“Wow.” Wendy said as she stepped into their suite.

“I agree with you there.” Kathy said eagerly dumping her bag on the floor and strutting into the room.

Four rooms opened at right angles to each other into a central circular space. A unit with video screens hung from the ceiling. Baths alternated with sofas right around it, so each guest could choose to lounge on cushions or in the water to watch the screens. A whole range of programmes were showing from pornography to gambling to combat sports to tourist information about the planet.

“This is cool.” Sharon said, heading to bag the yellow room.

“Well, where are out slaves?” Kathy asked a little disappointed.

“What? You want to leap on one and screw him here?” Susan jibed.

“Sure.”

Wendy explained. “Well, not all hotels on An-Kil-Lye have them, mainly the ones attached to casinos. Anyway I didn’t want Malcolm getting nervous about what I might get up to.”

“Spoil sport.” Kathy giggled. “Well, I guess I’ll have to get out there and find some of my own. I am sure I can snare some high roller and get him to lend me a slave or two.”

The women each took a room. Susan ended with the powder blue room and dialled up calming scenes of slowly swirling Ankilyan sands for the wall décor. She was pleased to find each room had its own bathroom too, as she did not welcome being forced to bathe in front of the others when simply wishing to wash.

“I’m taking a quick bath.” Susan called into the central area, she received brief grunts in reply, suggesting her friends were already busy with their own arrangements.

Susan quickly filled the large bath and was soon sliding deep into the bubbles. The bath seemed to shape to her body, holding her comfortably in place with her head resting just out of the warm water. This felt good. It was excellent to have a break from work and the rather crowded house she shared with her housemates, most of them students, as she had been until a year ago. Getting a place of her own was still beyond her budget, but she looked forward to the day when it was possible. For now she could forget about it all and relax.

“Sue! Sue!” It was Kathy.

Susan woke up. The water still felt as warm as when she had eased into it, but she must have been there a while and have dropped off. Susan focused on Kathy in the doorway. She was already dressed in her party gear of bright silver clothes: a bra top, shorts and knee-length boots. Susan was certain her friend would fit right in on An-Kil-Lye.

“Didn’t you hear Wendy calling? We’ve been waiting for you. We’re hungry and are heading out. I guess you’re not ready.”

“I guess not.” Susan was loath to hurry from her bath and knew it would take a while for her to dry off and select an outfit.

“I’m not that hungry. You guys go on, I’ll catch you up. Where will you be?”

“I thought we’d check out this place called ‘The Cathouse’, it’s a club, there’s food there, a bar as well and a show later.”

“Sounds good. I’ll catch up in a short while.”

“Sure thing.” Kathy said and with that she was gone.

“Sue, Sue.” Moments later Wendy had appeared, her sweatshirt and jeans replaced by a short foil dress and strappy, heeled shoes all in a deep red. “I’m leaving you these. I know you only usually have sneakers, and they won’t do here. Okay?”

Susan looked up to see a smart black pair of leather shoes, with a rather too sharp point and rather too high heels.

“Okay, I don’t want to show you up on your big holiday.” Susan replied lightly.

Wendy smiled thanks, then she too was gone.

Susan had no idea whether she had fallen asleep again, but she now felt it was time to leave the bath. She clambered out and pressed the button on the side which quickly sucked all the water away and cleaned round the bath, in minutes leaving it as if no-one had used it. Susan walked over to the drying unit and soon warm air was wafting around her. She pressed the hair dryer button and the hemisphere lowered blowdrying the damp ends of her shoulder-length auburn hair. This was the life, she really felt pampered, and was glad she had not rushed getting ready the way her friends seemed to have done. It was a rare opportunity to be able to benefit from the facilities of a hotel like the Excelsior.

Susan walked into her own room. The shoes Wendy had left were at the foot of the bed, and one of the others had laid out a plain black dress of Susan’s. Susan guessed it had been Sharon, while she could appear at times to be a bit out of touch with what was going on, she was considerate and Susan was pleased she had unpacked the dress and also known that tonight Susan would want to wear something with a bit of class. Susan was in no hurry to dress though and was enjoying the afterglow of the bath. She crossed to her case and pulled out her small make-up bag. She did her lips and eyes, pleased with how she looked. Then, having selected underwear, she went back to the bed to dress. It was big enough to hold all four of them, and Susan guessed that was the point.

“Video screen on.” Susan called, bringing the screen fitted into the wall, to life.

The screen showed a list of options. Susan was not keen for any of the programmes she had seen out in the central area of the suite and simply called for the ‘What’s Happening?’ option, to play in the background while she dressed.

“… I’m here talking with Domina Zyrenne, a celebrity of the Lauzier fiefdom.” The video came to life.

“Evening, Serena.”

Susan glanced up at the screen. This seemed to be a magazine programme, and it aroused her curiosity to actually hear from residents of An-Kil-Lye and see what they were really like. The woman, this Domina, whatever that meant, seemed to be in her late thirties, and it was immediately clear that she was an Owner. Her top seemed to be of sheer satin or was it rubber, a scarlet shade under the cropped jacket of dark maroon leather. Around her neck was a heavy gold torc and in her nose and ears sat rubies. Her hair was an auburn mane of braids scooped back from her strong-featured face.

“What brings you to Masterton this evening? Are you attending the opening of the Crowe-Appeline display?”

“I’m hoping to drop in later, but tonight Selena, I am more out on a shopping spree, I am keen to buy another slave, a nice nubile young lady for sexual service.”

“So you’re not daunted by recent comments that the supply of slaves has fallen, pushing up the price until it becomes prohibitive.”

Zyrenne shook her head. “No, there’ll always be people seeking to drive up the price of slaves, it increases the value of their holdings. I’ve seen no evidence of a shortage of slaves, in fact I’m off to a late-night auction later. The SEB serves us well, great new slaves are always coming forward. You can still get excellent females at good prices, and I always say that quality is what matters.”

“Thank you Domina, I wish you luck with your shopping.”

“Thank you Selena.”

The screen narrowed its focus on to the presenter. “Now, we’re crossing to Andy who’s out over the Hythe Plateau …”

Susan realised she had been holding her breath whilst watching the feature. It had locked her in, and now the women had disappeared from the screen she was released. Strangely she felt a tingle when she thought back over what the Domina had said. Domina, the word sounded so strong. It was how open she had been, simply talking about buying a woman, a woman at that, to service her sexually. It seemed so far removed from anything Susan had experienced, but saying that, almost everything she had seen since arriving, fell into that category. Again Susan wondered if there was something in the air conditioning that was provoking all these strange thoughts in her mind, but she guessed that was nonsense, many of the visitors here simply came for the gambling or the combat sports and would have no interest in the slave-owning society which underpinned all their fun. It must have been a mixture of tiredness then that long bath. Susan told herself she needed to stop lounging around here, catch up with her friends and get a few drinks inside her.

