Bosom Bondage Buddies 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 goddess come to earth. More perfect than mere mortals could ever achieve, more perfect than most could even imagine, able to combine the strength my body proclaimed with matchless femininity and a figure beyond belief. The limited curves my body possessed became irrelevant, none could compare to Milady Halo, so who cared? What mattered was having the strength to survive the erotic promise I was projecting.

It took a while before either Milady Halo or Milord Odysseus even noticed what was going on. That lack of attention worked to exaggerate rather than diminish the image I was defining. Milady Halo's personality was light and airy, happy as always, and it appeared that she was deliberately trying to keep her matchless sensuality in check, denying it utterly. Yet still enough forced its way out, in the proud bust she waved around, in the delightful orbit of her hips, in the incredible beauty of her smile, that it seemed to be just the surface of a bottomless pool that each and every partygoer would gladly give anything just for a chance to sip from, let alone take a deep drink. The murmur of the party began to focus on us, and our owners were beset with more and more offers.

"They're not for sale," Milady Halo repeated for the fiftieth time.

"Please, name any price, I must have them," a would-be owner begged for the fifty-first.

"Lady Halo," suggested Milord Odysseus, "perhaps if you put them on the block for an auction, you could bring this to a head. If the auction price is high enough, sell them. If not, then everyone will know."

Vixen and I looked at each other for a second, wondering if he was serious. We were certainly helpless, not only in our bonds, but totally without identification or money. Even our clothes would get us immediately arrested if we somehow ended up alone and on the run, unless they got us attacked instead. Milady Halo started to shake her head, but then a smile broke through her frown as she really absorbed what Milord Odysseus had said.

"Very good, Lord Odysseus. Send them to the block."

"Do your best, slaves," she told us. "I want to know your value. You better hope for a very high price, because if I am disappointed, I will sell you to someone who cannot support you like I do. On the other hand, with a rich enough owner, you might be better off."

Our leashes were removed, willing hands lifted us to the slave block, and the auction started enthusiastically. I re-energized my insatiable desire persona, while Vixen turned up the heat on her predatory smile. Together we were the very essence of sexual energy, and that energy infected the audience. The bids started to come faster and higher, leaving the realm of reality for some unthinkable dream world.

"Ten thousand dollars for the pair!"

"Fifteen thousand!"

I turned as I strutted on the block, flipping my long ponytail, smiling with disdain and challenge at the offers, and the offerors. Vixen sneered with even greater disdain, interspersed with a hungry grin that implied dinner, not delight, yet it was nonetheless delightful. It might be impossible to survive a night with the two of us, but who cared? What a way to go!

"Twenty thousand!"

"Twenty-five thousand!"

"Fifty thousand dollars! I must have them!"

From out of the crowd came a powerful voice, not terribly deep, not even very loud, but it cut through the bedlam like a piercing whistle, stilling the entire crowd.

"I bid one hundred thousand dollars."

The offeror was Milord Odysseus, standing next to Milady Halo. In a replay I ran in the back of my mind, I thought I could remember seeing him whisper to Milady Halo just before his bid, but that memory was buried in surprise behind the clear tones of her silvery soprano.

"Sold! That ends the bidding."

I froze in shock. Had I really been sold? For a moment I dropped so far out of character I almost became Ran again. Had my wife really sold me to a man? Vixen was at least as surprised, but the evidence of her excitement was so prominent on her chest, and the aroma of her arousal was flooding out so strongly, that it was clear she was deliriously happy with the sale. I knew she loved Kelly and Brandy, but it appeared that she had wanted to belong to Milord Odysseus even more.

Hands helped us down from the slave block, where Milord Odysseus waited, now holding both leashes and our ball gags. He placed the gags on us first, not allowing even the quickest whispered comments. Milady Halo stood by, smiling proudly, but with just enough arch in her brows to indicate approval of the sale, and of the lessons her slave girls would now receive. Milord Odysseus attached our leashes and led us quickly from the party hall, dragging us faster than we could comfortably move in our hobbles in order to force us to desperate haste and a complete focus on his wishes that we might do as he desired.

Chapter 30 - Owned, Free, Fulfilled

Our new owner hurried us to the car. He placed us in it with due care, after all we were expensive property, but he treated us as property, without interest in our wants or desires. Our gags and bonds were kept in place, the seat belts fastened over our waists, and then Milord Odysseus turned to Milady Halo. He helped her into the passenger seat with careful courtesy, but he took the keys to Billie Jo's car without question, obviously intending to drive. In a few minutes the car was on the freeway and speeding back toward our city. The drive seemed to take forever, our owner and Milady Halo held quiet conversation on inconsequential things, ignoring the property in the back seat. When we approached our home city, Milord Odysseus took a different exit than we expected and drove to a better part of town than we lived in. Pulling up in front of a large home, beautifully landscaped, he stopped the car and lifted us out.

In our own driveway at home, we were shielded enough from neighbors that our outrageous costumes and our bondage were not too obvious. Milord Odysseus had parked at the street in front of his house, however, and we would be exposed for blocks in each direction as we moved up the sidewalk. He seemed totally unaware, or uncaring, of any sense of exposure though, and just started up the walk, tugging on our leashes. We scurried after him again, still bound and gagged, hobbled into tiny steps.

Milord Odysseus's house was a sprawling ranch design, all on one floor so that our hobbles presented no additional problems as he led us into a comfortable den area. He hadn't said anything since we arrived at his home until he was ready for the next stage in whatever plan he had for us.

"Lady Halo, make yourself at home, of course. However, I would ask you not to touch my slave while I am busy with the other one."

With that, he took off my leash and dropped it casually on a small table.

"Vivid, stand quietly. I'll be back in a little while."

Right. Like I had a lot of choice. My wrists were closely held by the lock connecting them to the golden chain dangling from my collar, and my hobbled ankles wouldn't allow me to sit unless someone lifted me into the chair. He didn't even remove my gag so I stood there, mouth stretched around the red rubber ball, and watched him lead Vixen off by the leash still attached to her collar.

Milady Halo watched him go, too. She had a more quizzical expression on her face than she had worn before and it became apparent that she had not expected all of this either. Then she looked at me, standing tall, head up, shoulders back, magnificent and beautiful, but totally obedient to my dominant owner. She walked over to me, though she didn't touch me.

"Don't worry, he promised to give you back to me no later than tomorrow morning," she said.

"There's something compelling about his eyes," she mused, now speaking as much to herself as to me. "I found myself agreeing to things I still can't quite believe. Yet I trust him when he says that both you and Vixen will be happy with the ways things will go tonight, and that I will be, too."

She wandered off to fix herself a drink, then went to the stereo to pick out some music. I stood quietly, as ordered, though I looked around the room. My long ponytail swept across my back with each head movement, a constant, sensual reminder of my beauty that was reinforced by the hard nipple points that scrubbed lightly on the back of the smooth material of my slave dress with every breath. There was a clock within my field of view so I was able to keep track of the time, and it was only about fifteen minutes before Milord Odysseus re-entered the room, without Vixen.

"Now, Vivid, you will come with me. Vixen is sleeping and we will let her rest for a while. Lady Halo, I may be a little longer this time. Feel free to take a short nap if you desire, either here on the couch or in any unoccupied room, but I would ask you not to disturb Vixen."

He left, telling me with his eyes to follow, though he didn't reattach the leash. I scurried after him, compelled to obey regardless of physical links. As I passed the open door to the room where he had taken Vixen, however, I glanced inside. She still wore her chains, though her gag was removed, but she slept soundly. On her face was a gentle smile of relaxed satisfaction, more innocent and happy than I had ever seen her wear. I never realized before how softly feminine she could look when the tension was out of her face. When I had seen her sleeping before, when we had been together, even her dreams must have retained some element of tension that was now relieved.

Milord Odysseus led me into another bedroom and closed the door behind us. He stood there looking at me for a long minute, a confident smile on his lips but a bit of question in his eyes. He didn't touch me in any way, standing back to regard me again while I stood still bound, gagged, and hobbled.

"Vivid, you are unique," he began. "I knew from the first time I saw her in my office exactly what to do with Vixen. I can tell you a lot about her background without any input from you or her. In fact, I think I will, so that you'll accept the truth of what I will tell you about yourself, later."

"She grew up in a family with lots of men, but no strong female presence. Her mother wasn't in the picture, maybe sick, divorced, perhaps she died, so Vixen never had a female role model when she was growing up. No child abuse, I expect, just no female presence. As a result, she kept herself lean and hard, rejecting the softness that should be part of a beautiful woman. Her hair was always short, her clothes neat but not terribly flattering. Then a short while ago she went through a transition and began to come alive. She talked about that a little in her office visit, when she was explaining her desire for breast enhancement, if you'll remember. Since this was about the same time as your own transition, perhaps you had something to do with it?"

I nodded in response to his question. Clearly, he had understood her pretty well.

"I'll bet she hadn't even been with a man before a few months ago, and that the first time was with you, in some non-threatening situation," he continued. "And I'll bet she's the one that asked you to form a matched slave pair with her, since Angel is clearly too different in appearance."

I nodded again, this time impressed with a conclusion I didn't think was nearly so obvious.

"Vixen has always felt out of place, different, isolated from those around her. She wasn't a man, but also wasn't quite sure how to act as a woman, so she worked out some sort of unsatisfactory compromise. I'll bet she identified with you more than anyone she's ever met, since you are the essence of compromise."

"You and Lady Halo may not realize it, though Vixen is beginning to, but her dreams have just come true. At least they're on the road to coming true. She will be my new slave girl. Her needs are primarily to be able to realize it's acceptable to be soft, to be feminine and that she can do that without losing the mental strength that is independent of gender, nor the physical fitness she's so justly proud of. I'll train her for a while, probably about six months but whatever it takes. At the end of that time, she'll be an intensely feminine woman, comfortable in her identity, proud in her beauty. I'll find her a good husband and they'll be happily married. I've done this several times and each of my trainees has thanked me. All of the marriages have worked, too. No divorces, lots of children. Don't worry about Vixen, even though she'll be moving in with me. I'll make arrangements about her house, for the time she's away. You'll see her on occasion, as well."

"On the other hand, you're not so easy to understand," he continued, a thoughtful expression overlaying his confident smile. "You're obviously not a slave personality. I could see your discomfort in the role until you finally found your persona as an insatiable wanton. Even that was just a role, though you might be surprised at how close to your own desires that really is. Nonetheless, you're the dominant one. I'll bet you invented the roles for Raven, Angel and Huntress, telling Angel to be innocent and Huntress to be predatory. When the time came to switch roles, the Lady Halo probably didn't tell you anything about how to act. She's not really a dominant type, however much she might like to think so. I'm sure you noticed that Vixen just resurrected her predator role, but you had to invent your own slave personality, just as you invented the personalities of Raven, Angel, and Huntress."

"However, neither of the bondage roles are really you. Raven is closer, of course. You were only the slave girl Vivid so that Vixen could have a slave mate, but Brandy is actually closest to your personality. Hmm, that may be it. Ran was boring, at least in your mind. That was obvious when you visited my office for your hair removal treatments. Brandy is your interesting persona. I'll bet Ran is a genius in his professional field, but as a man he's pretty average. In contrast, Brandy is flamboyant, unique, memorable. Ran's genius comes through in the perfection of your impersonations. Even as Vivid the slave girl you're more desirable than Vixen or Angel, but you're still an incomplete compromise."

"I want to help you, too, but I have to figure out what you really need," he continued. Throughout his discussion, he hadn't asked my opinion on anything, of course, merely soliciting confirmation on his conclusions about our history, confirmation he fully expected since he was confident about his abilities. He wasn't asking for my opinion on what I needed, either. Nonetheless, he had demonstrated such incredible insights into our lives that I was convinced he could indeed help me, too. Until he indicated the path he would take.

"Okay, for you we need to make the Brandy persona complete. You can still play at being Raven and I'll probably have you be Vivid on occasion in order to help with Vixen's training. But Brandy is the one who has to have her conflicts resolved. You really are a wanton person, ready to enjoy passion with anyone and sensual enough to want to make it enjoyable. You clearly love Kelly and want to continue pleasing her with your cock, which is fine. That's a good approach. However, you don't feel you can be sufficiently pleasing to a man since you don't have a vagina. I guess I'll show you how to use your other receptacle."

His casual statement didn't sink in for a second, then I realized he was planning to fuck me in the ass again!

I tried to cry out around the gag as I stumbled back in horror, my bondage now a terrifying reminder of my rape by Dart Tanyon. I almost fell in my hobbles as I tried to back away from Odysseus and I looked wildly around the room trying to find some way to hide from his advance. I was too slow, too constrained, of course, and his strong arms were around me in a heartbeat.

He just held me, however, not making any advance beyond a warm embrace. He didn't even say anything until he could feel my breathing steady down, my heartbeat return from the borders of shock.

"Now that was an unexpected response. You've obviously had an unpleasant experience. Tell me about it," he commanded as he removed my gag.

Perhaps it was the fact that he held me with my head over his shoulder so that I couldn't see his face that allowed me to start pouring out my story. It made it impersonal, somehow, as though I were talking to myself. I started with the cruise where I had met Rocky Thornton since Odysseus had already deduced everything about the transition in my external appearance. I explained how I had wanted to please Rocky, but could only offer him oral pleasure. Then I explained about Dart Tanyon, and his brutal rape. I didn't really describe what we did in return, only saying that with Rocky's help we convinced Tanyon that he had been wrong. Then I described the final night in our house, where Rocky and Kelly had accepted me as the unique person I felt myself to be. When I ran down, Odysseus released me from his arms and stood back, though I still wore my chains.

"I see," he said. "I didn't pick up on the fact that you had been raped. I expect the retaliation on this Tanyon person helped you to bury that pretty deep. Let me make one thing very clear. I won't hurt you and I won't rape you. If you'll let me help you, I can show you a way to fulfill yourself, but you've got to want to do so. I want you to answer one question. If you could enjoy having Rocky make love to you, would you like him to?"

"Well, yes, of course," I said. "But I can't. I don't have the right plumbing for him, and I won't give up my cock, or Kelly."

"I never said you should," he corrected me. Then without another word he took my face in his hands and kissed me. Before, our kisses had been fun, the passion limited, the meaning shallow. Now, he took me where I had never been before, even with Rocky. The gray pools of his eyes seemed to call to me and I felt myself sinking deeply into them as my own eyes languidly closed. There was no feeling of rush, no feeling that this was only a prelude to something else. It was as though my whole world narrowed to the warmth and true passion flowing from his lips to mine. I felt my heart steady down from the borders of panic that still had gripped it and realized that my arms were now tugging at my chains in an attempt to return his embrace, just as I tried to return the emotion transmitted by his lips and gently probing tongue.

There was something absolutely unique about his kiss. It sent a message of confidence, of caring, of sensual passion, and above all of absolute trust, but not one of philios love. Agapao, the willingness to sacrifice to help someone, and eros, physical desire were there, but not philios, the sort of deep commitment of friendship that the Greeks described as brotherly love, not because it was only between brothers, but to distinguish it from sexual attraction. Odysseus was not to be my life's companion, that sort of love fell to Kelly and perhaps to Rocky. Odysseus was not my friend, he was my owner, my master. Embedded in his kiss was an offer to be my teacher, as well.

He stepped back from his embrace and pulled the top of my dress down to my waist exposing my erect nipples, my newly beautiful curves. His tongue traced lazy circles around each hard button, then he began to suck on them, pulling harder and harder. His teeth began to lightly catch on each one in turn, teasing them to greater and greater excitement, building an electric fire that spread back from those swollen points to warm my entire body. I felt the pressure of arousal in my manhood, buried within the straps I used to conceal it. That was unexpected, not only had the recent hormone treatments helped to control that reflex, but even earlier when I had been kissing Rocky or sucking on his cock, my own had remained soft. It had seemed that when I was actively performing as a woman, my manhood stayed quiescent. Yet now, Odysseus was stimulating me through a uniquely feminine channel, yet I was demonstrating a masculine response.

"The first thing you have to realize, especially since your basic nature is so wanton, is that sexual stimulation is a combination of mental and physical attributes. You are intensely sensual and must accept that your entire body is designed to be responsive. You should cherish each response, including those you haven't discovered yet," instructed Odysseus.

He pulled the brief hem of my minidress up and began to gently remove the tape hiding my manhood. The thong bikini I wore under the tape soon followed and I saw my long cock sticking aggressively forward from under the skirt. My wrists were still bound behind me, but my only struggles were connected with a desire to return the favor, to stimulate his excitement to match my own. Nonetheless, my hands were bound, so the caresses were all one-way, from Odysseus to me.

He began to stroke my erection in his strong, masculine hands. No one had ever done that before. Rocky had touched me briefly in the night when Kelly was the receptacle for us both, but it had been only a confused, tentative squeeze on the small portion of my cock that wasn't down her throat. Odysseus was running his hands over the entire length of my sword, setting fire to the sensitive nerve endings.

"Your nipples and your cock are your nerve centers most sensitive to physical stimulation," Odysseus explained. "But the third most sensitive area can also be a source of intense pleasure."

He stopped his motion, provoking an uncontrollable groan from me, but he quickly returned his lips, his tongue, and his teeth, to my nipples. He bit a little more sharply this time. I gasped, but the electric fire washed through me more intensely than ever. Then he grabbed my rampant sword and squeezed tightly enough to elicit another gasp of combined pleasure and pain.

"You can feel now, how slight pain can build on other sensations to heighten them," the instruction continued, "not as an end in itself, as the sadists desire, but as a means to expand the stimulation of ready nerves. The pain loses itself within the pleasure, if the nerves are ready for that stimulation. If I bit your nipples at the very first touch, they would merely hurt, but now my teeth intensify the sensations to even greater pleasure. The same applies to all truly sensitive nerve centers. There are positive and negative approaches. I will show you the positive ones."

It was a statement, not a question. My need was building to a level I had never experienced. Every square inch of my body seemed to burn with energy that demanded a release. Then my breath was forced from my lungs so fast I couldn't even scream when one of his probing fingers stroked my anus. A part of me felt a panicked need to run, to escape, to deny the intensity of my response to his touch. My arms strained against the chains, my legs pulled at the hobble, but I couldn't move.

Like a dam breaking under intolerable stress, the total freedom that comes with absolute bondage washed through me. Even when Kelly and Billie Jo had bound me to our bed, I could have stopped them with words, or even an expression. I didn't need to use up any thought processes on direction of my arms or legs, but I had never mentally surrendered control. Tanyon's rape had shocked me into submission, but my mind rejected him even as he forced his way into my body. But with Odysseus, I realized that I was totally under his domination, that the only variable was time and in the end I would surrender to his will. And that I wanted that surrender. I couldn't be held responsible for what happened, so I was free to let my innermost feelings emerge for him to mold and develop.

I realized that his stroking finger was not painful, but pleasant, the sensations interesting at least, exciting if I let them be. His manipulations continued, his lips moving from my nipples to my own lips, his other hand continuing to stimulate my pulsing erection. My ass cheeks began to clutch at his hand, trying to draw that probing finger within me. He bent down to undo the locks holding my hobble chain in place, and my legs were free, but not my arms. The end of the chain was raised to a cleverly concealed hook in the corner post of the bed, forcing my bound arms to raise and me to bend over, my knees pressing into the bed frame so that I couldn't move forward to relieve the upward pressure on my arms. He came to stand behind me and urged my legs apart with his legs and I realized that he had removed his own clothing at some point. His expert hands returned to their stimulation of my tits and my cock, resurrecting the intensity of their excitement. One of his hands moved back behind me, disappearing from my perception for a moment, then returning coated in a cool, creamy lubricant. The lubricant was smoothed over my anus, cooling the heat I felt there until my own body warmed the cream. When his finger finally penetrated me, it was so gentle and natural an extension of the stroking that he had employed that my primary sensation was one of success, as though my clenching muscles had succeeded in drawing him into my grasping receptacle.

A second finger joined the first, initiating the first feelings that I would once have described as pain. However, they were like his teeth on my nipple, adding rather than subtracting from the sensation. Nonetheless I gasped, groaning with emotions so confused I couldn't have told you whether they were need or pain, demand or rejection. He slid his fingers in and out of me while the sensation built and the pain disappeared totally, eliminated or transformed into something else, something indescribable. This time, when he withdrew his fingers I knew that my moan was desperate need, and so did Odysseus.

"Moment of truth, Brandy, not as my slave but as yourself. Do you want me to show you this pleasure?" he asked.

It was only later that I realized that he had used my real name, Brandy, rather than my slave name, Vivid. This was truly my choice and he would have stopped if I had asked him to. Not that I would, by this time I was burning with need, the need to have this man inside me.

"Yes! Oh, please yes, make me whole. Take me, please fill me and fulfill me!" I cried.

His rock hard erection slid into my ass, gliding smoothly but unstoppably to the hilt. This time there was definite pain, but it was just as definitely an extension of the incredible sensations Odysseus had awakened in me, building on them and lifting them to an unimaginable level. My anal ring squeezed him with all the strength of my body and my spirit, since my entire world had narrowed to the focus of his penetration. I felt a fire building within me that would consume me and I knew that a new person would come out the other side, if I could just complete the journey. My own erection was pulsing with the external demonstration of my internal energy, so powerful and so immense that it seemed my skin must split, that my old cock size was completely inadequate.

Finally, our actions started to affect Odysseus as well. His breath became less steady, his motion more aggressive. He began to stroke in and out of my fiery ass, setting a rhythm I was compelled to meet as I tried to capture more and more of his pounding rod. He reached around to grab my tits like handles, pulling me toward him by the sensitive nipples, teasing them to ever greater length and hardness. My own cock thrust forward, untouched but intense, ready to provide the culmination only a man can achieve, while I enjoyed a fulfillment I had thought only a woman could receive.

With a grunt of his own, Odysseus erupted into me. The unmistakable sensation of his warm seed filling my body triggered my own release and I started shooting forward onto his bed, matching each pulse in my ass with a streamer from my cock. I pumped and pumped, draining a supply that had been building for the entire evening, yet his own pulses continued just as long. Finally I began to feel my balls empty and the force of my ejections diminished. Odysseus's strokes slowed to match, and he finally stopped his motion, breathing hard but fully in control just as he was fully in me.

"You are indeed a matchlessly sensual woman, Brandy," he said. "I almost envy your Rocky, but that sort of relationship is never correct between a master and slave. He will be your lover, while I will always be your master. That is why you can't really be Raven. You love your friends too much to do what they need, too little to sacrifice their friendship to meet those needs. However, Kelly has such a well-integrated personality that I couldn't help her much anyway. She can play at being a slave, which she really enjoys, but she doesn't need to truly be a slave. She just needs to have a sister to share secrets with, and a man to share her bed. You can do that yourself, without me. Rocky is probably in for a bit of a surprise, though."

