show,

confirming a suspicion that had already been pretty certain in her

mind. She smiled at me with an "I'll get you later" expression, and I

returned it with a dare to do her best.

Kelly caught a little of the byplay and came to whisper in my

ear, "How's it hangin', stud?"

"Long and hard, you should know," I whispered back, not

letting her cause me embarrassment.

"Do you have a switch for her vibrator?" Kelly asked.

"Yep," I giggled."

"I thought so. Did you buzz her during their kiss?"

"Yes," I confirmed again, "and several times since then."

"You're terrible!" Kelly chortled in my ear.

"Be nice, or I'll give you a little buzz, too," I threatened

with a laugh of my own.

"Promises, promises," Kelly challenged me, a good or bad move

depending on what she really wanted. What she got was a little

stimulation of her own as I flicked the other switch. Her eyes

widened, then began to flutter as she sagged against me. Only when

her knees began to give did I turn off the switch.

"Dare me again and I'll put you on the floor," I grinned.

"Promises, prom . . .oops! Forget I said that," she pleaded.

I lifted my bouquet as though I were about to flick her

switch, but it was Vixen, pulling Rocky along with her, who stopped

me.

"Don't you dare," Vixen ordered, though the smile in her eyes

eliminated any threat behind her direction, making it a plea instead.

"Dare what?" I asked innocently.

"You know very well what!" Vixen laughed.

"Are you telling me that my little control box for Kelly is

sending out impulses to you instead?" I asked, as though I were only

now realizing it.

Within my bouquet I turned on both switches, causing the two

of them to gasp, then shudder as the impulses washed through their

bodies. After a second or two, though, I turned them off, or at least

turned off their vibrators.

"You're not a very nice person," Rocky grinned.

"There seem to be a lot of people with that opinion of me," I

admitted.

"I think I'll just relieve you of the burden of that control

switch, though," he said.

I handed over the spare controller, the one tuned to the

frequency for Vixen's vibrator, and smiled innocently. "Ah just

cain't imagine how that got in theah," I drawled with a southern

accent to match our antebellum gowns.

"Keep it up and I might just have to see about reuniting Vixen

and Vivid. Lord Odysseus tells me they make a magnificent pair."

"Promises, promises," I laughed, catching Kelly's eyes as I

parroted her earlier phrase.

"Come with us, anyway, it's time for the pictures," Rocky

directed.

We went back to the ballroom to pose for the typical series of

group photos. I was amused but not surprised to see Button, the

erstwhile Julie, hovering around Captain Samson with a decidedly

possessive air. She was really a cute girl and I hoped they would

someday be as happy as I knew Rocky and Vixen would be. For that

matter, I hoped they would be as happy as Kelly and I were. During

one of the intervals when I wasn't required to be in the picture, Erik

walked over to talk with me.

"You doing okay?" he asked.

"Sure, why not?" I replied.

"Rocky is a pretty special guy, and he used to be your guy."

"Not really. What we had was special, all right, but it

wasn't something to build an enduring relationship on. I've got Kelly

for that, and I wouldn't trade her for anything. Actually, I was just

thinking about you. It seems everyone else has found the love of

their life but you. Are you ever going to settle down?"

A look of sadness passed over his face, almost too quick to be

noticed. In an instant the calm, well-balanced strength returned, but

I cherished that tiny glimpse past his normally seamless exterior,

knowing that he had allowed me to see it.

"I'm a different sort of person than the rest of you. This is

what I do, and I do it well. You know, some doctors don't take their

oath seriously, but I do. If there is anything I can do to help

someone, I just have to do it. In a way, I'm as much a slave to my

work as anyone I've ever trained."

I wrapped my arms around him and gave him a warm embrace, not

sexually passionate, but deeply caring nonetheless.

"You know you're always welcome in our house, or in our bed,

or even just to talk with us," I said. "We owe you more than we can

ever repay, me most of all."

"You don't owe me anything," he disagreed, just as Vixen

walked up again.

"I heard what she said, and I'll disagree with you both. We

both owe you, but I owe you more than anyone else can possibly ever

match. Rocky knows it, too. You'll always be welcome wherever we

are. And your money is no good on anything that Rocky owns. You

might be surprised at how much that is. I know I was."

"There, see?" Erik laughed. "I always get paid for my

services. By the way, the last installment is due on your bills. Pay

up or I'll take your tits back."

Vixen's throaty laugh spilled out through the room, bringing

her master to see what was so funny. When she explained, his own deep

voice added to hers, and he began to paw through his pockets.

"Believe it or not, I don't have any money with me," he

smiled.

"Way to go, girl," Kelly chortled. "Keep him on a tight

leash."

We all laughed at the implication that their relationship was

reversed, all except me that is. I smiled, but I was a little too

serious for genuine mirth.

"Here, Erik, perhaps this will do as an interim payment, until

my check arrives," I offered.