Susan put on the sexy black bra and matching panties she had got from her luggage, then slipped into the dress Wendy had chosen, followed by the shoes she had lent Susan. Susan strutted in front of the mirror, pleased with her appearance. She pulled her hair up into a ponytail, not a style she ever really wore, but she had seen many women, both the owners, and the women they led, with their hair like that. She fiddled with it, wishing it was that bit longer but persisting until her hair seem to rise from the top of her head the way they did, rather than just hanging down her back. Now Susan was ready. She left the room, tucking her key into her clutch bag. Soon she was in the foyer. In moments, a slender man dressed in the Excelsior livery, and sporting the ubiquitous collar of a slave, was by her side.

“How can i help, madam?” The porter asked.

“Erm, yes, I need a taxi. I don’t know my way around. I need to catch up with my friends.”

“Come this way, please, madam.”

The porter guided her to the hotel entrance. Whilst Susan knew she was under a huge dome, it still felt as if she was outside and she wondered if she would be more aware of being inside when daylight returned to An-Kil-Lye. This place seemed to thrive in the night. The street might be like one of those replica ones of historic towns you found in museums – all inside, but it certainly felt as real as any one she could find in a city on her home planet. Various vehicles passed, of all shapes and sizes from motorbikes to small buses. It was all pollution free of course, there was really nowhere inside here for fumes to go, but for noise and busyness it matched anything down-town Ostia could throw up. The one key difference was the amount of human-drawn traffic. Susan had notice those moving luggage and small items by barrow, but now she picked up on the carts drawn by people too. As she stood there, a large carriage pulled by four, barely clothed, strong men passed. Susan gazed curiously at the leatherwear they wore, bridles and reins, and those strange hoof-like boots. Now accustomed a little more to the scene, she spotted smaller traps pulled by a single man or woman, or a pair of them. It was one of these that pulled up close to her.

“This way, madam.” The porter said.

Susan was a little hesitant about getting in the vehicle, but felt embarrassed about refusing. A woman in a long leather skirt, a fitted jacket and a top hat, sat at the reins. The trap was covered but was open towards the ‘horses’ as Susan thought of the two women pulling it. The porter pulled down the step and opened the little door into the trap. Susan stepped on board, very curious about what it would feel like, worrying that her weight would be too much for the women to pull, concerned too that the journey might be bumpy. The porter closed the door and it was too late for Susan to think of going back.

“Where would you like to go, ma’am?” The driver asked without turning round.

“Erm, I’m going to meet my friends. There’s three women.” Susan said, wondering if the driver would have seen them from the taxi stand at the Excelsior.

“And you’re the fourth. Where did they go?”

“Erm,” Susan tried to remember the name Kathy had said. “The cat-something, it’s a club, do you know it?”

“Sure do, ma’am. We take people where they really want to go.”

Without any hesitation the driver flicked her long whip and it lashed across the naked bums of her two ‘horses’. One snickered, but soon both of them were striding forward, their steps perfectly in time with each other's. Susan’s attention was focused on them. Like the men pulling the larger coach they were half-naked, their bodies criss-crossed with leather straps. They both wore leather ears on the tops of their heads and their long hair was primped into manes. Tails sat in their butts, which were striped with marks of the whip. Reins ran to bridles, that, as Susan had seen when getting on, had bars pressed down on their tongues. The driver directed the women by their reins, steering them skilfully through the busy street. Susan was surprised at how smooth the ride was, but she could not take her eyes off the women working so hard to pull her.

“Here you are ma’am.”

Susan looked out at the building in front of her. It was a large hemisphere, which seemed to have a huge black cat balanced on top of it, one paw reaching down to stroke at something and in fact indicating the entrance. Susan had been paying little attention to where she had been going, and realised that she was now off the main street and whilst this road had people coming and going it was quieter than what she had seen outside the hotel. The road here opened into a circle with a large fountain coming out of an erotic statue filling the centre. Various buildings, some shops, others offices, were grouped around it, and roads ran off in six directions, four of them into rather dark tunnels, the other two open like the street where her hotel was.

“How much was the ride?” Susan asked as she manoeuvred herself down from the trap.

“To serve is our reward, ma’am.” The driver replied and cracked her whip.

Before Susan could make any reply the trap was disappearing out of sight. Susan wondered how long it would take for her to understand this planet and its ways. She guessed anyway that it would be a cheap trip if taxi fares cost nothing. The door to the club was closed, but through thick glass Susan could just make out lights and movement inside. She wondered if the others were in there. She looked up at the name emblazoned above the door: ‘City Cat Club’. Was this the right place? It looked more like a private club, but then again, would a private club have a huge cat on its roof? Susan walked to the end of the building and saw there was the entrance to a small covered market next to it. Shopping, now that took Susan’s attention. She wondered if she would have time to do any once the girls got fully into party mode. She could browse down here for a few moments before catching them up.

The market stalls had their wares on tables out the front and then small shops selling more things behind. The market had a few tourists walking around browsing, but certainly did not seem to be at its peak, many of the stallholders were taking the opportunity for a meal break. Susan preferred that to them jumping out trying to cajole her into their shops. The range of stalls varied considerably, many sold recordings of combat sports or pornography, but Susan was not interested in those, and anyway, most would be illegal outside An-Kil-Lye. Weapons and sex toys were similarly in ready supply. Susan turned off the main path of the market and soon found herself among stalls selling food. As yet she did not feel really hungry and anyway she had difficulty identifying many of the things on offer.

Around one stall were grouped chairs and one was filled by a corpulent man literally pushing greasy food into his mouth. He wore a heavy robe that seemed to strain to cover his body and the long sleeves of which dragged through the plates of food he waited to consume. Two female slaves, wearing little bar pink leather bikinis, crouched at his feet and sprang up, scrapping between themselves for the morsels he tossed them. Susan turned to go away, but found her path blocked by another man, a few degrees slimmer than the one she had just watched. He was probably in his late fifties and dressed like a businessman in a costly suit. In each hand he held two leashes, and behind him four young women, entirely naked besides the characteristic collars, were being dragged along, their heads bent as they tried to keep up with their master’s marching pace. They looked weary and seemed relieved when their master slumped down in a chair and warmly greeted his friend, the corpulent master. With the path clear, Susan retraced her steps and headed off down what seemed like a quieter spur, away from the noise of cooking and those it clearly appealed to.