The expression in his voice demonstrated the smile that must be on his face as surely as if I could see it. He withdrew from my ass, but he didn't lower my arms just yet. Instead, he moved my legs together and threaded the thong bikini I had worn back up my legs.

"Your cock will stay flaccid until you get home. You won't need the tape any more tonight," he explained. Then he lowered my arms, but didn't release them. Instead he reattached the hobble chain, then reached for the gag as well.

"I want you to reflect on what you learned tonight, before you try to explain it to Lady Halo," he explained as he fitted the ball into my mouth. "I'll tell her to leave the gag on until you're home. That will give you enough time to decide what it means to you."

He led me from the room to find Milady Halo sleeping on the couch, a softly innocent smile showing that her dreams were as pleasant as those still capturing Vixen in the other room. Milord Odysseus attached my leash then dropped the end at my feet, pointing to me to stay in position, then gently prodded the slumbering Milady Halo.

"Vivid has completed her training, at least for this evening," he informed her. "Except that she is to wear the gag until you undress her at your house. After that, she can explain her lesson, as well as the training plan for Vixen, who will stay here. I'll let you find your own way out while I go to check on Vixen, but I'll be in touch."

Milady Halo gathered up my leash and led me toward the front of the house, still a little drowsy but accepting Milord Odysseus's directions. She couldn't lift me into the car by herself, but the extra height provided by the curb next to the car allowed me to squat rather than bend down to enter, yet keep my bottom high enough to sit. She moved to the driver's seat and we drove off. When we got to our house, she helped me to tumble out of the car, still crouched enough to fit through the opening while my legs were folded enough to provide the slack needed to allow my waist to bend. She took my leash in her hand and led me to the door with the hobble forcing my spiked heels to beat a faster rhythm on the walk than her own elegant boots sounded. Only when we were inside did she remove my bonds, concluding with my gag.

I stretched my cramped shoulders, then wrapped my arms around her in a passionate embrace, hugging and kissing her while I squeezed her shapely tits into my own.

"I love you," I said happily. "You are absolutely the most wonderful woman in all the world!"

"I'm glad you think so," she laughed. "Is there a particular reason you feel that way?"

"For selling me to Milord Odysseus for the evening. He has shown me a fulfillment I never even imagined could be possible."

"Just what did he do in that bedroom?" she asked.

"You're not going to believe it," I giggled, "but he fucked me in the ass. It was wonderful!"

"What?" gasped Kelly. "He raped you? And you liked it?"

"It wasn't rape, this time," I explained, then went on to tell her how he had seen the need deep within me, and helped me to see it, too, then fulfilled that need with spectacular success. We talked long into the evening and I helped her to see the validity of Odysseus's observations, including those about Kelly, Angel, and Milady Halo. When we finally went to bed after removing our dramatic makeup and our clothes, we slept in each other's arms, lifted by my erstwhile owner to a higher level of togetherness than we would ever have achieved on our own.

Chapter 31 - Milord Atlas

Though the liquid breakfast Kelly provided the next morning was delightful, we generally liked to include a little variety, especially on Sunday morning, so we got dressed to go out. Kelly laced me tightly into a shimmery midnight-blue satin corset and I pulled on one of the leather minis I liked so well, plus a midnight satin blouse that buttoned down the front. I was proud to show off my cleavage so I left several buttons undone, allowing the corset to maximize the display of my new assets. Earrings, jewelry, and the towering satin pumps Kelly had first provided for me completed the basic outfit with elegance and style. Kelly matched my outfit, choosing ice-blue for her corset and blouse to set off her own eyes, and we were about ready to go out when the doorbell rang.

Vixen stood outside, still bound in her chains but without a gag. She had pushed the button with her arm, only able to reach it since her own sky-high heels put it at the level of her elbow. She was holding a small bag behind her back in her bound hands.

"Come in," I offered, "you're looking more beautiful than ever."

"Thank you, Milady," she said. "I feel wonderful! But I am not allowed to enter. My owner has a present for Milady Brandy. In return, he asked if you might exchange these bonds for the armbinder I wore before. In addition, he asked for the keys to the car you drove last night, and those to the house which I brought here before we left yesterday."

"Are you sure you want to give him all your things?" asked Kelly as she took the package from Vixen's hands. I knew the answer already, for I would have gladly given Lord Odysseus everything I owned after his lesson to me. However, that wouldn't be necessary since I didn't need full-time training. Vixen merely nodded, happy in her freedom as a slave, freedom to concentrate on her own emerging nature without worry about daily management of her affairs.

I was already on my way to get her keys and the red leather armbinder. True to her command, she stood on the steps while I removed the light chain, collar, and cuffs, then replaced them with the red leather binder and its own, shorter chain.

"Please lace it extra tight, Milady," begged Vixen. "My master will check and I want him to be satisfied."

Kelly was a little concerned, again, but I knew that Lord Odysseus would take proper care of her, loosening the laces if necessary. The initial tightness, however, would be an indication of commitment and I wanted to help my former slave mate in any way I could. I pulled the laces more tightly than ever before and it was approaching the snug fit of our corsets when I finished. Vixen's arms were held closely together from the elbows down and her shoulders were pulled well back. The resulting aggressiveness with which her new tits were thrust forward certainly optimized her figure, especially since she was still lean enough not to need a corset.

"How will you carry your keys?" Kelly asked, since now Vixen's hands were fully enclosed within the binder.

"If you would be so kind, Milady, I would appreciate it if you would put them in the bag. Then I could carry it in my teeth," replied Vixen.

We opened the package she had brought to find two curved silicone-filled shapes inside, with a note. These we took out, then placed the keys inside. Vixen cheerfully took the bag in her mouth, then gave a surprisingly graceful bow that I knew must have been practiced for just this occasion, bending her knees just enough to allow slack in the chain she could use for her forward bend. Only the tension of the armbinder kept her shoulders back far enough to prevent her tits from falling out of the top of her slave dress, but she managed to retain at least a minimum of modestly throughout her motion.

"Do you need any other clothes from your house?" Kelly asked.

Vixen shook her head, unable to speak with the sack in her mouth, so I answered for her.

"I expect she'll be kept nude, except for her bonds, for at least a little while. Do you need us to call in to your work, though, to request vacation?"

She frowned in confusion for a second and I realized she hadn't thought that far ahead. However, in a moment she shook her head again. If something needed to be done, her master would do it. We each gave her a hug, she smiled a glorious smile at us, then turned back down the walk to the waiting car, turning to fall into it since she couldn't bend over. I assumed Odysseus was in it, but he never showed. Once upon a time I would have been worried about sending a friend off into absolute domination, but I had been trained by Odysseus myself and knew it would truly benefit Vixen, once known as Billie Jo, to place herself under his orders.

Once Vixen was gone, we read the note included with the items we had found in the bag. It read, "Dear Brandy, these items can be used to disguise your masculine package, giving you a feminine mound instead of a man's bulge so that the tape you generally wear will not be necessary. One is designed to fit inside your panties. The other is for when you can't wear panties, either because the line would show or because your outfit is too brief, like a swimsuit. It is held in place with the adhesive that's included. I expect you'll find them useful."

The note was signed, "Lord Odysseus."

I was anxious to try them on, but I had already taped my bulge into obscurity and decided not to waste the work I had done. As time went on, I was becoming more and more comfortable with my life as Brandy and didn't feel a panicked rush to make everything happen at once. These presents would wait, though a part of me wanted to immediately don the minimum sized one and shop for a skimpy bikini.

At brunch I brought up the question of how to introduce Rocky to this latest adventurous addition to our lifestyle.

"I can't see him as a slave, though he would look unbelievable in a tight leather thong and chains!" I suggested.

Kelly giggled at the image, but agreed, "No, he definitely would need to be the master. It's too bad that the bondage parties are restricted to one master per slave. Rocky and Raven would make a terrific pair, but they couldn't share Angel. I wonder if we could borrow Vixen."

"No," I said, "we can't interfere with her training. I guess Rocky will just have to meet Raven at a later time. Now let's see, he can't be Rocky at the party. How about Milord Atlas?"

"Perfect!" Kelly exclaimed. "He's certainly strong enough for the part."

"I'll call him later and invite him to the next party. We won't tell him anything about it except that it's a costume party, and that we have his costume. That should keep him guessing!" I laughed.

When I called him, Rocky agreed to come to the party. He said that he would fly out in one of his company planes, and asked if we would arrange ground transportation. Kelly and I decided to splurge and rent a limousine for the occasion, both to show Rocky how much we appreciated him, and for the spectacular entrance it would make at the bondage party.

The next morning when we got up, I immediately tried out the disguise mound that Lord Odysseus, really the cosmetic surgeon Dr. Sanford, had provided. It was perfect, as though it had been molded exactly to my shape. When I tucked it into my panties I took on a little bit of a tummy, adding a gently feminine curve downward from just below my navel. My masculine package was submerged in this smooth shape, the combination soft enough that I wouldn't need to worry about a man's leg sliding up between mine and discovering my secret.

It was so convincing that I wore it all that day. I tried out the smaller one the next day, gluing it in place with the special adhesive. It worked nearly as well, though it was constrained by how far it could blend out the curves. Still, I felt I could wear a skimpy bottom without worry about showing an unnatural shape. Thanks also to Dr. Sanford, I had a real set of tits to display within a revealing top. The disguise mounds were actually more comfortable than the tight tape I had been wearing, so I left it on and went shopping. The color matched my own skin beautifully, and there was even a delicate fringe of hair decorating the mound, so for the first time I could strip in a dressing room without worrying about watching salesclerks. I found a dangerously revealing bikini in a deep wine red and felt I could now hit the beach if I needed to.

Our outfits for the day Rocky arrived used the midnight and ice blue color schemes. I really thought that Kelly's alternative in dark red and pink was pretty, but I preferred the blues when we wanted to really impress someone. The dresses were in a smooth knit material, sized a little too small for us so that we could emphasize our feminine shapes. We went braless to celebrate my new tits, particularly the protruding nipples, and left the front of the zippered dresses open low enough that it would be clear that we were all natural under the thin material.

The chauffeur for the limousine when it arrived was a gorgeous blonde with spectacular legs, highlighted by heels almost as tall as those we wore and tiny, tight shorts even more revealing than our skirts. I should have known that Kelly would choose a limousine service that employed pretty drivers. The chauffeur was very capable though. She got the long car into our driveway in good order, then held the door for us. Kelly got in, but I paused at the door.

"I think I owe you an apology," I told her as I prepared to enter the car.

"Ma'am?" she said, not understanding.

"I'll take it back if you call me ma'am," I warned, though I let a twinkle show I wasn't really mad, "but I must admit I assumed you got this job based only on your beauty, but you're obviously very capable."

"Thank you, . . uh . . miss," she said.

"Call me Brandy," I told her. "Formality is for stuffed shirts." Then I took a deep breath, demonstrating what was stuffing my shirt.

It was a reflex, really. I tended to flirt with anyone that caught my eye, and that was just about anyone. My dual nature kept me interested in women, while Lord Odysseus's instruction had given me a whole new understanding of what it meant to be a woman, and to be loved by a man. The chauffeur's reaction was more than I expected, however. She took her own deep breath, a rush of color flooded her cheeks, and her tongue danced lightly over her lips. She looked away quickly, but in a second a side glance returned, trying to ensure my interest while revealing her own.

"What is your name," I asked.

"Cheryl," she replied, still blushing and breathing roughly.

"Well, Cheryl," I smiled sensuously at her, hinting at pleasures too intense for words, "when we get back from our party, perhaps we can tell you about it."

"Yes, . . Brandy, I'd like that," she said softly, embarrassed but too excited to deny her interest.

I slid into the car, so much easier when not wearing chains, and was immediately embraced by Kelly, kissing me hotly, rubbing her tits against mine.

"You're absolutely shameless," she giggled, "next you'll be shooting fish in a barrel. But you are so HOT! That smile you gave her made me flow so much it'll probably look like I peed in my panties."

"Let me check," I offered with a grin, reaching for her skirt.

"Don't you dare," she laughed, "we need to keep neat until Rocky sees us!"

"Just until he sees us?"

"And until we're private, again."

"You certainly make a lot of conditions. How about if we limit the conditions to just reasonably private, like right now?" I said as I reached to caress her magnificent tits. I noticed Cheryl watching us in the rear view mirror, and caught her eyes with mine to let her know I saw her. Then I reached under Kelly's skirt to caress her with one hand while I fondled my own tit with the other. Cheryl blushed furiously, then looked away, but in a second I saw her eyes return to the mirror. My grin at catching her re-ignited her cheeks, but she licked her lips in interest and didn't move her eyes away until she needed to in order to drive. Kelly was gasping by this time, and her panties really were wet with her flowing nectar. Never one to go back on a promise, I stroked her to a tumultuous orgasm, less intense than when she was bound, but more visible. Of course, I knew Cheryl was watching, so the visible nature of Kelly's orgasm was a bonus, not a detriment.

Despite the distraction, Cheryl got us to the airport before the plane arrived. In fact, we were just a little bit early and were watching as it pulled up to the executive ramp. The corporate-style jet was a beautiful Citation 5, elegant and roomy with a maximum capacity of eight or nine. Again I was surprised, and again I shouldn't have been, to see the flight crew were both beautiful women. Since Rocky had to be about the most desirable bachelor in the world, rich, handsome, wonderful to be around, I should have known that his staff would be deluged with requests from attractive women for any and all job openings. The slightest encouragement from Rocky and his staff would have selected the prettiest candidates from the multitudes offered. That might have been part of the reason Rocky was attracted to Kelly and me. We obviously weren't after him for his money, or with matrimony in mind, but we were also pretty decorative.

Once the flight crew had shut down the plane, Rocky came down the steps and met us at the door. Every time I saw him I was impressed again with just how big he was. After being Milady Raven and after our time with Odysseus, who was only a little above average in height even though much above average in muscles, my scale for men had changed. In my towering heels I felt strong and powerful, able to dominate most men and all women. Until I saw Rocky again, that is. Next to his massive masculinity I again felt delicately feminine, soft and small. I flowed toward his arms, intending to greet him with a passionate kiss as soon as I was close enough, before my beloved rival Kelly could do the same.

But he held me back at arms length and exclaimed, "Brandy! You look incredible. I didn't remember that you had such delightful . . curves."

"They're just the first of many surprises we have for you," I said, hinting at the others with a wink.

"I can't wait," he said, gathering me into his arms for the delayed kiss. After an instant in his embrace I didn't want to wait either as he kindled within me the flames of need that were always close to ignition. I rubbed my smooth mound up against him, provoking another start of surprise, and he pulled me back so that he could see my face. His eyes asked just how much I had changed my body, but this time I shook my head, no, grinning at his wonder.

Then it was Kelly's turn for a kiss, her own magnificent tits were constrained only by the tightly-knit material and were much more prominent than mine. I thought her nipples were glorious before he kissed her, but the way they extended after their lips met showed me just how spectacular my wife's mammary development really was. When I was in the pleasant position Rocky now occupied, my view was a bit restricted and my hands had obviously never quite conveyed the message. When we got back in the limo, we were all breathing roughly, even though for once Kelly and I weren't constrained by corsets.

"You have got to explain how you can look so natural," Rocky said, tentatively fondling my smooth breast. His eyes widened when he got a response from the nipple as it grew into a hard button under his fingers. My own reaction to his touch was a sharp gasp, the developing nerves sending a delicious tingle through my body.

"They look natural because they are, or at least, they're as real as those on any other woman with a good cosmetic surgeon," I explained, then unzipped my dress to my navel and pulled it open to show my gorgeous curves. He reached for smooth mound of flesh, tracing the microscopic line of the scar, then lightly stroking the hot, swollen nipple.

"That's an important commitment, you've made," he said, serious for a moment. "Have you made others?"

"Not that modify my body," I assured him, "the doctor gave me a little cushion to hide my cock, but it's still there."

"Good," Rocky smiled, "I like you just the way you are, though the improvements are wonderful! Whatever made you decide to do that?"

"Well, it's a long story, but the condensed version is that our neighbor, Billie Jo, decided to go in for enhancement. She asked me to come along for moral support, and somehow or another I ended up in the bed next to her at the hospital," I explained.

"Would you like something to drink?" I offered, preparing to spring our next surprise.

"Sure, I suppose this occasion qualifies for champagne," he suggested.

I glanced at Kelly to see her own secret shining in her eyes, anxious to be shared.

"Actually," I grinned, "I think I'd like something different to drink."

"Like what?" Rocky asked.

"Oh, I was thinking about fresh milk," I hinted, winking at Kelly. Rocky noticed the byplay, but he didn't understand. Yet.

"I'll check, there should be some in this limo's refrigerator," he offered.

"No thanks," I declined. "I want some really fresh milk."

That statement confused him until Kelly unzipped her own dress to expose her full, beautiful tits. I leaned forward to suck at one nipple while she brought the other to her own lips. In a second, I was rewarded by warm sips of really, really fresh milk, while Kelly's heavenly expression indicated she was receiving her double pleasure as well.

"Would you like some?" I offered, leaning back from Kelly's lovely source. Rocky was too amazed to move, looking at us with his mouth hanging open. However, his panting breath and the hard rocks in his pants showed how excited he was.

"If you're not interested, I'll take advantage of the opportunity myself," I warned.

"No, I'm interested," he said. "You girls are truly amazing. I can't imagine what else you'll come up with."

He leaned forward to sample Kelly's refreshment, sucking strongly on the nipple I had abandoned. His throat began to work as he swallowed his reward and a strange, soft expression appeared on his face, as though he were transformed back into a small, carefree child. Kelly's expression continued to show the deep pleasure she was enjoying, and once again I resolved to see if we could get my own supply started, though I would never hold nearly as much as Kelly.

Even her supply was drained in a short while, however, so we did break out the champagne as a dessert, eating the fruits that had also been supplied with the limousine. The ride was as elegant as only a limo can be, smooth, fast, luxurious. This time I wasn't able to flirt with the chauffeur, since Rocky was there. Lord Odysseus had taught me to truly appreciate men, but I was still pretty focused on women. Only a few outstanding exceptions among men really excited me, especially once my confidence had increased enough that I didn't need continual reinforcement of my attractiveness, but I still considered pretty women very interesting. So did Rocky, but I was glad that at this moment his interest was focused on Kelly and me. I remembered our trip out, though, and did manage to catch Cheryl's eyes once to confirm her interest. The promise in her expression brought my sensitive nipples to attention within the thin dress, provoking a bit of tease from Kelly as we exited the car.

She laughed and said, "Goodness, Brandy, you're no better at concealing your thoughts now than you were when you used to let your cock show through tight pants. Put you next to someone sexy and something's gonna get hard."

"Speak for yourself. The only reason you don't give yourself away is that you're nipples are always enormous," I said as I reached over to lightly pinch her nipple in my long red nails. "Wait till Rocky sees you in your dress, tonight."

"How long will it take you girls to get ready for the party?" he asked.

"That depends on what we're doing just before we start getting ready," I replied. My smile offered to do whatever he wanted until that time and the bulge in his pants got more sharply defined than ever.

He swept me in to his arms again for an intense, penetrating kiss. I responded more fully, more completely than I had ever done before, now trained by Lord Odysseus in total release. In an instant I was so hot I needed either a cold shower or a hot bedmate, but Rocky broke our kiss and stood back. I moaned when he raised his head, reaching with my lips for those that had abandoned me, but he stayed out of my reach.

"Goodness," he breathed. "You've changed in more ways than I knew, but all for the better."

"Goodness had nothing to do with it," I laughed with Mae West's old line, reaching again for another kiss.

He smiled but held me away, "Not until you tell me about this costume party."

"It's actually not quite a costume party, though we will go in costumes," I said obliquely. "It's more of a role-playing party. You need to become another person tonight. The costume is just part of the role."

"And what role did you have in mind for me?" he asked.

"How would you like to be Milord Atlas, with two slave girls in attendance?" I offered.

"Are you serious?" he gasped in surprise, but his interest flaunted itself within his pants.

"Completely," Kelly confirmed. "In fact, we've already done it."

"You've done this before?" he asked incredulously.

"Several times," Angel replied. "Not enough, but several."

"Do you want to do this, too?" he turned to me.

"Yes, Milord Atlas. I have been both mistress and slave, as has Kelly. It's an incredible experience, one that I'm more than willing to repeat. The party we're going to is a bondage party. Those who attend are expected to act their parts, not just dress for them. I make a most convincing mistress, and a most desirable slave."

"Which did you enjoy more?" he asked in wonder, not believing this latest outrageous facet of our lifestyle.

"I have only been a slave girl once," I replied, "before tonight. I would have said I enjoyed being a dominant more, but at the last party, Milady Halo, who is Kelly's dominant, sold me to a wonderful master. He taught me things that I can't wait to show you, things that I just know will be even more wonderful with you."

"What sort of things?" he demanded, shock mixing with irritation in his expression.

"Things I can only show you, but how to really kiss you is only a small taste of the pleasures we can now share. It was wonderful, but he was only a teacher. You're the one who can give those pleasures real meaning."

He shook his head, not in refusal, but in wonder at our willingness to do something he thought was distasteful. For him, it would have been, but with the right master (or mistress) I was willing to be a slave girl.

"Milord Atlas, we really do enjoy this," I assured him. "For a little while, we can allow ourselves to be as sensual and attractive as we can be, trusting you to protect us. Our bonds constantly remind us that we are desirable enough to be owned and cared for. It makes for an incredible evening."

"How could you sell her to someone, to be used?" Rocky demanded of Kelly, still confused and irritated.

"Relax," I interrupted, " we knew the master before hand, and knew we could trust him. Think of it as private lessons, if it's easier for you, but there was no real force, no bullying, no pain. We, both Vixen and I, were bound but not otherwise coerced except by the force of his personality. He was a true master, but never really a lover. I think you'll like what I learned in my lesson. We weren't actually sold, either, no money was involved. If any money had changed hands, it should have been us paying him for the training."

"Vixen and I were up on the slave block, though," I laughed, trying to defuse his tension. "Milady Halo was offered a hundred thousand dollars for the pair of us, if she had really wanted to sell us. Learning how desirable we were was part of our training, and it certainly made me feel better about myself."

"I don't know," Rocky said, still a bit upset. "I hate slavery even more than I hate bullying, mostly because they're both facets of the same ugliness."

I captured his face in my hands and kissed him gently, keeping our previous passion under control. "I know," I said, "that's part of the reason we love you so much. You've never really been involved in bondage, have you?"

"No," he admitted, "only the time we made love with Kelly, when I was here before."

"Did you think she was suffering, in her bondage?" I asked.

"No, of course not," he said. "She was having a terrific time."

"Why do you think she was feeling so good?" I prodded.

"I guess it's because she could just let go, and not worry about control."

"Exactly," I confirmed. "No one with any pride or self-esteem could do that all the time, just as no one but a bully would be happy with someone so weak. But for a change of pace, for a chance to be taken to places you couldn't get to on your own, it's marvelous. Isn't it Kelly?"

