Chained

  Finally, the door chimed softly.

  Maggie took a deep breath. “Here we go.”

  Kor took her hand for a moment and squeezed it gently in his much larger, warmer one. “Everything is going to be fine,” he murmured, echoing her thoughts. “Come on, Mistress. Let’s do this.”

  They stepped out onto a long golden carpet that reminded Maggie of the white carpeted Grand Promenade Kor had carried her down this morning. God, had it really only been that morning she’d rescued him and run away with him to this crazy spa? It seemed like days ago—weeks ago. She had no right to feel like she knew him so well. And yet, she did.

  Just an effect of the dreams, she told herself as they walked slowly down the carpet. Dreams which she still couldn’t understand or quantify. If she ever had a chance to slow down and take stock, Maggie was sure she’d come up with some kind of scientific explanation as to why she and Kor had been dreaming of each other and she felt so strongly drawn to him. Right now, it was just a mystery—one she didn’t have time to ponder at the moment.

  Other slaves and mistresses were also making their way down the long golden carpet—it was becoming quite a crowd. Maggie watched carefully and tried to do as the other women did while she and Kor mingled, trying to look like they belonged.

  At first she felt undressed, wearing the too tight gown that molded to her breasts and clung to her hips. Her nipples were fully visible through the thin, stretchy white lace, just as her pussy lips were outlined by the clinging material of the panties. But she soon saw that the other mistresses were dressed in similar and even more revealing outfits. Some of them had on gowns that didn’t cover their breasts at all and a few seemed to have forgotten their underpants entirely.

  At least I’m not the most underdressed person here, Maggie thought. Or maybe I should make that the most undressed person. She took a deep breath—this was good. Now she could loosen up a little and observe the crowd—get a feel for what she was supposed to be doing. Which, if the other ladies were any indication, appeared to be striding regally along the golden carpet with her head up, shoulders back, and her loyal slave trailing respectfully behind her.

  Maggie tried to imitate them and look haughty and self-important. I am a rich, important mistress, she told herself. I am a rich, important mistress. I am a—just then she stumbled over a bump in the rug. She would have fallen on her face if Kor hadn’t grabbed her from behind at just the right moment. He kept her from hitting the carpet but Maggie was still off balance. She reached out blindly and her searching fingers caught in the long, carefully styled ringlets of the lady in front of her.

  The hair came off in her hand—all of it. Maggie gasped and then gave a breathless little scream as she saw the limp, curly wig clinging to her fingers like a hairy, dead spider.

  “Oh!” The lady turned around at once, both hands going to her head which was bald as an egg. “Oh, no—my hair! What have you done to my hair?”

  “I’m so, so sorry!” Maggie babbled, trying to give the wig back. “I… it was an accident! These shoes—the carpet—”

  “Give me that!” The lady snatched the wig and jammed it back on her head. Unfortunately, it was sitting rather askew and the curls weren’t nearly as perfect as they had been—in fact, they stuck up in all directions.

  “Um…” Maggie wasn’t sure if she should mention the fact that the other woman’s wig was crooked or not.

  “You are a menace,” the lady snapped. Then she faced forward and hurried away, trailed by her slave.

  “Again, really, really sorry,” Maggie called after her weakly. So much for acting like all the other mistresses and not attracting attention. She started walking, still feeling wobbly from the embarrassing accident. She stumbled and might even have tripped again if not for the fact that Kor still had one hand under her arm.

  “It’s all right, Mistress—I’ve got you,” he murmured in her ear, making sure she was steady again before he let her go.

  “Thanks,” Maggie muttered from the side of her mouth. Her cheeks were burning. Had everyone noticed her acting like a clumsy fool? She looked around, casting glances from side to side but the other ladies seemed to be looking straight ahead. Maggie sighed and went on as before, though she stopped trying to look haughty and important. Right now she would settle for quiet and inconspicuous.

  The golden carpet seemed to be leading them to a new area—a vast, open place that looked like a ballroom or a banquet hall from the glimpses Maggie could get through the high, arching double doors. Rich golden light was pouring out of them and soft strains of music could be heard as they got closer.