In my hand I held a small golden key. He looked at it, then

smiled at me, instantly aware of what it was, and what it meant. It

was the key to Vivid's chains, and I would be his whenever he wanted.

Totally his, as his slave for as long as he wanted. I wouldn't have

made that offer even to Rocky, Lord Atlas, but I was completely

serious in offering myself to Lord Odysseus.

"Go ahead and take it. I'm sure you have a collection, but

none of your customers are any more satisfied than I am."

"Actually," he said with another instantly-covered flicker of

sadness, "this is the first one from any of my graduates. All the

rest ended up like Vixen here with a new master. I may take you up on

this sometime. It wouldn't be appropriate for me to have a key to the

bonds of my other trainees, their loyalty must be to their new owner,

but then, you've always been unique."

"I'll say! Completely! That's an understatement!" my

companions chorused in compliment to me.

There I stood in an incredibly beautiful gown, looking

incredibly beautiful in it, with my long cock swinging freely below my

skirts, tasting the cool air of the room. Yes, I was truly unique as

my indescribably intense lovers so cheerfully celebrated. I had made

wildly passionate love with each member of this circle, and all knew

my deepest secret. But they loved me for who I was, celebrating the

very uniqueness that would have shocked so many. And I loved them

all, loved them enough to let some go, like Rocky and Vixen, while

holding on to others, like Kelly. Through it all, she had been a

constant anchor in my life, always supportive, always creative. In

one way or another, we had helped each other find a fulfillment that

had been beyond imagination when we had started on this unbelievable

journey. I looked at her, to find her own eyes rising to mine with

the unity of total attunement.

"Thank you," I mouthed silently to my beautiful wife, Kelly,

letting her know that even among such wonderful people, I never forgot

who was most important in my life. She smiled back, her overflowing

joy shining from her eyes, a promise of deeper pleasure smoldering

behind her long lashes. My long cock, free for the first time while I

was wearing a dress twitched in response to her silent message. My

own smile changed to a grin, acknowledging the effect she had created,

but I added a silent promise of my own and was rewarded by the sight

of her spectacular nipples popping up through the tight bodice of her

dress. The rest of our circle of lovers seemed to recede from us as

our world returned to its focus on each other.

"Well, Rocky, I used to feel sorry for Brandy for losing you,

but I don't think there's anything to worry about," Erik said,

catching on to the heat beginning to flow between Kelly and I.

Rocky answered with his own grin, "No, Brandy is a lady that

can always take care of herself."

Then he got serious for a minute, and looked directly at me,

"Though you know you can always call on me, for anything you need."

I laughed to lighten the mood again, though I sent him a look

of gratitude as well. "Really?" I giggled, "just what will

Mrs. Thornton have to say about that?"

The lady in question added her own laugh, then said "Whatever

my husband desires is my desire, but I think he might be more

interested in Vivid."

"Promises, promises," I said, then secretly flicked the switch

on Kelly's vibrator. Her surprised gasp got everyone's attention,

provoking a smile from those who understood the cause. She began to

shiver, and her eyes closed as she let the intense stimulation wash

through her.

"I think Kelly needs to lie down for a while. We'll be back

later. Maybe." I laughed as I led her away, our wide gowns sweeping

the people at the reception from our path.

Ran became pretty reclusive after that wedding. In fact, the

only time anyone has seen him since was when he went to get his

driver's license renewed one year. Brandy gets around quite a bit,

though, as well as Lady Raven and Vivid. Lord Odysseus provides

personalized training every now and then and we still go to his house

to dance the pattern. He finally did settle down with Dancer, though.

We could see him reduce her dependency on him until she was ready to

leave the nest, but she never did. They celebrate their love every

day, sometimes sharing a nipple clamp or two with Angel and I.

From somewhere Rocky obtained a Social Security card and

certified birth certificate made out to Brandy Regina Dewinter (rich

people can accomplish amazing things) and I used these to become a

formal partner at Ran's investment firm. I pay taxes, for goodness

sake.

After a few months when we heard nothing from Dart Tanyon, I

figured he had left our life forever until one year when I got a photo

Christmas card from a family I didn't recognize. A beaming, portly

man was surrounded by a nice-looking woman with light-brown hair, a

boy with a mischievous grin and a beautiful little girl with long dark

hair. Inside was a note.

"Dear Brandy, I wanted you to know that I turned my life

around after that night. I had never understood how ugly a thing a

bully is until then. Candy and I went away until the dye wore off and

somewhere during that time we realized that we ought to stay together

and we got married. I've never been happier. If you ever see that

big guy who helped you, tell him he was right. Thanks to you both."

It was signed, "Mr. and Mrs. Roger Tanyon, Dart and Brandy."

There was a post script as well. "By the way, we kept the

clothes. Candy thinks they're fun and I have to admit I do, too. Our

life is never dull. Thanks for opening my eyes to that particular

experience as well. Our best wishes will always be with you, Brandy,

the most beautiful lady we ever met."

I wonder if I should write to him with a terrific weight-loss

plan I know about.

THE END