"Absolutely," she confirmed. "When Milady Raven took me to my first bondage party, I felt more intensely alive, more desirable, more valuable than I have ever felt before. Even after I was Kelly again, I felt good about the desire I had provoked when I was a slave, when no one was interested in anything but my body. It's like being bound to the bed, the sensations seem to break through old limits and define a higher plane of pleasure. Being a slave in public made me feel more beautiful than anything else has ever done. I can't wait to do it again, with the right master."

"The right master is key," I continued, piling on the arguments. "It has to be someone you can trust absolutely, even more than you trust yourself. That way you can willingly surrender control in the expectation that you will be happier because of it. The master Milady Halo gave me to took me places I never expected to go, but now I know how to get there, if you'll help me return."

Rocky shook his head, but this time it was in wonder, not in denial. "Every time I think you two couldn't possible top yourselves, in outrageous, exciting, intensely hot ideas, you come up with something even more incredible than before. All right, I'll play your game. But you better understand right now, I play for keeps. While you are my slaves, I will expect absolute obedience and absolute devotion. Is that understood?"

"Absolutely," we chorused, breaking down in giggles at the release in tension.

"Do you have our costumes prepared?" Rocky asked, already beginning to take charge.

"Yes, Milord Atlas," Kelly replied.

"Including one for you, Milord Atlas," I smiled, the heat behind my lashes hinting at the virility he would display.

"Then fetch them," he ordered.

Kelly scurried off to get our slave outfits while I went and got the outfit for Milord Atlas. His outfit was more fitting for a comic-book superhero than a real man, but then, Rocky was about the size and shape of a superhero, complete to the rugged manhood of his features. We had gotten him a stretchy spandex unitard that fit him tighter than a glove. The black material caught highlights from everywhere and flashed as his muscles rippled with animal power. Under the wide black shoulder straps of the unitard, we gave him a pirate shirt complete with flowing sleeves, open at the collar to display the muscles of his massive chest. When the time came, we would use the open collar to frame one of the chains he would wear, a neck chain obviously holding the keys to our bonds. The other chain was a belt, made of massive gold links similar to those that we would wear as our bonds, but sized up to declare the strength it would take to contain his power. Shiny black boots and gauntlets with exaggerated cuffs completed his outfit, enhancing the comic-book nature of the outfit in proud celebration. Milord Atlas, his clothes declared, was indeed a superman, more powerful than ordinary mortals.

Kelly had changed to her slave dress while I was helping Milord Atlas with his clothes. His eyes lit up when he saw the dangerously revealing, outrageous costume, but his response was even more noticeable (in that tight unitard he couldn't really hide anything) when he saw the chains she carried.

"With your permission, Milord Atlas, I will show you how these chains are attached," I offered.

He nodded abruptly, striving to maintain his dominant persona. Rocky was a powerful man in both physical and personality attributes. Anyone who could build a fortune from hard work and determination was used to giving orders to subordinates, and that aspect of being a master was no problem for him at all. The problem was the distraction Angel provided with her near nudity more emphasized than hidden by the tiny slave costume, coupled with her shining beauty and glorious figure. It took a dedicated, conscientious master like Lord Odysseus to overcome the natural urges demanded by Angel's intense femininity. For Rocky, it was almost too much. However, he forced his mouth closed by sheer determination and watched as I chained Angel.

That nearly did him in again. The shining gold links of her collar, cuffs, and chains lifted her back to that matchless image of innocence and sensuality that only Angel possessed. I was watching his reaction first with amusement, then with growing concern, not that I would have minded an interesting interlude, but I was afraid his unitard was going to explode in the vicinity of his visibly pulsing erection. From my own experience I knew it must have long passed the painful stage, and I wondered if he would go on with our plans for the evening. In a moment, Angel was bound, the links of the chains tinkling their constant melody of submission, and Milord Atlas placed the keys on the chain about his neck while I left to change my own clothes.

When I returned, Milord Atlas was kissing Angel, pulling her slender waist to him, wrapping her in his massive arms with a physical dominance that even Lord Odysseus could not match. The pain of his erection was balanced by the incredible erection in Angel's nipples, straining against the thin fabric. I wasn't really jealous of my wife in the ordinary sense, just jealous that I wasn't getting my share of the loving that our master was dispensing, so I coughed to get their attention.

"Milord Atlas, would it be your pleasure to chain me at this time?" I asked demurely, holding out the chains, including the link for my hair.

He looked at that link, but tossed it on the table. "I prefer your hair to be loose and flowing," he declared. But he took the collar and fastened it around my neck, leaving the lock open as he had seen me do for Angel. The bracelets followed, and then the ankle cuffs. Before he fastened the chain to my collar, he pulled it slowly through his fingers, letting the gold shine against the black depth of his gloves. He twirled his finger silently and I turned around, listening once again for the terribly important click as he fastened the first of my locks. Milord Atlas quickly completed my bondage, clicking my wrists together behind my back, and my ankles to the hobble.

"Are there any other bonds?" he asked.

"Yes, Milord," I confirmed, "in the package on the table." With my eyes I indicated the package I had brought out when I returned in my own brief slave dress. He reached inside and drew forth first a golden chain leash, which he placed aside as he looked for what else was in the package. The next item to be withdrawn was one of the ball gags. Once again his eyes widened at this further sign of abject submission.

"Have you actually worn this?" he asked, wonder again in his gaze.

"Yes, Milord," we both confirmed.

I could see he didn't particularly care if we could speak or not, but curiosity at what the ball gags would do, what they would look like, flared in his eyes and I could tell he would place them on us. He moved to me and I opened my mouth, taking the ball behind my teeth. He fastened it in place below the mass of my flowing hair and stood back to look at me. There was sympathy in his eyes, but also such intense desire that I knew he realized my appearance, my submission, was exciting him as much as it excited me. Even aside from the expression in our eyes, however, the signs of our excitement were flamboyantly displayed in my erect nipples and his throbbing bulge. He shook his head again at our unbelievable willingness to explore outrageous fantasies, but he moved to place Angel's gag in her mouth as well.

"Is there anything else?" he asked, smiling at the realization that we couldn't speak to answer him, but informing us by his question that he expected us to solve the problem somehow.

Angel looked about uncertainly, not sure if there was anything else to do before we left, but I decided I would rise to the challenge and stepped with the tiny stride allowed by my hobbles to where my purse was sitting. I reached behind myself to pick it up and opened it. Inside were both the location to give the driver of the limousine, and the money to pay for our entry fees to the bondage party. Working by feel, I extracted these from the pocket of my purse where I had placed them, then walked to Milord Atlas and turned slightly to offer them to him. He smiled at my success, but said nothing. Once Angel saw how to get something, she used a similar technique for our domino masks, offering them to our master as well. He put his on, then put ours on us, carefully working the elastic under my flowing hair. He placed the other items, including a few things from his own wallet, within the extended cuffs of his gauntlets. Taking up our leashes he hooked them to our collars and walked to the door, sauntering with relaxed power that I knew was scaled to the pace we could maintain in our hobbles. We left the house in his wake and stood quietly while he locked up. Then he started us toward the limousine with a negligent tug on our leashes and we meekly followed.

When Cheryl saw us walking toward the limo revealed in our tiny dresses and chained from head to foot, she gasped in amazement. But her face also heated with a warmth that was not due to embarrassment, but obvious desire. She looked at me with an expression that shouted of her need, and I felt it was as much for the experience of being bound as for the sexual stimulation her body was craving. If I hadn't been gagged I might have suggested that she take the place of one of the slave girls so that I could be Milady Raven again, but there wasn't really time to start over. Besides, I wanted to serve Milord Atlas later that evening as his slave girl.

When we reached the limousine, Milord Atlas lifted each of us into the car with negligent strength, casually placing us on the jump seats with our chains led beside the narrow cushions. He fastened our seatbelts around us and slid to his own seat after handing Cheryl the directions to the party. She closed his door and hurried to the driver's seat, backing smoothly from the driveway and heading toward the freeway. Milord Atlas looked at us for a short while, but reached to remove our gags before we even left our neighborhood.

"I may replace these later, but for now I think I would like you to talk to me," he said.

"Yes, Milord," we answered.

At his order we told him of our previous parties, right up until we were sold. At that point I requested permission to hold of on further explanations until later, when I could show him rather than try to put it into words. He was about to demand I go forward, but the promise in my eyes of what I would show him made him decide to wait for the experience. He filled us in on his activities until we reached the neighboring city where the bondage party was being held.

Chapter 32 - Cream Filling

When we pulled up to the hotel and Cheryl saw the path to the parking, she called over the internal window in the limo to explain a problem. "We won't be able to take this car into that parking garage. I'll have to let you out here."

Milord Atlas reached to undo our seat belts as though there were no issue, but we had never walked through the main hotel in costume. I began to explain, "Milord, I'm not sure the hotel will let us go through the main lobby. We've always used the garage entrance before."

He said nothing, just looking at me for a moment. Then I could see decision in his eyes, and he reached for our gags. In a moment, Angel and I wore our gags again, and he was lifting us to our feet outside the car. He looped our golden leashes around his shiny black gauntlet and walked toward the door of the hotel with casual confidence. We followed behind with the tiny, quick steps required by our hobbles and entered the main hotel lobby. Milord Atlas acted as though he owned the place, an absolute confidence enhanced by the knowledge that he could if he chose to, and looked at the display of meeting rooms for the one cryptically labeled, "Controlling Bonds." When he identified it, he sauntered to the elevator, ignoring the gasps and stares of the crowd of people in the lobby. At first, I could feel a flare of embarrassment in my cheeks, but I noticed that Angel was gloriously happy, not embarrassed. She truly reveled in the desire she caused around her, yet she was so honestly pleased that her expression was childish innocence, not jaded egotism. That reminded me of my persona, and I unleashed the lust I felt into my expression. The color in my cheeks changed from embarrassment to hot promise, and I walked proud to the point of arrogance behind my master, exaggerating the wiggle of my tiny skirt as I stepped quickly in the hobbles.

An officious looking man came from behind the counter to intercept us, stopping in front of Milord Atlas. "You people aren't supposed to come in here," he complained.

Milord Atlas looked down at him in dismissal. I would have used a sneer, but Rocky was just too gentle and careful of his strength to allow him to transition to a cruel attitude. He could, however, treat others as annoying children, too insignificant to reach his emotions.

"You did not make proper arrangements for limousines, and I do not intend to hunt around for some alternate entrance. Stand aside."

The absolute absence of deliberate menace in his tone, since he truly was gentle, became inverted into an overwhelming message of danger to the officious complainer. Milord Atlas towered above everyone in the lobby, much taller and immensely stronger than the man who confronted him. The shiny ripples of his skin-tight outfit celebrated his massive strength, demonstrating without doubt that his bulk was sculptured muscle, not fat. His slave girls, in such total bondage, implied Milord Atlas was comfortable, even willing to use force to achieve his ends and in any ordinary man that willingness would have shown in a threatening tone of voice. Its total absence could only be explained by rigid control, perhaps only barely maintained. Unless you knew how gentle our master truly was, that is. Since the man confronting us had only the evidence of his eyes to go on, he made the natural assumption the Milord Atlas would use his strength without hesitation and the hotel worker's awareness of his absolute helplessness before such a powerful man surged in his eyes. He stepped quickly back and we moved to the elevator.

A middle-aged couple was standing there, waiting for an elevator to arrive. The man's eyes bulged at our near nudity, and at our shining bonds. His wife glared at us with undisguised hatred, knowing that she could not match our desirability. Then she noticed the expression on her husband's face and her anger transferred to him.

"Don't you dare look at those disgusting women!" she demanded.

Before he could reply, Milord Atlas intervened. "It is not their purpose to please you, madam, but to please me. Your opinion insults me. Do not do so again."

"Well, I never . . ," the women blustered.

"Obviously," Milord Atlas interrupted. "If you had, your husband would be paying attention to you, instead of my women. Don't transfer your own shortcomings to others."

At that moment the elevator arrived and Milord Atlas led us into it without hesitation. The man moved to enter with us, but his wife held him back. As we waited for the doors to close I looked at the man with hot invitation in my eyes, promising the fulfillment of all his desires if he could gain control of me. He gasped in instant flaming need, provoking his wife to trace his gaze to my eyes. I then turned the same expression on her, suggesting that I could fulfill her secret desires as well. There was an instant of responsiveness in her expression, before she forced it to disgust, but I knew that she was interested, and that she knew I knew. Embarrassment flooded her face, but just as the door closed I saw a thoughtful expression as well. I wondered if we would see a new couple at one of the future bondage parties. Perhaps the woman would offer to buy me for an evening, though at the next one I intended to be Raven. Perhaps I would buy her and see how well I had learned my dominance lessons from Milord Odysseus.

The encounter with the officious hotel worker had solidified Milord Atlas in his persona. The total absence of threat became the greatest threat of all and he could actually relax into his role. He would roll over any interference without allowing it to reach him emotionally, so overwhelming in his superiority that no noticeable effort would be required on his part to get his way. The couple at the elevator had helped me to recover the persona of Vivid, the insatiable wanton. With every look, with every swing of my tiny skirt, with every toss of my flowing mane of hair, I sent a message to all who came close that only my slavery kept me from throwing myself at anyone and everyone in uncontrollable submission to my limitless drive for sexual fulfillment. Gaining control of me promised intense, energetic sex which might not be possible to survive, and would certainly be impossible to match. Angel provided the perfect counterpoint, also incredibly beautiful, also intensely sensual, but innocent of any sin in her honest desire for physical pleasure, both to give and to receive. Opening that delicate flower with the spectacular figure promised delights without inhibition.

At first, Milord Atlas was apparently unaware of the intensity of the effect we were having on those around us. He paid our way into the party, declining to participate in the contest, and sauntered through the displays. Only his unusually slow pace betrayed his awareness that we were even attached to the leashes trailing from his gauntlet. He hadn't explained why he had gagged us again, though it had certainly focused the encounter in the hotel lobby entirely on him, making us clearly not responsible for explanations, and therefore not responsible for our actions. In the party itself he could have removed them, but he left them in place with casual negligence.

When he turned around, however, I could see the bulge pulsing in his tight costume and I knew he was picking up on the energy we were broadcasting. He paused for a second to examine one of the tables and I used the opportunity to step up to him, molding my body to his and rubbing gently against him. I sent him a message of burning need with my eyes, a message that was merely the truth for my act of insatiable, consuming desire had become only too real.

"Why, Vivid, it would appear to me that you would ask for something, if I let you speak," he laughed. "That's why I gagged you. I'm not taking any suggestions right now. I think I'll let you simmer for a while longer."

I gave him a frown around the gag, and rubbed against him again.

"No, I told you my decision," he confirmed, no anger in his words, but no room for discussion either. "If you don't behave yourself, I'll make you hotter than ever."

With that threat, so gently delivered, he reached out and tweaked my nipples to even greater extension. The electric shock of his touch nearly caused me to faint. I groaned around the gag and sagged with weakened knees. He smiled at my helplessness and supported me, using the occasion to reach under my skirt and grab a handful of firm ass globe for a convenient lifting handle. That didn't really help and I groaned even louder, letting him know as I realized myself just how desperate my need was getting. Angel actually looked a little worried, her heavenly face clouding with a small frown. Milord Atlas bent down to whisper in my ear, "Don't worry, we'll be leaving soon. But I find I do like the sense of power that this situation provides. I'll make it up to you later."

His promise stoked the fires of my need even higher, and I tried once again to rub up against him, but he just grinned and moved away, easily too fast for my hobbled legs to follow. He wandered over to the tables of bondage implements, passing by those that were too painful, but to our surprise he stopped at one displaying nipple clamps.

"I think you girls would benefit from a little stimulation. Now let's see, which ones should I use?" He trailed his fingers lightly through the array of clamps, pausing on one pair that seemed to be made of sharp knives that looked actually dangerous. However, his pause was for effect, and his fingers moved on. I realized that we couldn't really even resist whatever he wanted to do, especially gagged as we were. Any resistance would seem to be an act since his strength would overpower ours so totally our struggles wouldn't even appear serious.

He selected matching sets of nipple clamps, each pair joined by about a foot of golden chain that went very well with our existing bonds. In contrast to the ones he had used to tease us, these clamps were gently rounded and padded with a layer of rubber. If he didn't fasten them too tightly, they wouldn't really hurt at all. At least, I hoped not. He bought them from the dealer and turned to us, first to Angel, since her magnificent tits were highlighted by equally magnificent nipples. He fastened the clamps to her nipples directly through the thin fabric of her slave dress, screwing down on the mechanism until they were securely in place. I could see from her expression that she wasn't hurt, in fact, her eyes showed a look of wonder at the sensation. Milord Atlas then turned to me and placed the clamps on my own erect nipples. At first, the sensation was a gentle as a caress, less of a shock than when he had touched me only moments before. As he screwed down on the clamps, the pressure became firmer, stabilizing at a constant, steady squeeze that was less than the sharpness of Milord Odysseus's teeth, back when he had introduced me to the extension of pleasure through careful stimulation of my sensitized nerves. I wondered if Milord Atlas had somehow learned that technique, and whether my training would satisfy him, or merely excite him to show me even more of this new avenue of arousal. He had hardly turned away, though, when the first small throb pulsed in my nipples from the restricted circulation.

The lofty indifference to lesser beings that Milord Atlas had displayed had created a feeling of distance between us and the others at the bondage party, and we had not been approached by anyone. By his purchase of the nipple clamps, however, Milord Atlas had broken down that distance, and we were now approached by a series of would-be owners, male and female, who made increasingly flattering offers to buy either Angel or me, or both. The excitement of an open auction at the slave block wasn't there, but the offers climbed up to almost equivalent levels. Milord Atlas either blandly ignored them, or negligently shook his head, not concerned with other's desires or with mere money.

The sensation of the nipple clamps was so compelling that I wasn't really paying attention to where he was taking us until I saw his free arm raise in a gesture toward the exit. I looked up to see Cheryl turning away, already heading to fetch the limousine. Milord Atlas pulled us toward the elevators, still strolling slowly enough that we could keep up in our hobbles. This time no one else was waiting and we moved into the elevator without incident.

"Girls, I'm going to leave you gagged for a little longer I think. At least until we reach the car. I have a few ideas in mind and I wouldn't want you to make so much noise you distracted the chauffeur."

What ideas? I was really surprised that he had placed nipple clamps on us. That didn't seem to fit with his inherently gentle nature, though the stimulation was not really painful. Nonetheless, it clearly indicated that he was not as predictable as I had thought. I still trusted him, but I realized that I couldn't really begin to forecast the sensations we would experience as his slaves.

We paraded through the lobby again, the same officious hotel worker busily ignoring us from behind the counter. Cheryl had the limo waiting and the door open. Milord Atlas lifted each of us into the car, but he folded up the jump seats and placed Angel and I on our knees, facing each other. Our bonds and the need to keep our shoulders back to keep the tops of our dresses in place forced us into an erect, elegant posture, while our spread knees and linked ankles provided a stable triangle of support.

I expected him to remove our gags as soon as the limo pulled away from the drive, but instead he reached for the clamp on Angel's right nipple. He removed it and she moaned with the intensity of the sensation as blood surged back into her hard button. I saw tears form in her eyes, and wondered if she were really in pain, but in just a second I caught the scent of her arousal and knew she found the experience stimulating, not truly unpleasant. Instead of removing her other nipple clamp, he next reached for me and undid the one on my left nipple. The flare of heat as the clamp was removed was too intense to label as either pleasure or pain. It was something indescribable, more than the sum of both, more powerful than anything Milord Odysseus had done to my tits when he was training me. I moaned around my own gag, and sagged against the front of the compartment, my eyes closing as my world narrowed in focus to the hot flood surging from my nipple point throughout my body.

Even as I sagged in my bonds, I felt a tug on the remaining clamp and expected it to be removed. Instead I heard a muffled gasp from Angel and opened my eyes to see Milord Atlas fastening to Angel's right nipple the free clamp from the chain still attached to my right nipple! The gag I wore muffled my own gasp as Milord Atlas completed his plan by attaching the chain leading from Angel's left nipple to my own. In a moment we were linked together by a crossed pair of chains clamped tightly but not quite painfully to the burning buttons on our tits. Only then did our master remove our gags.

"Comfortable, girls?" he asked.

"Yes, Milord," Angel dutifully replied.

"No, Milord," I replied, surprising Milord Atlas.

"What is the problem?"

"Oh, Milord Atlas, I need you too badly to be comfortable. I need to hold you, to kiss you, to taste you, to be taken by you to heights I can only dream about, until you show them to me."

He smiled as I made it clear my discomfort was sexual need, enhanced by our bonds rather than diminished by his arrangement of his slave girls.

"Too bad," he grinned. "You'll just have to wait until we get back to the house. Think about what you might do there to please me. I'll expect real creativity."

I moaned again, desperate in my need, yet the bondage into which he had placed us required Angel and I to concentrate on our balance and posture while at the same time forcing our focus on the very stimulation that was fanning the flames of our arousal. As it had with Milord Odysseus, the intense stimulation of my nipples aroused my manhood to erection as well and it strained within the disguising cushion. By the time we reached the house I was whimpering in my need, the adhesive on my artificial mound beginning to loosen from the pulsing pressure of my raging cock.

I was barely aware of the world outside my arousal when Cheryl pulled into our driveway and opened the limousine door. I couldn't concentrate enough to imagine any way that Angel and I could get to the house while still clamped together and was trying to prepare myself for the unimaginable flood of sensation when my nipples were freed when Milord Atlas reminded us of his incredible strength. He reached an arm under my thighs, and under Angel's as well, and simply lifted one of us up in each hand as easily as he might have lifted a couple of loaves of bread. I felt a sharper tug at my nipples as Angel and I adjusted ourselves for this new support and had an instant of panic at the thought of falling, but Milord Atlas held our legs in a gentle grip as steady as a vise. This provided an anchor point and we could use our legs to hold ourselves in position. Milord Atlas carried us to the door, set us down while he unlocked it, then picked us up again and carried us into the bedroom.

"Kneel, girls," he ordered, and we lowered ourselves to the floor, carefully keeping our tits close enough together to keep the chains from pulling too tightly. Angel and I faced each other, our knees touching, our tits nearly so, our lips only inches apart. I needed to be kissed, to be loved, to be used as I had never been used before and I leaned forward frantically to suck Angel's tongue deeply into my mouth. She responded with equal energy, her own need perhaps as great as mine, her sensual scent flooding the air around us. I was so consumed with the sensations from my nipples, and from her lips, that I didn't notice that Milord Atlas had undressed himself.

"Lean back, both of you," he ordered, and as we did so he moved forward to place his thick, engorged cock between our faces. I immediately began to lick and kiss on my side of his shaft, painting it with my tongue, wrapping my lips around it. Angel's lips met mine as we slid our mouths right and left over the length of Milord Atlas's mighty tool, and our tongues dueled for the privilege of licking the sensitive underside. Milord Atlas began to pant heavily from the stimulation, and he turned slightly toward me. I used the opportunity to take the head of his cock into my mouth and began to pull him into me with all the suction my lungs could provide. Angel began to lick at his balls, gently flicking at the tightly stretched skin over his swollen orbs.

