Susan awoke, she felt strange. She had had such vivid dreams and wondered if coming to An-Kil-Lye had been the right idea, the sights she had seen had clearly been playing with her sub-conscious. Her mouth felt dry and her body had a dull ache. She must have been drinking heavily last night. One of the others must have guided her back here, probably Wendy, she was always reliable. Susan opened her eyes, though the lights were off, the soft glow from lamps around the door gave her enough light to see by. One of them must have taken her clothes off, as she was now naked. She hoped she had not been sick over them. Then again she had only been wearing that dress and Wendy’s shoes, not too much to remove. Susan sat up and realised she was on the floor. Had she got up and slept walked in the night? Or had she been too much of a handful for Wendy to get into bed? There was a silver bowl of water next to the cushion on which Susan had been lying. That was odd. However, seeing it sent an alert through Susan’s mind, tying together some of the stray images remaining from her dreams. As she felt the touch of something slippery, firm, but not tight, around her neck, realisation hit Susan. She gasped in panic and jumped up. She did not get far as her leash had been lashed to the foot of Zyrenne’s bed.

Susan slumped back on the cushion. Her brain tried to deny this was real, to say it was some vivid dream, but ultimately Susan knew that was not the case. How could she have done it? It was all distant as if remembering from long ago. Susan knew she had had to have been drunk, that was the only explanation, but what were the implications? Had she really, truly ‘offered’ herself as a slave? Was this some kind of role play scene she had got herself into and how did she get out of it? She guessed her friends, if they had surfaced yet, would be worried and no doubt would be raising the alarm, but how were things done here on An-Kil-Lye? She guessed this domina must be influential, and she was the local and she probably would claim she bought Susan, that she owned Susan.

Susan tried to calm herself. The returning memories, however, raised new concerns. Had she really let this woman have sex with her? Had she really enjoyed it or was it simply a result of the drugs she had been fed? Did that explain why her relationships had not lasted, because in fact she fancied women? Why had it taken so long to find out? Susan felt overwhelmed by all the questions. She had to focus on the here and now. Getting some clothes and getting back to her friends whether by reasoning with this woman or by escaping was the priority. She began trying to get the leash free from her collar.

“Good morning, slave.”

Susan snatched her hands away from her collar guiltily as Zyrenne stirred from her bed.

“Er, erm, yes, er, mistress.” Susan stuttered as she climbed to her feet.

Zyrenne padded, naked to her pet and kissed her firmly on the lips.

“Weren’t you pleased by my attention last night?” Zyrenne asked, looking a bit disappointed at Susan’s lacklustre response to the kiss.

“Erm, yes, mistress.” Susan said, trying not to give away that in fact it had been the best sex she could remember, though the event itself remained a little hazy.

“But you’re not yet fully a convert to the female way?”

Susan did not know what to say, what Zyrenne said was true, but she did think it advisable to cause offence. “I enjoyed it.”

“Well, I suppose that is something. Usually the slaves I buy have been saving up for so long, and have been burning to become a slave that I have to hold them back from trying to screw me around the clock, but I guess it’s different with you, but maybe that’s what I need – a challenge.” Zyrenne smiled softly to herself. “Am I good enough a mistress to turn you into a slave that will fit in with the others I own and come to serve me as they do?”

Susan stood silently, wondering what such a change would entail. Part of her was excited at the thought, still aroused by the vision of the two leather-clad slaves walking at their mistress’s heel in the club, but another part just wishing she had never set foot on An-Kil-Lye.

“If you are going to be a true slave, and don’t start thinking there is any way back, as far as Ankilyan law goes, you have ceased to exist, you have a serial number, your commodity number, but that makes you no different to that chair or that lamp, I bought you as such. Anyway, if you are going to be a true slave then you need to be eased into the identity of a slave. Your name will be, ah, erm…” Zyrenne looked around the room as if for inspiration, she saw the tag on the beside table, ‘M/A/1A, yes, that’s it, you’ll be Maia. Maia, that’ll be your collar name, a slave’s only name. Forget any other names you might have had, that is now how you’ll be know.”

“Yes, mistress.”

“What is your name, slave?”

“Maia, mistress.” Susan replied reluctantly.

“Good. Now, Maia, help me dress and we will go and get you some proper slave clothes.”

“Thank you, mistress.” Susan replied, feeling suddenly aroused by the fact that now Zyrenne considered her a slave, she was free to put Susan into any of the erotic clothes she had seen slaves wearing. Susan guessed it was better than walking around naked, but she did wonder what effect dressing like that, being called by this ‘collar name’ would have. Then again, Maia was a nice name and it certainly seemed to fit more with the exotic nature of An-Kil-Lye than plain Susan. Zyrenne unlashed the leash and then removed it from Susan’s collar so she could move around freely.

“I think I will wear the chocolate brown outfit today with the gold disc jewellery.”

“Yes, mistress.” Susan said, not certain whether it was good to play along, at least acting a servant was less embarrassing than being expected to play being this woman’s lover.

Susan walked over to the wardrobe and opened it. The interior was filled with shiny clothes, leather, rubber and glistening plastic, the footwear matched, generally long boots with sharp heels. Susan guessed that here on An-Kil-Lye someone like Zyrenne had no need for plain blouses or tracksuit bottoms or flat shoes, she could dress this exotically as matter of course. Susan looked through the various shades until she reached one that seemed appropriate and lifted down a hanger with a bolero jacket of quilted leather over a top of a russet shade that Susan first took to be satin, but as she touched it realised was polished rubber. Next to it hung leather jodhpurs of the same chocolate brown shade and quilting as the jacket. Susan lay them on the bed and returned to fetch the knee-length laced boots. Susan went over to the dresser and opened the small jewellery box. It did not take long for her to locate the disks of gold for Zyrenne’s ears and nose.