Susan soon found herself between stalls which held things that more attracted her attention. She made sure she bought some vials of genuine Ankilyan sand, taking a selection from different parts of the planet as she liked the variety of colours. They would be nice presents for her grandmother. Then she saw a couple of jewellery stands, this was what she was keen on for herself, and she also wondered if there would be something nice to supplement the wedding present she had already got for Wendy and Malcolm, something just for Wendy. The assortment of jewellery, in all kinds of metals, was very wide. Aside from the usual earrings, necklaces and bracelets were more exotic items that Susan could only guess at the purpose of. Some were more easily identifiable, and it was clear there was a demand for chains, collars and shackles in the finest metals as well as the toughest. That kind of thing had no interest for her, though she smiled when she imagined Kathy turning up with a filigree bracer or gold ankle shackles for their next girls’ night out.

Susan spotted some finely worked torcs. They were certainly different to the necklaces she knew at home, the silver, electrum, gold or platinum was all carefully worked and she guessed they must be expensive. They had the feeling of containment, but as they circle was open at the front, in most cases ending in spheres or hemispheres, there was the possibility of escape. Susan was taken by one in silver, its ends filled with a milky white stone.

“How much is that one?” Susan asked.

The stallholder, a small man, probably in his fifties, dressed smartly in a dark green suit, with a long, buttoned up jacket, jumped up, all smiles. He told Susan a price that sounded very reasonable and then knocked off ten percent. He helped Susan put it in place around her neck. Surprisingly the metal felt a little warm, and it was smooth on Susan’s neck. She looked at herself in the mirror. It looked good, but was possibly a bit heavy for just wearing with a dress. She had seen a woman wearing a similar torc, where was that? She had been wearing it with a jacket and that would be better. For now, Susan could not refuse the excellent offer, and soon she was pressing her thumb to the pay panel; then she had the torc wrapped and slipped it into her clutch bag. It was a bit full and she told herself there was no room to jam in anything else this evening, she would have to make a note of this place and head back some other time, probably when the other three were recovering from their hangovers.

Susan was pleased with her purchases and headed back to the street. She looked at the City Cat Club, but now the door was open and four women, they looked like tourists themselves rather than locals, were being shepherded in by the doorwoman. Susan hurried to catch up. The doorwoman had cropped hair and wore wrap-around sunglasses. She was dressed in a long black leather coat which concealed everything else. However, Susan guessed that was the style for door staff the galaxy over and unlike before, actually having a person to face made it less intimidating than just a blank door.

“It’s not a private club is it?” Susan checked.

“No, all are welcome. Come in, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.” The doorwoman smiled, and lifted her shades to show brilliant blue eyes. She extended a protective arm to Susan and ushered her inside.

Susan took a few moments to adjust to the interior's low light. The club felt warm and welcoming with soft music playing and the hubbub of chatter all around her. There were lounge chairs and a small stage which sounded like what Kathy had described, as far as Susan could remember. Susan looked around to see if she could see her friends. There were small clusters of tourists and others that looked like locals, but no sign of Kathy’s distinctive silver outfit. As Susan went in, she realised the club stretched back farther than she had believed and there were lots of dark alcoves, her friends could be anywhere. Susan guessed if she stuck herself at the bar they would soon spot her.

“What can I get you?”

Susan turned to the barmaid. She was dressed in a corset and a matching pencil skirt, both of red silk and decorated with tiny black roses. Even her slave collar was covered with the same silk. Her dark hair was piled on her head and held in place by slender black staves. She had a surprising tranquillity about her that reassured Susan.

“Erm, what have you got?”

“The full range.” The woman gestured expansively, but her tone was not unkind.

“Yes, sorry.”

“Don’t worry, it can be a bit intimidating coming in here. You just got off the shuttle?”

Susan nodded.

“And you sneaked away to come down here?”

“No, my friends are supposed to be in here, but I guess they might have got held up. Three women, one in silver – you know hotpants and boots.”

“I would have remembered her. Here, black tends to be the main colour, so you fit in fine. I’m sure they’ll turn up. How about a brandy to start with?”

Susan warmed to the barmaid who seemed so understanding. “Sounds good.”

The barmaid poured a large brandy and put it down with a flourish in front of Susan. She then held out the pay pad and Susan pressed down with her thumb, deducting the cost of the drink from her account. Another couple of women appeared further down the bar and the barmaid walked off to attend to them. Susan sipped the brandy, it was very smooth, not like the stuff people had pressed on her in the past. It gave her a warm glow inside. She picked up a handful of unidentifiable bar snacks and munched on them. She revolved on her stool to get a better view of the club around her.

From here the club seemed quieter, with the soft music just on the edge of Susan’s hearing. She guessed it was pretty early for serious clubbers, and there was no sign that anyone would be appearing on stage any time soon. Susan wondered what the shows were like here. She had been worried it would all be sexual performances, but this set-up looked more like it would be traditional singing, possibly a comedian, or perhaps a hypnotist. Maybe the others had come in and seeing the place so quiet had moved on, though she was sure they would return to check for her, Wendy was always good like that.

Susan sipped more of her drink. This was good. She looked through the low-lit room, now her eyes were adjusting, feeling pleased that though she was a woman alone, no-one had tried to start a conversation with her, though the barmaid had been nice. Maybe it was because she was a tourist, or maybe on a planet where you could literally buy a partner of any sort, hitting on people was unnecessary. Susan gazed at the pretty flickering pattern on a podium a short way from the bar. As she gazed, she realised it was not some lighting effect but two women, slowly wrapping around each other, stroking and entwining. Okay, so that looked pretty sexual, especially as the two of them wore matching outfits of shiny black corsets and impossibly long boots, and the collars they wore seemed to be of steel. But it was tasteful, Susan told herself, not in your face and the women’s bodies looked really good. Susan glanced down at her own body, she would not look too bad dancing like that, she knew Kathy needed no prompting to jump up somewhere and dance, but she lacked the subtlety that these two lovely women had. Susan wondered what it must be like to be dancing like that, so intimately, but so on show and dressed in those figure-hugging clothes too.

Susan’s attention was taken away from the dancers as a couple of women entered. Dimly Susan wondered why there were no men drinking in here, but maybe it was not the sort of place that men liked, it certainly was a great deal quieter than most bars she had visited, and the furnishings were soft and sensuous, the whole appearance appealed to her and she guessed it would be the same for other women too. She knew it might frustrate Kathy a little in her quest to bed as many men as possible, Sharon probably too, but she guessed Wendy would have picked the club intentionally, and Susan admired the implied commitment to Malcolm. Sharon and Kathy could find their kind of entertainment somewhere else.

