Star Slave (26 page)

‘No...' she wept, grunting under his impaling thrusts and the rhythmic battering of his groin against her burning flesh. Yet it was his very brutality that set her own desires soaring, and led het on to the ecstasy of the explosive release which tore its way through her.

 

Felicity was taken to a part of the mansion she had never seen before. It was on the top floor at the far end of the east wing, and isolated from both servants' quarters and the other inhabited areas of the Hall. The bedroom was small, the narrow bed comfortable enough, and the furniture functionally adequate. The most striking thing about the room's decor was that it was entirely white; the chest of drawers, the dressing table and its stool, the wooden chair, and the doors of the built-in wardrobe. Even the drapes and the bed covers and the carpet. The walls, too, were of pristine snowiness, except that a great deal of their surface, on three sides of the room, was taken up with long mirrors. Wherever she turned she could see reflections of herself, as though surrounded by pale ghosts.

For two days and nights she saw no one, except Magda. Her mistress - for she was proud to acknowledge her as such - brought her frugal meals and sat with her for hours at a stretch, telling her in every detail about the society she was about to enter, the secrets of which she had long guessed at but now marvelled over as they were carefully revealed to her.

It was soon after the New Year's party that Magda had sent for Felicity and first told her of the Whores of Babylon. When the petit blonde Joanne had entered the room Magda turned her about and lifted the cherry-red mini-skirt she wore. Magda teased down the back of the white micro briefs until the curve of the blonde's buttocks was exposed, then she opened the cleft with thumb and forefinger. Felicity saw the tiny twin letters standing out against the pale flesh.

‘It's not some kinky game,' Magda said, her tone indicating her seriousness. ‘If you want out, say so now, before we start. It'll be too late otherwise. You'll be a Daughter forever, bound by all the oaths. You'll belong to us completely, for always. A lifetime of total obedience, total loyalty. Bound for all time. Do you understand?'

Felicity did understand. She nodded, her heart thundering. ‘Yes,' she whispered.

The next day, after being given one last chance to opt out, she was taken up to the white room at the end of the corridor. Already caught up in the ritualistic fervour, she undressed at Magda's command, and handed over her clothing. When the door closed after the tall figure, Felicity knew she was a prisoner in the room. She did not even need to test the door to see if it was locked.

Her watch had been removed, and there was no clock, but through the small window she could see a comer of the building and the leafless branches of a copse of trees, so she was able to gauge roughly the natural passage of time. It was almost dark before Magda returned with a tray of coffee, a plate of salad, and yoghurt. She told Felicity about the Whores, and the absolute commitment she was required to make. She explained, too, about the Whore Masters, and about Lord B's supreme role as Grand Master. She smiled dazzlingly. ‘And I am your Grand Mistress. You belong to me, and through me to every Whore Master. And to anyone I choose to give you to.'

Felicity nodded, too full of emotion to speak.

Magda made no attempt to touch her during the three days Felicity remained shut in the white room, and Felicity did not try to initiate any sexual contact. On the first night, when Magda rose to take her leave, she smiled and said, ‘This is a very special time for you, Felicity. The time to prepare yourself for initiation. The time to examine yourself, to get ready for the new life you will lead, the new person you will become. The beginning of the discipline every Daughter needs to help her live this life. Test your own strength. Don't touch yourself in any sexual way - not even for a moment. Do you promise?'

Felicity stared, trembling. She nodded, but Magda made her answer, the very first of her vows. She had believed as she gave her assurance that the fervour she felt, the heat of the brand new convert, would enable her to see through this abstinence without problem. But the lonely hours, the nakedness, the very sight of her body thrust at her from all sides, day and night, was an ordeal the like of which she had never imagined. In spite of her desperate efforts, her hands would steal to a breast, to the tuft of pubic curls, the curve of her flank, the moist folds of her sex lips, so that she would snatch her hand away with a cry as though she'd touched a hot stove. She was soon exhausted, for she dare not climb into bed or lie down on the counterpane. Whenever she did so she felt an almost overwhelming desire to stroke, to touch between her thighs, to masturbate for the relief her nerves demanded.