Zyrenne sat on the corner of the bed. “Well done. I guess this is the first time you will have dressed anyone much, Maia.”

“Yes, mistress.”

“Well, it’s not hard, but it is a good demonstration of your servility towards me.” Zyrenne explained and lifted her arms above her head.

Susan took this as her cue and began sliding the top on to Zyrenne, helping her get her braided hair through. Then she took the jodhpurs and kneeling at Zyrenne’s feet guided her legs in then pulling the figure hugging trousers up. She took longer with lacing the boots, but soon had the grasp of it, and marvelled at the perfect shine, wondering who was responsible for doing the polishing. By the time Susan had finished Zyrenne had put on her own jewellery.

“Right, tidy up, we’ll go to breakfast and then some shopping for you, Maia.”

Susan baulked a little at Zyrenne describing the coming day, she still hoped that she would be released and the game would be over. However, maybe being out in public would be good, her friends or someone in authority might see her and get all this sorted out.

“What do you say, Maia?”

“Yes, mistress; thank you mistress.” Susan replied thinking that maybe she had been uncharitable and if this woman was willing to buy her some of these clothes, richer and more exotic than anything she had ever worn, then she should be grateful; they would be a unique souvenir of An-Kil-Lye.

Susan stooped to pick up Zyrenne’s discarded leather trousers from the previous night. The leather was butter smooth and made her fingers tingle at the touch.

“Maia, put those on.” Zyrenne commanded suddenly.

Susan hesitated, her throat going dry. Even after all the things she had been made to do in the past hours, putting on these clothes seemed to be a firm step.

“Yes, mistress.” Susan replied and began slipping her feet into the maroon trousers.

The leather slid up Susan’s legs easily, not surprising as she seemed to be much the same size as Zyrenne. The trousers were tight at her bum and across her thighs, but as Susan pulled them closed she realised that was intentional. Looking down it was as if her skin had become maroon, the leather held so close to it.

“That’s a lot better.” Zyrenne said cheerfully. “Let’s see you in the rest, it’ll be good to get an idea of your shape, before we starting picking outfits for you. Maroon’s not a slave colour, but we can get you the same in a bright red or electric blue.”

“Yes, mistress.” Susan said quietly and began hunting for the rest of Zyrenne’s previous day’s outfit, trying to disguise the fact that wearing this leather against her bare skin and seeing it catch the light and hear it creak gently as she moved was a real turn on.

“I bet you’ve never worn rubber.”

“No, nor leather. It’s expensive.”

“Well, Maia you'll wear both, in fact they will make up your entire wardrobe.” Zyrenne smiled and snatched the rubber top Susan had retrieved and pulled it quickly over Susan's head.

Susan yielded as she felt the rubber against her bare breasts and she knew there was going to be nothing she could do to stop Zyrenne encasing her in these clothes. She let her arms be slid into the sleeves.

“The boots, I bet you’ve worn nothing much outside of running shoes and the occasional court shoes. Put them on yourself, I want you to get used to easing into sexy clothes and the effect they have on you.”

“Yes, mistress.” Susan replied, partly wanting to say that she was already getting a good idea from the top and trousers she was wearing, but was reluctant to delay putting on the sexy boots.

Susan sat on the bed and slid one boot then the other all the way to her knees with the cuffs extending to touch the start of her thighs. Susan stood up and relished the feeling of rising on the high heels and how they forced out her leather-clad bum so prominently. She felt strong in these boots, strong and sexy, though as Zyrenne looked at her, she felt owned, almost as if she was doll being dressed up. Well, what was wrong with that? She had never looked so sexy in her life and it seemed the clothes were pleasing Zyrenne as much as Susan had to admit they were increasingly pleasing herself. Zyrenne walked over with the cropped jacket and Susan was unresisting as it was slid over her shiny top.

“Turn around, Maia.” Zyrenne ordered.

Susan slowly turned right round so that Zyrenne could see how she had quickly been turned into a woman of sleek leather-clad contours. Susan looked at herself in the full-length mirror and gasped as she did. Seeing a woman like this, dressed in these tight sexy clothes, with her hair in a high ponytail, she would have thought her an Ankilyan, maybe a mistress, well, until she noticed the collar. Zyrenne walked up beside Susan, and rested her own leather clad arm around Susan’s waist, and the pressure further reminded Susan how she was dressed. With her other hand, Zyrenne took Susan’s face and then kissed her lips.

“Better Maia, but you’re not there yet.”

Surprisingly Susan felt disappointment at that and yet again wondered how this was all going to play out, and what effect it would have on her for the future.

“Yes, mistress.”

“Good, now get out of all that stuff, I have a good impression of what you will look like in some decent clothes, but the shade’s all wrong for you. Slaves need something a bit sexier, though I think an outfit like this would be ideal when we’re travelling. Longer boots would suit, you can’t have too long boots for a slave.”

“I like the boots.” Susan said honestly, she liked how they made her feel protected and how they changed her posture into one that seemed to declare her sexiness.

“I’m glad, Maia as you’ll be wearing boots like that for ever more. I’m not one of these mistresses who keeps her slaves naked all the time. It’s important for the moment for you to know you are truly in my control, and to get you familiar with exhibiting every part of yourself in public, but I see slaves as models, mannequins, dolls, to dress. Clothes can so accentuate their sexuality; it is not just a collar that says you are a slave but the fact that everything about you, including the clothes you wear, are provided by me. Nothing shows that more than those being clothes most people, even here, would only wear in the company of their lover and also that they complement my own outfits, so, that in a glance, anyone can tell you belong to me.”

“I belong to you?” Susan wondered if this was the time to clarify what was truly happening.