Susan looked at the two women who had not come to the bar but were heading over to a booth. The woman in front was in her thirties and wore an olive-green leather skirt which reached to her ankles, above it she had a smooth matching jacket, cropped to the waist so onlookers could see the smooth sheet of leather that encompassed her bum and legs, unobstructed. The woman who followed was about ten years younger, her hair was short and slicked back. She wore a bandeau, shorts and calf-length boots all of leather that matched that of her mistress. How had Susan known the relationship between the two, and then she realised it was the collar on the second woman, or maybe it was something more, the way the slave moved around the woman who owned her. That was certainly the case when they reached the booth and the mistress made herself comfortable on the seat and the slave lowered herself onto a cushion at her feet. Moments later a waitress was coming across with a glass of whisky for the mistress and a stainless steel bowl of drink for her pet. Even having seen many exotic sights on An-Kil-Lye Susan was still intrigued to watch the slave lapping from her bowl like a favoured cat. That must be the connection, the reason why the club had its name. Susan smiled to herself for being so slow. For an instant she wondered if she should really be here, if this was where Owners brought their slaves, but then again the doorwoman had been so welcoming, maybe these mistresses simply loved showing off what they had to curious tourists like herself. She could imagine why this was a good compromise between Wendy and Kathy, as the latter was always interested in seeing something different and at first hand.

Reassured and not feeling embarrassed to watch, now that she felt she had come to understand this place, Susan continued gazing. Now the slave was wresting her head in the lap of her mistress and was being stroked gently. Susan shuddered almost as if hit by the intensity of the feelings between the two. She could feel the devotion of the slave and the affection of the Owner, a really strong bond between them. Suzanne mused what it must be like to have such a force, the slave had given up all responsibility for her life, into the hands of her mistress, who in turn had such a duty to the woman she entirely owned. Such a different life had a heady effect on Susan and her mind ran down all kinds of thoughts.

The mistress was joined by another woman dressed in a long purple silk robe, patent ankle boots emerging from beneath it. She gave a cursory glance around the room and quickly summoned a waitress across. She brought a glass of something matching what the woman’s friend was drinking. However, moments later the waitress returned and Susan watched as she pointed to the bar, not at Susan herself but to a stool a handful away. Susan had not even noticed the woman sitting there, alone like herself. She looked equally as nervous and took a long draw on her drink as the woman in purple looked and pointed at her. Susan’s head turned back and forth between the two women. She held her breath as the woman in purple beckoned to the lone drinker. Susan turned back to see how the other woman would respond. At first sight Susan had thought her a slave, but now she saw that it was simply a thick necklace not a collar that she wore. The woman slipped from the stool. She wore a bustiere with laces down the front, a short black leather skirt and stockings that ran into sharp-heeled ankle boots. Like the woman summoning her, her dark hair ran as a single plait down her back. Susan watched enthralled as the tourist spoke to the mistress for a short while, then slowly, if a little awkwardly, lowered herself on to a cushion at the woman in purple’s feet. The tourist rested her head against the mistress’s leg and was rewarded first with gentle stroking of her hair then with a bowl that the waitress brought for her.

Susan’s mind coursed with thoughts. Had that woman been ‘offering’ herself as a slave, the way the guidebooks spoke about? Or was it something more temporary? Was she just playing at being a slave? Susan guessed that for a lonely tourist a bit of attention, however much it was roleplay, could be fun. Susan wondered what the procedure was, but then again, she was not alone was she? She was waiting for her three friends, and how embarrassing would it be if they all bowled in simply to find her sitting at the feet of some dominant woman? Susan looked at her glass, somehow it was empty. She was feeling rather odd, maybe it was the bar snacks, maybe it was the flight down, maybe she was more tired than she had thought. She signalled to the barmaid.

“Same again?” The barmaid asked cheerily.

“Erm, no, I’m feeling a bit uncomfortable, have you got something that would make me feel better?” Susan was loath to head off ill before her friends arrived.

The barmaid gave a knowing smile. “Leave it to me, I know it can be scary the first time. We’ll soon have you feeling great about it all, then you can really enjoy yourself.”

“Sounds good.”

In a few moments the barmaid returned with a shot glass of clear liquid. Susan stretched forward to pay for it.

“No, this one’s on the house. Get it down you, girl.” The barmaid encouraged.

Susan took the glass and sipped, then gulped down the liquid. It did feel good, suddenly her whole body seemed to tingle and the sensation in her stomach faded to be replaced by something different, an excitement, and that was nice. Susan looked around the room with fresh eyes, there seemed to be a new drive in her. It was a strange mixture, partly she wanted to get up and do something, speak to someone, especially one of those lovely mistresses, but then again she felt increasingly passive as if she should not be making decisions for herself, that she should simply do what she was told. Susan stared rather vacantly, taking in how wonderful this place was and all the opportunities it offered her.

Then Susan looked up as the door opened and in strode another mistress. This one wore skin-tight black rubber, long boots over a catsuit that clung to her. For an instant Susan felt she had lost touch with reality, all that was authentic was her and this woman. How strong she looked, how sexy she appeared. Susan knew it would be perfection to serve this woman and serve her wholly. Behind her strutted two slaves, one with dark brown skin, another shades lighter. Both were dressed in long leather boots and tight leather shorts and bras which accentuated their perfect bums and breasts. Susan watched, gasping, feeling an urge deep in her to become the third in the set, to strut behind her mistress dressed so erotically. She went to move from her chair, but something was telling her that was not what slaves did, they waited, waited until a mistress requested them. Susan felt frustrated, she looked around for the barmaid to give her guidance, but she was busy mixing drinks.

“Do you need help?”

Susan’s befuddled mind fixed on the voice and as she refocused she saw two women a few steps away, like herself propped on bar stools. The one speaking wore a pale blue rubber dress, her friend’s was the same, but a light green. Both women had long blonde hair. They looked like the kind of good-time women Susan would usually avoid, but she realised she needed help to deal with the feelings that seemed to be rising in her and these two looked friendly.

“Yes, er, yes. I’m, er, well, I’m new here.” Susan stuttered, recognising she was not getting her message across. “I just need to know what to do.” She said more certainly.

“Well, what is it that you want?” The woman asked in a soft voice, but briefly shot a glance back to her friend and they shared a quick laugh.

“Erm. I want …”

The woman in blue played at being patient. “You want to give yourself to one of the mistresses.”

As the woman said it, Susan did indeed feel that, it seemed so clear that that was what she wanted. “Yes, how do I do it?”

Susan stepped forward, as if waiting the woman to impart the knowledge which would give her everything she needed. Her mind seemed assaulted by thoughts, simple thoughts, pleasant thoughts. As she walked towards the pair of blondes, she felt as if in fact she was following her mistress, dressed in the most perfect glistening rubber, and herself, most properly dressed in tight leather which showed her sleek body, not something which actually belonged to her, but a body that was her mistress’s property. The two women drank up their drinks and then positioned themselves either side of Susan. She breathed deeply of the rubbery smell coming from both of them, and loved the brief touches of their rubber-clad bodies as they brushed her hands and arms.

“You want the real thing, doesn’t she Candi?” The woman in blue addressed her companion.

“Certainly, Chantelle. This is all just make believe, a real woman looking for a real mistress needs to offer herself.”

“Offer herself?” Susan asked bemused.