  Kor seemed to know exactly what to do. He kept close to her, walking at her back like a very tall, very imposing body guard. Now that they were out among the other Mistresses and slaves he was completely silent, as were most of the other slaves. Clearly a ‘don’t speak until spoken to’ rule was the order of the day.

  As they came to the large double doors, Maggie noticed that each slave and mistress paused a moment before proceeding into the large area. She wondered what the hold up was—maybe they were looking for their places on the seating chart? Was there a seating chart? How would she know where to go?

  Maggie put a hand to her throat nervously. She had always been somewhat socially awkward and big gatherings like this one increased her social anxiety to sky-high levels. She’d be lucky if she didn’t trip again and land on her face in front of the entire room.

  Kor seemed to sense her nervousness because he leaned forward and whispered very softly in her ear,

  “Everything all right, Mistress?”

  “Fine.” Maggie swallowed hard. “I just…I’m not great in crowds, that’s all. And I get so clumsy when I’m nervous.”

  He gave a low chuckle. “So I’ve noticed. But don’t worry—you’re going to be all right.”

  “What if I’m not, though?” she whispered back. “What if I make a mess or cause another scene or—”

  “You won’t.” Maggie felt his large, warm hand settle on her shoulder and squeeze gently, offering support and reassurance. “And even if you do, you’re never coming back here. You’ll never see any of these people again after tonight. So what do you care what they think?”

  “Oh…” Maggie took a deep breath, feeling calmer. “That’s actually…that’s a really good point.”

  “I know. Get ready. We’re coming to the entrance.”

  Just at that moment they reached the front of the line and Maggie saw what the hold-up was. As each Mistress reached the double doors leading into the banquet hall, she paused for a moment while a Sensorian attendant read her name aloud. Then her slave knelt in front of her and did something…it was hard to see what, though. Maggie moved to one side, trying to get a better view without getting out of line. What she saw made her feel faint.

  “Oh my God,” she murmured to Kor. “Did he just…”

  “Kiss her panties? Yes and I’m going to kiss yours too.” He sounded so matter-of-fact about it that Maggie was a little shocked. Then she remembered his warning that they might have to do things she wasn’t comfortable with in order to make it through the night. Clearly he’d known this was coming.

  Before she could protest, they were standing in the archway formed by the huge double doors. The banqueting hall spread before them was filled with rich amber light and hung with rose and gold curtains but Maggie barely noticed any of it because Kor was currently on his knees before her.

  “The Lady Nola Pope’nose of Opulex, Yonnie Six,” the Sensorian attendant proclaimed. He (or she, Maggie couldn’t tell) was a pale whitish-pink color which made her think he hadn’t been getting much emotional nourishment so far tonight.

  Well, if they can feed off embarrassment too, he’ll get full from a few seconds standing by me, she thought numbly as Kor looked up at her.

  “My lady,” he murmured, his large, warm hands caressing her inner thighs. “Open for me—let me honor you.”

  Maggie felt like her
legs were glued together at first. But at his urging, she was slowly able to part them, just a little.

  “Good,” Kor growled softly. Leaning forward, he pressed a soft, hot, gentle kiss over the tiny white patch of see-through lace that barely covered her pussy.

  Maggie bit back a moan when she felt the heat of his breath against such a sensitive area. God, wasn’t he done already? But Kor appeared to want to take his time. He nuzzled her inner thigh, his rough cheek scratching her tender flesh and making her jump.

  “Kor…” she whispered. Her heart was beating so hard it seemed to shake her entire body. Would this ever be over?

  “So sweet…” Kor murmured. He kissed her again, this time pressing a little deeper, kissing between her legs as though he wanted to kiss the panties right off her.

  “Kor,” Maggie half moaned. One hand crept down to slide into his thick, black hair, almost as if she wanted more. God, his breath was so warm against her flesh and his hands felt so good stroking her thighs… then she happened to look to the side.

  The Sensorian attendant was watching them, his strange pink and blue Easter egg eyes half-lidded with pleasure. To Maggie’s shame, his skin had turned a deep pink. Was he feeding off her embarrassment—or the forbidden heat that was suddenly sweeping through her?