Zyrenne smiled broadly, clearly pleased, “Yes, that is excellent, I am so pleased you said that, maybe turning you into the perfect slave is not going to be so difficult. I guess there must have been latent submissive tendencies somewhere in there. I don’t believe just getting drunk, or drugged even, would allow you to go so far if you did not really want it. You probably came to me a little early in your process pf coming to terms with your sexuality, but the concerns are going aren’t they? The true, sexy, shiny, slave inside is coming more and more to the surface.”

Susan realised Zyrenne had taken her question as a statement. She worried at the woman’s anger if she challenged it. Then again, was Zyrenne right? Susan acknowledged that she had been strangely excited by the sights she had seen on An-Kil-Lye, especially in the club, and if she thought about it, even going back to when she had seen Zyrenne herself on the video screen. Maybe some kind of destiny was working itself out here and she was foolish to try to resist it. Zyrenne took the leather jacket from Susan’s shoulders, and Susan realised that she did not have the luxury to deal with the bigger issues; more immediately she had to handle the situations she was now facing.

“Get out of those clothes Maia and then hang them up. Don’t worry I think you’re ready for some real slave clothes of your own. We’ll go to an SEB store I know and get you those long boots you want and a few other nice things.”

Susan’s reluctance to take off the clothes surprised her. It was not the thought of being naked again, she seemed to be becoming accustomed to that, it was more losing the sleek, truly Ankilyan appearance that the leathers seemed to give her and that she really felt she wanted to explore some more. In minutes though, Susan had slid out of the leathers and the rubber and put them away neatly in the wardrobe. Zyrenne attached the leash to Susan’s collar and as she was led to the breakfast room Susan pondered whether she would ever walk again not at this woman’s heel, then again it was probably better than being put in a cage the way she had seen a number of slaves when she had first arrived. Or was she wrong about all this, was it not a compliment that someone valued her so highly that they wanted to leash her so she did not run or was not snatched away; so that she could be paraded as a valuable item, worthy of being looked at in all her glory? Susan certainly knew a number of her friends who certainly would not pass muster being led naked into a room of strangers, and she felt some pride in the fact she could pull it off.

The breakfast room was not busy, there were a few tables with single guests at each of them. All but one had a man or woman on the floor beside them. Susan realised that having an accompanying slave was a real status symbol here. Given that in Masterton, she had yet to see a hotel or a club which only let in Ankilyans, having a slave in tow instantly marked out the locals from the visitors. Then again, were they all authentic, or were some playing at it? Susan wondered if it actually mattered. For now, however she had reached this situation, she knew it would be from a cushion on the floor and not a chair that she would be eating her breakfast.

Susan lowered herself to the comfortable cushion on the floor without arguing. A bowl of milk and some cereal was brought to her and put down on the floor. She knew it would be a challenge to eat with her hands and anyway from the other slaves around she knew the expected method is to lap it up like a cat, and all food for slaves was likely to be of a size suitable for that. Susan guessed that there was an ulterior motive too, in that surely it must strengthen the slave’s tongue. Susan had soon finished her food but from her location on the floor could not see how far Zyrenne had progressed.

Susan looked around the room and watched a female slave with long golden tresses, dressed in clothes that appeared to be of shiny black plastic: a bustiere, tight shorts that barely covered her buttocks, fine fish-net stockings that ran into over-the-knee boots. Having finished her food the slave was sat up in a kneeling position, her booted legs spread as if her sex was up for inspection, looking attentively at her master and following his hand with her tongue as he offered her treats from his table. Susan wondered if she would ever become so passive, so unthinkingly obedient. Presumably that was what Zyrenne expected of her, but Susan could hardly envisage it, she had too much independence for that. Susan watched as the master finished his meal and his slave rose behind him. As she walked on the high-heeled boots, Susan could see how every step seemed like a sexual gesture and she felt guilty at having enjoyed wearing Zyrenne’s boots and even worse, giving her the impression that Susan herself liked such things.

“Domina Zyrenne.” The man said, stopping close to her table.

“Dominus Catullus, greetings.”

“I saw your interview last night, I heartily agree, and I presume that your visit to the auction was a success.” Catullus nodded to Susan.

“Yes, very much so. This is Maia, she is inexperienced, but I think you’ll agree, lovely.” Zyrenne said with genuine pride coming through in her voice. “Stand Maia, show yourself to the dominus.”

Susan hesitated, she looked up at Catullus. He was well groomed, with neat hair and clean skin; a man probably only five years older than Susan herself, wearing a collarless white shirt and black leather trousers. He was certainly different from the slobbish masters she had seen in the market, but Susan felt reluctant to show herself to him. Playing games with a woman was somehow different, to some extent not much more than an extended slumber party game, but to parade naked before a man was something different.

“Maia, stand.”

Susan shrank back, seeking the protection of the table.

"Slave, stand.” Zyrenne said more firmly.

“Do not worry yourself, I guess it is difficult for a female only at home with other females to exhibit herself properly before a man.” Catullus conceded.

“But a slave obeys.” Zyrenne contested.

Reluctantly Susan stood up, rather worried at Zyrenne’s tone. She turned in a rather desultory way, the pleasure in being described as ‘lovely’, had been entirely swept away.

“Very nice, a lot of potential.” Catullus said.

“Yes, I am taking her to ease her into something tight and shiny this morning, some proper slave clothes.”

“That sounds excellent, Cy always looks at her best in something in glistening black, it’s what slaves are made for.”

In moments Catullus had finished the small talk and had gone. Susan stood passively as Zyrenne wrapped her leash firmly around her hand. They did not return to the room, instead Zyrenne strode ahead, saying nothing, almost tugging at Susan to follow. Susan struggled to keep up. Soon they were in a taxi trap and travelling away from the hotel.

“I expected too much.”

Susan said nothing, guessing Zyrenne was thinking aloud.