Susan tried to focus on where she was being taken and shake off the sensation that it was really none of her concern. These women had her interests at heart and she was sure they were taking her somewhere good. She realised that she was now outside the club heading down a rather dark, covered pathway, pierced by bright lights from small shops and offices along the way. Susan was not certain how long she had been walking for, or exactly where she was. She looked around for the two women, but they seemed to have gone. She caught sight of two figures in blue and green standing a short distance off, but that short distance seemed so far, and surely it was better to sit here as they had suggested. Susan could sense dark figures in the shadows, but they seemed to be keeping their distance, or certainly approaching no closer than the parameters set by the lights of the office opposite her. Susan looked at this building, at once both dark and well lit. It looked like another club, with video screens fitted in the dark panels of its walls. Over the door was emblazoned in changing colours, ‘SEB’, but the initials did not register in Susan’s dulled mind.

Lazily Susan looked at the video running on the store’s screens, it was on a loop and by the second time round she found she was paying more attention. It showed a woman dressed in casual clothes like many tourists, looking a little startled as a mistress, classically dressed in long black leather boots and a corset, strode up. The mistress ran her eyes over the tourist who seemed to be increasingly relaxed and then began smiling. In moments she was swaying as the mistress reached out her hand to touch the woman’s waist. Then the tourist seemed to stoop and her clothes seemed to darken, then gradually to become shinier. Slowly the woman lowered herself towards the ground and the casual jeans and teeshirt appeared to be morphing into skin-tight leggings and a halter top; her sneakers growing a heel and becoming boots that grew longer and longer. Soon the tourist was kneeling before the mistress who clipped a collar round her neck. The woman threw back her head, gasping in apparent pleasure. As she refocused, she abased herself entirely. The woman began kissing her mistress’s booted feet in gratitude and Susan could see her clothes were fully changed into thigh-length boots below bum-hugging shorts and a bustiere. As her Owner attached a leash to her collar, the new slave rose and resplendent in glistening rubber clothes, was led away, swaying sexily, to her new life as just another of An-Kil-Lye’s owned.

Susan could not look away, her mouth felt parched and her body ached with a thrill at what she was watching. She was oblivious to how long she had stood there when she saw a woman from the corner of her eye approaching the store. Susan looked her over quickly, partly reluctant to have her gaze away from the screen. The woman seemed to be about Susan’s age and dressed smartly, in a simple black dress and stiletto heel shoes. Around her neck was a silver torc, but she wore no other jewellery.

“Are you going in?” The woman asked.

Susan was startled by the question and when she tried to answer, she found her mouth dry.

In the absence of a response the woman continued. “I’ve decided. I’ve been saving up for over a year to come here. This is my last night of freedom, tomorrow I’ll wake as a slave.” Her words came out with a kind of determination, which to Susan in her state, impressed rather than scared her.

“I’ll tell you one thing.” The woman went on.

“W-w-what?” Susan’s dry mouth began working.

“Don’t walk away, you’ll regret the moment you leave here. No-one who even considers offering themselves should hold back from doing it. You might have doubts, but the other visitors here on this planet do not even think about it. If you’re standing here and not off gambling or ogling naked dancers, then you should be in there, making that,” she nodded to the transformation being played out on the screen, “become reality.”

Susan glanced back at the video playing, uncertain what she felt.

“Here take this, I’ll have a real collar soon. Its from An-Kil-Lye, I kept it as something that encouraged me to return here, maybe it’ll convince you that it’s a mistake to even leave. It’s worth something, but I guess if it does its job you won’t be worrying about that, slaves have no property … it’s so liberating, to be free of possessions, to become property yourself.”

Susan took the torc, feeling it was a little odd that this woman was so generous. Maybe it was not as expensive as it looked, just a little more upmarket souvenir of An-Kil-Lye. She held it in her hands, but it demanded to be eased around her neck and in moments it was.

The woman smiled at Susan. “Don’t leave it as long as I did between putting that one on and getting yourself a real collar.”

Susan suddenly felt that was important, to get a real collar. Maybe she could pick up one in the stores. No, that was silly, she needed a real collar and all that that meant. A voice seemed to be coming insistently in her head. As Susan wondered about the implications the voice seemed more soothing, that was right, that was a good choice. Susan wondered if she was tired, her head seemed so woolly, but now there seemed to be some clarity in her thinking. She wanted to gaze back at the video, but felt that was foolish, that was simply a show for tourists, she should see the real thing.

Susan tried to focus on what she was doing. “What’s your name?” Susan asked.

“It was Susan, but I have no name, my mistress will give me a name, my only name, my collar name. My old life is fading, soon my new name and my new identity will take its place, will burn deep into me. For the moment I am just a Visitor, but soon I will be a slave, truly owned.

“Susan?” Susan was a bit confused, uncertain now whether she or the other woman was speaking.

“What’s yours?” The woman asked.

“The same.”

“Excellent, that’s it, prepare yourself for the slavery, shed your old identity.” The woman looked enthusiastic.

Susan realised the woman had misunderstood her, but the thought of sloughing off her identity suddenly seemed very appealing. What was Susan Harris anyway, compared to the exotic creatures here? Would it not be so good not to have to worry about anything, to be so incredibly sexy, so protected and petted as those women she had seen in the bar? The woman walked up to the door of the SEB building. It opened. She hovered in the doorway, clearly to Susan with no doubt in her mind that she wanted to enter, but looking to encourage Susan to follow her in.

“Are you coming in?” The woman asked.

Susan hesitated, she looked over the woman and saw a leather-clad woman strutting up behind her, no doubt intentionally dressed like the one in the video. For a moment she half expected the one in the black dress to start metamorphosing like the woman in the video. She reached out her hand to Susan, but it was the mistress that decided the issue.

“Come in.” The mistress said.

The woman in the dress seemed to forget Susan and stepped through the doorway, apparently already unable to think independently. The mistress’s gaze felt speculatively on Susan, probably wondering if she was a friend.

“Come in.”

The mistress invited, but something in Susan’s mind turned it into a command and she found herself walking forwards, in moments she had stepped through the door, which silently slid closed behind her, shutting out the rest of Masterton. The room was low-lit with soft music playing in the background and there was a heavy, but pleasant scent throughout. Variants of the video showing outside were playing in here, though longer and more explicit. Susan watched the tourist being transformed with the scene only concluding when it reached the stage when her mouth was locked on her mistress’s naked pussy, licking her to orgasm.

“Welcome to the SEB, you’ve made the right choice.” The mistress said running her eyes over Susan.

At the sound of the woman’s voice, Susan’s attention was snatched away from the screen and to the woman before her. As she looked, Susan felt a range of sensations, initially envy of the sexy leather the woman wore, then quickly a sense of reassurance that this woman would take charge and solve any issues, and that merged into feeling that she had to do whatever the woman commanded. Command? That was the right word, Susan told herself, and Obey, that was the correct thing, no, the only thing to do.