  Another question occurred to her. Was Kor feeling the heat too, or was he just playing his part and faking it? He certainly didn’t seem to be faking—not the way he was pressing his mouth between her legs. But then, he was used to being a slave and servicing rich mistresses. So maybe he didn’t feel a thing. Maybe he was just trying to put on a convincing show.

  “That…I think that’s enough,” she whispered, tugging at him, trying to drag him to his feet.

  But he wasn’t so easily dragged. Looking up, he pinned her with his eyes. The heat in their pale blue depths matched what she was feeling. Was this real to him too? Did he really enjoy it? Before Maggie could begin to answer the question, he gave her one last, deliberate kiss right in the center of her pussy.

  “Mistress,” he murmured in a low, rough voice. “It is a pleasure to honor you.”

  Maggie bit her lip…if the panties hadn’t been in the way…

  But they are in the way, she told herself sternly as Kor finally rose and they continued their forward progress. And as long as they are, it isn’t really like I’m cheating on Donald. I mean, we have to do this or we’ll be found out. And I’ve still got clothes on so—

  Her hasty internal justification was cut short when Kor murmured something in her ear.

  “What?” Maggie whispered back.

  “I said I believe we are in this rondula, my lady,” he murmured.

  Maggie wanted to ask what a rondula was but she didn’t want to appear conspicuous. Instead, she looked where he was pointing and saw a cluster of about eight chaise lounges, all padded in rich, buttery leather and grouped in a circle. The plush lounges appeared to come in four different tones—gold, rose pink, black or white.

  Looking around, Maggie could see that the entire huge room was divided up into such small, circular groups—apparently this was what Kor had meant by ‘rondula.’ She’d been on a cruise once, a short three day one which had been hard to enjoy as Donald had complained bitterly about missing work the entire time. Dinner on the cruise ship had been arranged in somewhat the same way. You ate a table with a few other guests you didn’t know every evening, supposedly to make the atmosphere more homey and less impersonal.

  Am I supposed to make friends with these women? Maggie eyed the other mistresses doubtfully. She’d never been great at just jumping right into conversation. She always seemed to say the wrong thing or spill something on someone somehow. Or pull the wig off their head leaving them completely bald—oh, no!

  Because the mistress sitting in the lounge beside the one Kor was pointing to just happened to be the same woman whose wig Maggie had inadvertently snatched.

  Why? she thought. Why couldn’t I have been sitting by someone else—anyone else but her? She wasn’t sure if she ought to apologize again or not. However, the wig woman—as Maggie was beginning to think of her—simply gave Maggie a haughty look and turned to speak to someone else. Well, maybe she would be content if they just ignored each other. It would be a little awkward but Maggie was used to social awkwardness—it was practically her middle name.

  “My lady,” Kor murmured again and she realized he was waiting for her to sit down. The chaise he was standing by was pure white and had a stiff little place card with the words, Lady Pope’nose in flowing script sitting on it.

  “Thank you, Kor,” she murmured and allowed him to help her onto the chaise. Around her, most of the other lounges were occupied by other mistresses. In the center of the grouping sat a round table filled with all kinds of fruits and finger foods as well as goblets filled with pale pink liquid and little golden plates. Some of the other slaves were already feeding their mistresses and as soon as Kor got her situated, he proceeded to fill a little plate for her as well.

  “Got you mostly fruit,” he murmured as he knelt beside her lounge. “Hope that’s okay.”

  “Fine,” she whispered. “But what about you?”

  “Slaves eat later. Open up.” He popped a square red fruit a little bigger than a grape into her mouth.

  Maggie’s teeth barely touched it before the thin skin gave with a gush of sweet juice that filled her mouth.

  “Mmmph!” she exclaimed in surprise. The flavor was surprisingly complex, reminding her of passion fruit, watermelon and strangely, buttered popcorn.

  “Oops, here my lady—you’re dripping.” Kor pressed a white linen napkin to the side of her mouth.