“Not only are you inexperienced, you are a reluctant slave, I was too ambitious to think I could have you in public this quickly. You seem to have little idea what is expected or how you are to behave. A slave is a slave because it pleases her to become one. I am convinced that that characteristic is within you, but it’s too deep at present, and without guidance of how to be a slave it is going to take a long time to come out. In that time both of us are going to be frustrated, me because I cannot depend on you; you because you are struggling to know how to behave like a proper slave.”

As Zyrenne explained, her tone softened, and Susan simply counted her luck that she had not ended up with a harder woman. It was clear that Zyrenne loved to dominate and to own, but she was not cruel, Susan was a pet that she had come to dote on, despite the pet’s misbehaviour that was no reason to send her back to the shop.

“I’ve got an idea of how to bring out your inner slave, Maia.”

The taxi came to a halt and Susan followed Zyrenne out, becoming more adept at getting from the cushion to the street side with each occasion she did it. The fact she was naked, wearing a collar and being led by a leash no longer seemed to surprise her and Susan wondered if her ‘inner slave’ nature was coming out more than Zyrenne realised. Then Susan focused on the shop that she was being led into. The word ‘moddies’ flashed in neon in the front window, but that gave Susan little clue as to what it supplied. The interior gave little additional idea. There were shelves of trays of little disks of some transparent material. Each tray was labelled, but many simply held code numbers and the names Susan could see like ‘Wench’, ‘Empire’, ‘Yalteropian’, meant little. Sitting behind a counter at the end of the shop was a tall, thin man with a bald head and mirrored glasses. On seeing Zyrenne he bounded forward.

“Domina Zyrenne, wonderful to see you again. Are you looking to repeat last year’s success of the Seretiaptoan Emergency theme party? I have some wonderful new characters from the Onsu era dramas you might like to try."

“Thank you, Bask, but this time, it’s something a little less grand, though you do remind me that it is time for another party. I have always liked the late Onsu period works, so that is a thought. But, no, for today, I want something simple, for this lady.”

“Ah, ha, some historic moddy for a role play, perhaps a Estralog pillow girl? Second or Third century?”

“No, simpler still, you’ll have this off in minutes. I know you do not do much tourist trade, but I want something more of the kind of moddy you’d find in a souvenir pack, a standard slave personality.”

“Okay.” Bask said slowly. “For you, domina?”

“No, for the slave, for Maia. And before you ask, yes, I can see she is already a slave, I paid good money for her. However, she is not very good at it. I don’t want to give her up, I just want her to be better at it. There’s a slave personality deep inside her, I’m just hoping that if she can experience what it means to be a slave out on the surface, then that will soon become a reality.”

“Yes, I see, that is interesting. As you say, straight forward. I always have a few samples around of Ankilyan slave packages, just for the curious. I could make you up a batch of ten, that kind of moddy tends to deteriorate in about a day. Thinking about it, it will be very straight forward. You have the name, and I know your tastes pretty well. Obedience, orientation, sexual skills, even some memories, all come as standard anyway.” Bask began muttering to himself and went through a door in the back of the shop.

Susan watched, intrigued. She gathered that these small disks shifted the user’s perception so that they believed they were some kind of character, whether current, historic or even fictional.

Bask had slotted the tray into a device and was typing in things on the attached keyboard. “Maia – m, a, i, a; lesbian slave; devoted to Domina Zyrenne; loves shiny clothes; excellent sexual technique.”

Bask made the last few keystrokes then took the tray from the device and handed it to Zyrenne. “Here you are, I’ve put the specification on file if you need any more.”

“Well, I’m hoping it will release the submissive side of her and I won’t need them.”

“Yes,” Bask said slowly, “have you thought about what you’d do if it doesn’t?”

“Erm, no, what do you suggest?”

“Well, there's a more permanent option available at a price. The equipment’s expensive even for a Syndic, though the casinos can afford them. You don’t think every losing gambler’s willing to become one of their slaves do you, especially the more developed models like the room slaves?”

“I’d never really thought about.”

“Well, see how it goes, but if you like I’ll talk to a friend at the Pantheon casino. Some of their equipment’s offline at present for refitting, but he could give you a good deal, and then you’d have the slave you dreamed of, permanently.”

“Sounds good. Call me if it’s possible. I’m keen to head back to the fief, but I don’t want to take Maia back until she’s more reconciled to the life.”

“What are you going to do to me?” Susan asked sharply.

“Nothing. You are registered as a lesbian slave of mine, we’ll just make sure that reality matches that designation.” Zyrenne explained.

Susan was about to protest when she felt a slight pressure behind her left ear, she reached back and her fingers stroked a slippery disc. She realised Bask must have slipped it on to her while she argued with Zyrenne. For a moment her thoughts were clouded then she saw with a new clarity.

“Thank you, Mistress.” Maia said. “I am pleased that you wish to help me become the most perfect slave.”

“Wow.” Zyrenne said to Bask. “That’s great.”

“Well, given how you already have her collared, her mind will be quite susceptible, but as I said this is only a temporary solution. As you know these moddies are only surface ones. You would need implants for something more enduring and they're a bit out of favour. These ones are only meant for an evening out; her true personality will be reasserting itself in a few hours.”

“Well, it depends on what you think her ‘true’ personality is. I am not convinced that a woman who was not really submissive would have let herself become a slave. She went through the whole thing, she was an SEB slave, not one I bought from someone in a bar.”

“So you don’t want me to call Senteh at the casino?”

Zyrenne hesitated and looked over Maia. “No, call him, it would be a shame after I had her as a proper slave to see her slip back into the lost tourist mode again. It was so embarrassing in front of Catullus this morning. He must have thought I’d lost my grip as an Owner. I have a reputation you know.”

Bask smiled. “I’ll get on to it.” He checked his watch. “Senteh will be down there in a couple of hours. I’ll call him and see if he can fit you in later. His fees can be a little steep, but knowing you, I guess that’s no concern.”

Zyrenne smiled and leaned forward to kiss the man on the cheek. “Bask, you are so good to me.”