“Thank you. Er, what do I do?” Susan asked hesitantly, uncertain of what was expected, but somehow feeling that whatever was suggested would be perfectly the right thing for her.

“Just step into this booth.” The mistress said gesturing to an alcove in the wall behind her.

Susan guessed that was where the woman in the dress had gone to get her real collar. Susan fancied one of those, it would be something to show the others, wherever they were. For the moment though, that was no concern, she ought to simply do what the mistress said. Obedience, that was the key; that was what brought rewards.

“Will I get a collar like the woman on the video?” Susan asked, for some reason the question seemed important.

“Of course, and lovely clothes like her too, and even better, a mistress to look after you.”

For a moment Susan thought a mistress might be a guide for her stay here, but then it seemed more important than that and she remembered what the woman in the dress had said about worries fading, not being concerned about possessions, but being a possession, what was the term, being owned, that was it.

“I want to be owned.” Susan said, somehow pleased with that statement.

“Of course, you want to be owned.” The mistress said as if confirming that wish in Susan’s mind. "Step in and you will soon be."

Susan found herself stepping forward. Somehow, as all throughout tonight and certainly since she came in sight of the SEB, all qualms seemed to fade quickly; yet again Susan felt confident that she was making the right choice. In moments she was inside the booth.

"Now there is no turning back." The mistress explained from behind Susan. "When you leave that booth you will an Ankilyan slave."

Susan turned to see the last gap of the open door shrink and disappear. She pressed her hands against it, suddenly worried about being closed in, but there was no handle on this side and it seemed firmly shut. One side of the chamber was mirrored showing Susan rather bedraggled in her dress. In front of her was a screen but for the moment it was black and lifeless.

“Welcome to the Syndicate Enslavement Bureau, you are now in an offering chamber and the process of offering yourself as a slave has begun.” A soft woman’s voice sounded.

Susan felt relaxed by the voice, it somehow seemed final, but that that was a good thing. It was warm in the chamber, and the scent she had smelt when she entered the SEB office seemed stronger. Was that music playing behind the woman’s voice? It was nice.

Suddenly a bright light flicked into Susan’s eyes. She blinked and her vision readjusted. In front of Susan the screen sprung to life. On it appeared: ‘Susan Emma Harris – Excelsior Guest, Visitor Status’. Then the text seemed to flicker. Susan looked again: ‘Susan Emma Harris – Visitor Status’.

“Susan Emma Harris, you have been checked out from the Excelsior, any outstanding bills will be paid from your sale price.” The voice fell silent for a few moments, before saying. “Is there an Owner you are seeking to offer yourself to?”

Susan hesitated not knowing what to say. “Erm, no, I don’t think so.”

“You will become a slave temporarily owned by the Syndicate Enslavement Bureau until such time that you are sold to an Owner, whether private or corporate.”

“Right.”

“What is your sexual orientation?”

“Erm, I like sex.” Susan replied, rather confused by the question.

“Do you want to serve a Master or a Mistress or are you happy serving either?” The voice tried a different tack.

“Erm.” Susan thought back to the obese waddling man she had seen leading those two women and contrasted it with the sleek mistresses in the ‘City Cat Club’ with their slaves fawning at their feet. “A woman please.” Susan said a little more confidently.

“Do you have any fetishes?”

“Erm, I don’t know.” Susan stalled, thinking about what that meant and if she had any.

“What do you like?” The voice persisted patiently.

“I’d like some nice shiny clothes like the women I saw in the ‘City Cat Club’, oh, and that woman in your video, you know black and shiny, and some boots too, that would be cool.” Susan hoped that was the right thing.

The voice said nothing, as if waiting for Susan to add more.

“Is that alright? Shiny clothes?” Susan asked, and waited a little more.

Apparently satisfied the voice intoned. “Orientation and fetishes registered.”

The text on the screen flickered again and now just showed. “Susan Emma Harris – Proto-owned Status.”

“Your Visitor Status has been removed, you are now no longer permitted to leave An-Kil-Lye.”

Somehow that did not seem to be a bad idea to Susan. Something was telling her it was good not to have to leave here but to stay and become a full part of An-Kil-Lye, other places were just full of worry and work, here those things did not concern her.

“The final process of enslavement will now begin. Remove your clothes and any items of jewellery; place them in the chute beside you.”

As the voice gave these instructions a panel opened, creating the opening to the chute. Susan was a bit disconcerted. Her head felt heavy. Did she need her clothes? No, she needed some others, these were too dull, she needed nice shiny clothes like she had seen in the video. Susan gasped as she looked away from the chute to the screen in front of her. Now it was showing the video she had seen outside, but with one major difference, the woman in it was herself dressed in the dress and shoes she now wore, even with that torc around her neck. Susan’s body felt taut as she watched herself approach the mistress, surely the one she had seen on entering the SEB office. In moments her clothes were changing and she watched herself, clad in tight leather and long, sharp-heeled boots kissing the booted feet of her mistress, a leash leading from her collar to be held so firmly in the mistress’s hand. Susan felt really aroused and realised she was panting. Her whole body felt warm, her breasts ticklish as their nipples pressed against her dress. Below her pussy was softening and wet. Susan felt a little inhibited but she was certainly eager to finger herself. There was no-one to see her.

“Remove your clothes and any items of jewellery; place them in the chute beside you.” The voice repeated.

Susan felt she had done something wrong and that she should obey. How could she get any nice shiny clothes unless she got rid of these ones? She remembered she had dropped her clutch bag somewhere anyway. Quickly she slipped out of her shoes and put them together into the chute. That was good, their heels were too short anyway, she would prefer some boots, some long boots. Susan then unzipped her dress, it certainly was too dull for wearing in a place like An-Kil-Lye, she needed something tighter, certainly shinier, something that really showed off her figure, showed a bit more of her lovely, smooth skin too. Susan bundled the dress into the chute, noticing how tight and uncomfortable her bra felt. That was better, she thought as she took it off, letting her aroused breasts stand pert in their excitement. Her panties were sodden anyway, she needed some more, she might as well chuck these ones out. Standing naked, Susan could not ignore the call of her pussy and slid in her fingers, bunching them up to put satisfying weight inside her. She began turning them, awkwardly fumbling with her spare hand for the torc around her neck. Finally it came off. Susan felt suddenly more alert, but the arousal her body was stoking up meant she had little thought for anything else. She dropped the torc into the chute, barely noticing, as free from duty her hand began teasing her nipples.

Suddenly Susan was fixed to the spot, she felt unable to move, then her arms moved away from her body and her legs opened. Then the chamber filled with a fine spray, it seemed to cover her all over. Then just as quickly gentle jets of warm air played all over her. In moments Susan felt she could move again. Susan looked at herself in the mirror, her skin seemed to have gained a shine and as she lifted her fingers to her nose, there was a lovely, heady aroma about her now too.