Milord Atlas pulled back from my mouth and turned to Angel, who eagerly swallowed his tool down her own throat, determined to convince our master that she was the better fellatrice. I used the opportunity to capture one of his balls in my mouth, swirling my tongue around the convoluted shape. Milord Atlas groaned again and withdrew.

"Not too much, too soon," he gasped.

"Vivid, are you hard, within that cushion?" my master then asked.

"Yes, Milord, desperately hard," I confirmed

"Can that gaff be removed, without removing your bonds?" he continued.

"Yes, Milord, but you will need to put a little of the release agent on the adhesive, or I'll lose some skin."

"We can't have that," he smiled. "Your skin is entirely too beautiful to waste."

I told him where the solvent was and after he had gotten it he pulled up the hem of my brief skirt and soaked the edges of the disguising cushion with the fluid. In a few seconds my cock was free, surging forward in hunger for a different sort of captivity.

"Now, you two sit still for a minute," we were directed.

Milord Atlas removed the chain running from our necks to our ankles, and removed the ankle cuffs. He relocked our collars, and locked my wrist bracelets directly together, pinning my arms behind my back, but he left Angel's arms free. Without our hobbles we could move our legs apart, but our nipple clamps still held Angel and I closely together.

"Stand up," our master ordered and we struggled to our feet, Angel helping me with my balance as we rose, carefully keeping our tits within the reach of the chains connecting them.

He used our leashes to bind Angel's arms to the upper corners of our bed posts, spreading and lifting her magnificent tits. I still stood facing her, only allowed a few inches by the crossed chains from my nipple clamps.

"Now, Vivid, I want you to stick your cock into her."

I struggled to position my raging erection at the flowing entrance to her feminine receptacle, finally steering the tip of my cock into her liquid canal. She swung her legs around me and pulled me deeply into her, beginning to swing from her chains in response to her demanding need for stimulation.

I struggled to control myself so that I could offer my master my ultimate service. "Milord Atlas, I have been trained in the pleasure of use as a woman is used. Could a lowly slave girl beg the privilege of your glorious manhood to fill my hot ass? I promise you it will be wonderful for both of us."

"You're kidding," he said in disbelief. "After you were raped in the ass, you want me to do the same?"

"Milord, if you will only be a bit gentle, it will not be rape, but be more wonderful than I can describe. There is lubricant in the nightstand."

At my urging he carefully prepared me, while Angel swung gently back and forth, maintaining her own arousal. When he finally penetrated me it was even more pleasurable than I had remembered, the sensation that I had once considered to be painful now building on the fires from my nipples and my cock to lift me to unbelievable stimulation. I began to move forward and back, plunging into Angel as I felt my master's cock withdraw from my ass, then pushing backward to take him fully into me as my own cock withdrew from Angel. I wanted this incredible sandwich to continue forever, building ever higher, ever more wonderful, but I felt my own need surging in a demand that I knew I wouldn't be able to deny for long.

Angel's own arousal was reaching impossible heights as she began to moan in mindless passion. I was tasting the first beginnings of an explosion within me when I saw Milord Atlas reach around me and pull the nipple clamps off of Angel. She truly did explode in response to the overwhelming stimulation, screaming with the intensity of her release in a thin voice robbed by her uncontrollable breathing of the air for full sound. Milord Atlas pulled my own nipple clamps off a heartbeat later and I screamed my own release as the heat flooded through me. My world narrowed to the fire in my nipples, and the pulse through my cock, and the pressure of my master's tool in my ass. The pulses of my release were reflected in the spasms of my anus, which provided the final stimulation needed by Milord Atlas for his own explosion. Like dominos we erupted in rapid sequence, triggered by his removal of Angel's nipple clamps, and of my own.

His deep grunts provided a masculine counterpoint to Angel's high soprano and my own melodic contralto as we were carried upwards into a mutual triumph, each adding the emotional fulfillment of happiness in the pleasure of those we loved to the physical pleasure captivating our own bodies. In all the occasions I had ever enjoyed sex, none ever approached this incredible culmination of trained physical responses merged with deep mutual love. For a mindless, timeless interval we helped each other to immeasurable heights, reaching and then exceeding a new level of joy with each heartbeat, with each pulse of release, with each spasm of clamping muscles.

Even this incredible wonder must finally come to an end, however, and my perceptions eventually expanded to accept the world outside our union. Angel had ceased her thin screams, now sighing softly, hanging limply from the chains holding her arms. My own cock was deflating within her, the final pulses draining the seed from my balls, even as I felt the warm semen from my master seeping within my body. Finally he withdrew from my ass, bending forward to kiss my shoulder as he reached for the bonds holding Angel. I withdrew from her as he lowered her gently to the bed. Angel was still too spent to do more than smile softly, dreamily, at the touch of his hands.

He unbound my wrists and I turned to wrap my arms around him, lifting my lips for a kiss in silent celebration of our victory together. He smiled as he granted me the gift I asked for and held me closely while our hearts returned to a more sustainable pace.

"Oh, Milord Atlas," I cooed in his arms, "you are more wonderful than even my dreams could imagine."

"You're incredible," he replied. "I keep telling myself not to underestimate you, but I always do. Is there anything you wouldn't do for pleasure?"

"I would do anything you asked of me, if I could, my master," I promised.

"How about if I were not your master, but we were just Rocky and Brandy again?"

"Dear Rocky, you will always be my master, regardless of our costumes. I respect you more than anyone in the world, including Kelly, though we both know our relationship is not quite the same as the love between a husband and wife. Still, I love you in some unique way I can't really begin to compare to anything I've ever felt with anyone else. Part of it, though, is a true desire to please you in whatever way I can. That makes you my master in the most compelling possible way."

I lifted my lips for another kiss, which was gladly supplied, but in a moment Rocky moved away to take a quick shower. I used the time to remove my slave dress, reattach my disguise mound, and put on a short robe. Kelly slept on, now totally unbound and comfortable though revealed, in her slave outfit. When Rocky returned we went to the living room for a couple of drinks, captive only to our desires to make each other happy.

Chapter 33 - A Perfect Match

When we reached the living room, Rocky poured me a little white wine and got himself some brandy. When he sat down, I draped myself in his lap, snuggling into his warm embrace.

"Where did you learn about those nipple clamps?" I asked with a grin.

"Did you like them?" he answered with a question and a grin of his own.

"They're incredible," I answered. "I couldn't believe how hot they made me, and how intense they made it when I exploded. Of course, you had a lot to do with that, too. The feel of you inside of me made me feel more beautiful, more desirable, more feminine than ever. My whole world seemed drawn into the sensation of your wonderful cock in my ass."

"Did it hurt?" he asked gently.

"Not a bit, once you had me ready. I'm not even sore now. I'm telling you, it was wonderful. I wish I had known about this pleasure before, and I certainly will want to do it again, and again, and . . ."

He laughed and caught me in his arms, kissing me with joy and love, at least to start. Even after our incredible sex, however, it wasn't long before hot passion was working its way back into our emotions. I sent my tongue into his throat, then sucked on his tongue when it chased my own back into my mouth. My offer to switch targets for my lips was implied by the pressures of my mouth, but he caught my head in his hands and pulled my face back.

"Don't get me started again, so soon. I need to be able to walk in the morning," he laughed.

"Why?" I giggled. "Maybe I should tie you to our bed, and make you our sex slave for a while."

"Milady, I am already held captive by your charms. You don't need chains."

I kissed him again for his gentlemanly praise, but abruptly drew back in the middle of our building heat.

"You tricked me!" I accused him with a laugh. "You never answered my question. Who taught you about nipple clamps?"

He smiled like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, more embarrassment in his expression than I had seen all night.

"Well, actually, I never tried them before, or even saw them used. But sometimes when you're out at sea with a bunch of guys, they get to talking, and one guy in particular swore they were terrific. When you seemed interested in bondage, I decided to try them out. It seems like the guy was right."

"You can say that again. Are you going to tell him you tried his idea."

"No!" Rocky exclaimed. "I never tell anyone about my private life . . . but I do listen when others talk," he concluded with a grin.

We laughed and cuddled until nearly dawn, chatting about wild claims we had heard in conversations where women were not present. I had a few stories of my own, or at least a few stories of Ran's to contribute to the list. Kelly came walking out about the time the sun came up, still almost dressed in her slave outfit, though now it was rumpled.

"You guys been up all night?" she asked.

"I guess so," I confirmed.

"Can I make you some breakfast?" she offered.

"Would you? You're a dear. I'll just go get cleaned up. Don't hurry though, it takes me a while to get my face on."

After my shower, I laced myself into a corset, still liking the improved figure the tight garment provided. I chose a wine-red dress, sleeveless and strapless, proudly displaying my new cleavage. Golden loop earrings, shimmery stockings and towering heels completed my outfit. When I finally emerged from the bedroom my place had been taken by Kelly. Now she was giggling and chatting on his lap, and I was about to find something suitably nasty to break up their conversation, like a glass of ice water, when she struggled to her feet.

"It's your own fault," she giggled. "I knew it takes you forever. Now you make breakfast while I get showered."

I laughed as she scurried to the bedroom, and smiled at Rocky. His neatly trimmed beard had kept us from any whisker burns, but there was a stubble on his neck. I lightly scratched the short whiskers with one elegant ruby nail.

"You better get cleaned up, too, or I'll just let her have you," I threatened.

"On my way, ma'am," he claimed, but he rose from the easy chair with a languid pace that declared insufficient energy for hurry.

"It's not possible for a woman to look as good as you, especially after a night with no sleep. What sort of sorceress are you?" he asked as he walked toward his room.

"I guess having your cock up my ass agrees with me," I giggled. "I certainly agree with it."

His response was almost a wince as my reminder of our night's exercise send a pounding surge of blood through his thick tool. But he grinned at me and shook his head as he walked off, still amazed at our adventure. I arranged a quick breakfast, high on protein to replace the energy we had burned the night before. Since I wore a corset, and Kelly did also when she emerged, Rocky ate the lion's share of the food which was all part of the plan. Once again Rocky had to leave to get back to his businesses and we escorted him to the executive terminal at the airport, where his bizjet was waiting. His beautiful flight crew was visibly distressed when we again placed our matching lipstick marks on his cheeks, but their professionalism was unimpaired and the plane departed without delay.

We had a tough job, for the next couple of months. Kelly and I had to make do with each other as lovers, since Billie Jo was off with Lord Odysseus, and Rocky was busy running his businesses. With that undiluted focus on each other, we found a richer closeness than we had shared before, but I wasn't sure if I'd survive the interesting experiments. We went to a couple of bondage parties, now always as Milady Raven and Angel. No one like the ex-master Ajax challenged me for her, but I always had to turn down multiple offers to buy her, or to train others. Finally, in the third month Rocky called to let us know he could be in town for another night as our master.

On the day of the party, we again met Rocky when his bizjet landed. This time we wore our ordinary clothes, demurely dressed in micro-miniskirts and sky-high heels. Well, maybe not so demure, but at least we were wearing our corsets so our nipples didn't show. Much. Our renewal kisses were just as passionate as ever, and his pretty flight crew were just as dismayed. This time we had just driven our car instead of using a limousine, and we were soon away from the airport on our way to our house.

After he changed clothes, Milord Atlas was resurrected in full power, his sculptured body celebrated rather than concealed in his skin-tight outfit. Angel and I put on our filmy slave dresses and kneeled at our master's feet as he considered our bonds. I expected him to add our usual chains, but he had brought something new and different with him. Our arms were bound behind our backs at both wrist and elbow with heavy gold bracelets and arm bands rather than the links of our previous cuffs. A similar wide band went around each of our necks, rigid for perhaps two thirds of the circumference and closed with a hinged lock that hid beneath our hair. This required Angel to let her hair down from the upswept style she usually wore, but our master quickly removed her hairpins and fluffed her golden tresses over the band. The wide collars were tailored to the shape of our neck, requiring us to hold our heads high. A golden ring protruded from the front of each collar and Milord Atlas attached a divided leash with two hooks to our necks, linking us together as well as to the end leading to his gloved fist. His bondage was more intense, where we wore steel, but he didn't choose to hobble us so we could actually walk easier.

We watched as Milord Atlas considered the remaining items in our array of bondage devices. Our previous cuffs and collars were unnecessary, as were the chains and leashes. However, our gags and the nipple clamps were still in the bag of implements, and we waited anxiously as he considered them.

"I don't think I'll put any of these on you, yet," he said, and we sighed in unconscious chorus. For myself, I didn't know whether my sigh was relief or disappointment, and I would have bet that Angel couldn't tell either.

At his order we struggled to our feet, at least not hobbled, and he led us to the doorway. He brought the package with our gags and nipple clamps with him, I noticed, so he could change his mind, or at least his selection at any time. It felt a little funny to be walking easily, at least as easily as our towering heels allowed, while my arms were tightly bound behind me. Milord Atlas set a faster pace than before, though, so our heels beat a quick rhythm on the walk as we hurried to keep up with his longer stride. During the trip to the bondage party, Angel and I were required to describe fantasies that could be fulfilled by the three of us, keeping all three of us hot and excited throughout the trip. Milord Atlas drove in relative silence, only encouraging us upon occasion, but I could see his eyes widen at some of our fantasies, and it was clear he was taking mental notes. At least, I hoped so.

In the ordinary car (Kelly's Camaro) we could park in the ordinary garage, so there was no need to parade through the hotel lobby. After he helped us from the car, Milord Atlas placed our domino masks on us, and donned his own. Then he placed the gags on us, but left the nipple clamps off. I looked at Angel and saw a mixture of relief and regret on her face that I knew must be mirrored in my own. We trailed behind our master into the party room, once again displaying the personas of angelic innocence and vivid lust that we had come to realize were more real than pretend.

I used every opportunity I could manage to rub myself up against my master, constantly trying to get his attention, any attention, even a careless caress. He was enjoying the obvious envy and respect from the other people in attendance, but every now and then he would rub my straining nipples through the thin slave dress, or lightly cup one of my ass globes below the hem of the tiny skirt. Once Angel realized that my nuzzling was paying off, she worked the other side of our master just as thoroughly, though both of us were prevented from getting in front of his shoulders by the chain linking our necks.

I was getting so hot at the need that was building within me that I didn't notice when Angel froze in her tracks. Didn't notice until my neck was pulled up short by the leash connecting me to her. She was grunting frantically through her gag, and used her eyes to point out to me what was exciting her. In a second, I was grunting also, pleading without words for our master's attention. Angel and I began to pull together toward the source of our excitement, though moving Milord Atlas against his will by pulling on the leash holding our necks was about as unproductive as anything I can imagine. Milord Atlas looked away from the conversation he was enjoying with a beautiful lady slaveowner (though she was not nearly as pretty as Raven, nor as dominant) with annoyance at the breakdown in our discipline, but as soon as he looked at us he realized there was really something important going on.

"What's the matter with you?" he said as he removed my gag.

"Milord Atlas, it's Vixen! She's over there. Oh, please, you must meet her."

"Vixen?" he said in puzzlement.

"Yes, Vixen, my slave sister, who was sold by Milady Halo to the same master who trained me. Please, Milord, we might lose her in the crowd!"

Angel had tried to keep her eyes on Vixen while I spoke with our master, but even in her sky-high heels she was too short to see over all the heads. I could do a little better, but Vixen was moving away from us and her shining dark hair merged with many others across the room. However, Milord Atlas consented to pursue her, so we moved off in the direction we had seen her, not even stopping to remove Angel's gag. Like a brace of hunting bitches, we pulled on the leash, dragging our master behind us. We were becoming increasingly frantic when I once again saw my slave sister's mane of glowing hair and we converged on Vixen and Lord Odysseus, who was leading her by her own leash.

Vixen had changed in the months since we had seen her. Her bonds and outfit were different, though that was the only the most obvious change. Lord Odysseus had placed her in the red leather armbinder for the evening, but the red dress she wore was not the deeply slit wisp of nylon that adorned me. Instead, she wore a butter-soft leather dress, so thin it molded to every delicious curve of her beautiful body, yet artfully draped over only one shoulder and trimmed unevenly to suggest a jungle woman's attire. She was led by a leash attached to a tall leather collar that forced her to keep her head up, just as the golden bands around our own throats forced us to an erect posture.

Unlike our towering sandals, though, her feet were bare and she padded along in a silent glide, incredibly poised, intensely alive, the ultimate female predator. Lord Odysseus must have trained her in martial arts, or dance, or both and had enhanced her natural athletic ability to an unbelievable degree. I could see the hunting look on her face, more dangerous than ever. I honestly believed this incredible woman could and would rapidly kill any prey that came close, unless she were held in check by her powerful master. She sauntered behind Lord Odysseus with loose-limbed grace, perfectly balanced at all times, muscles gliding beneath her skin with the promise of ready power. However, there was also a light of pure, boundless joy in her eyes that had only appeared in one other place that I had ever seen, in the eyes of Angel.

We managed to pull Milord Atlas far enough that first the ever-vigilant Vixen, and then Lord Odysseus saw us. He paused in his stroll and looked to see who was with us, smiling at the way we were dragging our master along. I realized too late that we should have returned our formation to a properly respectful arrangement before Lord Odysseus saw us, as a sign of submission to Milord Atlas.

Now that we had caught up, I didn't quite know what to do. We couldn't let them get away, but as a slave I couldn't speak to another master without my owner's permission. I moved back to Milord Atlas and stretched up to whisper in his ear, asking for that permission so that I might perform introductions. He held up one hand to make me pause while he removed Angel's gag, then nodded.

I knelt on the floor of the party hall between my master and Lord Odysseus, dragging Angel down beside me by the chain connecting our collars. Only when we were properly submissive, still head up and shoulders back due to the constraints of our bonds, but kneeling so that we didn't interfere with the line of sight of the masters, did I speak.

"Milord Atlas, this is Lord Odysseus. It was he who trained me while I had the privilege of being his slave. I have mentioned him to you. Lord Odysseus, this is my master and owner, Milord Atlas, who has lifted me to heights unimaginable even after your training, while I have had the honor and privilege of being his slave."

I didn't introduce Vixen, of course. Milord Atlas already knew who she was, at least enough to connect her to the limited stories we had told him about her. Milord Atlas, or even Rocky, had never actually met her though and we hadn't told him all of the things we had shared with our slave sister. More importantly, however, slaves were non-entities unless brought into the conversation by a master. I only performed a service by introducing them to each other, much like a business card might do.

I saw the smile of condescending superiority reappear on Lord Odysseus's face as his master personality assessed the way in which Angel and I had apparently controlled our owner into this meeting. Vixen stood quietly behind him, not giving any sign that anyone in the world mattered except her master, though she was aware of everything around us. Her face beamed with pride, yet it held a smoothness that celebrated the softer curves of a woman without surrendering the intelligence and strength of her magnificent mind and body. Though I was pleased with myself as Brandy, and enjoyed the role playing of Raven and Vivid, at that moment I felt deep envy for Vixen. She had attained the perfect mixture of femininity and strength that I wished for in myself. My wife Kelly was the most beautiful woman, in all senses of beauty, that I had ever met, but Vixen had surpassed her in her total character, adding strength that transcended gender to the matchless femininity of my wife. All of the sudden I felt like out of place, like a man cross-dressing, for the first time in months. In the same way that I had never felt a need to compete with Kelly in her spectacular figure, I had never felt a need to compete with her in her ultimate femininity. I had defined Brandy to be different, not necessarily better or worse, but her own person. Now Vixen defined the person I wanted to be in a way I could never match, and I felt condemned to inadequacy at the same moment I felt happy for her success.

"Lord Atlas," Lord Odysseus said, extending his hand to shake.

"Lord Odysseus," our master replied, grasping the offered hand. I watched as they began the game of hand squeezing that I had always hated as the weak Ran, and had escaped in any of my female identities. The muscles in Lord Odysseus forearm took on a sharper definition as he added pressure, to be met by an equal pressure from muscles hidden within the sleeves of Milord Atlas's shirt, but visible in the slight sharpening of the highlights where his gauntlets covered his knuckles. Lord Odysseus added another increment, now showing finely-sculpted edges to his ridges of strength, to be met by a further shimmer in the glistening glove on our master's hand, but no other sign. Once again Lord Odysseus stepped up his pressure, and once again Milord Atlas responded without visible indication that anything was even happening, except perhaps an unusually long handshake. With a final strain Lord Odysseus added all the power of his wonderfully fit body, to be met without apparent effort by our master. I saw Lord Odysseus's eyes widen slightly as his ultimate effort had no visible effect, then tighten as our master added his own increment, carefully measured to show superiority without the potential for damage. Then Milord Atlas slowly raised and lowered their joined hands in a formal sign of completion of the male ritual, before releasing his fingers.

"My congratulations, Lord Odysseus, you have a good grip. You really know how to use your muscles," said Milord Atlas.

"My respects, Lord Atlas, I seem to have underestimated you. In the past, when I have met really large men they often tried to show their strength in their handshake, so I tend to try and get a jump on them. Usually, they fold in a few seconds. Your strength is of an entirely different order, sufficient that you don't need to prove it, not even to yourself. That is a sign of a truly powerful man, yet one who is neither arrogant nor cruel."

Lord Odysseus continued as though it were merely an impulse, but I later realized just how carefully calculated that impulse had been, "May I introduce you to my slave girl, Vixen?"

He pulled her forward to meet Milord Atlas, and I swore I saw a visible spark leap between their eyes. I suppose I should have expected it. Whatever had attracted Peter Thornton to Brandy Dewinter in the first place at that baggage terminal in Vancouver had been refined and purified to its ultimate expression in the glorious Vixen. She still looked enough like me to be a sister, almost a twin, but she was truly a woman and was blessed with characteristics I couldn't match. I saw Milord Atlas drink in her poise, her grace, her lethal intensity coupled with confident control, and above all her radiant joy, and fall helplessly in love with her in that instant. Vixen's response was equally dramatic, even more visible. Her nipples popped up so hard I wondered if they would burst through the tightly-stretched leather of her dress. Her eyes lit with wonder at his massive size and I remembered how, except for special occasions, Billie Jo had always chosen large, intensely masculine lovers after she had finally discovered men. Though neither moved or spoke, it was clear the rest of the world had receded into unreachable distance from them, and I sighed as I tried to remind myself how much I loved them both.

Angel hadn't really caught on, though to me it seemed like flares were going off all around the newly-met lovers. Lord Odysseus did, though. He smiled at me and helped Angel and I to our feet.

"Do you believe me now, when I say that the women I have trained find happy lives, and loving husbands?" he gently asked me.