Maia paid little attention to the conversation, that was not her role, her only concern was pleasing her Mistress, not eavesdropping on her. She was excited as she thought of the lovely clothes Mistress had promised to buy her. Maia looked forward to showing them off, walking behind her Mistress along the Stradas. Maia followed contentedly as Mistress began walking, keeping the perfect distance behind her, so that she could step up to Mistress in an instant but did not crowd her. Maia walked, proud of her naked body, but even more proud that Mistress let her show it to the people walking by. Maia enjoyed looking at other slaves she saw, but for some reason particularly liked it when she saw people dressed in dull clothes, they had to be tourists, gawping at her. Maia shook herself delightfully as she caught sight of a young female tourist on the street staring at her. Maia hoped that in showing how pleasurable being owned was, she might tempt this woman to offer herself, just as Maia had done. Maia was certain that once out of those dull clothes, the woman would make a wonderful pet for some mistress.

Maia gratefully lowered herself on to the cushion at Mistress’s feet in the taxi trap and lay back, her legs splayed so that Mistress could see how ready Maia was for her. Mistress gently stroked Maia’s inner thighs with her gloved hand and rewarded her for her display with some tweaks of her clitoris. Maia simpered in pleasure at being so used. Eventually the taxi stopped in front of a store, Maia could not read, but the shapes were of a bright colour on a black background. It had lingerie on display in the window but as she walked behind Mistress into the back of the store, Maia saw more leather and rubber items and she was excited that she was soon going to be dressed in some of them. As Maia crossed the threshold into the rear section she felt a wave of pleasure sweep over her. It felt so good to be Mistress’s slave, she could not think of anything else she could want. Her body felt so aroused that Maia hoped they would not be too long here and that Mistress would soon be using her sexually.

A female assistant appeared very quickly beside Mistress. She had sleek black hair curving around her face that complemented the black leather she wore. Her top was so sexy, only held on by thin laces across her back, below was a tight mini-skirt and lovely patent high-heeled platform-soled shoes with tiny silver padlocks. Her collar was studded with bronze.

“Domina Zyrenne, it is wonderful to see you again. I see you have a lovely new slave, madam.” The assistant said.

“Yes, very new, it is amazing what a few drinks can do to a young woman's view of her future. I picked her up at a late-night SEB auction. Her feet have hardly touched the ground since. I want her looking good before I take her back to my slave kennels as my latest bitch. Properly trained, I have a feeling this one will be so fine."

"Yes, I am sure you are right, madam. What sort of thing was madam thinking of buying today?"

"I was thinking of very long boots. She's only been used to casual shoes, I want her to see how good a slave looks in boots. For the rest, I want her body on display, she needs to become natural with how a slave's body is always accessible."

"Very good, madam."

Maia tingled with excitement as she watched the assistant cross to the rows of rubber clothes. She took down a bra and then what looked like a pair of rubber trousers. She carried them over to Mistress.

"A good selection." Mistress said. "Put them down there, she needs to dress herself in them; accept that this is what she wears."

Maia looked at the glossy clothes, her mind running with the excitement of what it would be like to wear them. She felt this was a big step. Why was it a big step, was she not a slave already? She was simply being dressed by Mistress. Something deep in Maia questioned that.

"Maia." Mistress said.

Maia felt momentarily confused, just for a second she felt the name was somehow wrong, but in seconds that worry had gone.

"Yes, Mistress." Maia said enthusiastically.

"Put on these clothes."

"Yes, Mistress."

Maia picked up the shiny rubber bra and quickly slipped it on her already excited breasts and in moments they stood aroused and prominent in the tight rubber. Maia then began sliding her legs into what she could now see were boots. They glided right up to her thighs where they became like chaps. As the top of the boots slid it place at her waist, Maia's legs were sealed in sleek, shiny black rubber stretching town to the long sharp heels. The top of the chaps, though coating her hips, ran like a thong between her cheeks, that were thrust out bare from the rubber. Similarly her crotch was naked and Maia found it difficult to stop herself from fingering her softening, dampening pussy.

"Excellent." Mistress said. "Parade for me."

Maia began stepping in the boots, at first tentatively, then with more confidence. As she did, Mistress let out her leash slowly. Maia walked past a woman sitting on a seat that she had been too busy to notice. As she moved, Maia loved the way her rubber-coated breasts were thrust before her and her new clothes forced her bum to sway sexily with every step she took. Maia turned and walked back to Mistress who seemed displeased. Maia lowered her head demurely, wondering what she had done to offend Mistress. However, in moments Mistress was talking with the assistant and then walked over to the seated woman. Maia was pleased as it seemed that that woman and not herself had caused the upset. The woman was holding a pair of shiny boots like shorter versions of the ones Maia wore. The fact that her other clothes were dull, suggested that she was hesitant about becoming a slave and Mistress was telling her not to be so foolish. Maia wondered if she should go over and tell the woman how good it felt to be a slave, but she had not been ordered to do so and to act on her own initiative would be wrong. Then suddenly the woman rushed from the room and Mistress slowly returned to Maia.

“What a waste.” Mistress said shaking her head. “At least I have you, Maia and you look just perfect in those clothes.”

“Yes, Mistress, thank you Mistress.”

“I think some opera gloves will finish off the look.”

“Yes, madam.”

The assistant returned with long black opera gloves and was soon sliding them on to Maia’s willing hands. Now her forearms, up to past her elbow, were as sleek and shiny as her legs.

“Maia, give into your desires, you have my permission.” Mistress said.

In an instant Maia was trailing her slippery, gloved fingers up her sex enjoying the sensation so much, doubly as she recognised she was not only doing in front of Mistress, with no embarrassment at all, but that she was doing it at Mistress’s command. Maia loved the gloves.

“Thank you Mistress, these clothes are so wonderful.”