“This is the last stage to make you into a slave.” The voice sounded.

Susan watched as a panel opened beneath the screen. Inside was a shiny black collar, just like the one she had seen on so many women in the city and in the club. As Susan picked it up she really had the feeling that this was the right thing to do, this was a real collar and it was for her. She was so privileged to be able to have one. She knew she had to put it on, to be like those lovely women she had seen. Susan lifted it to her neck, and pushed the shiny black ends together. They closed with a satisfying snap, and Susan somehow knew she would not have the power to remove the collar even if she wanted to.

Something was flickering on the screen. There was a flash in her eyes just like there had been when she had entered the chamber. She looked at the screen. “Slave – OSFf05/M/A/1A” was all that it said.

“Slave, leave the chamber.” The voice now spoke with a more domineering tone that Susan did not feel she could disobey.

“Slave, proceed to the auction.”

The panel in front of Susan opened and she stepped through she found herself in a small circular room. There were a handful of men and women all standing unashamedly naked bar their collars and Susan guessed they had all just been enslaved like herself. Susan did not know what it was but whereas she would have been embarrassed stripping in front of her best friends, now among these strangers it just felt right. The door at the end opened and one-by-one men and women, presumably employed by the auction house leashed each of the slaves and led them out through the door. Susan could hardly focus on what was happening, but she was sure someone was whispering in her ear that this was good, this was exciting and Susan felt in no position to protest otherwise.

A woman dressed in a military-style jacket and trousers of some gleaming material walked up to Susan and clipped a leash to the metal ring at the front of her collar which Susan had not even noticed. The woman wrapped a tag around Susan's wrist with the number the screen had shown her on it. She then pulled on the leash and Susan followed, again this seemed the right thing to do. In moments she stepped out on to a brightly lit stage. There were tens of people thronged around the semi-circular stage. Susan was surprised it was not more technologically advanced, but she guessed that some Owners would like to do it the old fashioned way, and the whole thing resembled a livestock market. A large man in his late fifties stood to one side of the stage at a podium and began shouting into a microphone the moment Susan was led on. Her handler stood a little back, letting Susan’s leash out to its full extent.

“… is an unaugmented female, totally untouched by reverse-ageing, what you see is as she has grown into. This lot lusts for a mistress who will ease her into some tight shiny clothes. Ladies, can’t you just see this one at your heel in boots up to her crotch and the tightest of rubber outfits? What am I offered?”

Susan could hear figures shouted but could make no sense of them. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she could make out more of those in the crowd, some were pushing to the front to get a better view of her. Susan gasped as realisation hit her, not that she was actually being sold, that remained some vague concept, more that one of these women running their eyes critically over her would take her from here and make her into one of those slaves she had seen strutting behind the rubber-clad mistress. As that thought burst in her mind Susan felt herself so aroused, her breasts became pert and her pussy began to slacken. She was eager for the auction to finish and to be led away with her new mistress.

“… see ladies how fired up she is at the thought of one of you owning her. Think how hot she is going to be when you have her as your pet between your legs, lapping away as your favourite lapdog. Any further offers for this bitch seriously in heat?”

More shouts came from the crowd of women and Susan felt strangely happy at all the interest in her. She made sure she stood up straight, pushing out her breasts and then turned slowly, almost as if she was an expert performer. Her actions seemed to have encouraged the bidding and more women were thronging forward. However, it was one on the edge of the group that attracted Susan’s attention as she noticed the ruby earrings catching the light and then the sleek, braided hair. It seemed peculiar to have seen this mistress on screen then for her to be here in person. Maybe it was not that odd at all, as Susan’s clouded memory recalled that this woman, this Domina, Domina Zyrenne, that was it, this wonderful Domina had said she was coming to the late-night slave auctions and that was certainly where Susan realised she was now.

Susan had no idea who was winning the bidding until Domina Zyrenne raised her leather-gloved hand holding a card with a number on it. The shouting had stopped and Susan guessed that this woman had won her. Susan’s handler led her off the stage into a queue of slaves. When Susan’s turn came she passed a man at a desk and another man cut off her tag and handed it to the desk clerk. Hovering nearby was the domina and Susan could see her running her eyes over Susan’s naked body, smiling, apparently in appreciation of what she saw. In moments Susan’s leash was handed over.

“Slave, this woman is now your mistress.” The handler explained.

“Domina Zyrenne, enjoy your new slave.”

“Thank you.”

Susan shuddered as a thrill ran through her as she watched as Domina Zyrenne grasped her leash firmly in her gloved hand. The mistress looked again at Susan who felt a tingle and pleasure at being so viewed. Then the mistress began walking. Susan felt she had to follow, just a few paces behind so that the leash was a slack curve between them, but it was clear that Susan was being led and that she was a slave. Susan walked behind through a door into a lobby. It was furnished the same as the SEB office she had entered through but was more open with comfortable chairs in groups around, and a front desk staffed by a smiling receptionist. Susan guessed this was the way Owners came in.

Domina Zyrenne stopped to chat with a couple of people and Susan stood behind her, not even trying to participate. That seemed right, it was right to be passive until she was needed. Her attention focused on the sleek maroon leather clothes that Zyrenne wore. Susan wondered what it felt like to wear such clothes and increasingly enviously ran her eyes from the mistress’s shoulders down the back of her cropped jacket to where her bum was a leather-covered hemisphere then down the shapely line of her legs into the knee-high boots she wore. Susan felt pleased to be able to serve this woman. Serve this woman? Not for the first time did Susan wonder at the thoughts appearing in her mind, telling her the correct things to do and what to be. However, as before, any queries were soon fading from her and Susan struggled to hold back from stroking her naked body over the domina’s lovely leathers.

Now Susan realised the mistress was walking again and she followed as was correct. In moments they stepped through the door into the street and Susan saw a two-woman taxi trap pull up just like the one she had taken to the club. As she walked behind Zyrenne to get into it and moved further from the SEB office she increasingly felt her head was clearing, it was like coming up for a breath from deep in a swimming pool or suddenly sobering up after a night’s drinking. Susan felt as if her vision was sharper, her senses more awake. Her mind seemed to be a mass of conflicting thoughts, but those which had seemed so dominant in the SEB office now seemed to be distant and fading with every step she moved from the premises. Susan stepped into the taxi and found herself sitting on a cushion on the floor. As yet she did not feel confident enough to protest, and as this strange woman’s leather-coated legs were placed either side of her Susan did not yet know how to express her concerns.