"Milord Odysseus, I never doubted it. That one night when you granted me the favor of your training convinced me beyond any hint of concern," I replied. "But I didn't think that it would be my lover who was captured by your huntress."

With my comment, Angel's eyes widened as she realized what we had noticed, and looked for confirmation with her own perceptions. Lord Atlas was talking quietly with Vixen, who was responding with a more animated expression than when she had belonged to Milord Odysseus. It was clear that they were now and forever inseparable, regardless of which man held which leash. Milord Odysseus reached out with Vixen's leash in his hand and placed it within Lord Atlas's glove, while extracting our leash in return.

"Lord Atlas," our newest master interrupted. "I have a set of keys you will need, and I believe I will need those around your neck. Would it suit you to accompany us to our car?"

Lord Atlas responded with a jerk, returning to the world outside Vixen's eyes. I was surprised and impressed with how incredibly poised Vixen was, as she responded calmly and elegantly, totally in control of herself though totally devoted to her new master. They followed us to the exit and to the parking garage, where we found Billie Jo's Taurus parked not too far from Kelly's Camaro. Our masters exchanged keys and we were quickly back in the Camaro, watching as Milord Odysseus backed away to see Lord Atlas already removing Vixen's armbinder.

"Wow!" Angel finally said. "I never saw that coming. Did you see the way they were looking at each other? I've never seen anyone look at someone else like that, except . . ."

She paused to smile at me, noting the shine of unshed tears in my eyes, then continued, " . . except when Brandy looks at me, or Raven looks at me, or even when Ran looks at me."

Though our arms were still bound behind us, she leaned into me and we kissed, more in companionship than in passion. Just as she had always been able to do, she cheered me up with the boundless joy she carried with her wherever she went.

"Do you realize you started calling me 'Milord Odysseus' and your old master 'Lord Atlas' at the very moment he and Vixen first looked at each other?" asked Milord Odysseus.

"Yes, Milord," I confirmed. "It was clear in an instant. In a little while, I'll even be happy they found each other, but I'm afraid I'm selfish enough to regret losing him, at least right now."

"Good," he said, surprising me. "If you didn't care enough about him to regret losing him, you weren't being true to yourself while you were together. Yet, you did give him up from the first words you spoke. Now you see a little bit of what it truly means to be a master. I have enjoyed my time with Vixen almost as much as she did, and regret losing her, too. But this is what I have been pointing toward since the day I took her into my training. Not necessarily that she would end up with your Rocky, but with someone similar. This day and those to follow will be the fulfillment of Vixen's dreams. They will be an extension of Rocky's dreams onto a level he'd never have achieved on his own, or even with you. What do you want to bet they name the first girl Brandy, and the first boy Erik?"

I grinned at his insight, recovering my composure in small steps. After all, even if not quite at the matchless levels of Angel or Vixen, I was still a pretty good looking woman, unbelievably so considering what I had to start with! And I was married to the most wonderful woman in the world, not excluding Vixen. I wouldn't have traded Kelly for her or anyone else in the world. It would have been nice to be slave sisters again, though.

"You know, you'll have to be slave sisters again with Vixen," Milord Odysseus said, reading my mind. "She truly does enjoy the attention that she gets when she's in her huntress role, and she's talked often about the sensation of being one of a beautiful pair. I may need to teach you how to walk like she does, though, you're a little stiff."

I thought about the exaggerated hip swing I always used, more pronounced than the elegant sway that Billie Jo had owned, let alone the controlled glide of Vixen.

"Stiff?" I questioned, "it feels like my hips are in orbit now."

"Exactly," he affirmed. "You use your hips too much. I'll show you how to develop graceful secondary motions to let that energy flow throughout your body."

"Oh, would you. I have often wanted another training session with you," I begged.

"Could I be trained, too, at least a little," Angel quietly asked.

Before I realized I had interrupted Milord Odysseus, I was already answering Angel, a bit surprised at how intense my feeling were. "You don't need any training! You're perfect the way you are. I wouldn't let anyone change a single thing about you!"

"Oops," I giggled. "Sorry, Milord, I shouldn't have interrupted, but she really is perfect."

"Actually Angel, you don't really need any of my help. Vivid is right, and notice how quick she was to defend you. Don't ever worry about her commitment to you. However, what I have in mind wouldn't hurt, though it won't result in much difference for you. I thought I might train you in martial arts, specifically sumito. By the time you learn to dance the ninety-seven steps while wearing high-heels, you'll both be satisfied with the way you move."

"Sumito?" I've never heard of it.

"It's primarily defensive. You'll learn to dance out of the path of attackers, perhaps helping them on their way a little. That can be pretty effective, especially if you help them on their way headfirst into a wall. But there's no breaking boards or bricks. I wouldn't want your hands to bear the calluses required."

"Is that what you showed Vixen?" Kelly asked.

Milord Odysseus nodded.

"Will we be your slaves while we train?" I asked, hearing a note of hope in my voice that surprised me.

"I'll still let you live at home and go to work, but I will be your master while you are training," he promised.

Chapter 34 - An Invitation to A Wedding

That promise became the basis for the most intense period of our lives, even more challenging than the steps in my transition from Randall to Brandy. This time our training was not as slave girls, in bondage or deliberately revealing clothes. Instead, we wore conventional exercise outfits, leotards and tights. Most of it was spent without any shoes, let alone high-heels. While he was teaching us this time, we even called Lord Odysseus, Erik, as a sign of his status as teacher more than owner. He had painted steps like those in a dance studio on a padded portion of his back yard. Our task was to dance from one step to another in numbered sequence, a total of ninety-seven steps. The first time I tried I couldn't even make five before I lost my balance and fell. Kelly, weighted by her beautiful large tits had an even harder time, though her natural grace was much better than mine. It truly was dancing, not fighting. Grace and a sense of rhythm were more valuable tools than strength, though we found we needed to develop our leg and arm strength in order to make the twirling leaps required by the patterns.

Erik was a wonderful teacher, truly capturing the old meaning of the term master, not limited to the slave owner concept. He could sense when we were getting frustrated with our lack of progress and would quietly dance the pattern with casual grace, demonstrating that indeed it could be done. He never gave us specific directions on how to place our arms, or lean our hips since he realized that we would need to develop an inner sense of the dance to succeed. It couldn't be accomplished as an intellectual exercise. But his demonstrations showed us things to try, sometimes as subtle as spreading your fingers apart as you waved your hand. At least, they showed us things to try when we finally learned to concentrate enough to pick up on what was going on.

For a while, Kelly was making better progress than I was, since she had always been a better dancer. One time (more than once really, but one specific time) I had become so frustrated I was ready to quit, and I complained.

"This is stupid, I'll never be able to do it, and it's not good for anything anyway."

Milord Odysseus didn't say a thing, at least not immediately. He walked over to the middle of the mats, and only then said, "Attack me."

"What?"

He said nothing, knowing that I had understood him all right. I was mad enough, frustrated enough that I decided I'd take him up on his offer, and I charged at him with the intent to put a shoulder into him. I was never very athletic as Ran but I figured I could at least run into him. Milord Odysseus stood there quietly, waiting for me with poised balance. I picked up speed and aimed at his belly button, knowing that this would be the hardest part of his body to get moving sideways. The next thing I knew I was plowing the pads with my nose, grateful he had me put on a bra so I didn't scrape my sensitive nipples.

"That was steps twelve and thirteen. Keep practicing, you'll get there."

I was now even more frustrated, so angry that hot tears were leaking from my clenched eyes. I picked myself up and went to the side of the area to sulk. Kelly stopped her own practice and started to come to comfort me.

"Angel!" Lord Odysseus said sharply. He only called us by our slave names when he was demanding absolute obedience. She paused, then moved back to the start of the pattern, though she watched me rather than resume her attempts to dance it.

I pouted alone, irritated at myself, at Lord Odysseus, at Kelly, at everyone within reach. Lord Odysseus didn't say anything, he just started dancing the pattern, forward and back, over and over. Despite my anger I watched him move over the steps, flowing with easy grace, his power controlled with razor sharpness that looked casual and effortless. I noticed how much like Vixen he moved, yet how different. We had never seen her dance the pattern, but Erik had told us she was able to. However, we had seen her move and even in her armbinder she had been unbelievably graceful, with a liquid flow that was less powerful than Erik, but even more beautiful.

As I sat there I moved from frustration and anger to self-pity, wanting to be Vixen, truly a woman who happened to have a cock, rather than a man who looked gorgeous. I could never have that, and it had cost me Rocky, my massive masculine lover. A motion from Kelly as she started to dance the pattern again caught my eye, and I realized my unique nature had allowed me to share with her a love that Vixen could never experience. There were compensations for being who and what I was.

That realization became a watershed point for me. No longer would I wish to be what I was not. Now, I began to celebrate what I was. I wasn't Vixen, and never would be. Instead, I would be myself, a unique person, with a special ability to look like a beautiful woman and with a delightful tool to use in sharing love with Kelly. I studied Erik as he danced the pattern, comparing his motions to Kelly's and began to notice differences in their approaches, even on the same steps. His motion was decidedly more powerful just as his body was stronger, but it was also refined to account for his different body proportions and distribution of weight. My own body shape was somewhere in between their examples, and I began to see how to use what I was, rather than trying to force myself to act like someone I wasn't.

Without saying a word I moved back to the head of the pattern and began to dance the steps. I quit looking at the painted footmarks directly, requiring my body to remember the sequence while I kept my head up and relaxed into the motion, truly dancing for the first time. The steps I already knew flowed by my feet without effort, and I reached the step that had frustrated me before I knew it, then paused with easy balance when I realized I didn't know where to move next. Kelly applauded from where she sprawled on the mat after her latest tumble in her own attempt, and Erik smiled with true pleasure, his pride in a somewhat-difficult student clear in his eyes.

I looked for the next step, which was back in the direction I had come. It would require me to stop my forward motion, just as I now had stopped, but it was so far away I knew I couldn't just leap there from a standing start. I would somehow need to redirect my momentum toward the next position rather than interrupt the flow of the dance. I stood there on one foot analyzing the pattern while Erik returned to the beginning of his own and danced it again. His eyes met mine as he executed the step I was considering, a small grin at my expense lurking behind the relaxed smile of pleasure from the beauty of the dance. Of course! Quit analyzing and just dance. All I needed to know was where I was heading, and to let my body dance the motion, not my brain.

I started over, since learning the pattern always required a start from the beginning, and flowed through my newest step toward the reversed one I had been analyzing, then fell on my shapely ass, rolling with an ungraceful thump as my legs got completely tangled. This time, however, I ended up laughing rather than crying and moved back to begin again. That day I gained that step, but not the next. Still, two steps in one day was a lot better than I had been doing, and I made reasonably steady progress after that.

Kelly and I were returning from our training session one evening a couple of months after we started training when we saw a strange car in the driveway to Billie Jo's house. Erik had arranged for maintenance on it while he was training Vixen, and we had assumed that Rocky had picked up the task when he became her owner. However, the handyman / cleaning crew usually came during the day, and this was late in the evening.

"Do you recognize that car?" I asked Kelly.

"No, and did you notice there are lights on inside?" she replied.

"Yes. Is that a good sign or a bad one? Burglars would probably leave the lights off," I mused.

As we pulled into our drive, our concerns were put to rest as Rocky came out of Billie Jo's house, trailed by Vixen. It was clearly Vixen, not Billie Jo, though she was dressed in a snug miniskirt and tight blouse not too different from what we wore, plus the long wig that matched my own. She wasn't bound, however, and wore high-heeled sandals that gave her the height to be compatible with Rocky.

"Hello," Rocky called with a cheerful wave. Vixen stood behind him, smiling with inner joy but focused totally on her master.

"Hi," I replied, and Kelly waved.

"Can we come talk with you?" he asked.

"Sure, come on in," I replied, and led the way to our house.

Kelly and I had gotten cleaned up after our workout at Erik's and looked cool and fresh, so we just headed for the sitting room and offered to fix drinks. Rocky told us what he wanted and also what to bring Vixen, who hadn't spoken, yet. She seemed totally subservient to him, not from fear or forced control, but with the joy of having all her needs seen to without effort on her part. She moved like a heavenly body in orbit around her master, the sun source of her world.

"Hello, Billie Jo," I said, experimenting a little.

"Hello, Brandy," she replied without hesitation. "I actually prefer to be called Vixen, now, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," I smiled. It was clear she was consumed by Rocky from her own joyful choice, not coercion, and reveled in her new life. Good for her.

"So," Kelly said, "have you had dinner? Let us take you out on the town, tonight."

"No, thanks," Rocky replied with his own smile. I was proud of Kelly for not asking questions about why they were visiting us after so long. True friends should always be welcome.

"We came to ask you a favor," he continued. "Vix and I are getting married, and we want to you be bridesmaids."

"Unless, Brandy, you would prefer to be best man," he grinned.

I let the long-dormant smile of cool amusement appear as I struggled to control my surprise. Not at his announcement of their marriage, that had been obvious from about three microseconds after they first saw each other, but at his casual reminder that I was really a man. Was that some subtle dig, to highlight that I wasn't a real woman as his Vixen was? At first I was hurt, but within a heartbeat or two I realized that he was so focused on Vixen and his love for her that there just wasn't room for anyone else in his life. He was building distance between us, or perhaps just letting me know about the distance that had already formed. Only a few weeks before I would have stayed hurt by his comment, but now I raised my eyes to Kelly, whose eyes were moving toward mine with the simultaneous reactions of the near-telepathy we shared, and there was a mirror of my cool amusement in her own eyes. We had each other, she told me silently, and didn't need anyone else. Let them have each other as well. I nodded slightly in agreement and my smile warmed up when I turned back to Rocky.

"We'd be proud to do whatever you'd like," I challenged him to choose his image of me.

"Then Brandy, we'd like you to be maid of honor, and Kelly, we'd like you for the other bridesmaid. Odysseus has already agreed to be best man and the captain of the ship we met on will be the other groomsman."

"When, where, and what do we wear?" Kelly asked with a grin that had warmed up as well.

"Vix," Rocky said, giving her permission to speak.

"We want to be married at sea, on another of Rocky's ships. We're planning for a spring cruise down the west coast of Mexico, so bring a bikini. I thought we might discuss the bridesmaid dresses a little. Do you have any ideas."

"It's your wedding," I said. "We'll wear whatever complements you the best."

Glancing at her master for confirmation of his continuing desire for her to speak, Vixen broke from her cool control to giggle, "Well, what I had in mind was a sort of Gone With The Wind approach, with tight corsets, enormous skirts, and flamboyant bosoms."

"Sounds terrific!" exclaimed Kelly. "I can't wait."

I smiled as well, but my eyes were on Rocky. His pride in his beautiful fiancee was clear in his eyes, and it was clear that he was as devoted to her as she was to him. Lord Odysseus had done well for them both, and I realized that he had done me a service as well. Wild, energetic sex with everything that moved was fun, and I expected Kelly and I might have another few adventures. But nothing was a wonderful as the time she and I shared alone. Losing Rocky was going to turn out to be one of the best things in a long series that had happened to me.

Vixen must have told Rocky about Kelly's wonderful sense of style, because he sat patiently as they discussed some of the details for the wedding. I caught his eyes for just a moment and motioned for him to join me. His first impulse was to check on Vixen, always aware at a level too deep for conscious thought of his responsibility toward her, but she was chatting happily with Kelly so he nodded and stood up. We went out onto the patio in our back yard and I turned to face him.

"Why did you offer for me to be the best man?" I asked.

"Because you are a man," he said, "and we wanted you to have your choice."

"Did you think I would choose to be reminded that I was really a man under my clothes?"

At this he lost the unquestioning attitude of control that he had displayed when he was with Vixen. He showed embarrassment and weakness that revealed just how demanding it was to be constantly dominant.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I was just thinking about how similar you look to Vixen, and somehow the hidden difference seemed very important to me. I guess I shouldn't have brought it up."

"Don't worry about it, the difference is important to me, too," I laughed, defusing the tension. "You showed me, and Vixen, that what you and I had between us has burned away in the fire of love you and Vixen have for each other. I wouldn't have it any other way. But I hope you don't intend to let my secret out with others. Only you, Vixen, Kelly, and Erik know about me."

"I'd never tell anyone else," he promised. "You're still a special friend to both of us, and I wouldn't do anything to hurt you."

I smiled to show agreement, but I knew what he really meant is that he wouldn't do anything to hurt me unless it benefited Vixen. In his world, she was first and there really was no second place. Oh, well, that's the way it should be. In fact, I had come to realize that I felt the same way about Kelly. Nonetheless, I didn't imagine we'd be seeing much of them after the wedding. There were at least some memories of me that would interfere with their images of each other. I kissed him lightly on the cheek and turned back to the house, letting the orbit of my hips remind him that he had been attracted to me, at least once upon a time. Yet I could feel the wall between us now, and realized what he must have felt when he saw Kelly and I together. I hadn't ever noticed it before because my relationship with him had been so different from my love for Kelly that my mind couldn't even conceive of him in competition with her. Perhaps I should have been flattered that his mind could conceive of me in competition with Vixen. We weren't the same, though, and in matters more fundamental than plumbing. My own personality was dominant, too, and I was beginning to realize that Rocky and I were never really compatible. In fact, though I hadn't understood it when I asked him to come talk with me, this little scene had primarily been to re-establish my own control over our relationship, a control I had unconsciously exercised back before we had created Lord Atlas.

Back in the living room, Kelly and Vixen were wrapping up their plans. It seemed they had the basic wedding arrangements already settled. Kelly would get our bridesmaid dresses, not surprisingly the color selected was the pale ice-blue that complemented her eyes so well. I grinned at her when she announced their choice, letting her know I didn't mind at all, dark colors wouldn't look good on the women in the wedding party.

"So, what else will be happening on this cruise?" I asked.

"Well, we thought we might have a costume party," Rocky grinned.

"Let me guess what the theme of the party might be," I offered.

His wide grin and Vixen's strangled giggle confirmed my insight without words.

"Good. You've never met the Lady Raven, Rocky. I think you'll be impressed."

The immediate response visible in Vixen's nipples showed she hadn't forgotten the Lady Raven, either. Rocky was so attuned to her that he picked up on her excitement immediately, and I could see a pensive expression linger in his eyes for a moment, but his confidence in his relationship with Vixen was strong enough not to make him really worry, while I was feeling better and better about our new relationship, recognizing it was based on a truer foundation than we had before.

The definite schedule of the wedding cruise provided an additional incentive for us to learn the patterns of the martial dance that Erik had introduced to us. I had overtaken Kelly and was the first to reach the final step, on the forward path. She passed me for a while as we learned to dance the pattern in reverse, but we finished at nearly the same time. It was no longer necessary to demonstrate the benefits of the dance to us, we were moving with such fluid grace that the martial aspects seemed unimportant. Hopefully we would never find occasion to use them anyway. Just succeeding at the dance and obtaining the intensely sensual motion that resulted made the long hours of practice worth while. When I finally stopped at the first step of the pattern, after working all the way forward and back, Kelly greeted me with a warm hug and a kiss. To my surprise, Lord Odysseus did also. We hadn't had a sexual relation while he had been teaching us, but his embrace indicated a graduation ceremony might be in order.

It turned out I was right about the graduation ceremony, but wrong about when. We just moved into another level of training as Lord Odysseus brought out shoes with clunky wide heels a few inches high, much less attractive than our normal style, and much heavier.

"You still need to learn to dance in high heels," he reminded us. "These wider heels will protect the mats. Good luck."

I looked at Kelly to meet her simultaneous gaze and we groaned in unison, then giggled with pleasure at yet another proof of the closeness we had achieved.

"Back to square one," she sighed.

"Actually, it's step one. Even my foot isn't a square," I teased.

"These ugly heels make us both look like we have square feet," she complained with a grin to show she understood the necessity.

"Then let's work through this quickly, so we don't have to wear them long."

Easier said than done, but we made our progress. It wasn't as bad the second time through since we already understood the most important issue, to let ourselves dance rather than force the motions. We also always knew where the next step was so we often could progress through more than one at a time. When we could dance the pattern wearing the medium-tall shoes, Erik moved us to a single pattern he had painted inside his house, in a large salon that looked like a ballroom.

"There are no pads on this one. Put on your regular sandals and give it a try. I expect you'll have few bruises to take home tonight, but you can get through it."

Walking in our towering shoes was more normal to us than the shorter ones had been, and the flowing grace the pattern had already given us lifted us to a more beautiful motion than any ordinary women possessed. Nonetheless, the combination of sky-high heels and convoluted pattern was the greatest challenge yet, and it took a few bruises before we mastered it.

While we were working on this last phase in our training, we were getting fitted for our bridesmaid dresses. They really were like something from the antebellum south, incredibly elegant, incredibly flattering. I could hardly wait for the chance to show off our new, beautiful gowns and felt like spring would never arrive.

There was one problem, though, and I brought it up with Erik after one of our training sessions, using my beautiful contralto voice with the strength of Raven, "Lord Odysseus, granting us the privilege of your training in the dance has interfered with your normal lifestyle. Your slave girl Vixen has moved on, and you haven't obtained another while we have been occupying your time."

"You're right, Lady Raven," he replied, picking up on my characterization. "I might have to ask to borrow Angel for an evening to go to a bondage party. Perhaps I'll take Vivid as well."

"I'm sure they'd both enjoy it immensely, but I have another suggestion. I know a woman who would love to be trained, though she might not realize it yet herself. Would you be interested?"

"Perhaps," he answered. "Normally I don't commit to slaves without examining them first, but I would place great faith in your recommendation."

I explained the plan to them, provoking a silvery giggle from Kelly and a thoughtful, introspective smile from Lord Odysseus.

"Yes, that might work very well," he agreed.

The next bondage party was coming up, and I made the necessary arrangements. When the time was approaching to go to the party, Angel presented herself to me in her beautiful, tiny slave dress. Though Lord Odysseus had joined us for the ride to the party site, I placed the restraints on Angel myself, using the elegant golden chain bondage that I had originally designed, complete with hobble. Lord Odysseus had no slave of his own, yet, but that was part of the plan.

Exactly on time, the limousine I had arranged for showed up, driven by Cheryl. She stepped from the car to open our door, her eyes again glowing when she saw Angel in bondage. I grinned at her, provoking a blush, but Milord Odysseus gazed at her in frank appraisal, provoking an even greater heat to her face, and a visible response in her own nipples. That had been the only remaining question as far as I was concerned. I knew Cheryl responded sensually to advances from a woman, but I didn't know if she liked men as well. By obvious demonstration, she did.

"Good evening, Cheryl," I said, "this is Lord Odysseus. He will be joining us, tonight."

"Yes, ma'am," she replied.

"Now, Cheryl, I already told you not to call me ma'am," I said firmly. "Tonight you will address me as Milady Raven."

"Yes, Milady Raven," she said, instantly accepting my dominance.