Mistress lent forward and kissed Maia. For an instant Maia felt something was wrong, but tried to kiss back as enthusiastically as she could. The two women broke with a gasp and Mistress stroked Maia’s naked bum with her gloved hand. Mistress then removed her other glove to thumb payment for the clothes, but throughout she kept grasp of Maia’s leash and Maia felt secure.

“Come, I want to show you off.” Mistress said.

Maia was happy and walked proudly, loving how the rubber clothes clung so tight to her, and revelling in the attention she attracted from passersby, especially the tourists, and the compliments she received from the acquaintances that Mistress met. A little tired from the morning’s walking, Maia was happy when Mistress led her through doors into a low-lit club and found a booth. Maia lowered herself to the floor and curled up around Mistress’s booted feet.

“I’ll have the City Cat Club sandwich, and the number 3 for my pet.”

Maia heard Mistress say and looked up to see a waitress taking the order. There was something terribly familiar about the waitress. Maybe not the woman herself, but what she wore, and this room, this seat, they kept chiming thoughts in Maia’s mind.

“… this is where the taxi driver admitted she had dropped Susan.”

The voice and the name, both sent a shudder into Maia. Maia craned to hear the woman speaking. From her position she could only make out part of her, but it was clear she was with two others. From their posture and certainly their clothes, Maia could tell they were tourists.

“I doubt they’ll be able to tell us anything. The guy at the hotel was useless, he seemed to have no idea where her stuff had gone. If it hadn’t been for that man who was on our shuttle having seen her we would not have got anywhere.” Another woman spoke.

“Do you really think she would have come in here? Isn’t this, erm, a lesbian club?” The third woman asked.

“Of course. Women are, well women here, no doubt, they’re no less predatory than men. Susan was probably through that door by mistake and one of these women pounced on her, drugged her or something. I wouldn’t be surprised if that taxi driver isn’t in on it.” The first woman explained.

Maia felt dizzy; the voices, the conversation, all were upsetting her concentration. Sights and memories were flooding into her mind. She tried to focus on Mistress and the lovely shiny clothes she had bought Maia, but something kept bringing her back to the three women.

“It, it shouldn’t be aloud. Look at that woman down there...” The face of the third woman came into view. Her finger jabbed towards Maia. “Dressed up in all that rubber gear, sitting at the feet of some woman.”

The face of the woman and then of the other two as they turned to focus on Maia all sent shockwaves through her. Maia found it difficult to reconcile what she knew to be true, with something else, a whole different existence, with her on some other planet, in very different clothes, with men rather than Mistress. She shook her head to try to clear her thoughts. She looked up at the trio but they had turned away from her. One of the waitresses seemed to be talking to them, but Maia could not make out what she was saying. Then the three women turned away and went from Maia’s sight.

Moments later another waitress appeared and put a bowl full of something which looked like soup with small chunks of meat and vegetables floating in it. Maia reached out with her hand then pulled back. She did not want to spoil her wonderful gloves, but madly she seemed to have forgotten how to eat. Should there not be a spoon or something? Was she not being silly? Surely slaves did not need spoons. Conflicting urges flowed in Maia as she struggled to determine what the correct thing to do was. She looked up at Mistress but she was busy talking with another woman who had sat beside her. Surreptitiously Maia lifted the bowl to her mouth and drank it awkwardly, uneasy at this compromise which she felt was both too much of a concession to Mistress and yet not sufficiently obeying the rules.

Maia sat quietly, hoping that the visions that were coursing in her mind, almost like a waking dream, would subside if she was quiet. She had had a busy day and no doubt was tired. She rubbed the back of her neck and her fingers stroked across something. It was difficult to make out with her gloves on, but there was something not right, a patch that her gloved hand seemed to slip across even more easily than the rest of skin. She picked at it, difficult in her gloves, but then the small patch of skin felt cooler. Susan brought her hand round to the front carefully and in the low light was just able to make out a transparent disc. Then she remembered the shop.

What had happened to her? Susan looked down at herself. The last thing she remembered she had been naked. She guessed this had to be an improvement, but these shiny, clinging and revealing clothes seemed just to make her more of some kind of sexual pet than she had been when she just had the collar. What should she do now? She guessed that whatever this disc was, it was designed to keep her placid and probably even more than that, compliant to Zyrenne’s orders. Susan knew she had to escape, this was clearly becoming far more than some role play gone wrong. She had not to reveal her hand, but to pretend she was still under Zyrenne’s control and somehow escape when she could.

“Good Maia, you’ve finished.” Zyrenne said.

“Yes, er, mistress.” Susan replied, trying to combine responding quickly with sounding the way she thought a slave would speak.

“Good. Lick me out. I need a nice wet tongue up my pussy to set me up for the afternoon.”

“Yes, mistress.”

Susan shifted round and slid her head between the leather-covered legs of Zyrenne; easing towards where the mistress had opened the flies to reveal her naked pussy lips below. Susan did as best she could. She had little experience of oral sex with men and none with women. For an instant she wondered if she should slip the transparent disc back on to somehow feed her the right information, but having regained it, Susan was reluctant to yield her will again to Zyrenne; she had no idea in what situation she would find herself the next time she regained her real identity. Susan lapped away at Zyrenne's pussy, occasionally nibbling at the woman's hard clitoris. Zyrenne certainly seemed to be wet and enjoying it, and despite her distaste Susan felt encouraged by the muted sounds coming from the mistress. The sounds steadily rose until Zyrenne grasped the table and shook in orgasm. For a moment Susan thought she was going to be crushed between the mistress's thighs, but fortunately the leather, though quilted, was slippery enough to allow her to slip out to the floor. Susan kept her head to the ground, so embarrassed by what effect the sight of Zyrenne in full flow must be having on the people in the club. However, as she turned and peeked out, she saw the staff and other customers going about their business, paying no attention. Another mistress on her own was watching intently, and two tourist women giggled excitedly between themselves at the bar as they observed the action, but there was no other response. Susan was reminded of where she was and what passed for normal here. An attractive slave, dressed in shiny, scant clothes pleasuring her mistress must be commonplace.