She realised, appalled, that she had never known a period of real continence. She had always indulged in masturbation, and self-caressing moves which were purely sexual in purpose. And such behaviour had always been a counterpoint to a satisfyingly hectic sexual association with others. True celibacy she had never known. It was a refined torture that reduced her before long to bitter tears. She pushed her forehead despairingly against her reflection and beat her fists against those of her image, before sinking in exhaustion to the floor, where she remained curled and weeping for an age, before she wearily lay on the bed and sank into sleep.

On the other side of the glass, a few feet from the distraught girl, Lord B studied her compassionately, while Magda crouched between his legs and massaged his prick to a rearing erection. ‘Ah, Magda, you don't know how much I want you!' he groaned, his naked body writhing in the chair as Magda's long dark curtain of hair descended and draped over his lifting loins. Her lips milked the spearing erection and drained its potent load until he sank back with a weakened sigh.

When calm had been restored, he studied the sleeping figure on the other side of the glass. ‘She's ready,' he decided. ‘You've done another wonderful job, my love.' He reached up tenderly for her hand, drew her gently down to kiss those lips which had brought him such bliss, and his dormant penis twitched in his desire for the unattainable perfection of coupling with this unique being.

 

Felicity's brain was reeling. She did not know whether it was the drink she had been given, or the wreathing incense that pungently filled the darkened chamber, with that one brilliant shaft of white light like a pillar at its centre. The whole setting was so magical, the mystical anointing of her flesh so stirring, she hardly knew if she were awake or dreaming. Under the long cloak, her glistening body was trembling. She prayed fervently that she would have the strength to get through the ceremony, that the emotion would not prove too strong and cause her to faint away before its completion. She waited, tensed through every fibre of her being, feeling the cold of the marble striking up through the soles of her feet.

At last the velvet mask was slipped over her head and adjusted so all vision was blocked. She felt the arms of the others about her, gently guiding her forward, positioning her. The cloak was unfastened at the neck and swept aside. She could sense the brilliant light was bathing her body, and she tried to control her trembling, to keep completely still. From the darkness ahead of her the deep voice boomed out that she knew was Magda's, yet sounded awesomely different. She gave the ritual replies, clearing her throat nervously, anxious to be heard by all the invisible watchers.

The hands were lifting, then stretching her out on her stomach, and she gasped at the contact of the icy marble on her bare flesh. The rounds of her behind clenched, and she felt the grip of the hands at her wrists and ankles tighten. She bit her lip to suppress the whimper struggling to escape.

The bite of the whip across her flanks was an exquisite agony. A scream was muffled in her throat.

‘Do you swear obedience?'

She cried out, absurdly pleased that her voice was clear. ‘I do!'

The searing sting of pain again, and the next question, demanding her undying loyalty. Her voice was ragged, hoarse, but still quite clear. The slender strands bit for the last time into her quivering flesh, and she jerked against the restraining holds, unable to prevent the first sob from breaking forth, as she gasped her pledge of binding secrecy.

The fire throbbed steadily, then came the blessing of fragrant wet coolness, as her companions bathed the striped bottom, and the mask was removed from her tear-laden eyes. The light was so dazzling when they turned her onto her back that she was still blinded, but she surrendered herself, luxuriating in their ministrations; the kisses, the fondling caresses, which stirred her eager body to a sweet urgency of desire. Lips closed over her nipples, nuzzled at her inner thighs, at the swell of her mound itself and her throbbing fissure, before, with dramatic suddenness, the blinding light was obscured and an outspread shape hovered over her. It descended, and Felicity sobbed with joy at the enveloping warmth of her mistress's wonderful body; the weight of those ripe breasts upon her own, the nipples engorged, the muscled stomach and sturdy thighs.