I placed Angel on the jumpseat, strapped in safely and reasonably comfortable. In the bag I carried with me were both gags, the red slave dress, and another set of chains. Our plan was for Cheryl to become the slave of Lord Odysseus tonight. It looked like we were on our way.

We used the trip to the party to discuss training methods, mostly those of Lord Odysseus. He described techniques I had never tried, from either side, but they provoked my sensitive nipples to show through the tight bustier of my leather dress. Angel's nipples perked up, too, and her scent filled the air of the limousine. I knew Cheryl was listening in, and I would have bet her own hot buttons were hard and full. When we reached the hotel we laughed to see a sign for limousine parking that led to a side entrance to the hotel so bondage party attendees wouldn't have to go through the main lobby. Cheryl bounced out of the car to get our door for us, standing politely as I swung my long legs out of the seat. Our parking location was well shielded from on-lookers, so I decided to bring things to a head immediately.

"Cheryl, we have a problem that you could solve for us," I began our seduction.

"Yes, ma'am?" she replied.

I let my amused smile go cold while I stared at her. In a moment she realized her mistake and said, "I mean, yes Milady Raven?"

This was a critical point, if she withdrew from my control our plan would fail, but instead we saw her nipple points appear, more prominent than ever as she accepted my dominance once again. I let my smile show amusement again and continued as though her mistake were unremarkable.

"Lord Odysseus has recently sold his slave girl and requires another in order to gain entrance to the party tonight. You have been granted the privilege of being his slave for the evening. If you show special talent, he may consent to keep you as his slave for an extended period."

Her mouth opened in shock, but her cheeks flamed with heat and I imagined I could taste a new flavor in the musky scent surrounding us, a delicate fragrance subtly different than Angel's. I hadn't asked to if she wanted to be a slave. I just informed her of her role. She could have refused, but I knew she would not.

"What do I need to do?" she asked me.

"Lord Odysseus will be your master," I replied, then stepped away from the door.

Lord Odysseus got out of the car with confident power, the mysterious strength of his eyes capturing Cheryl in the instant it took for her fall into their gray depths.

"Remove your clothes," he ordered bluntly while I reached past him to get Angel from her seat. Cheryl began to strip out of her chauffeur's jacket immediately, then removed her tiny shorts. She hesitated for a moment while she stood in her underwear, looking around to see if we were observed. When she looked back to Lord Odysseus his eyes showed a hard, unyielding cold that made her mistake very clear.

"I'm sorry, Milord Odysseus," she began.

"Silence," he ordered. "Your penalty for inattention will be silence for the rest of the evening."

Without glancing around he held out his hand to me, and I placed one of the ball gags in it. The idea seemed appropriate for Angel as well, and I turned to her with the other one, to be greeted by her open mouth. Cheryl saw this response and copied it, accepting her own gag. Her fingers completed their job of removing her clothes, stopping only at Lord Odysseus's order when she reached to remove her shoes. Her body was not as deliciously curved as Angel's, few women had that privilege, but it was certainly more abundant than either Vixen or Vivid. She had obviously not required the attention of a cosmetic surgeon to achieve her sensuous shape. Her nipples remained extended, whether from the cold of exposure to the evening air or from erotic arousal was unclear, and unimportant. She was beautiful and she would be aroused before long anyway.

Though she was gagged, she had no other restraints at that point, so Lord Odysseus handed her the wisp of red slave dress. It took her a moment to decide how to put it on, even with Angel's example, then another moment to realize how little there was when she had it in place. Cheryl had kept her panties on, not realizing that Angel wore none, but Lord Odysseus let her keep them. I wondered how long that would continue.

"Keep your head up and your shoulders back," he ordered. "I will consider it disobedience if you allow yourself to become exposed. I will also consider it disobedience if your nipples do not clearly show through the dress."

This comment made them pop sharply into sight through the material, her excitement at her condition building moment by moment. Lord Odysseus twirled his finger and she turned around, shivering in anticipation. He placed her collar around her neck, provoking an uncontrollable tremor through her shoulders. Then he put the cuffs around her wrists and ankles. We had long realized that anticipation was a very important part of the submission and actual restraints on motion were only applied after the slave had a chance to absorb the feel of steel against her skin. This had worked wonderfully well with Angel and Huntress, then been confirmed with Vivid. Lord Odysseus was himself familiar with this technique, of course, and used it whenever he first bound a slave.

In our plan, we had decided that Lord Odysseus would not touch Cheryl in any intimate way at least until she requested it, and only after the party in any event. Therefore, before he bound her with the golden chain, he ordered her to remove her panties herself. She hesitated for in instant, causing a chill to form in her master's eyes, then quickly complied. The golden chain was draped from her neck to her ankles, her wrists were bound to it and her ankles to the hobble, and we had two beautiful slaves. I hadn't brought the vibrator eggs, tonight, expecting that might be a little too much for Cheryl's first experience, so we hooked leashes to their collars and approached the party. I still had their nipple clamps in my bag, though neither slave girl knew that.

My reputation as Raven preceded us, and a way was cleared to the registration table. Angel and I were admitted freely, of course, but Lord Odysseus paid the fee for himself and his new slave girl. When they asked for her name, for the contest, Lord Odysseus replied, "She has no name, yet, and we will not be competing."

He obviously intended to name his new slave girl after her personality was more apparent, or her talents. However, it was a shock to her to realize that her owner controlled all aspects of her life, including her name. The new slave's attention became even more focused on her master as she tried to become sufficiently pleasing to earn a name. Unfortunately, the first noticeable attention she received was another reprimand. Or perhaps fortunately for her, considering the nature of the punishment.

"Slave Girl, you are disobeying me again," Lord Odysseus declared sternly.

Her eyes widened in dismay. She wasn't sure what she had done, and she had certainly been concentrating on her master, trying to comply with his every desire. That was the problem, in fact, she had been so busy analyzing what he might want, that she had forgotten to allow herself to enjoy the sensuality of the situation and remain visibly excited. Her nipple points had disappeared within the soft folds of her dress. Lord Odysseus reached out to pinch them through the material as though he were turning on a machine, not caressing a woman's breasts, but they popped up sharply again, both at his touch, and at the pretty slave's excitement at this reminder of her position. He then looked around for the appropriate table of implements, but I interjected myself into his attention.

"Lord Odysseus, perhaps you might find these useful," I said as I offered him one of the sets of nipple clamps.

"Why, thank you Lady Raven, these are perfect."

His new slave girl gasped around her gag at the thought of the sensations the clamps would inflict on her. She had seen Angel and Vivid wearing these clamps and knew they weren't desperately painful, but she thought they must be incredibly uncomfortable. She was wrong. My own nipple points pulsed strongly with the memory from personal experience that if applied correctly, they were fascinating and intensely compelling, but not painful. Still, she was new to this and obviously frightened. I decided to help reassure her by demonstration.

"Angel, I think you should share this stimulation with your slave sister," I said, drawing forth the other linked clamps from my purse.

Her own nipples were flamboyantly erect, straining at the front of her thin dress and I quickly attached both clamps to their proper use. She gasped as the clamps were tightened, swaying slightly as the sensations flooded through her, though it was the remembered intensity of their removal more than the current stimulation that really captured her emotions. I hadn't ever fastened them to her before, so I wasn't entirely sure I got the tightness correct, but her eyes betrayed no real pain, just intense excitement, so I figured I must have gotten it about right. Lord Odysseus repeated the procedure on his own slave. Her gasp around her gag was even more intense than Angel's had been, though it wasn't clear what the cause was for her response. She might have just been unused to such intense stimulation, or she might have been unusually responsive. If the latter were the case, Lord Odysseus might have found his next long-term slave girl.

Our purpose for coming to this party was primarily to obtain Cheryl as a slave girl for Lord Odysseus. As soon as she accepted his control, we had met that objective. Nonetheless, we spent a little time at the party, recognizing the benefits to our slaves of the exciting atmosphere of desire that would be present. Our slave girls responded wonderfully. Their eyes shown with the attention they received, their nipples, now constrained to be erect by the clamps, were so intensely stimulated they appeared to throb visibly with each beat of their racing hearts. A continuous scent of female arousal wafted around them as we strolled at the slow pace compatible with their ankle hobbles. I enjoyed the party as well, proud of the beauty of my slave girl, and of myself. Succeeding at the pattern dance had given me a lightness on my feet, even while wearing my thigh-high spiked boots, that made me feel more intensely alive, more sensual than I had ever done before. In its own way, this training from Lord Odysseus had helped me even more than his sexual training, incredible though that had been.

The training in the dance had a more practical benefit as well, though. My reputation as Lady Raven had been set, in part, by my physical dominance of the erstwhile "Master Ajax" at the first party where we appeared. He had demanded to buy Angel, finally laying hands on me to try and get my agreement. I had surprised him, and myself, by quickly knocking him to the floor and rendering him helpless. That sort of surprise wouldn't work again. Nonetheless I had become a target for the "young gunslinger" types who wanted to try me out physically, especially the cowardly ones who thought a woman would be easier to overpower. The intense training in motion and body control that Lord Odysseus had provided to us allowed me to recognize preparations for attack in one of the would-be masters at the party. He had a slave girl, of sorts, who was not very attractive but had consented to wear a light string around her waist as a pseudo-leash. As he approached me his pretend slave followed along, no subservience in her attitude. I expected they both wanted a softly feminine slave to dominate in compensation for their own lack of true character strength.

"How much for the one in white?" the man asked. His badge proclaimed him to be "Master Colossus" and he was certainly big, but his bulk was largely fat, with little muscle definition.

"She's not for sale, especially not to one such as you," I sneered. This time my expression was no act, I really found this slug repulsive.

"Listen, Miss High-and-Mighty Bitch, we've got good money, and you owe us at least a fair price so we can see if we want her."

"I owe you nothing," I said in dismissal, and turned to walk toward another set of tables, not exactly giving way to him, yet not forcing him to move from my way, either.

His pseudo-slave was vocally urging him to "teach me a lesson" while we moved away, and then I heard the sound of his accelerating footsteps behind me. I judged there was time, so I casually handed Angel's leash to Lord Odysseus and twirled in a sequence from the middle of the pattern, grateful now that we had been forced to learn the dance even while wearing towering spiked heels. My shapely form swayed gracefully out of his way, my flowing arm motions intercepted his neck as he passed and helped him to overbalance just far enough his running feet couldn't quite keep up with his heavy bulk. Nonetheless, he tried, accelerating even faster for a few more steps as he frantically worked to get his feet caught up with his center of gravity. He failed. With a sliding crash he bellied in, scraping his nose on the floor, pinching his round stomach over his too-tight belt. I expected he might have cried out from the pain that was the only return he had earned from his attack, but he probably didn't have the breath.

Lord Odysseus casually handed Angel's leash back to me, boredom carefully written on his face to highlight the absolute superiority we enjoyed over the other owners at the party. My own face displayed the look of cool amusement that announced my willingness to keep helping others make a fool of themselves as long as they came at me, a look I trained on Colossus's pseudo-slave. One elegant arched eyebrow was sufficient to ask her if she intended to repeat his stupidity, but she just glared at me and moved toward her compatriot, giving us a wide berth.

"Well done, Lady Raven," Lord Odysseus congratulated me. "I see by your own excitement that you enjoyed that. Don't get to enjoy it too much, though, or you'll lose the perspective that makes you a good master."

"Don't worry," I assured him. "I enjoy the grace of the dance, but I only enjoy humiliating slugs like that fat pig. Only a mistress who can control herself is truly qualified to control others." Lord Odysseus's pretty slave girl heard my comment, and I saw an introspective expression in her eyes for a moment.

"Lord Odysseus, could I speak with your slave for a moment?" I asked.

He nodded, offering me her leash.

"No, thank you. I'll talk as we walk along," I said, slowing my pace so that I now walked beside the girl he owned.

"Pretty slave, you may not realize it, yet, but you may have the opportunity to be trained by the most accomplished master I can imagine. He has trained me in the proper use of my body and mind, both to achieve indescribable sexual fulfillment, and to optimize every motion I make. Yet as you can see, he has not broken my spirit. Instead he has made me happier than ever. I needed only a little of his attention, since I have had the benefit of Angel's love for several years to help in my own development, but I would gladly surrender myself to him for any and all things he asked of me. Pray that he offers you the chance to become his slave on a continuing basis, as I did."

Angel had kept up with the new girl as I talked so she could hear every word. When I talked about my own slave, she had rubbed her body up against me, nuzzling to show her happiness in the only way possible while bound and gagged. When I had mentioned my willingness to be Lord Odysseus's slave, though I was clearly a capable and dominant mistress already, Angel had nodded as well. I smiled at her, not begrudging her desire for another master, for the right master. It was this acceptance, more than anything else, that influenced the new girl to commit herself to Lord Odysseus. Our absolute trust, not only that we would not be harmed, but that we would be wonderfully pleased with service to Lord Odysseus, convinced her to give it a try. I could see the resolution in her eyes, a resolution to win the privilege of absolute subservience to the compelling man who owned her.

The few others who had been demonstrating by the tension in their bodies that they were considering a challenge to us quickly shrunk in on themselves and moved away. The murmur of my latest exploit spread through the crowd faster than we could have walked even if not limited to the speed of our hobbled slaves, curiosity mixed with respect as they wondered what had happened. Most of the direct witnesses probably didn't have the perceptions to even realize what I had done, seeing only the liquid glide of the dance and not the subtle assist that had caused the man to fall. Nonetheless, they gave us respectful distance, and certainly no further challenges. We left the party room at an easy pace, strolling toward where the limousine was parked.

When we reached it, Lord Odysseus dropped his slave girl's leash and motioned her to stand still. He reached up and removed her gag, allowing her a few seconds to loosen the stiffness in her jaw, then asked, "All right, girl, now is your choice. It will be your last free choice until I decide otherwise, which may be some time. Will you accept me as your lord and master?"

She dropped her eyes, staring at the clamps exciting her nipples, and replied in a small, quiet voice, "yes."

He made no comment, but displeasure showed in his eyes. After a moment, she noticed his frown and a look of dismay filled her own eyes as she tried to decide what she had done wrong. He offered no sign of specific transgressions, obviously intending that she should reason it out for herself. In a moment, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her head, realizing that Lord Odysseus neither desired nor accepted weak, broken spirits.

"Yes! Milord Odysseus, I beg you to grant me the privilege of being owned by you," she proudly announced.

"Better," he curtly accepted her request. "Lady Raven, will you drive us home? I will start training this girl immediately."

"Certainly," I replied. "Can Angel be of any help in her training?"

"Why, yes, she could be. Thank you."

I offered him Angel's leash and moved to the door of the limousine. Cheryl's clothes were inside already, but I had put the keys in my own purse. In a moment, I had the doors unlocked and was adjusting the driver's seat to my larger size. Lord Odysseus took care of the slave girls, of course, positioning them in accordance with his plans for the ride home. I watched his training session in the rear view mirror, listening to the words that accompanied the physical attention he gave them. Angel was allowed the privilege of sucking his cock, demonstrating an uninhibited commitment to his pleasure. In return, he had the new slave lick and suck at Angel's jewel, lifting her near to the point of no return. While this moment was approaching, he caressed the new girl's pleasure nubbin, bringing her to a state of intensity that was only the first on a matchless journey of development, but was already more than she had ever experienced. When she was ready, Lord Odysseus entered her from behind, using his exquisite skill to bring them both the very brink of ecstasy just as Angel reached her own moment of truth. Lord Odysseus obviously knew the benefit of the nipple clamps as he yanked them from Angel and the new girl in quick succession, triggering screams of uncontrollable emotion at the overwhelming sensation. His own pleasure, incidental except as a sign of acceptance at the new girl's skill, exploded within her. Her eyes were below the level of the seat, but I knew from my own experience that they would now show a commitment to him in a way that consumed her utterly, not limited to the intellectual decision to accept his training she had already expressed.

When I reached our house, from which Lord Odysseus would take the limousine and his new girl to his own home, both of the pretty slaves were sleeping on the floor of the car. None of their bonds had been removed, except for their gags and the nipple clamps, but their faces showed only deep relaxation, completely at peace, completely comfortable, completely fulfilled. It seemed a shame to wake Angel, so I gathered her into my arms, grateful for the strength I possessed as a man and for the balance and body control of training in the dance of the pattern.

I smiled to myself at the regrets I had once had because of what I was not, now comfortable with what I was, more unique than I had even once desired. Lord Odysseus smiled at me as well, his attunement to me so complete it approached the telepathy that Kelly and I shared and nodded his understanding of the cause for my own satisfaction. In a moment, the limousine was gone and I carried Kelly into the house.

Chapter 35 - Dancing the Night Away

Lord Odysseus's new slave girl proved so adept at the learning the pattern that she earned the name Dancer in short order. Kelly and I visited frequently when we used the pattern painted on the floor in his house to refine our own dances. It was a delight to see Dancer develop under her master's wonderful teaching. Every day, it seemed, you could see her grow in femininity, in grace (due to learning the pattern, but more than that as well), and in sensuality as she discovered just how incredible her body could become in delivering pleasure to her. By the time we were packing for the cruise, she was already more beautiful than any woman we had ever met, except those who had themselves been granted the privilege of training by Lord Odysseus.

The four of us flew together to LA, where we would meet the cruise ship that would provide the site for the wedding. Most of the evening clothes that Kelly and I had gotten for our first cruise would work well on this cruise, but we had to replace our coats and warm boots with bikinis and more bikinis for the sun we expected. Dancer, Kelly and I all received the same lecture about our impossibly tall heels, from everyone connected with the airline, the airport, whoever.

"Let's make this a contest," Kelly giggled. "Everyone keep track of how many times someone warns you about your shoes."

"That would sort of be a contest to see who is the most noticeable, right?" Dancer asked.

"I guess you could say that," I agreed.

It was no contest, really. While Kelly was the most beautiful and had the most spectacular figure, and I was the most striking with my lean strength, and while we all displayed the impossibly fluid grace that comes with success at dancing the pattern, Dancer decided her prize would be a sign of respect for her master and her determination to win for him lifted her well above us. She was so successful at attracting attention, not by blatant interference with others but just by broadcasting an almost subliminal message of intense erotic desire, that I expected to start hearing announcements over the PA system as her effect spread throughout the area.

Erik Sanford, Lord Odysseus, watched over this byplay with his own look of detached amusement. He wasn't finished with Dancer, yet, but his success was remarkable. Letting her out into public was part of her training, and she was doing very well at demonstrating that the bonds that held her to her master were not made of steel, but of the deepest, most compelling devotion. We boarded the flight on time, arrived in LA on time, and found a limousine waiting for us, compliments of Rocky Thornton. Vixen met us at the gangway to the ship and escorted us to our cabins. She was clearly brimful of joy, not the bubbly effervescence of Kelly, nor the wide-eyed puppy-out-to-see-the-world exuberance of Dancer, but a deeper, quieter sense of happiness that was actually closest to my own emotion. There was no subservience about her, neither to Lady Raven that lurked within me, nor to Lord Odysseus who had transformed her entire personality. She was owned totally by Lord Atlas now, and just as totally satisfied.

We wasted no time in breaking out our most outrageous bikinis immediately after the ship pulled away from the dock. This time neither Dancer nor I could compete with the incredible bounty revealed by Kelly's tiny covering, so we laughed together as the stud patrol converged on her.

"Where do they manufacture those guys for you?" I whispered to my wife as a brace of blond hunks drifted casually, but quickly toward her.

"Special order," she laughed. "Didn't you bring your coupon?"

"Funny, I missed that catalog," I giggled.

Dancer couldn't have cared less for any men other than her master, and I began to see that at least a part of her training would be to wean her away from her attachment to him. I wondered if Lord Odysseus would ever decide to settle down with one woman. If I had the right plumbing, and didn't have Kelly, I would have applied for the position myself.

My own form was more than sufficient to gain a following, though the muscle definition I had put off all the weaklings. I figured I might have a few fun walks in the moonlight but I wasn't ready to let anyone else in on my secret. Dancer didn't even know, so I wouldn't let it go beyond flirting. I figured my real tits and new disguise mounds would be good enough for any caresses that didn't actually get inside my panties, though, so I could have a little more fun than when I had first met Rocky. Actually, my love and respect for Kelly had grown from the adventures we had shared, and she certainly kept me satisfied sexually. At least I thought I was satisfied, though I was eventually to learn that her own creativity hadn't been tapped, yet.

When we were dressing for dinner on the first night of the cruise, we decided to resurrect the gowns we had worn on our first cruise when we had met Rocky. Kelly was lacing me into my corset when she said, "Goodness, girl, you waist is trimmer than ever. Wearing a corset all the time has really helped your shape."

"Goodness had nothing to do with it," I laughed as I repeated the standard line.

"You've changed shape, too," I said as I laced her into the snug embrace of her own corset. "Your waist is so small this corset is almost too big, but your tits are going to spill right out of it."

"They've been bigger ever since they started giving milk," she explained.

"Believe me, I know," I sighed. We had succeeded, for a while, in getting a thin fluid from my own breasts, but the quantity was so small that we had decided just to concentrate on Kelly's supply. I remembered the sensation, though, and missed it sometimes.

Our trip to the dining room was infinitely easier than the first time, so long ago. We could now float in our high spikes without effort, thanks the matchless body control we had earned by succeeding in dancing the pattern while wearing heels. Only the long skirts to our dresses required attention, and the slits up our thighs allowed us to gather them out of the way. When we reached the table we saw familiar name cards, Miss Brandy Dewinter and Mrs. Kelly Dewinter placed just as they had been before.

"Well, Mrs. Dewinter," I chuckled, "it looks like we'll be separated by this guy named Peter Thornton."

"Gee, Miss Dewinter, I wonder if that guy ever has problems with rocks," she mused.

"Perhaps, I'll look and let you know," I grinned.

Erik Sanford was already there, sitting across from Rocky's place. Dancer was to his right, leaving a place for a woman directly across from me, at the Captain's right hand. Vixen came in to take it, holding to Rocky's arm as though it were the anchor of her life. I noticed that the Captain of this ship was a less humorous man than the one who commanded our first cruise ship as the two ship's masters walked in together a few minutes later, taking their appointed places.

"Miss Dewinter," this ship's Captain said, "I am Captain Powell. I understand you have already met Captain Samson on an earlier cruise."

"Yes, sir," I smiled offering him my hand. "Though I'm not sure he would remember me."

"Nonsense," Captain Samson said from his place beyond Dancer," I remember you and your sister-in-law vividly."

"Vivid memories are quite interesting," I smiled, provoking a strangled giggle from Kelly and a grin of respect from Erik at my quick response with a private joke. I smiled at Vixen, who smiled in return, a dreamy look in her eyes as she remembered our time as slave sisters.

"It has been a long time since I've seen Vivid," she mused. "The last time was when I met Milord Atlas, and the time before that was when I met Lord Odysseus. Yes, Vivid memories are interesting. Will she be attending the party tomorrow night?"

"No, but the Lady Raven will be here," I said.