Susan felt uncomfortable, but hoped she had passed muster. She reached for the dregs of the soup and swilled out her mouth to get the sweaty honeydew flavour out. She glanced up at Zyrenne, but she seemed to be answering a call on her wrist communicator. Finished, she bounded up and untied Susan's leash. In moments Susan was standing and being led back into the street, then into one of the taxi traps which waited on the rank near the club. Susan had hoped there would be a chance to make a break for it with Zyrenne in an afterglow or distracted by a friend, but clearly Susan was going to have to bide her time in order to escape. Susan trusted that with every passing hour her friends would be making headway in tracking her down and even if she could not slip away they would be able to have her released.

In that instant, however, Susan realised she would miss Zyrenne. She admired her strength and her upfront sexuality, she had to admit too that Zyrenne certainly wore cool clothes, but Susan could never see herself being someone's slave. Then something in her mind chided her and she remembered the women she had seen the first time in the City Cat Club, how Susan had envied the devotion their mistresses had shown, and how sexy they appeared themselves. Suddenly Susan gasped as she realised that she was no different from them. She glanced down at the slippery, skin-tight rubber clothes she wore and at the leash running from her collar. To a tourist she must surely appear a perfect slave, not an amateur, not someone role playing, but the real thing and that excited Susan. For a moment she wondered if she truly knew her sexual identity or whether Zyrenne had been right and there was a slave personality struggling out, and apparently winning control.

Deep in thought Susan had not noticed that they had left behind the districts of small shops and clubs and were now moving into broader streets lined with huge hotels and casino complexes. It was only when the taxi trotted down a side road, clearly a delivery area for the multi-storey Pantheon casino, its named emblazoned everywhere, that Susan realised they were not heading back to Zyrenne's hotel room. Susan wondered if Zyrenne, as clearly a leading member of the Owner community, had access to a private table or whether that sometimes she wished to avoid rather than court publicity and went in the back way. The thought of casinos rang a bell in Susan's mind but she could not remember why it was important. She was uncertain which memories were hers and which had been insinuated into her brain by that disc. Finally the taxi stopped. A small dark-skinned woman in a large black jacket, leggings and boots appeared.

"Domina Zyrenne, I'm Latore, Senteh's assistant. Bask told us you'd be coming. Senteh's getting everything set up inside."

Zyrenne nodded. "Lead on."

Susan walked behind Zyrenne as was now becoming so familiar. The way the mistress's leather-clad bum swayed as she stepped fascinated Susan, and she joked to herself that she would have to try that confident stride when she got home, maybe even get herself some leathers. Soon they had left the utility corridors and were walking in plushly decorated ones. The gold and cream colour scheme was clearly part of the casino's branding. Susan guessed given how quiet it was they must be far from the main gaming areas, or did she remember something about a refitting?

"These are the Pantheon's public gaming rooms, open to tourists and Owners alike. They are larger than those just kept for Ankilyans, though we don't let anyone in, they need at least one token and sign all the usual waivers."

"I am not a big gamer myself, but I have attended functions at the Athena and the Stahl, and I guess it's much the same."

"Sure is."

Zyrenne turned to Susan. "Maia, we're going to a surprise party. It's a themed one, you'll need to get changed."

"Yes, mistress." Susan replied with a degree of relief.

Susan had begun to wonder where she was being taken and what was going to happen, but hearing Bask's name and now reference to a party she remembered the talk of historic and theatrical parties and it seemed natural that she was going to be part of this. It might be a good opportunity to slip away when Zyrenne was drunk or distracted by a crowd of revellers in costume. Susan could sense that escape was within her grasp.

The corridor began curving slightly and as they walked on Susan could see panels in the wall which she guessed opened into the gaming room. Maybe there was some rule about different players coming through different doors. They came to a place where a three panels in a row were open. To Susan it seemed that Zyrenne was going to spring a surprise on a friend who thought the casino was closed. Had Zyrenne hired it out? Or was someone else organising it and Zyrenne was simply in on the surprise? Susan wished she had more information but understood a mistress would have little thought of keeping her pet informed. A man in his early forties dressed in overalls, that were the most normal clothing Susan had seen on this planet, stood at the nearest open door with some kind of tool in his hand. Zyrenne unclipped the leash from Susan's collar. This did seem to be going to be the break Susan guessed she wanted.

"Maia, just step in. You'll have to leave those clothes in the outer room, the others are ready inside." Zyrenne explained. "I'll just be through there." She nodded to the next open panel along.

"Yes, mistress." Susan said, hoping it would be for the last time.

Zyrenne leaned forward and kissed her slave. Susan reciprocated, in a little part of her, kind of grateful to this woman for showing her a bit of life on An-Kil-Lye. Susan stepped through the door which closed quietly behind her. Quickly she stripped out of the rubber clothes she wore, surprised at how comfortable they had been and how fast she had become accustomed to them. Sliding from her boots though and coming back down to the floor with her bare feet she felt a little disempowered, no longer the proud slave striding at her mistress's heel. For an instant she wondered if she should get dressed again and go back to Zyrenne, tell her she wanted to do something else, to spend more time getting to know her. Then again, Domina Zyrenne wanted a good slave out of Susan and slaves obeyed, not questioned, what they had been told. Getting dressed up in some historic costume would not only give Susan a chance of getting away, it would also be a sort of acknowledgement to Zyrenne's attempts with her.