The cloak wrapped itself about them, sealing them in their own magical world, so that the invisible watchers and her naked companions faded from thought as Felicity yielded in weeping happiness to that body. With a shock of delight her spinning mind registered the wondrous fact that, for the first time in all their intimate relationship, her mistress was entirely naked. The tiny cache-sexe, that embossed triangle of final mystery, was gone. She felt the smoothness of the tapering belly, its conflux with those splendid thighs, and even the small tuft of silken curls to crest that blessed centre of sexual bliss which she'd never touched, never set eyes upon.

And then fantasy fused with spiralling reality. The powerful knees parted her thighs, and she felt strong fingers opening her further still to the last magical secret, for there, at the lips of her divide, a living column of flesh nuzzled and gained entrance. Not a facsimile, not a harnessed instrument of pleasure such as she had known and delighted in in the past, but a living organ of flesh, inches of hardened dome-tipped phallus, which took possession of her, melding its oily fluid with her own secretions of love. She felt the swoon she'd feared rush to overtake her, the drumming of blood in her ears drowning her cries of ultimate fulfilment at the orgasm which sucked her into its terrifyingly shattering power, and which claimed every part of her, from her fragmented mind to her curling toes.

 

‘Good God! Where the hell have you been? Your agent - Yvonne what's-her-name's been going spare. She's never stopped ringing this past week.'

Felicity smiled at her cousin, walked past him into the flat and put down her small case. ‘How are you, Johnny?' she asked breezily. ‘It's good to see you.' She kissed him lightly on the lips, and broke away before he had the chance to turn their embrace into a more passionate one. She plonked herself down on the settee and looked around. ‘The old place is certainly a lot better than I ever kept it,' she acknowledged appreciatively. ‘It looks immaculate. Get me a drink, will you? I'm bushed.'

John was staring at the elegant figure in the severely attractive grey suit. She crossed her legs, the short skirt riding up to allow him a pleasing view of her shapely limbs. She pushed the dainty heeled shoes off with her toes, which curled in abandoned luxury. Her black hair had been cut shorter and shaped to her neck, its waved softness enhancing this thoroughly feminine ethos.

‘You look different,' he said, bringing her drink, and standing over her admiringly. ‘You look like some super brat female exec type.'

She laughed and pulled a distasteful face. ‘Oh don't say that, please!'

But she
was
different, it struck him forcibly. Not only her quietly sexy, more openly feminine appearance, but her contained manner. Not subdued, he realised - far from it. There was an assurance, a restrained maturity about her that was entirely new. It was mystifying, and appealing. Yet he felt a twinge of sadness too, for he knew the last fragile link to their childhood together was gone, never to return.

The final confirmation came when, after she had gone into her room to change, she came out again and stood in the living room doorway. His heart and his prick leapt. She was wearing a black bra and black briefs - a tiny scrap of satin and lace barely covering her mound - and a thin web of a garter-belt from which the ribbons of suspenders stretched over her white thighs to sheer stockings. She smiled tenderly at his obvious appreciation.

‘You sexy thing!' he breathed, rising and moving towards her. But when he got there she skilfully avoided his grasping arms, and gave him another of those light kisses, mouth to mouth, but which lay somewhere between an affectionate greeting and a promise of passion.

‘I think I'll have a quick bath and go straight to bed,' she said. ‘I could do with an early night. It's going to be hard work picking up the reins again after such a long lay-off. Night, Johnny.'

She turned back at her bedroom door. ‘Oh, by the way. Don't worry about the flat. You can stay on here as long as you want. I don't think I'll be around that often. And if I need it to entertain or anything, you can always blow for the odd night or two, can't you?' Another sweetly innocent smile, and she was gone.

Was it all a come-on? he asked himself briefly, seated once more in the suddenly lonely room. But he knew Felicity was no longer the ingenuous girl he had fooled around with so recently. She had moved on, leaving him behind. And so he sat on in the lamp-lit quiet, sipping a whisky, regretting and already missing the things that had been and were no more.