"You know, I've never met the Lady Raven," Rocky commented.

"She's a most impressive woman," said Erik. "I think you'd enjoy spending some time with her."

"I know I always do," confirmed Kelly. "I'm looking forward to the party."

"Me, too," chimed in Dancer and Vixen in near unison, each looking at her master and owner with visible devotion.

The dinner proceeded a little uncomfortably, the surface gentility covering a deeper tension. So many of us at the table had meant so much to each other, at various times, that finding the proper balance among our new relationships was even harder than forming friendships with total strangers. With the exception of the two ship's captains, each of us had multiple personas in our various master and slave roles (not to mention my even more basic impersonation), and while there was no psychological disorder since we knew who was real and who was created, still some of us had adopted role characteristics into our basic lives. Dancer and Vixen reveled in the freedom of their slavery, carrying their devotion to their owners with them wherever they went, yet Lord Atlas and Lord Odysseus were not fully in character at the moment so they needed to show a persona of control to their willing slaves while acting ordinary to others. The food was excellent, however, though Kelly and I were constrained by our corsets to mere samples of the various offerings.

Captain Powell excused himself as soon as the meal neared completion. He was obviously less comfortable in this social situation than our first captain had been. We had barely finished the remainder of the meal and stood when a couple of blond hunks converged on Kelly. Rocky took Vixen off to celebrate their love in some private place, and Erik took Dancer's arm and led her toward the ballroom. I found myself alone and thought I might follow, since watching two who could dance the pattern move to music would be beautiful to see, when I felt a gentle touch on my arm.

"Miss Dewinter, could I talk with you for a moment?" asked Captain Samson.

"Only if you'll call me Brandy," I replied.

"Then for this cruise you must call me John," he smiled.

He continued when I nodded and asked, "After our last cruise together I would have taken a large bet it would be you, not some other woman who would marry Rocky. I couldn't help notice that his Vixen is enough like you to be a sister. He's been a good friend for a long time and I'm a little worried that he might have latched onto her as a substitute for you, after you had some sort of argument. I hope he's not settling for second best on the rebound."

"Captain, . .um . .John, don't worry about it. It's a long story, some of which needs to remain private, but you ought to look at it the other way around. For him, I would be the poor second best. Think of Vixen as the perfection of the image I strive toward, at least in Rocky's eyes."

"I can't imagine any way in which she would be more desirable than you. You have a strength of character that she doesn't come close to matching."

"Thank you, John, you're a gentleman as always. Perhaps, though that is the very problem. Rocky and I are a little too much the same, in more ways than one. Vixen is his perfect match. You may not know this, but Erik Sanford is her personal trainer and counselor as well as a doctor. He has helped her to develop her full potential, and that potential meets what Rocky needs, just as he supplies what she needs. Be happy for them, I am."

"Lady, you are tall, solid gold. Here you are cheerfully giving away one of the most terrific catches a girl could imagine. Rocky is rich, handsome, young, and nice. Don't you have any regrets at all?"

"Believe me, I shed a few tears in the time after Rocky met Vixen, but that's all behind me now. Frankly, I spent a little time with Erik as well and he helped me see where my own development path needs to go. I'm better off without Rocky, or at least just being friends. I know that now."

He smiled at me, looking for sadness in my eyes, but if there was any I hid it from him, and from myself as well. After a second, he nodded, and offered me his arm with a courtly bow. "Well, Brandy, since it seems you have no escort, would you grant me the favor of your company in a dance or two."

"Gladly, kind sir," I replied just as formally, then changed to a giggling teenager style. "I think that would be just peachy."

When we reached the ballroom, Erik and Dancer were gliding to the music, more fluid and graceful than any professional dancers had ever been. Many of those in the room were just watching in pleasure and awe at the beauty of their coordinated motion. Captain Samson, however, headed right for the dance floor and we were soon providing our own counterpoint interpretation of the music. He led with sure confidence, whirling me around the room quite aggressively, though wonderfully matched to the style of the music. The foxtrot that was playing when we started gave way to a more sedate waltz and he held me a little closer and more intimately as our pace slowed. I was reflecting on the value of the disguising cushion I wore beneath my gown when the music changed yet again to a dramatic tango.

It has been said that any couple that dances a tango well should immediately get married. It is one of the most emotionally captivating ballroom dances, one in which attunement to your partner has an overwhelming influence on the quality of the dance. I had never really done it well as Ran, too tentative and self-conscious to let myself go. As Brandy, though, especially with John providing a strong lead, I found myself swept up into the rhythm. My training in the pattern of sumito allowed me to flow in graceful response to any move he initiated, as though we had been partners for years. Erik and Dancer had a similar fluid grace, but it quickly became clear that my partner had the more artistic soul, which surprised me at first. But then I remembered that many men of the sea had that artistic temperament, perhaps it was a prerequisite for enjoyment of a life at sea, or perhaps the ever changing beauty of the ocean provided an input that landlubbers lacked.

As the dance ended I realized that there were only two couples still dancing, John and I, and Erik and Dancer. The rest of the people had become an audience for our display, leaving the floor to us in respect for the artistry we created. They applauded when we hit our final freeze, both couples finishing with a dramatic flourish of swirling skirts (revealing shapely legs) that settled around the tableau we created as a concluding accent.

"You are an incredible dancer," my escort complimented me in wonder. "No one has ever been able to keep up with some of the crazy ideas I get doing a tango."

"You lifted me beyond myself, Captain," I replied, realizing the truth of my comment even as I said it.

He led me now to one of the tables, waving at a waiter to come take our order. I'm not sure he intended for anyone to join us and I began to worry about starting again on the convoluted path that had developed from my last shipboard romance with Rocky, but Erik led Dancer over as well. I saw an instant of disappointment on John's face, but then quick acceptance, knowing that these were already my friends.

"You dance very well," Erik complimented me.

"Thank you, though you taught me how, so it's more a reflection of you than of me," I smiled.

"No," he disagreed with a smile, "your reflection showed the imagination of Captain Samson, I just showed you how to maintain your balance, and perhaps how to float your feet off the floor a little."

"Thank you, Dr. Sanford," replied my partner, "but I think you and Dancer were matchless. I felt like a clumsy bull elephant, enthusiastic, but clumsy."

"Well, I like enthusiasm," I said, interrupting this mutual admiration society meeting. "How about a drink?"

We found seats and ordered. In the pause before conversation resumed I noticed that only Captain Samson was breathing at all heavily. Training in the patterns of the sumito dance had allowed us to move so efficiently that there was no effort required for even the most dramatic ordinary dance. For once, the tight corset hadn't really hampered me, though I remembered the effect my heaving breasts had had when I needed to recover my breath while wearing one. Oh, well, I could always fake it, when I wanted to catch some guy's attention.

Kelly breezed in accompanied by her latest conquest. The joy that always lit her face brought a smile to those around her just from the energy that poured from her. She waved to us and brought her blond hunk, introducing him politely though I forgot his name immediately.

"The story about you guys is already all over the ship," Kelly said. "That must have been some dance. It seems I underestimated you, Captain Samson."

"Please, everyone, call me John. There can only be one captain on a ship, and this lady belongs to another. Besides, we were just having fun."

"Maybe so, but if half the moves people said you were making are real, anyone else would have ended up in traction," Kelly laughed.

"We heard you two put on quite a show, yourselves," she continued, turning to Erik and Dancer.

"Yes," John added, "you are clearly well-named, Dancer. Do you dance professionally?"

"No, but Milord Odysseus taught me how to dance, how to move at all, really," she answered.

"Milord Odysseus?" John asked.

"You'll meet him at the party tomorrow night," I explained. "Along with some other interesting people."

"About that party," he said pensively. "The theme is a little extreme for a cruise ship. Is everyone really supposed to come as either a master or a slave?"

"Or a mistress," I added. "No admittance unless you're willing to be a slave for the evening, or have convinced someone to be your slave."

"Indeed," Captain Samson mused. "Well, we know what Rocky and Vixen will do. She really adores him, though she also truly seems happy to belong to him. Are you spoken for, Brandy?"

"Are you asking to be my slave?" I asked, arching an elegant eyebrow."

"No," he blushed. "I guess I was expecting you might like to be mine."

"Sorry," I replied with a smile. "I make a better mistress than a slave."

"I'm sure you do. I suppose it's not too much of a stretch to expect that Kelly will be your slave."

"Yep," Kelly giggled. "We'll knock their socks off."

John sighed, the introspective look on his face showing both disappointment and uncertainty on what he should do next.

I chuckled and said, "You might need to go hunting for a while. The party is tomorrow, don't waste any time."

He grinned sheepishly, embarrassed at how transparent his thoughts had been. Kelly offered him some encouragement, though.

"You really only need to circulate a little. That dance has made your reputation and I expect you'll find a few women willing to pretend to be your slave for the evening. Maybe some who won't insist it be pretend. If anyone wants to know what it's like to serve a wonderful owner, send them to me. I'll have them panting for the chance in minutes."

"Or to me," Dancer added. "Kelly doesn't really know what it's like to be owned totally, but I do. I'll convince them to give it a try."

"Sure you won't consider helping me out for the evening?" John asked me as he rose to leave.

"Maybe next time," I smiled. "Being a slave can be fun, but my plans are already made for this trip."

He walked away shaking his head. Our lifestyle had long diverged from the norm for our culture, more in my case than he would believe, and the idea that we had all experienced this outrageous situation didn't really fit in his preconceived notion of what sort of people did that. Nonetheless, I expected he would indeed find a pretty slave girl, at least for the evening. We said our own good-byes shortly after that and returned to our room.

The next day dawned bright and clear, with the promise of being hot. Not that we saw the dawn, we slept with the depth made possible when the ship is gently rocking you all night long. By the time we rose it was already quite warm so we found a pair of flattering (meaning skimpy) bikinis and hit the deck chairs to work on our tan. Since I would be wearing my leather bustier dress, my bikini was a strapless design, merely a not-too-wide band of material on top, and two small triangles connected by thin strings below. Kelly had an even greater problem since her slave dress would show any tan lines at all, so she spent the time on her stomach, her top completely untied. The first time she needed sun tan lotion I applied it myself, but thereafter one or another of her blond hunk patrol provided all the help she needed.

That evening we dressed in our familiar costumes as Milady Raven and Angel. I still preferred the original bondage concept, with the tinkling chain leading from neck to hobble, so Angel was quickly locked within my steel.

"I have a new item for you, Angel," I said.

"Yes, Milady? Is it the nipple clamps?"

"Do you want me to attach them?" I asked.

"If you wish, Milady. They are quite intense."

"All right, but we'll do it a little differently, this time. I'll put them on tightly enough to keep your milk from flowing for the evening. That will be even more intense than usual."

"Yes, Milady," she nodded.

I screwed the clamps down to her hard, hot nipples, squeezing them a little tighter than normal. She gasped as the extra pressure was added, but said nothing. The aroma of her arousal confirmed her excitement and pleasure, however. I wondered what the gentle Captain Samson would think when he saw such intense bondage. We would probably shock him, knock his socks off, as Kelly had forecast.

"Actually, that was not the addition I had in mind, though," I told Angel.

Her eyes widened, the stimulation of the nipple clamps seemed almost more than she could bear, and I could see her wonder what else I had in mind. It wasn't a gag, but it was something she had experienced before. Sort of.

I pulled out a little box with a switch on it, and a short antenna. She wasn't sure what significance that had, until I pulled out a vibrator egg, complete with it's own antenna. She gasped again and started to speak but I motioned her to silence, then reached under the tiny skirt to her slave dress to place the egg within her. The antenna protruded down just enough that the tip could be seen below her dress, a mysterious shiny knob that implied hidden support from above. I switched the vibrator on, watching as her eyes began to flutter and her knees to buckle, then I turned it off.

"Oh, Milady, I'm not sure I can stand too much of that." she moaned softly.

"See that you do stand whatever I require of you," I said sternly.

"Yes, Milady," she whispered, once again absorbing the true meaning of surrendering control to me, always more of an emotional than intellectual understanding.

I attached her leash to her collar and we strolled to the party, our pace slowed by her hobbles. I had already decided that we would negotiate the staircases at whatever pace was required rather than holding off on her ankle hobbles, so it took us a while, but I had never intended to get there first. It was clear that most of those on the ship were only playing at owner and slave roles, for there were few who had more in the way of bondage than a simple clothesline rope wrapped around the slave's wrists. Our entrance, when we arrived at the sight of the party was as dramatic as I could have hoped for, announced by the collective gasp of the crowd as we sauntered into the room.

Even though I intended to be relatively late in arriving, I noticed that neither Lord Odysseus nor Lord Atlas were there yet, with their own slaves. Captain Samson was there, though, a lovely red-headed girl trailing behind him wearing a bikini top, a wrap skirt, and a pair of handcuffs he must have scrounged form the ship's master-at-arms, unless he had more interesting tastes than I gave him credit for. His leash was hooked to her handcuffs and she was grinning as she followed him, under minimal control.

"Ah, Brandy, you have a most beautiful captive," he said.

"You will address me as Milady Raven, if you find it necessary to speak to me," I said coldly, showing him the strength of a true mistress with my standard introduction.

By now his own captive had seen the nipple clamps that Angel wore, as well as the chain that bound her hands behind her back, and the hobble at her ankles. Samson's slave girl's response was first to cringe in shock, but I noticed that her nipples popped up through her bikini top.

"The bondage you have applied seems quite intense, Milady Raven," Samson said, trying to recover the camaraderie we had shared earlier.

"It might profit you to explore an equivalent approach," I countered. "Your own slave girl seems quite interested.

"No I'm not," she said softly.

"I do not permit my slaves to speak without permission, but in this case I will respond to her remark," I said, addressing myself to Samson. "Her nipples prove her interest regardless of her words. Recognizing her true needs is the mark of a good mistress, or master. It would seem you both have much to learn, about yourselves and about each other."

"I believe you're right," Samson said. "Wait just a minute, please."

He quickly unlocked one of the handcuffs on his pretty red-headed slave and fastened them again behind her. She stood passively, eyes wide, not protesting but breathing so hard I thought she might hyperventilate. Next, he took the leash from where it had attached to her cuffs and reattached it looped around her neck. She shivered to his touch, but her own arousal scent started to become apparent in the still air around us.

"Better," I complimented him, "but she clearly wants a more intense stimulus. I'll loan you Angel's nipple clamps if you'd like."

This brought expressions of shock to all three of them, Samson, Angel, and the red-head.

"Oh, no, I couldn't do that," Samson said, but we were both watching his slave girl when he said it, and the disappointment was apparent in her face, before she carefully made her expression neutral.

"Well, perhaps I could at that," he said thoughtfully, surprised at the girl's willingness, or desire, or whatever.

I removed Angel's nipple clamps by unscrewing them, not pulling them off. She moaned at the returning sensation and sagged against my hands, but she recovered herself quickly and looked wistfully as I handed the clamps to Samson. Both he and his red-head noticed her reaction, both the moan and the look of regret. It brought the red-headed girl's nipples to even greater attention through the thin bikini top and provided them as targets for Samson's attention. He placed the first one on a protruding button and tightened it until he saw a small wince in her expression, then attached the other one. She was breathing more quickly than ever, panting with the excitement of this incredible experience, but she said nothing, while her scent flooded out even more intensely and Angel's began to subside.

"What have you named her?" I asked Samson.

"Her name is Julie," he said.

"Is that what you have named her?" I prodded.

"Well, no, that's her real name."

"Real slaves have no name except the one given them by their owner. Is she a real slave or not?" I demanded.

He looked at her, wondering just how far she could go. He still considered this all a game, play-acting, but I saw a look of dependence in his slave's eyes, asking him to accept her fully. He nodded abruptly and took on a look of resolution as he began to understand the responsibilities of a slave owner.

"Your name is Button," Lord Samson declared to her, "in honor of your obvious interest in this evening's theme. These clamps will help you continue to display the interest that earned you your name."

"Thank you, Milady Raven," he said to me. "I've learned more in these few minutes about women, and about myself, than I've learned for many years. I begin to see why you consider this Lord Odysseus more of a teacher than anything else."

"Begin to see is right," I allowed. "There is much more to owning a slave, or being a slave, than you'll understand tonight, but now at least you have a good start."

Just then Lord Odysseus entered the room with Dancer. He wore his black leather, just as I did, but Dancer wore a version of the one-shoulder jungle woman's dress that he had dressed Vixen in the night he gave her to Lord Atlas. Her bonds were limited to a set of straps pulling her arms behind her, and a leash to a leather collar. It was clear he was training her in body awareness, emphasizing the supple movements made possible by her training on the pattern and comparing them to a jungle animal. She was a magnificent example of sleek grace, her muscles sliding beneath an almost translucent skin glowing with health. She was magnificent, and would have been the most spectacular example of a slave girl imaginable, in nearly any bondage party. Unfortunately for them the effect was spoiled by the example of Angel, who had that same fluid grace in combination with intensely sensual femininity and her own boundless joy. Once again, for about the nine-zillionth time I was thankful that I had found my love, and that she had accepted me.

"Lord Odysseus," I said as they approached, confirming Lord Samson's obvious surmise on Erik's alternate identity.

"Lady Raven," he replied with a nod.

"Your slave is very beautiful," Lord Samson said to Lord Odysseus, echoing his sentiment when he had seen Angel. Of course he was right, not only were they blessed with pretty features, but the weightless ease with which they moved made them both seem more dream than real, perhaps bound with steel, but free of mundane limits like gravity.

Lord Odysseus nodded in return, allowing a smile to touch his eyes when he saw the nipple clamps on Button, then a further one when he saw the small creases in the front of Angel's dress which showed where they had come from.

"So you chose to spend the intensity of her release from the clamps in an open display, rather than as a culmination of sexual release," Lord Odysseus observed.

"Yes, I have another set if we choose to follow that path," I smiled. "It appeared that Lord Samson had a greater need."

This was the first public confirmation that Angel and I were lovers, though Lord Samson must have considered the possibility. I didn't mind. It was part of who we were. The only secret I wanted to retain was the true nature of Brandy, and I knew Lord Odysseus wouldn't reveal that.

Finally the bride and groom arrived, and I realized for the first time how much Rocky had respected Kelly and I. In all the time we were together, he had never tried to spend inordinate amounts of money on us. His attitude was that the things we could buy for ourselves were quite sufficient, and therefore that we were quite successful in our own right. However, Vixen was to be his wife. Her wealth was the same as his, so display of it was now on his scale, not ours. It was also clear that he had his own preferences for restraints. Just as I preferred the golden chain flowing from neck to hobbles, he preferred wide golden bands at wrists, elbows, and neck. This time, however, the bands that controlled Vixen were studded with jewels, and the chain from her high collar was heavier. I'm not sure how I knew, but it was clear that the chain was solid gold, not steel overlaid with gold plate. It was a flamboyant statement of wealth and pride in his slave girl, a pride she clearly shared, and reflected back on her massive master. I was flattered to see he had stayed with the Lord Atlas costume almost unchanged, though, adding only a heavier neck chain to hold the keys to her locks. Lord Atlas strode into the room with an awesome show of massive muscles within his skin-tight, shiny superhero outfit, now able to display the power that the gentle Rocky had always kept in check. That path could lead to arrogance, but Rocky's true nature was kind enough that I wasn't worried. Perhaps this outlet for a display of the power that was his birthright would even make it easier to be gentle when he returned to his Rocky persona. They made a most dramatic couple, the drama enhanced by the amazement of both sets of friends and family at the outrageous extent of their relationship.

"Lord Atlas," I said respectfully, acknowledging that even with the circle of owners, he had first place.

"Lady Raven, Lord Odysseus, and I see Lord Samson is with you. How do you like our party, Lord Samson?" he grinned. "I see you have your own pretty slave girl. I seem to remember those nipple clamps from somewhere."

"Indeed you do, Lord Atlas," I said with a grin of my own. "These are the ones that you placed on Angel. She was reluctant to give them up, but I still have those you placed on Vivid so I can replace them later."

"You know, I have never used on Vixen the particular combination we enjoyed that night. Perhaps you could join us for a repeat experience."

"No, thank you, that's not my style," I declined. "But Vivid would be willing, whenever you like."

"I'll remember that," he laughed, "but I don't think we'll do that on this cruise."

"Then perhaps you'd like to try another little item I have with me," I offered, taking another remote control vibrator egg from my purse and handing it to him.

"I assume you have a control for this," Lord Atlas said thoughtfully, wondering just how far to go in public with his slave girl.

"Of course," I confirmed, holding one out to him.

It was hard at that point to tell which of the slave girls was flooding the air with the most scent of arousal. All were breathing heavy, eyes shining, nipples erect. It didn't matter who was most aroused, though, since Vixen was clearly excited enough that it would be no trouble to place the vibrator inside her, if Lord Atlas chose to do so immediately. In a moment resolution showed on his face and he turned to Vixen, shielding her from the majority of the crowd but still obviously reaching under her skirt. In a second the egg was in place and he was reaching for the control switch.

Instead of Vixen, however, it was Angel that began to whimper, then sag as her knees weakened.

"Oops," I laughed. "Wrong control, here, try this one."

I handed him the other control, turning it on as he reached for it, surprising Vixen into an involuntary squeak and then a whimper of her own. He smiled at me and offered me Angel's control, still turned on and causing her to shudder with the intense stimulation. He didn't turn Vixen's off immediately either, though I gave Angel some relief as soon as he handed her control to me. Lord Atlas waited long enough to make the point that he would make his own decisions, not just follow my lead, before turning off Vixen's vibrator and allowing her to catch her breath.

Button's eyes had gotten enormous when she realized what was going on. That, in combination with the nipples clamps stimulating her was almost enough to make her faint. Her eyes fluttered and she began to sag, caught only by the quick motion of Lord Odysseus.

"It would appear that your slave girl is in need of some attention," he grinned to Lord Samson.

"I believe you're right," Lord Samson replied, "and I know just the place to give it to her."

I quickly whispered in his ear, "Pull the clamps off quickly, just as she climaxes. She might become your permanent slave if you do it right."

His own eyes widened at the image, then smiled as he resolved to give my suggestion a try. I figured both of them would be happy in the morning. And inseparable.

"Congratulations, Lord Atlas, you seem to have found a compatible slave girl," I said. "But if you'll excuse me, the work of a conscientious mistress is never done, and my own slave girl requires some personal attention, too."

I flicked on the vibrator buried in Angel, and pulled her leash to lead her from the room. As soon as we were separated by a few other party-goers I turned the vibrator off, until we got back to our room. There I allowed Angel to suck my cock while the vibrator was humming in her own love center. She came first, and second, and third, but as she climbed her mountain for the fourth time that night, the ministrations of her talented lips and tongue helped me to join her and we shook in unison on our last, greatest explosion.