The taxi jerked into life as the driver cracked her whip and the two women ‘horses’ began their precise steps. Susan’s breasts jiggled and she suddenly realised that she was naked. Naked and sitting between the legs of some woman in leather. What had happened? Had she been drugged? Susan tried to piece together the images of the past few hours. Was it hours or had it been longer, had it been less? Susan was not certain. She now remembered a club, and she remembered women, two in green and blue, one in a black dress, a Susan, or was that her? She was Susan, that was one thing she was certain of, or was she? Did she not now have some other name, some other description? ‘M’ and ‘A’ seemed to ring a bell. M for mistress? Was that it? This place was obviously messing with her head.

The taxi stopped and Susan followed the mistress out. She was not certain where her clothes had gone. Was she under arrest, had she been robbed? Who had been those two women, that third one in black? Had they robbed her? Was this woman in the maroon connected with the police? Susan thought it best to stay quiet for the moment. She walked behind the woman into a hotel. That was better, surely she must be being brought back to her room in the hotel. The drink must have been stronger than she thought. This woman, what was her name? Zyrenne? What a strange name, but Susan guessed she must be a local. Anyway, she seemed to be talking with the receptionist, sorting things out for Susan.

“Domina Zyrenne, great to see you back, no messages. You have an item of human property I see, just enter the commodity number here.”

Susan watched Zyrenne type in something starting ‘OS’, but she could not follow the rest. Those letters seem to signal something in Susan’s brain too. She must be tired as she could not make out what, but saying them in her mind brought nice feelings. Moments later she was walking behind Zyrenne and was soon going into a comparatively small but comfortable room. It held a large circular bed covered in black silk sheets. Zyrenne went to a decanter on a small table to one side. She poured herself a drink, then turned to Susan.

“Are you thirsty?”

Susan nodded slowly, still trying to get a handle on what was happening, but now, here in the quiet of the hotel room her head seemed to be clearing rapidly. She watched as Zyrenne picked up a silver bowl from beneath the table, opened a bottle of water and emptied it into the bowl which she put back on the floor. Susan was too thirsty to comment on the woman’s strange behaviour but walked over and picked up the bowl. She sat down on the chair beside the table and drank deeply glad to slake her dry mouth.

"That is your cushion, slave." Domina Zyrenne said, gesturing to a long silk cushion at the foot of the bed.. "But first, lick me to orgasm."

Susan looked at the mistress rather blankly.

"Slave, do you understand?"

"Er, yes, I sleep there." Susan said, looking for cues on how to behave, uncertain about her status, but increasingly gathering that somehow this woman was imprisoning her.

"You sleep there, what?"

"I sleep there all night?" Susan suggested, not wanting to cause offence. Naked and with none of her possessions or any money, she knew she was going to have to play things carefully until she found an opportunity to escape back to her friends.

Zyrenne smiled wryly and stepped closer to Susan grasping her arms gently. "You are an amateur. Do you know nothing of being a slave? I thought you types who came to An-Kil-Lye were well read in all the etiquette, I've heard of some correcting their Owner about the ‘correct’ procedures." Zyrenne laughed lightly.

"Er, no, I, er, well I only just became a slave." That seemed the right answer, but the words seemed strange in her mouth.

"At least you know that, but I guess it was a snap decision? You hadn't been planning it for ages?"

"Erm, I was on holiday. It's Wendy's wedding next month."

"You just got lost from your friends and ended up offering yourself at the SEB, is that it?" Zyrenne asked sounding a little incredulous as if this was some game.

Susan nodded. "Yes, I was dizzy after that drink and kind of ended up at the SEB, I liked the video showing. I had seen those women with the other women at their feet, as if they were their pets, they seemed to treat them so well. The shiny clothes they wore seemed so sexy."

"Certainly we do, Owners cherish their pets, as I will cherish you. Have no worries, I will buy your the tightest, shiniest, sexiest clothes you could be slid, laced and buckled into."

"Thank you."

"'Thank you, Mistress', that's what you must say. I am your mistress as long as I choose to be and if I sell you, someone else will be your mistress, you'll be owned now forever."

"Yes, Mistress." Susan replied to be polite, but the sound of the words, she realised, aroused her deeply. However, there was a nagging doubt as she was uncertain if this was some kind of roleplay or something more real. She tried to remember what she had seen and said back in the club.

"Well, we can have fun, at least you're a lesbian."

Susan flushed, stepping back from Zyrenne.

"So you're not? You've never slept with a woman?"

"No, er, mistress."

"I should sue the Bureau for false description of goods, here I was expecting a lesbian slave and I end up with a straight, lost tourist."

With a determined expression on her face, Zyrenne took Susan by the hand and led her to the bed. "Lie back and I'll show you why having a woman is so much better than having a man."

"Er, er, I can't."

"Nonsense, remember what you might think, you are a slave, and 'can't' is not a word a slave knows. The right phrase is 'Yes, Mistress, thank you Mistress.'"

"Yes Mistress, thank you Mistress." Susan said and the sexy feeling that ran through her emphasised that it was certainly the right thing for her to say.

Zyrenne did not seem to be threatening her, in fact she seemed to want to do all she could for Susan. Though doubts remained, as Susan had already realised her options were currently limited, she might as well play along. In time, she was certain, everything would be sorted. Susan did not resist as she was guided to the bed and layed down. Zyrenne slipped out of her jacket and tossed it on the chair beside the bed. She then tugged off one and then the other of her long boots and let them fall to the floor. She walked over to the bed side and smiled at Susan who nervously smiled back. Zyrenne hesitated with her hands on Susan’s collar then rather than unclipping the leash tied it to the pole which ran along the wall at the bed’s head.

“Relax and you’ll soon be a convert.”

After everything that had happened, only some of which was dimly returning to Susan’s memory she did not feel in a position to resist and anyway, that feeling, the feeling of Zyrenne’s leather-covered legs gently passing between her own thighs, and that sensation, the sensation of Zyrenne’s rubber-clad breasts knocking gently against Susan’s own pert ones, was so good, and it continued. As Zyrenne’s fingers, then her tongue, gently stroked at the lips of Susan’s pussy, then teased out her hardening clitoris, any concerns were swept from Susan’s mind, her focus was simply on the rising pleasure. Zyrenne seemed to know Susan’s body was well as a long-term lover and touched and teased her in every place that felt good, not rushing it, but building up the sensations, pushing Susan on to another plateau and rather than letting the fire go out and Susan slip back to less arousal, Zyrenne dug deeper and pushed Susan further until her whole body was taut, savouring the sensations with her mind overloaded with pleasure, but hungry for the climax.

“Please, please.” Susan begged for release.

“Please, what?” Zyrenne’s voice was muffled but firm.

“Please, Mistress. I beg you Mistress.”

“Good girl. Yes, it is your mistress who gives you orgasms; here is the first of many.”

With those words Susan was shot into an intense light, losing control of her body, only distantly aware of the pleasurable convulsions that fired through it as her whole self was overtaken by the orgasm her mistress delivered.