Bosom Bondage Buddies, Part 2

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 goddesscome 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 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 ofthat." 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

Review This Story || Email Author: Brandy Dewinter(no email)

MORE BDSM STORIES @ SEX STORIES POST