Chapter 36 - The Love Boat

Kelly and I dressed more casually the next morning, in denim minis and sandals, but we wore our corsets under snug blouses and looked just as sensual as ever. This was to be the day of the wedding, and the primary task for the morning was the rehearsal. Everything was pretty straightforward, a traditional ceremony, except for one curious aspect of Vixen's movements. She seemed extremely concerned with her bouquet, afraid of dropping it. For the rehearsal we had gathered up a few of the table flower arrangements to use in place of the real bouquets, and she held hers in both hands throughout the practice session. When the time came to pass it to me (as the maid of honor) for the ring ceremony, she held it out to me with both hands, and took it back with both hands when she retrieved it. I put it down to the nervousness of a bride, and in any event it didn't impede the flow of the planned ceremony.

The wedding party then went to lunch. The real wedding ceremony was planned for the middle of the afternoon, so most of the guests would have a little time for themselves before we got back together. Not the bridal party though.

"Would you two come help me dress?" asked Vixen. "I had your own gowns delivered to the dressing room, too, since they're too big to negotiate the passageways without a police escort."

"Sure," I said. "I'd have been disappointed if you didn't give us the chance. We'll just go by our cabin for a couple of minutes, then be right there."

In our cabin, Kelly and I changed from our suntan stockings and bright red sandals to the ice-blue stockings and satin pumps we would wear with our bridesmaid dresses. Vixen had always worn the flowing wig that matched my own liquid cascade, and had told us she intended to leave it down under her veil. I left mine tumbling to my waist as well, so a little work on fresh makeup and we were ready to go, almost.

"No panties for you, beautiful," I told Kelly.

"What? Why not?"

"Because I want you to wear this instead," I said as I handed her the remote control vibrator egg.

"Ooh, you're not nice," she giggled, but she reached for it eagerly.

"Why am I being so favored?" she asked as she inserted it.

"I'll make you a large bet that Rocky has Vixen wear hers, and I want you to be a good example for her, to make sure she doesn't chicken out."

"I never thought of that, but no bet, I'm sure you're right," Kelly laughed.

We made our way to the dressing room, located close to the ship's ballroom where the wedding would take place. Vixen was already waiting, her nervousness combined with the feline grace given by her mastery of the pattern to produce the distinct image of a jungle cat, pacing in a cage, hungry for action.

"Calm down," I smiled as we entered. "Rocky is a terrific guy. Just trust him and go with the flow."

"Oh, I do trust him," she sighed, "but I want it to be so perfect for him."

"That's what we're here for, and his groomsmen as well. It'll be fine," I assured her.

We helped her into her own ivory gown first. The Scarlett O'Hara style suited her well, especially now that she had a real bosom to push up dangerously close to the low bodice of the dress. Her enormous skirts seemed to fill the room, billowing out from layer on layer of petticoats. There was a small vanity table in the dressing room, with a backless bench placed before it. The importance of the no-back chair became apparent when she tried to sit down so that Kelly could help her with a final refinement of her makeup. First, Vixen just gathered her skirts around her and sat, but the front of her dress flipped up and hid her face completely, simultaneously displaying a host of lacy underthings. She stood up again and draped her skirts back over the stool, letting the hem of her hoop-skirt surround the bench. That allowed her gown to surround her in a beautiful display of elegant femininity while she sat quietly waiting for Kelly to complete her magic.

While they were busy doing that, I started to don my own bridesmaid gown, working my way into the layers of petticoats. By the time I was finished with the underclothes, Kelly was finished with Vixen and then helped me into the dress itself. My own bosom poked up close to the top of the dress, displaying an unambiguous development that Ran had never owned.

"It's a good thing we're all in pretty good shape," I grinned. "These dresses are so heavy, we'll get a week's workout for our legs in this afternoon alone."

"I know," Vixen agreed. "But they're so beautiful."

"Did you ever think you'd end up like this," I smiled at her.

"No," she said softly, "and I owe it all to you."

"Not entirely," I grinned. "I think Rocky had a little to do with it."

"Oh, right," she giggled. But then she turned more serious. "You know what I mean, though. Without you, I still would be afraid of men, and afraid of my own femininity. I owe you more than I can ever repay."

"Then don't try. I remember once saying all you owed us was your friendship. It's as true now as it was then."

We hugged each other, laughing as our skirts tilted up behind us when the leading edges plowed together as we got close enough to reach. But this time Kelly had her own petticoats on and was ready for help with her dress. Her own bosom was so flamboyant that we watched for a few minutes to make sure a medium-deep breath wouldn't cause her tits to explode over the top. She didn't dare try a deep breath, but then her corset took care of that anyway. She couldn't have taken a deep breath if she wanted to.

Kelly reached for Vixen's veil, but I stopped her. "Vixen, what did Lord Atlas give you to wear?" I asked.

"How did you know?" Vixen replied with her own question.

I merely smiled with the cool amusement and confident power of Lady Raven, reminding Vixen that I was a dominant, too, and quite capable of training a slave girl. She nodded her understanding and went to a small bag lying on a side table. Inside were her golden cuffs, her high collar, and her own remote control vibrator egg. I caught Kelly's eyes when Vixen drew the egg from the bag, provoking another nod of acceptance of the wisdom of Lady Raven.

"You should have put this on before you put your dress on," I said.

Vixen nodded, but said nothing. She held the egg in her hands a little uncertainly, wondering if she should really get married while wearing such a device. I motioned to Kelly to lift her own skirts, finally helping her so that Vixen could see that Kelly had her own egg in place.

"Do you have her control switch with you?" Vixen asked in surprise.

"Of course, and I'll bet that Rocky has the one to that egg with him. You may get a surprise or two during the ceremony."

"Oh, he wouldn't!" she exclaimed.

"Oh, he would," I laughed, not letting her in on the rest of the secret. Yet.

She grinned and handed me the egg, "Would you do the honors?"

"Gladly," I replied, then helped her to lift her skirts. When I reached her nether lips, I found a sheer white g-string appropriate for a ceremonial deflowering after the wedding. Nonetheless, I removed it, since Vixen's master had indicated a different sort of prize should be provided. She was nervous enough that her own juices were uncharacteristically sparse, so I stroked her a little with my long red nails until her muscles began to clamp at my fingers.

"That just might be the reason he wants you to wear this, so you're ready at the magic moment," I chuckled.

With her lubricant flow stimulated, the vibrator egg slipped easily into position. We shook the petticoats and skirts of her dress back into a graceful flow, then moved to the other items her master had given her. The high golden collar forced her to hold her head erect, and the wide golden cuffs, when fastened together with the lock provided revealed the reason she had been using two hands on everything at the rehearsal, her hands wouldn't be separated until her master unlocked her at his decision.

We handed her the bridal bouquet, which concealed the lock very well though the golden bands glistened brightly. Without the lock they looked like wide bracelets, a little showy for a traditional wedding dress, but not clearly bondage devices. Her thick mane of hair concealed the lock holding her collar in place as well, so only her closest friends would recognize the true significance of her wedding vows. When the time came to promise to obey, her meaning would be more absolute than most women intended. We draped her long, flowing veil over her head and she was ready, as beautiful as any bride could ever hope to be, as matchlessly feminine as only a woman trained by Lord Odysseus could ever actually be.

I thought we were about done and was looking around to check out the room for leftover items, when Kelly made her own outrageous demand.

"Brandy, it doesn't seem fair that we're not wearing panties, but you are."

"It wouldn't matter if I took them off, my disguise cushion serves about the same purpose," I explained.

"So take it off, too," she demanded.

"What? You're kidding. I work too hard to keep my secret to reveal it now."

"It won't be revealed. Your petticoats will hold it down, and the gown is full enough to hide any bulge. Since it's floor length, even your wonderful tool won't show below it," she giggled.

"Oh, Brandy, you must," Vixen laughed.

I glared at Kelly for a minute, then laughed myself. "You girls are going to get me in trouble, but I seem to remember saying that before."

"And you were right," Kelly added her own giggle to our laughter. "Here, let me help."

She dove under my flowing skirts, burying her head out of sight. In a moment, I felt my thong panties slide down my legs, followed by the close-fitting disguise mound. I expected her to reappear after I felt my freed cock lying along my leg, but instead I felt her talented lips circle the tip of it and begin to draw it into her mouth. My gasp revealed what was going on, provoking a grin from Vixen at the turnabout. It wasn't long before Kelly's talented orifice was bringing me to a shuddering climax, almost causing my own knees to buckle. She milked every drop, pulling the juice from my balls so hard I thought they would turn inside out. When there was absolutely nothing more to be had, Kelly emerged from under my dress.

"There, that should minimize the bulge for at least the length of the ceremony," she bragged.

"That depends on how often I look at you, beautiful," I breathed, still trying to get my heart rate down from the stratosphere. It felt very strange to have my cock dangling down inside the dress, exposed to the cool air of the room. Kelly was right, though, I knew it wouldn't show, even if it resurrected itself before we had a chance to change clothes.

"I seem to remember you saying that I wasn't nice," I reminded her, "but you've got no right to accuse anyone else."

"I have a perfect right," she laughed. "It takes one to know one."

She stood back to look at me, and we all twirled around so that we could be checked out from all angles. Our trio was beautiful in a way that would be memorable on the ship. We all moved with the grace of the pattern, we all celebrated our sensual natures to the fullest, and we were all dressed in a style of exultant femininity. It would be spectacular, and it was time to go.

Kelly poked her head out of the dressing room to ensure that they were ready for us, and when she was given the all clear we filed out into the anteroom to the cruise ship ballroom. The wedding guests were all in place, Billie Jo's father waiting to escort her down the aisle. I hadn't really met him, but he seemed a nice enough man, though completely out of his depth in the intense atmosphere that surrounded Vixen, Lord Atlas, and the rest of our wild crew. His smile when he saw his gorgeous daughter made any other considerations unimportant, though, and her answering smile shown forth even through the veil.

The entry music started, Rocky and the groomsmen filed into the front of the room, and Kelly started down the aisle with the traditional, elegant hesitation step. In a few minutes it was my turn and I began my own graceful glide down the aisle. I was gratified to hear the quiet oohs and ahs of the crowd as they saw me, knowing I was spectacularly beautiful in a more striking way than the glowing Kelly had been. Even without hobbles, the towering heels we wore limited the length of our stride to a controlled, delicate pace, and I had time to reflect on the shock that would flow through the crowd if they knew what was swinging loosely inside my dress. My smile of cool amusement warmed up with genuine humor, but I moved carefully, not wanting anything to disrupt the ceremony, at least not yet.

Part of my attention was ensuring that I didn't drop one of the control switches I had hidden within my own bouquet. That's right, switches. I had one programmed for Kelly, but I had programmed a spare for the code to Vixen's hidden vibrator egg, and I expected I would find a time to send her a buzz before long.

After an endless time, though right on time, I reached the dais at the front of the room and took my place to the left of the center aisle. The bridal procession music started and all heads turned to see Vixen march down the aisle, her arm held by her father. Our similarity was never more apparent than at that moment, with Vixen's face obscured by the veil, her long dark hair an exact match for my own, and her gown hiding any small differences in our bodies. I realized at that moment that I could have changed places with her and almost no one would know until the time came for the groom to lift the veil, except for the conspicuous absence of the maid of honor, of course. Yet there was a difference as well, one that wouldn't be apparent in any photograph, but was unmistakable to someone trained by Lord Odysseus. She moved with a fluid grace that was a wonder to all who saw it, but there was still a definite flavor of slave about her. Perhaps it was in her head, forced erect by the high collar rather than by the confidence of one who owns rather than is owned, or perhaps it was the questing look for her master and husband-to-be, rather than the internal assurance of self-reliance that dominants possessed. Whatever the cause, I knew that Lord Odysseus, and Lord Atlas, would have been able to identify each of us even if we had been dressed identically. When she reached the front of the ballroom, the traditional ceremony began.

Everything went as scheduled. Vixen's practice at handing off her bouquet to me with both hands, to cover the bonds that held them together, proved itself and it seemed natural, the apparent nervousness charming in a beautiful bride. Rocky placed the ring on her finger and she retrieved her bouquet, again with both hands, and no one not already aware of the special nature of her gestures picked up on the reason. In a time that always seems surprisingly short, Rocky was lifting her veil for a kiss.

This was the moment I had been waiting for, and I flicked the switch on her buried buzzer as his lips reached hers. She shuddered and a moan escaped her lips, provoking a titter in the crowd as they thought they recognized passion caused by their kiss. Rocky was pleased, though surprised as well, and lingered a little longer over the kiss than he probably originally intended. I kept her vibrator sending its intense pulses into her pleasure nubbin throughout their kiss, only releasing the switch when he finally let her up for air. Her response as the stimulation ended was to give another moan of regret that caused another titter to flow through the crowd. When she managed to open her eyes, she looked at her new husband and master with confused wonder, surprised that he was willing to claim total control over her body so soon, and so publicly. He misinterpreted her expression as one of desire, though perhaps it was pretty close to the truth at that.

The happy couple turned down the aisle, the recessional music flowing out from the on-board orchestra, and I turned to my own escort, Erik, Lord Odysseus. To my surprise he was a little taller than me and I realized he had worn boots with just enough heel to make him compatible with my height, the carefully-tailored legs to his tuxedo pants hiding his choice from the guests. I smiled at him and took his arm, matching my motion to the graceful flow only he possessed of all men I knew. One day I would have to ask him why no other men had succeeded in learning to dance the pattern.

The reception was held in the dining room without an actual receiving line. Rocky and Vixen strolled through the crowd of well-wishers, her hands demurely clasping her bouquet the whole time. Whenever she happened to look directly at him, I sent her a buzz, using the vibrator as a Pavlovian device to condition her to even greater devotion to her master. After a while she began to look around the room to find out who was sending the stimulation to her, since Rocky's hands were visible for at least some of the times when she had been buzzed. Her eyes met mine and I let my amusement show, confirming a suspicion that had already been pretty certain in her mind. She smiled at me with an "I'll get you later" expression, and I returned it with a dare to do her best.

Kelly caught a little of the byplay and came to whisper in my ear, "How's it hangin', stud?"

"Long and hard, you should know," I whispered back, not letting her cause me embarrassment.

"Do you have a switch for her vibrator?" Kelly asked.

"Yep," I giggled."

"I thought so. Did you buzz her during their kiss?"

"Yes," I confirmed again, "and several times since then."

"You're terrible!" Kelly chortled in my ear.

"Be nice, or I'll give you a little buzz, too," I threatened with a laugh of my own.

"Promises, promises," Kelly challenged me, a good or bad move depending on what she really wanted. What she got was a little stimulation of her own as I flicked the other switch. Her eyes widened, then began to flutter as she sagged against me. Only when her knees began to give did I turn off the switch.

"Dare me again and I'll put you on the floor," I grinned.

"Promises, prom . . .oops! Forget I said that," she pleaded.

I lifted my bouquet as though I were about to flick her switch, but it was Vixen, pulling Rocky along with her, who stopped me.

"Don't you dare," Vixen ordered, though the smile in her eyes eliminated any threat behind her direction, making it a plea instead.

"Dare what?" I asked innocently.

"You know very well what!" Vixen laughed.

"Are you telling me that my little control box for Kelly is sending out impulses to you instead?" I asked, as though I were only now realizing it.

Within my bouquet I turned on both switches, causing the two of them to gasp, then shudder as the impulses washed through their bodies. After a second or two, though, I turned them off, or at least turned off their vibrators.

"You're not a very nice person," Rocky grinned.

"There seem to be a lot of people with that opinion of me," I admitted.

"I think I'll just relieve you of the burden of that control switch, though," he said.

I handed over the spare controller, the one tuned to the frequency for Vixen's vibrator, and smiled innocently. "Ah just cain't imagine how that got in theah," I drawled with a southern accent to match our antebellum gowns.

"Keep it up and I might just have to see about reuniting Vixen and Vivid. Lord Odysseus tells me they make a magnificent pair."

"Promises, promises," I laughed, catching Kelly's eyes as I parroted her earlier phrase.

"Come with us, anyway, it's time for the pictures," Rocky directed.

We went back to the ballroom to pose for the typical series of group photos. I was amused but not surprised to see Button, the erstwhile Julie, hovering around Captain Samson with a decidedly possessive air. She was really a cute girl and I hoped they would someday be as happy as I knew Rocky and Vixen would be. For that matter, I hoped they would be as happy as Kelly and I were. During one of the intervals when I wasn't required to be in the picture, Erik walked over to talk with me.

"You doing okay?" he asked.

"Sure, why not?" I replied.

"Rocky is a pretty special guy, and he used to be your guy."

"Not really. What we had was special, all right, but it wasn't something to build an enduring relationship on. I've got Kelly for that, and I wouldn't trade her for anything. Actually, I was just thinking about you. It seems everyone else has found the love of their life but you. Are you ever going to settle down?"

A look of sadness passed over his face, almost too quick to be noticed. In an instant the calm, well-balanced strength returned, but I cherished that tiny glimpse past his normally seamless exterior, knowing that he had allowed me to see it.

"I'm a different sort of person than the rest of you. This is what I do, and I do it well. You know, some doctors don't take their oath seriously, but I do. If there is anything I can do to help someone, I just have to do it. In a way, I'm as much a slave to my work as anyone I've ever trained."

I wrapped my arms around him and gave him a warm embrace, not sexually passionate, but deeply caring nonetheless.

"You know you're always welcome in our house, or in our bed, or even just to talk with us," I said. "We owe you more than we can ever repay, me most of all."

"You don't owe me anything," he disagreed, just as Vixen walked up again.

"I heard what she said, and I'll disagree with you both. We both owe you, but I owe you more than anyone else can possibly ever match. Rocky knows it, too. You'll always be welcome wherever we are. And your money is no good on anything that Rocky owns. You might be surprised at how much that is. I know I was."

"There, see?" Erik laughed. "I always get paid for my services. By the way, the last installment is due on your bills. Pay up or I'll take your tits back."

Vixen's throaty laugh spilled out through the room, bringing her master to see what was so funny. When she explained, his own deep voice added to hers, and he began to paw through his pockets.

"Believe it or not, I don't have any money with me," he smiled.

"Way to go, girl," Kelly chortled. "Keep him on a tight leash."

We all laughed at the implication that their relationship was reversed, all except me that is. I smiled, but I was a little too serious for genuine mirth.

"Here, Erik, perhaps this will do as an interim payment, until my check arrives," I offered.

In my hand I held a small golden key. He looked at it, then smiled at me, instantly aware of what it was, and what it meant. It was the key to Vivid's chains, and I would be his whenever he wanted. Totally his, as his slave for as long as he wanted. I wouldn't have made that offer even to Rocky, Lord Atlas, but I was completely serious in offering myself to Lord Odysseus.

"Go ahead and take it. I'm sure you have a collection, but none of your customers are any more satisfied than I am."

"Actually," he said with another instantly-covered flicker of sadness, "this is the first one from any of my graduates. All the rest ended up like Vixen here with a new master. I may take you up on this sometime. It wouldn't be appropriate for me to have a key to the bonds of my other trainees, their loyalty must be to their new owner, but then, you've always been unique."

"I'll say! Completely! That's an understatement!" my companions chorused in compliment to me.

There I stood in an incredibly beautiful gown, looking incredibly beautiful in it, with my long cock swinging freely below my skirts, tasting the cool air of the room. Yes, I was truly unique as my indescribably intense lovers so cheerfully celebrated. I had made wildly passionate love with each member of this circle, and all knew my deepest secret. But they loved me for who I was, celebrating the very uniqueness that would have shocked so many. And I loved them all, loved them enough to let some go, like Rocky and Vixen, while holding on to others, like Kelly. Through it all, she had been a constant anchor in my life, always supportive, always creative. In one way or another, we had helped each other find a fulfillment that had been beyond imagination when we had started on this unbelievable journey. I looked at her, to find her own eyes rising to mine with the unity of total attunement.

"Thank you," I mouthed silently to my beautiful wife, Kelly, letting her know that even among such wonderful people, I never forgot who was most important in my life. She smiled back, her overflowing joy shining from her eyes, a promise of deeper pleasure smoldering behind her long lashes. My long cock, free for the first time while I was wearing a dress twitched in response to her silent message. My own smile changed to a grin, acknowledging the effect she had created, but I added a silent promise of my own and was rewarded by the sight of her spectacular nipples popping up through the tight bodice of her dress. The rest of our circle of lovers seemed to recede from us as our world returned to its focus on each other.

"Well, Rocky, I used to feel sorry for Brandy for losing you, but I don't think there's anything to worry about," Erik said, catching on to the heat beginning to flow between Kelly and I.

Rocky answered with his own grin, "No, Brandy is a lady that can always take care of herself."

Then he got serious for a minute, and looked directly at me, "Though you know you can always call on me, for anything you need."

I laughed to lighten the mood again, though I sent him a look of gratitude as well. "Really?" I giggled, "just what will Mrs. Thornton have to say about that?"

The lady in question added her own laugh, then said "Whatever my husband desires is my desire, but I think he might be more interested in Vivid."

"Promises, promises," I said, then secretly flicked the switch on Kelly's vibrator. Her surprised gasp got everyone's attention, provoking a smile from those who understood the cause. She began to shiver, and her eyes closed as she let the intense stimulation wash through her.

"I think Kelly needs to lie down for a while. We'll be back later. Maybe." I laughed as I led her away, our wide gowns sweeping the people at the reception from our path.

Ran became pretty reclusive after that wedding. In fact, the only time anyone has seen him since was when he went to get his driver's license renewed one year. Brandy gets around quite a bit, though, as well as Lady Raven and Vivid. Lord Odysseus provides personalized training every now and then and we still go to his house to dance the pattern. He finally did settle down with Dancer, though. We could see him reduce her dependency on him until she was ready to leave the nest, but she never did. They celebrate their love every day, sometimes sharing a nipple clamp or two with Angel and I.

From somewhere Rocky obtained a Social Security card and certified birth certificate made out to Brandy Regina Dewinter (rich people can accomplish amazing things) and I used these to become a formal partner at Ran's investment firm. I pay taxes, for goodness sake.

After a few months when we heard nothing from Dart Tanyon, I figured he had left our life forever until one year when I got a photo Christmas card from a family I didn't recognize. A beaming, portly man was surrounded by a nice-looking woman with light-brown hair, a boy with a mischievous grin and a beautiful little girl with long dark hair. Inside was a note.

"Dear Brandy, I wanted you to know that I turned my life around after that night. I had never understood how ugly a thing a bully is until then. Candy and I went away until the dye wore off and somewhere during that time we realized that we ought to stay together and we got married. I've never been happier. If you ever see that big guy who helped you, tell him he was right. Thanks to you both."

It was signed, "Mr. and Mrs. Roger Tanyon, Dart and Brandy."

There was a post script as well. "By the way, we kept the clothes. Candy thinks they're fun and I have to admit I do, too. Our life is never dull. Thanks for opening my eyes to that particular experience as well. Our best wishes will always be with you, Brandy, the most beautiful lady we ever met."

I wonder if I should write to him with a terrific weight-loss plan I know about.

THE END