Susan stepped up to the door into the changing room, dressed only in her collar. A light flashed across her eyes and the door opened. Susan stepped into what turned out to be a clear pod. She quickly looked round but the door back slid closed. She tried it, but predictably it had sealed shut. Susan began to worry. Had Zyrenne tricked her somehow? She turned back to look through the pod's glass. In front of her and a couple of metres below was an empty gaming room. There were tables and pods like the one she was in, set along the walls. Suddenly the pod began lowering to the level of the gaming room's floor. Susan felt reassured, nothing was going wrong and for some reason she was going to be let out this way into the gaming room, maybe this was how the players came in. As the pod reached floor level though, Susan's body went rigid. She tried to move but to no avail, something was holding her in place. As Zyrenne walked up in front of the glass Susan realised that she had been tricked and her mind ran with the possibilities of what was going to happen. As Zyrenne stood in front of Susan, she could not help admire how sexy the domina looked and that twinge of desire for the exotic and erotic Zyrenne offered, returned.

"Maia, I am so sorry for tricking you. I know deep inside you is a good slave, but the society in which you have lived has buried those feelings so deep. You have tried so hard to please me, I know, but in the club when you had to work so hard to bring me off, I knew you still had so much you had to learn to allow you even to become close to being a perfect slave. The moddy clearly was not the solution for you. Once you step from that chamber you'll have the knowledge and the devotion to your mistress that it can take years to build up, and I know that that is what you really want. This will take a little time, so I will go and buy you a new special outfit for when it is finished. Then we can fly back to Lauzier and you'll take up your proper place in my household, by my side and at the foot of my bed." Zyrenne blew a kiss to Susan then strode from sight.

Susan felt she should complain, try to struggle, but the pod had filled with a heavy scent, it somehow seemed familiar, and it was so nice, so relaxing. Then she heard a sound from above her. She could not lift her head to see what was happening but soon her view was blocked by a visor and headphones rested on her ears. Images suddenly started flashing rapidly in the visor filling all of Susan's vision. They seemed so real as if Susan was actually in the situations that the images portrayed. They showed Zyrenne in the most wonderful glossy clothes and then showed Susan from her own perspective of being in a range of sexual positions with her mistress, stroking, fondling, licking, sucking, teasing Zyrenne's body, bringing her repeatedly to orgasm. All the time Susan's body could feel how good it was to behave this way, and that the pleasure of the night before would be repeated and repeated to an increasing degree.

Zyrenne's voice whispered seductively in Susan's ears and she began to feel so grateful for her mistress accepting her as a slave and for giving her such pleasure. She was so grateful to her mistress that she would now do anything she wished. In moments, though, she knew obedience was more, the repeated images stripped away her ability not to obey, even if her mind tried to resist, she knew her body would not. Slowly she understood, Mistress owned both her, Maia's, body and mind, what was disobedience? It was no longer a concept she could grasp, she existed to obey and serve. Suddenly there was a flash of light and Maia felt as if she was born again. The visor lifted away and Maia blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light.

Maia could move freely. She turned around, looking for Mistress. Suddenly the pod began to lower, seeming to pass through the floor of the gaming room and into what looked like a hotel suite. Maia knew whatever was happening had been decided for her by Mistress and she simply had to wait patiently. The pod stopped and opened. Maia stepped out and she felt so good. In front of her, clear as Maia's eyes adjusted to the low light, Mistress sat in bowl chair lined with black leather. Her clothes matched the furniture – crotch-high boots laced all the way up, their heels so long and sharp and, then, skin-tight shorts that clung so tightly to her bum. Above those was a corset, nipping her waist in tightly and thrusting up her firm breasts. Slung over the back of the chair was a ankle-length coat of the smoothest black leather inside and out. Mistress looked so beautiful, and Maia was eager to serve her.

Maia walked demurely to Mistress, seeking approval. Reaching Mistress Maia fell to her knees and kissed the tip of her boot, so glad to be owned by this woman, so happy that she was permitted to serve her. Maia looked up expectantly, ready to be commanded. Mistress gazed into Maia’s eyes as if trying to read what was going on inside her head, and Maia hoped she could see the devotion her slave felt to her Owner.

“Slave, dress.” Domina Zyrenne commanded.

“Yes, Mistress.” Maia responded automatically.

By the bed were some shiny rubber clothes that Maia just loved, she was grateful for Mistress putting them out for her, so that she could show off her shapely body. Next to them were some plain clothes like those worn by tourists, but they were too dull for a slave whose mistress surely would want her to appear so sexily. In moments Maia was sliding her legs into the glossy leggings that stretched to her calves; a narrow zip the only thing covering her bare pussy. As they eased into place her bum was transformed into a glistening hemisphere of slick rubber. Then she was guiding the matching bandeau along her arms and into place over her firm breasts. Maia slipped into the shiny cropped jacket, delighting in being covered in these glistening clothes. Finally the slave stepped into the patent ankle boots, rising on the cone heels reaching seven inches from the floor and then did up each of the buckles to hold them tight on her feet.

“Thank you Mistress.” Maia said happily.

“Step forward Maia.”

Maia obeyed, her mind could not think of doing anything else. Mistress reached forward with a broad belt shiny silver studs that she buckled up to sit loosely on Maia’s hips, almost like another collar binding her to Mistress. Mistress held Maia at arm's length, looking her over.

"Excellent Maia, most excellent." Zyrenne said, clearly approving. "Lick me out, then we'll make for my shuttle, we can be back at the Lauzier estate by evening."

Maia fell to her knees and crawled between Mistress's splayed legs. She knew she had the knowledge to keep Mistress tantalisingly on the edge of orgasm for such a time that it would be nightfall before they were anywhere near the Lauzier fiefdom. Maia's dextrous tongue flicked out, lapping at Mistress's lovely skin and Maia began fulfilling the role that she knew was at the centre of her existence.

Casually, as Maia worked between her leathered legs, Mistress stroked her hair and whispered to her "My pet, my perfect lapdog."