  “Thank you,” Maggie whispered. “I didn’t expect it to be so juicy.”

  “Neither did I but juicy is good. Very good.” His half-lidded gaze as he spoke made her cheeks get hot but Maggie was determined not to let him tease her.

  “I’d like another, please,” she said, lifting her chin.

  “You say please and thank you to your slaves?” The strident voice appeared to belong to the wig woman, who was sitting on Maggie’s right. Apparently she had decided to talk after all. Her wig was still askew and the gown she was wearing was a vivid purple with a deep v-neck that looked like it might fall off and leave her half naked at any time. Her slave was a good fifteen years younger than her and he stood by her with his eyes down, waiting to feed her another morsel from the plate he held.

  “Well, I mean…it’s just good manners,” Maggie said, uncertain of what else to say. “Saying please and thank you and…and I’m sorry,” she added meaningfully. "I mean realy sorry."

  Wig woman sniffed. “I suppose but I’ve always felt it gives slaves an inflated sense of importance if you treat them like actual people.” She frowned at Maggie. “I’m Yoli Ponce’beast by the way. I don’t believe we were formally introduced before.”

  “No. No, we weren’t.” Maggie cleared her throat. “I’m, uh…Pope’nose. Nola Pope’nose. Pleased to meet you.” She didn’t know if she was supposed to offer to shake hands or not but as Lady Ponce’beast, aka wig woman, simply lay there on her chaise not moving, she decided not to try.

  “I believe we have a friend in common,” Lady Ponce’beast announced. “Manda Sha’rak? Don’t the two of you head of the Opulex Social Standing committee?”

  “Oh, we…” Maggie cleared her throat. “Yes. Yes, I guess we do.”

  “Dear Manda.” Lady Ponce’beast sighed and ran one hand over her crooked wig. “We went to Cheslton together as girls. I was hoping to see her here but her plans changed at the last minute.”

  Maggie swallowed hard—apparently they’d had a narrow escape! Thank goodness this Lady Sha’rak person who actually knew Lady Pope’nose wasn’t here! “Oh, what a shame,” she managed to say.

  “Yes, she’s the sweetest thing,” “Lady Ponce’beast went on. “Even if she is a bit too lenient on her slaves. A trait I didn’t think you would share with her—your r
eputation as a strict disciplinarian precedes you, you know, Lady Pope’nose.”

  “It does?” Maggie asked weakly. “I mean, yes—of course it does.”

  Lady Ponce’beast frowned. “Then why is your slave not even wearing a pain collar?”

  “He does have one, back at the room,” Maggie improvised quickly. “I, uh, left it off him tonight because it’s, uh…it’s charging.”

  “Charging?” Lady Ponce’beast raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow at her. “I am afraid I don’t understand. The collar has to charge up before you can use it?”

  “It’s…a new kind,” Maggie said. “I can’t help noticing that your slave has a lovely collar,” she went on, hoping to change the subject.

  “It’s adequate. I’m still looking for something with a little more power.” Lady Ponce’beast turned to her slave. “Another,” she snapped motioning to the small gold plate filled with delicacies which he held before her. “And make sure it’s ripe this time.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” the miserable looking slave murmured dully. Plucking a tiny bright orange berry from the center of the plate, he slipped it into her mouth.

  “Mmm.” Lady Ponce’beast chewed the berry, rolling it round in her mouth and smacking her thick lips before nodding approvingly. “Better—you continue to improve. If you do half as well during the Pleasuring you may even earn your dinner back.” She turned back to Maggie. “He gave me an unripe bitter-berry last night—just imagine! I told him he wasn’t to eat or drink a thing until tonight to make sure he learned a lesson.”

  “Shocking,” Maggie agreed but inside she was thinking what a horrible woman Lady Ponce’beast was. No wonder her slave looked listless and dull—the poor thing was probably starving. I don’t feel nearly as bad for pulling off her wig now, she thought. Why, she— Then the full impact of what Lady Ponce’beast had said sunk in.

  “Excuse me,” she said. “But this is my first time here. Did you say ‘the Pleasuring?’”